Never Tickle a Time Lord (1/3)
Title: Never Tickle a Time Lord, Chapter 1
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: R (for excessive nekkedness)
Spoilers: None at all
Beta: Wishes-She-Was-The-Master's-Voodoo-Child
Summary: The Doctor licks a wall. As a result, he and Rose spend the day naked together.
A/N: Written as a gift for
firefaery2 for the
oh_she_knows Summer Lovin' Ficathon. The request was “Ten nekked except for specs and chucks!” It was a hard job, but someone had to do it. :)
Never Tickle a Time Lord
Chapter 1
“It’s beautiful here,” announced Rose, as they walked hand-in-hand through the town. Its streets were paved in a spongy, purple brick that was a little like walking on foam and Rose was bouncing as she stepped.
“I’m glad you think so,” the Doctor replied.
Something about his tone made her look at him. “What, you don’t like it?”
He scratched the back of his neck before he answered. “Well, it’s a bit dull, isn’t it? No mystery to solve, no plague to cure, no crisis to avert, no disaster to repair. There’s nothing going on here.” He glowered at an inhabitant, passing them on the street, who looked alarmed and sidled away from them.
“They’re living in peace. Leave them alone.” Rose smiled warmly at the strange creature. It basically resembled a human, only with much longer legs and arms and hands and feet and fingers and toes. And with a strange smoothness. They were entirely hairless and moved like they were flowing. Rose found it captivating. And relaxing.
“I’m not saying I’m going to cause a war to break out,” the Doctor grumbled. “It’s just…Would a little excitement kill them?”
“Tell me about the buildings,” Rose said, to distract him. “What are they made out of?”
The Doctor frowned. The walls of the buildings, like the inhabitants of the planet, were all extremely smooth and extremely shiny. Rose couldn’t decide whether they were blinding white or gunmetal grey in colour; they seemed to keep shifting. Then again, the light on the planet was itself iridescent, the result of one very bright sun that was followed across the sky by six little moons, like a mother duck being followed by ducklings. “I think it’s aoooeiiiieeauu,” said the Doctor.
“You think it’s what now?”
“Aooo-” he began, then waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. It’s a fairly common mineral in this solar system. Practically indestructible. Here. Feel it.” He took her hand and laid it against the wall of the nearest building.
It felt as if she’d plunged her hand into a cooling curtain of water, although the wall was neither wet nor moving. Rose laughed, delighted. “That’s amazing.”
“It is quite something,” the Doctor conceded, laying his own hand against it. A frown flickered over his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not ‘wrong,’ just unexpected,” he replied, thoughtfully, then leaned in and gave the wall a thorough lick. “Just as I thought. It’s not pure aooeiiiieeauu.”
Rose was regarding him with her nose wrinkled. “You know, when you do things like that?”
“Things like what?”
“Lick walls.”
“Yeah?”
“It doesn’t make me want to let you stick that tongue down my throat, knowing the places it’s been.”
He flashed a grin that she felt in her blood, which was really unfair of him. “Liar.”
“Don’t kiss me,” she warned him, because he looked like he was getting ready to do just that.
“You don’t mean that.”
No, she didn’t. “Yes, I do. You shouldn’t go around licking things like that.”
“You don’t mind when I lick you like that.”
“That’s different. You’re supposed to lick me.”
“I don’t think your mother would agree with-“He flinched and rubbed at the back of his neck, drawing his eyebrows together in annoyance. “What in bloody hell was that?” he said, and then plummeted to the ground abruptly in a dead faint.
“Doctor!” Rose’s eyes widened as she dropped to her knees beside him. He was breathing, and both hearts were steadily beating, but he stirred not at all when she shook him.
“Step away from him,” said a voice.
Rose looked up. There was a tight knot of three of the planet’s inhabitants looming over her. Well, she thought. Whatever was wrong with the Doctor it couldn’t be that bad, because the TARDIS was, thankfully, still translating. “What have you done to him?” she demanded.
“Step away from him,” the one in front repeated.
She shook her head. “No way. Whatever you’ve done to him, fix-Oh.” She stopped talking when he aimed the gun at her. Guns, she thought, always looked the same, in every culture. She lifted her hands in the air to show she was unarmed. “Listen, I’m not threatening you. I just want you to-“
“Step away from him.”
She considered, decided she might get farther if she obeyed, and stood cautiously, taking a step away from the Doctor. “Okay. Whatever’s going on-Oi!” The two who hadn’t spoken had picked the Doctor up, one gripping his ankles, the other under his armpits. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“He is under arrest,” said the spokesalien.
“Under arrest?” Rose echoed, incredulously. “For what?”
“He licked the wall.”
“So? You can’t possibly mean it’s against the law to lick the wall.” No one answered her. The little group started walking off with the Doctor. “Wait a second.” She jogged after them. “You can’t just take him away. What did you do to him?”
“It’s harmless,” said the spokesalien. “He’s fine. Standard procedure.” He indicated the gun. “Now, stop following us.”
“If you think I’m just going to let you carry him away, you’re out of your mind.”
“You’re not under arrest,” the spokesalien pointed out, reasonably.
