Jealous of her unflappable poise, jealous of her education, jealous because her shimmering blonde comes from nature and not a bottle like Rose's does. She wears a corset well when they land in the 15th century and learns foreign customs fast enough to save their lives more than once and commands a room with just the sound of her voice even if the Doctor is in control of the situation. She's brilliant and confident and so very right for the Doctor.
It would be comical---and, indeed, Mickey finds it to be the most uproariously funny thing quite often, but he's a jilted boyfriend, one would expect those things of him---but the Doctor is more than a little…concerned by it.
"Things ain't the same," Rose says, glancing down at the console and not meeting his gaze, "Not since she showed up. I mean, it's not like she's not nice, she's just…she's too nice, an' it gets grating. And you…you just…you used to talk to me, you know? We used to be, I mean, I thought we were...but I obviously got it wrong, eh?"
Reinette is the perfect companion in every sense. Skilled, trained, ridiculously talented and educated. She knows how to lift a conversation and keep it, and she adapts quickly so the conversation is never awkward or dull. And she's new, newest companion, newest piece of the Doctor's life.
"You just gonna toss me out then?" Rose looks up at him, meeting his eyes with slightly bloodshot ones. She's been crying and his hearts ache at that knowledge and he…he'd do anything to take that away. But he doesn't know how. It's not really as though it would make it any better.
After all, Reinette is just as jealous of Rose.
Jealous of her wit, jealous of her freedom, jealous because she doesn't have to practice for conversation with the Doctor, it simply comes, as do the inside jokes and the smiles. She fills out a set of jeans and always manages to find the most interesting mysteries and when she does something as improper as tossing her arms around the Doctor in a hug, it's so comfortable and natural. She's smart and fun and so very right for the Doctor.
Reinette's jealousy is the burning silently kind, but the room can get so insanely hot when the two of them are together that even the Doctor doesn't know how to cope with the heat. She never ever says anything, just lets the waves of dislike flow from her, and the Doctor is more than a little uncomfortable with it.
"She's so very young," Reinette says, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear in one of those rare moments where she is relaxed, leaning against the door to his study, "Had I the ability to turn back time and come to you in my youth, would you be as happy with me as you are with her? Would we have that friendship that my station in Versailles never allowed me?"
Rose is the perfect companion in every sense. Brave, curious, amazingly sharp and yet completely easygoing. She knows when to wander off and when 'don't wander off' is to be followed. She asks the questions that get answers and pushes until the Doctor tells her what she needs to know. She's familiar, a comfortable friend to the lonely Doctor.
"Would things be easier if I were to depart?" Reinette's eyes meet his, and her makeup is unsmudged, her face controlled and perfect. It's so perfect a mask that the Doctor feels an ache in his heart for understanding. She won't show him because she doesn't think any good will come of it. It's…not really as though it would make it any better.
Mickey can't help the grin on his face and he drops into the chair in the console room. He's all smugness and self-righteousness, but he's always been jealous of the Doctor and the unhappiness in the TARDIS is like some very ironic sort of payback.
"You're such the playboy, aren'tcha?" Mickey grins, "Now neither of 'em like you 'cause both of 'em want you. Sarah-Jane, Cleopatra, Madame de Pompadour, Rose…you just can't make up your mind, can you?"
The Doctor's gaze is more than slightly cold, "Are you here for a reason, Mickey the jilted Idiot?" He's trying to wind Mickey up, and on an average day it would without an issue, but Mickey's far too happy with himself to feel it.
"Just basking in the happiness of the I-Told-You-So dance I did for Rose a few minutes ago," he says, "She got all angry and slammed the door in my face." He tilts his head and looks at the older man curiously, "Both of 'em got their hearts broken cause of you. You happy with always being the center of the universe, Doctor?"
He doesn't answer, but the silence is enough.
After all, how could he be?
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 829