“Oh, no?” Rose cocked an eyebrow at him, then leaned over and licked the nearest wall. It tasted awful. She couldn’t help the face she made as she straightened. The aliens did not have terribly expressive faces, but they did look floored by her actions. “I’m under arrest now, aren’t I? Although there’s no need for the gun. I’ll come peacefully.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the spokesalien said, grudgingly, “Go,” and prompted her direction with the gun.
The two other aliens carrying the Doctor walked in front of her, leading the way to an undistinguished building with two wide double doors. It was dim and cool inside, and the air had a sharp taste to it, almost metallic. Rose followed as the aliens continued carrying the Doctor down the hallways, worrying now that they would be put in separate cells, and trying to establish some sort of plan if that happened. They stopped at what appeared to be a dead end, and she watched as the spokesalien pushed some unseen button on the wall to the left. It slid open smoothly and soundlessly, revealing a relatively small room, completely empty. The aliens carried the Doctor in and dropped him in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Then, to her relief, the spokesalien ushered her in as well.
The two other aliens had shoved the Doctor onto his stomach. “What are you-” she began, alarmed anew, but one of them pulled a small, red ball out of the back of the Doctor’s neck, and the Doctor immediately sat up.
And he was clearly okay, because he was in full complaining mode. “What the hell?” he whined, rubbing at his neck. “That stung, you know. What is this all about?” He sat on the floor and glared at their captors.
“You’re under arrest,” the spokesalien informed him. Another alien padded in, handed him two pieces of paper and two pens. “Ah,” he said. “Here we are. Sign these.”
Rose took the piece of paper and pen she was handed. The type was tiny, the words crammed together. No way was she reading that. She signed it immediately.
The Doctor, meanwhile, had pulled out his glasses and was reading his piece of paper carefully. “What could I possibly be under arrest for?”
“Public display of tongue.”
The Doctor looked at the spokesalien in disbelief, over the top of his specs. “Public display of what?”
“Tongue,” Rose snapped at him. “Because you went and bloody licked the wall.”
The Doctor regarded her with interest. “And what are you under arrest for?”
“Well, I licked the wall, too. Couldn’t let you get arrested all on your own. Unconscious and helpless as you were.”
“I was not helpless,” he protested.
“You will sign the form,” the spokesalien interrupted, firmly.
“Not until I read it,” said the Doctor, just as firmly, turning his gaze back to his form.
“Sign it now,” said the spokesalien, lifting his gun up.
“Will you just sign it?” Rose sighed.
“Hold on a second.” The Doctor frowned at the words on the paper. “I’m not-“
“Sign the bloody thing,” she commanded him. “It’d be pretty boring in here for me if you’re unconscious again.”
“I don’t-“ he began, petulantly, but the spokesalien made a show of aiming his gun and Rose said, in that warning tone she had, “Doctor,” so he signed and handed it back.
The spokesalien turned to Rose. “You will remove your clothing.”
Rose blinked. “I’ll do what?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” said the Doctor. “The forms said we have to surrender all our clothing.”
“And change into what?”
“Nothing,” the spokesalien answered her.
“Nothing? You want me to just get naked?”
“Standard procedure,” said the spokesalien.
“What about him?” She waved at the Doctor.
“Him, too.”
She sighed heavily, and then pulled off her top.
“Wait a second!” the Doctor squeaked. “You’re just going to get undressed?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t want to get shot, yeah? Take your clothes off.” She took off her bra and handed it to an alien who was waiting for her clothing and folding it all very neatly for her.
The Doctor stared at her in appalled horror.
“You must remove your clothing,” the spokesalien reminded the Doctor, brandishing his gun again a bit.
“I…I don’t…Really?”
“You’d better get started,” said Rose, by now removing her shoes. “You wear so much clothing; it’s going to take you forever. I’ve just about given up on getting him completely undressed,” she confided to the alien, as she handed him her jeans. “Takes too bloody long, you know? I just concern myself with the vital parts, and maybe, if there’s time, I work on getting his six shirts off of him.”
The Doctor had grudgingly taken off his brown coat and shrugged out of his suit jacket. “I don’t wear six shirts. And do you think we could stop talking about the clothes I do and do not wear and whether or not you take them off me?”
“You may keep your footwear,” the spokesalien informed Rose as she went to hand over her trainers.
“I can?”
“Of course,” he responded, politely. “We are not savages.”
Rose sat and put her trainers back on. She watched as the Doctor, as slowly as possible, took his shirt, Henley, and vest off. She leaned back on her elbows with interest as he took his time taking off his own trainers. He was grumbling under his breath, words she couldn’t catch but she could tell he wasn’t happy. It took him forever to take off his trousers and pants. Even the spokesalien began sighing in impatience. Rose wanted to assure the spokesalien that she’d experienced that same frustration many times.
When the Doctor was finally finished, the spokesalien said, “You may keep your footwear.”
“Thanks,” the Doctor bit out, sarcastically.
Then the aliens glided out of the room and closed the door behind them. The Doctor pulled his trainers on and looked at Rose, miserable and furious all at once. He was still wearing his specs, and he tipped his head to glare at her over the top of them.
“Well,” she drawled. “You wanted excitement.”
“They could have left us our socks,” the Doctor said, petulantly. Rose gazed steadily at him. “Stop looking at me,” he said, stiffly, walking to the other side of the room and dropping to the floor.
“You know,” Rose said, with exaggerated casualness, “you’ve got one job: Know alien mores. That’s it. One job. Know! Alien! Mores!”
The Doctor sniffed a bit, as if offended. “I drive the TARDIS, too.”
“You don’t drive it very well,” she pointed out.
“Oi! That’s just mean.”
“And now you’re going to sulk.”
“Time Lords don’t sulk.”
“Time Lords are world-class sulkers.”
“You shouldn’t insult naked Time Lords, Rose.”
“Because then they sulk.”
“I’m not sulking! Stop looking at me!”
The room-cell-lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Despite his protestations, the Doctor remained sitting against the wall, practically in the corner of the small room; he’d drawn his knees up, wrapped his arms around his shins, and positioned his feet quite carefully to preserve what little modesty he could. He was still sulking, in spite of what he said.
Rose tried desperately to find something interesting elsewhere in the cell, not wanting to push the Doctor further into the uncharacteristic snit he was already in. The grey walls were made of the same unpronounceable mineral that had landed them in this mess, and provided no distraction. Rose chanced a glance at the Doctor, easily the most interesting thing in the room. It really was unfair how attractive he was, balled in the corner, pouting in his specs and chucks. His hair had become ruffled as he’d stripped off the layers of clothing, and it provided him the look of a sulky five-year-old; despite her frustration with him at the moment, Rose found a small smile creeping across her face. For a 900-plus-year-old alien, it really was ridiculous how tetchy he was being about being nude. And for as often as he had been nude in this body….
She sighed, causing the Doctor to look up. “Were you looking at me?” He seemed appalled at the idea.
Rose licked her lips; of course she had been looking. The Doctor was naked-well, mostly. The fact that he had retained his shoes and his glasses only emphasized how very bare the rest of him was. Either a yes or no answer, however, would be taken the wrong way. She chose to use one of the Doctor’s old conversational manoeuvres: diversion. “How are we getting out of here?”
He huffed. “I’m not doing anything until they give me my clothes back. I searched high and low for that suit, and I’m not running off without it. And I’m not running off in the altogether.” He set his chin on his knees sulkily.
Rose rolled her eyes. All of the times he’d practically ruined his suit; all of the times he’d given her grief for her ‘21st century inhibitions,’ and he chose now to worry about those things? “Honestly, Doctor. It’s not like you’ve never been naked before. It’s not like we’ve never been naked before. In a room. Together.”
“But we’re usually doing other things, and the room’s much more comfortable. Pillows and duvets and...and...carpet! And snogging. And shagging.” He smiled a bit.
His last statement triggered a new worry in Rose. “Oh my gosh! This...this isn’t one of those ‘shag-or-die’ type places, is it?” The Doctor looked up at her, questioningly. “You know, like in those cheesy sci-fi stories or romance novels.” The Doctor arched an eyebrow eloquently. “Not that you’ve read those. Or me. I’ve heard about them from Shereen,” she finished quickly, blushing slightly.
“Sounds like something your mum would think of,” he muttered darkly. Rose peered at him, having not heard the specifics but getting the gist of the sentiment. He put on a bland look.
“Right,” continued Rose. “Shag or die. This isn’t one of those situations, is it? Because while I like shagging you-love it-I’m not really comfortable performing for an audience.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well...they made us get naked! Together!” She blushed uncomfortably, and once again changed the subject. “Can we just find a way out of here? Please?”
The Doctor huffed, annoyed, and made no effort to move. Whether it was because of her lack of interest in performing for an audience, or because he was still being oddly stubborn about being naked, Rose wasn’t sure. She walked over to him and crouched in front of him; he remained truculent. She bent her head down, trying to catch his eye, but he stubbornly refused to look at her.
“Oh, for the love of...” Rose had had enough. His eyes now closed in an effort to avoid catching her eye, and his brain fully focused on pouting, he didn’t notice when Rose moved her hands to hover over his waist. “Last chance, Time Lord.”
He didn’t respond. Rose took drastic action.
She was merciless in her tickling of the Doctor, who, she had learned, was quite ticklish under the ribs. In spite of himself, he started to giggle, and was forced to uncurl himself from his modesty-protecting ball to defend himself against Rose. Once he had been roused from his funk, it was the work of a few short moments for him to turn the tables on his attacker and Rose quickly found herself with her back against the wall and wrists pinned above her head. The Doctor and she were nose-to-nose, Rose seated while the Doctor sat on his haunches, and her grin faded at the intensity of the look he was giving her. Even after being romantically involved for so long, the look still left her breathless, and she hoped never to grow tired of it. He looked down at her lips, then raised his brown eyes to meet her hazel ones.
“Rose Tyler,” he practically growled. She wondered if he was going to snog her or shag her, predicament and shoes be damned, and was surprised when he instead leaned back a bit and spoke. “We do not have to shag to save our lives. Not with this lot.” He let go of one wrist and pointed at her with his free hand. “And it is not nice to tickle a Time Lord. Haven’t you read the children’s book? ‘Never Tickle a Time Lord?’ Surely you found it in the library? I may have been working out some complex equation to get us out of here when you so rudely interrupted me!”
“Yeah, ‘cept your pout and your sulking kind of gave you away.”
“I was not sulking!”
“You were!”
He let out a heavy sigh before releasing her other hand and standing up. As he pulled her to her feet, he reiterated one last time, “Time Lords Do. Not. Sulk.” Rose made as if to once again disagree, and he silenced her with a quick peck on the lips. “No tongue-don’t want to get into even deeper trouble,” he whispered wickedly into her ear before turning to give the room a proper look.
Rose found herself suddenly breathless, and took a moment to consciously focus on the task at hand. “Right. Escape. So...now what?”
The Doctor was staring intently at the wall he had been leaning against. “Now...” he dragged the word out. Rose sighed. Despite whatever the Doctor was about to say, he had no plan. “Now, we sit and await trial.”
Rose blinked, sure she had misunderstood. “We what?”
He turned to face her. “Sit and await trial. The solicitors should be along soon. Soon-ish. Sooner rather than later.”
“That’s it? That’s your escape plan?”
“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and shot her a dazzling grin. “Been the plan all along, really. Funny stuff, this aoooeiiiieeauu. As you said, feels like water-only on the surface, though. Hard as diamonds when you get down to it. Harder, really…due to a variety of things you clearly don’t care about.” He had noticed Rose’s impatient look. “It’d be a job to get out of here even if they hadn’t nicked my jacket-and don’t think I’m forgetting that you persuaded me-practically forced me!-to sign a contract to give up my clothes!”
Rose was slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation’s pace and focus, but the Doctor carried on.
“Funny about the shoes, really, but still. You rushed me! Didn’t even give me a chance to get beyond the first page, all ‘Will you just sign it’ and ‘sign the bloody thing, Doctor.’ Given enough time, I could have found a legal loophole before they took our clothes.”
“They had a gun pointed at you.” Rose felt compelled to remind him of this detail.
“Pish posh, Hieronymus Bosch.” He pulled a face at the phrase. “Yes, it was a gun in the strictest sense of the word, firing a projectile, yes. But all it would have done was knocked me out again! And they wouldn’t have taken my clothes without a signature, so they’d have to have woken me up eventually. I would have been through that contract in no time. But nooooo, you had to rush me.”
Rose threw her hands up in the air and settled against the opposite wall. The room was chilly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, rubbing her hands over her upper arms to generate some heat. The chill wasn’t helped by the strange, unsettling, watery feeling of the wall at her back. The Doctor, his rant apparently over, came over and sat down, pulling her into an embrace. Rose snuggled into him, the room cool enough to make even the Doctor’s body feel warm. And the Doctor’s body was far nicer to lean against than the wall-of-water-that-wasn’t-water.
“I may have forgotten a social more, but I remember this-we’ll be brought before a judge and asked to explain what we did. They’re really quite reasonable here, and we should be free in a jiff.” He winced at his use of the word. “Just let me do the talking.”
“I never have much of a choice with you, do I? Can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“You’re hilarious, Rose Tyler,” he told her dryly.
She giggled.
“I don’t have anywhere to put my specs,” he complained.
“Put them on top of your head.”
“I don’t like to do that,” he said, shifting to lift a hand to perch them precariously in the thicket of his hair.
“Why not?” When he didn’t answer, she tipped her head back so she could see him. “Why don’t you like to do that?”
He shrugged innocently. “No reason.”
She grinned at him. “Is it because they ruin your hair?”
“No,” he responded, sounding almost as if he were on the edge of another sulk.
“Your hair’s always a mess. It looks good that way. You know it.”
“I don’t care how my hair looks,” he denied, although he looked a little pleased at her comment.
She settled comfortably back against him, cuddling into him for warmth. She’d kill for a blanket, she thought. She had to get her mind off the coolness of the air. “Let’s play a game.”
“What sort of game?”
“I went to the store and I bought apples,” said Rose.
“What did you buy apples for?” he asked, with interest.
She laughed. “No, no, now it’s your turn.”
“My turn to buy apples?” He was plainly perplexed.
“No, it’s a game. The alphabet game. You know, I go to the store and I buy apples, then you go to the store and you buy apples and bread.”
“What am I doing with the apples and the bread?”
“Forget it,” she sighed, and they lapsed into silence. Rose picked up one of his hands and traced the lines of his palm.
“Now, Rose,” he began, after a moment, in a tone she recognized as his Lecture Tone. “What have we learned today?”
“We have learned,” she answered obediently, walking her fingertips across his knuckles, “that you shouldn’t lick things that aren’t me.”
“That isn’t what we’ve learned,” he chided.
“Oh, no? That’s what you’re going to learn, then, the next time I don’t let that tongue of yours near me.”
He cheated by rasping his tongue over the pulse point in her neck, which, of course, caused her to make an embarrassing sound rather like a purr.
“Well, that’s what I’ve learned today,” he mumbled against her skin.
“What?” she murmured.
“That you will be unable to enforce any rule that prohibits my tongue from making contact with you.”
“And I’ve learned today that you’re a smug bastard.”
He chuckled. “No, you’ve learned today that you should always read everything before you sign.”
“No, I really think I’ve learned today that you’re a smug bastard.”
He kissed her earlobe in reply, not with any purpose, almost absently, full of half-distracted affection. Little gestures like that never failed to undo her. She could never stay angry with him, for anything, because he would do something random and silly and totally endearing, like kiss her earlobe, or suddenly unearth a brush and set to combing out her hair, or hug her to him and button them both into his coat.
Despite wearing trainers, the lack of socks meant Rose’s toes were growing cold. She slid the toes of her shoes under the Doctor’s leg, but that had very little effect because his leg was cold. Possibly colder than she was. For the first time actually concentrating on it, she pressed his fingers between her hands, recognizing that they were cool to the touch. He was normally cooler than she expected, and for the first time she connected that with all of those layers he was fond of wearing. When she was comfortable in a T-shirt, he would keep his coat wrapped around him, and she had put it down to just the Doctor being the Doctor and eccentric and not human. But she now suspected he was susceptible to cold, which made her feel a bit bad; she was getting uncomfortably chilly, so it had to be worse for him. And he wasn’t complaining, which deserved a reward.
She draped her legs over his in an effort to share some of her warmth with him, then said, “I’m sorry I made you sign the form. Before you could find the loophole.”
“Ah, well, it taught us a very good lesson, didn’t it, though?”
“I was worried,” she said, running her fingers along his fingers. “I was worried about you. Even if the gun was only supposed to knock you out, they don’t know you’re a Time Lord. How was I to know it wouldn’t affect you differently? You dropped like a ton of bricks, no warning.” She kissed the tip of his thumb. “I was worried.”
He was silent for a moment. “I am very difficult to kill. Much more difficult to kill than you, you know, so you really shouldn’t have been so foolish as to get yourself arrested and thrown in this cell with me.”
“Better with two, right?”
“Indeed.” She felt him rest his lips in her hair. “Thank you for being worried.”
“Oh, any time,” she said, lightly, shifting to press her chest against his side and rest her hands against his chest, which did nothing to warm them up. No wonder he preferred being naked in rooms with duvets, she thought. “You’re sure this isn’t a shag-or-die situation?”
“Really, Rose, you’re obsessed with this shag-or-die business.”
“It’s just…They stick us in this cell, they take all our clothing, and it’s freezing. Of course we’re going to think how to share body warmth.”
“I wasn’t thinking any such thing. You have an extremely dirty mind, Rose Tyler. I do admire it so.”
She laughed. “This is the most uneventful imprisonment we’ve ever had.”
“The solicitors will be by any minute. Then it’ll take no time at all to get our clothes back.”
“Solicitors? What, like at home?”
“Welll…not quite. They adopted the English legal system-Crown Court even though they don’t have a King or Queen, barristers, solicitors, the whole kit and caboodle. But after a few years, the thing fell apart-everyone was confused, you see, about the difference between a solicitor and a barrister. They had to re-set the entire system. Not the laws of course, but how they tried them. Nothing against the barristers-lovely silks-but they decided to just combine the two and call them 'solicitor.' The barristers weren't happy, but they got some concessions. Sped cases right up, but it seems there’s a ton of frivolous litigation now that it’s so easy to use the system…” He trailed off as the wall to their right slid open.
Standing in the hallway was the spokesalien from earlier in the day, and an alien wearing a wig and dressed in something that looked suspiciously like the black robes worn in court. “Is he…she…it wearing a peruke?!” Rose whispered in astonishment.
Chapter 2: Where things grow more interesting. Perhaps.
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: R (for excessive nekkedness)
Spoilers: None at all
Beta: Wishes-She-Was-The-Master's-Voodoo-Child
Summary: The Doctor licks a wall. As a result, he and Rose spend the day naked together.
A/N: Written as a gift for
firefaery2 for the
oh_she_knows Summer Lovin' Ficathon. The request was “Ten nekked except for specs and chucks!” It was a hard job, but someone had to do it. :)
Never Tickle a Time Lord
Chapter 1
“It’s beautiful here,” announced Rose, as they walked hand-in-hand through the town. Its streets were paved in a spongy, purple brick that was a little like walking on foam and Rose was bouncing as she stepped.
“I’m glad you think so,” the Doctor replied.
Something about his tone made her look at him. “What, you don’t like it?”
He scratched the back of his neck before he answered. “Well, it’s a bit dull, isn’t it? No mystery to solve, no plague to cure, no crisis to avert, no disaster to repair. There’s nothing going on here.” He glowered at an inhabitant, passing them on the street, who looked alarmed and sidled away from them.
“They’re living in peace. Leave them alone.” Rose smiled warmly at the strange creature. It basically resembled a human, only with much longer legs and arms and hands and feet and fingers and toes. And with a strange smoothness. They were entirely hairless and moved like they were flowing. Rose found it captivating. And relaxing.
“I’m not saying I’m going to cause a war to break out,” the Doctor grumbled. “It’s just…Would a little excitement kill them?”
“Tell me about the buildings,” Rose said, to distract him. “What are they made out of?”
The Doctor frowned. The walls of the buildings, like the inhabitants of the planet, were all extremely smooth and extremely shiny. Rose couldn’t decide whether they were blinding white or gunmetal grey in colour; they seemed to keep shifting. Then again, the light on the planet was itself iridescent, the result of one very bright sun that was followed across the sky by six little moons, like a mother duck being followed by ducklings. “I think it’s aoooeiiiieeauu,” said the Doctor.
“You think it’s what now?”
“Aooo-” he began, then waved his hand. “Doesn’t matter. It’s a fairly common mineral in this solar system. Practically indestructible. Here. Feel it.” He took her hand and laid it against the wall of the nearest building.
It felt as if she’d plunged her hand into a cooling curtain of water, although the wall was neither wet nor moving. Rose laughed, delighted. “That’s amazing.”
“It is quite something,” the Doctor conceded, laying his own hand against it. A frown flickered over his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Not ‘wrong,’ just unexpected,” he replied, thoughtfully, then leaned in and gave the wall a thorough lick. “Just as I thought. It’s not pure aooeiiiieeauu.”
Rose was regarding him with her nose wrinkled. “You know, when you do things like that?”
“Things like what?”
“Lick walls.”
“Yeah?”
“It doesn’t make me want to let you stick that tongue down my throat, knowing the places it’s been.”
He flashed a grin that she felt in her blood, which was really unfair of him. “Liar.”
“Don’t kiss me,” she warned him, because he looked like he was getting ready to do just that.
“You don’t mean that.”
No, she didn’t. “Yes, I do. You shouldn’t go around licking things like that.”
“You don’t mind when I lick you like that.”
“That’s different. You’re supposed to lick me.”
“I don’t think your mother would agree with-“He flinched and rubbed at the back of his neck, drawing his eyebrows together in annoyance. “What in bloody hell was that?” he said, and then plummeted to the ground abruptly in a dead faint.
“Doctor!” Rose’s eyes widened as she dropped to her knees beside him. He was breathing, and both hearts were steadily beating, but he stirred not at all when she shook him.
“Step away from him,” said a voice.
Rose looked up. There was a tight knot of three of the planet’s inhabitants looming over her. Well, she thought. Whatever was wrong with the Doctor it couldn’t be that bad, because the TARDIS was, thankfully, still translating. “What have you done to him?” she demanded.
“Step away from him,” the one in front repeated.
She shook her head. “No way. Whatever you’ve done to him, fix-Oh.” She stopped talking when he aimed the gun at her. Guns, she thought, always looked the same, in every culture. She lifted her hands in the air to show she was unarmed. “Listen, I’m not threatening you. I just want you to-“
“Step away from him.”
She considered, decided she might get farther if she obeyed, and stood cautiously, taking a step away from the Doctor. “Okay. Whatever’s going on-Oi!” The two who hadn’t spoken had picked the Doctor up, one gripping his ankles, the other under his armpits. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“He is under arrest,” said the spokesalien.
“Under arrest?” Rose echoed, incredulously. “For what?”
“He licked the wall.”
“So? You can’t possibly mean it’s against the law to lick the wall.” No one answered her. The little group started walking off with the Doctor. “Wait a second.” She jogged after them. “You can’t just take him away. What did you do to him?”
“It’s harmless,” said the spokesalien. “He’s fine. Standard procedure.” He indicated the gun. “Now, stop following us.”
“If you think I’m just going to let you carry him away, you’re out of your mind.”
“You’re not under arrest,” the spokesalien pointed out, reasonably.
“Oh, no?” Rose cocked an eyebrow at him, then leaned over and licked the nearest wall. It tasted awful. She couldn’t help the face she made as she straightened. The aliens did not have terribly expressive faces, but they did look floored by her actions. “I’m under arrest now, aren’t I? Although there’s no need for the gun. I’ll come peacefully.”
There was a moment of silence. Then the spokesalien said, grudgingly, “Go,” and prompted her direction with the gun.
The two other aliens carrying the Doctor walked in front of her, leading the way to an undistinguished building with two wide double doors. It was dim and cool inside, and the air had a sharp taste to it, almost metallic. Rose followed as the aliens continued carrying the Doctor down the hallways, worrying now that they would be put in separate cells, and trying to establish some sort of plan if that happened. They stopped at what appeared to be a dead end, and she watched as the spokesalien pushed some unseen button on the wall to the left. It slid open smoothly and soundlessly, revealing a relatively small room, completely empty. The aliens carried the Doctor in and dropped him in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Then, to her relief, the spokesalien ushered her in as well.
The two other aliens had shoved the Doctor onto his stomach. “What are you-” she began, alarmed anew, but one of them pulled a small, red ball out of the back of the Doctor’s neck, and the Doctor immediately sat up.
And he was clearly okay, because he was in full complaining mode. “What the hell?” he whined, rubbing at his neck. “That stung, you know. What is this all about?” He sat on the floor and glared at their captors.
“You’re under arrest,” the spokesalien informed him. Another alien padded in, handed him two pieces of paper and two pens. “Ah,” he said. “Here we are. Sign these.”
Rose took the piece of paper and pen she was handed. The type was tiny, the words crammed together. No way was she reading that. She signed it immediately.
The Doctor, meanwhile, had pulled out his glasses and was reading his piece of paper carefully. “What could I possibly be under arrest for?”
“Public display of tongue.”
The Doctor looked at the spokesalien in disbelief, over the top of his specs. “Public display of what?”
“Tongue,” Rose snapped at him. “Because you went and bloody licked the wall.”
The Doctor regarded her with interest. “And what are you under arrest for?”
“Well, I licked the wall, too. Couldn’t let you get arrested all on your own. Unconscious and helpless as you were.”
“I was not helpless,” he protested.
“You will sign the form,” the spokesalien interrupted, firmly.
“Not until I read it,” said the Doctor, just as firmly, turning his gaze back to his form.
“Sign it now,” said the spokesalien, lifting his gun up.
“Will you just sign it?” Rose sighed.
“Hold on a second.” The Doctor frowned at the words on the paper. “I’m not-“
“Sign the bloody thing,” she commanded him. “It’d be pretty boring in here for me if you’re unconscious again.”
“I don’t-“ he began, petulantly, but the spokesalien made a show of aiming his gun and Rose said, in that warning tone she had, “Doctor,” so he signed and handed it back.
The spokesalien turned to Rose. “You will remove your clothing.”
Rose blinked. “I’ll do what?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” said the Doctor. “The forms said we have to surrender all our clothing.”
“And change into what?”
“Nothing,” the spokesalien answered her.
“Nothing? You want me to just get naked?”
“Standard procedure,” said the spokesalien.
“What about him?” She waved at the Doctor.
“Him, too.”
She sighed heavily, and then pulled off her top.
“Wait a second!” the Doctor squeaked. “You’re just going to get undressed?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t want to get shot, yeah? Take your clothes off.” She took off her bra and handed it to an alien who was waiting for her clothing and folding it all very neatly for her.
The Doctor stared at her in appalled horror.
“You must remove your clothing,” the spokesalien reminded the Doctor, brandishing his gun again a bit.
“I…I don’t…Really?”
“You’d better get started,” said Rose, by now removing her shoes. “You wear so much clothing; it’s going to take you forever. I’ve just about given up on getting him completely undressed,” she confided to the alien, as she handed him her jeans. “Takes too bloody long, you know? I just concern myself with the vital parts, and maybe, if there’s time, I work on getting his six shirts off of him.”
The Doctor had grudgingly taken off his brown coat and shrugged out of his suit jacket. “I don’t wear six shirts. And do you think we could stop talking about the clothes I do and do not wear and whether or not you take them off me?”
“You may keep your footwear,” the spokesalien informed Rose as she went to hand over her trainers.
“I can?”
“Of course,” he responded, politely. “We are not savages.”
Rose sat and put her trainers back on. She watched as the Doctor, as slowly as possible, took his shirt, Henley, and vest off. She leaned back on her elbows with interest as he took his time taking off his own trainers. He was grumbling under his breath, words she couldn’t catch but she could tell he wasn’t happy. It took him forever to take off his trousers and pants. Even the spokesalien began sighing in impatience. Rose wanted to assure the spokesalien that she’d experienced that same frustration many times.
When the Doctor was finally finished, the spokesalien said, “You may keep your footwear.”
“Thanks,” the Doctor bit out, sarcastically.
Then the aliens glided out of the room and closed the door behind them. The Doctor pulled his trainers on and looked at Rose, miserable and furious all at once. He was still wearing his specs, and he tipped his head to glare at her over the top of them.
“Well,” she drawled. “You wanted excitement.”
“They could have left us our socks,” the Doctor said, petulantly. Rose gazed steadily at him. “Stop looking at me,” he said, stiffly, walking to the other side of the room and dropping to the floor.
“You know,” Rose said, with exaggerated casualness, “you’ve got one job: Know alien mores. That’s it. One job. Know! Alien! Mores!”
The Doctor sniffed a bit, as if offended. “I drive the TARDIS, too.”
“You don’t drive it very well,” she pointed out.
“Oi! That’s just mean.”
“And now you’re going to sulk.”
“Time Lords don’t sulk.”
“Time Lords are world-class sulkers.”
“You shouldn’t insult naked Time Lords, Rose.”
“Because then they sulk.”
“I’m not sulking! Stop looking at me!”
The room-cell-lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Despite his protestations, the Doctor remained sitting against the wall, practically in the corner of the small room; he’d drawn his knees up, wrapped his arms around his shins, and positioned his feet quite carefully to preserve what little modesty he could. He was still sulking, in spite of what he said.
Rose tried desperately to find something interesting elsewhere in the cell, not wanting to push the Doctor further into the uncharacteristic snit he was already in. The grey walls were made of the same unpronounceable mineral that had landed them in this mess, and provided no distraction. Rose chanced a glance at the Doctor, easily the most interesting thing in the room. It really was unfair how attractive he was, balled in the corner, pouting in his specs and chucks. His hair had become ruffled as he’d stripped off the layers of clothing, and it provided him the look of a sulky five-year-old; despite her frustration with him at the moment, Rose found a small smile creeping across her face. For a 900-plus-year-old alien, it really was ridiculous how tetchy he was being about being nude. And for as often as he had been nude in this body….
She sighed, causing the Doctor to look up. “Were you looking at me?” He seemed appalled at the idea.
Rose licked her lips; of course she had been looking. The Doctor was naked-well, mostly. The fact that he had retained his shoes and his glasses only emphasized how very bare the rest of him was. Either a yes or no answer, however, would be taken the wrong way. She chose to use one of the Doctor’s old conversational manoeuvres: diversion. “How are we getting out of here?”
He huffed. “I’m not doing anything until they give me my clothes back. I searched high and low for that suit, and I’m not running off without it. And I’m not running off in the altogether.” He set his chin on his knees sulkily.
Rose rolled her eyes. All of the times he’d practically ruined his suit; all of the times he’d given her grief for her ‘21st century inhibitions,’ and he chose now to worry about those things? “Honestly, Doctor. It’s not like you’ve never been naked before. It’s not like we’ve never been naked before. In a room. Together.”
“But we’re usually doing other things, and the room’s much more comfortable. Pillows and duvets and...and...carpet! And snogging. And shagging.” He smiled a bit.
His last statement triggered a new worry in Rose. “Oh my gosh! This...this isn’t one of those ‘shag-or-die’ type places, is it?” The Doctor looked up at her, questioningly. “You know, like in those cheesy sci-fi stories or romance novels.” The Doctor arched an eyebrow eloquently. “Not that you’ve read those. Or me. I’ve heard about them from Shereen,” she finished quickly, blushing slightly.
“Sounds like something your mum would think of,” he muttered darkly. Rose peered at him, having not heard the specifics but getting the gist of the sentiment. He put on a bland look.
“Right,” continued Rose. “Shag or die. This isn’t one of those situations, is it? Because while I like shagging you-love it-I’m not really comfortable performing for an audience.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well...they made us get naked! Together!” She blushed uncomfortably, and once again changed the subject. “Can we just find a way out of here? Please?”
The Doctor huffed, annoyed, and made no effort to move. Whether it was because of her lack of interest in performing for an audience, or because he was still being oddly stubborn about being naked, Rose wasn’t sure. She walked over to him and crouched in front of him; he remained truculent. She bent her head down, trying to catch his eye, but he stubbornly refused to look at her.
“Oh, for the love of...” Rose had had enough. His eyes now closed in an effort to avoid catching her eye, and his brain fully focused on pouting, he didn’t notice when Rose moved her hands to hover over his waist. “Last chance, Time Lord.”
He didn’t respond. Rose took drastic action.
She was merciless in her tickling of the Doctor, who, she had learned, was quite ticklish under the ribs. In spite of himself, he started to giggle, and was forced to uncurl himself from his modesty-protecting ball to defend himself against Rose. Once he had been roused from his funk, it was the work of a few short moments for him to turn the tables on his attacker and Rose quickly found herself with her back against the wall and wrists pinned above her head. The Doctor and she were nose-to-nose, Rose seated while the Doctor sat on his haunches, and her grin faded at the intensity of the look he was giving her. Even after being romantically involved for so long, the look still left her breathless, and she hoped never to grow tired of it. He looked down at her lips, then raised his brown eyes to meet her hazel ones.
“Rose Tyler,” he practically growled. She wondered if he was going to snog her or shag her, predicament and shoes be damned, and was surprised when he instead leaned back a bit and spoke. “We do not have to shag to save our lives. Not with this lot.” He let go of one wrist and pointed at her with his free hand. “And it is not nice to tickle a Time Lord. Haven’t you read the children’s book? ‘Never Tickle a Time Lord?’ Surely you found it in the library? I may have been working out some complex equation to get us out of here when you so rudely interrupted me!”
“Yeah, ‘cept your pout and your sulking kind of gave you away.”
“I was not sulking!”
“You were!”
He let out a heavy sigh before releasing her other hand and standing up. As he pulled her to her feet, he reiterated one last time, “Time Lords Do. Not. Sulk.” Rose made as if to once again disagree, and he silenced her with a quick peck on the lips. “No tongue-don’t want to get into even deeper trouble,” he whispered wickedly into her ear before turning to give the room a proper look.
Rose found herself suddenly breathless, and took a moment to consciously focus on the task at hand. “Right. Escape. So...now what?”
The Doctor was staring intently at the wall he had been leaning against. “Now...” he dragged the word out. Rose sighed. Despite whatever the Doctor was about to say, he had no plan. “Now, we sit and await trial.”
Rose blinked, sure she had misunderstood. “We what?”
He turned to face her. “Sit and await trial. The solicitors should be along soon. Soon-ish. Sooner rather than later.”
“That’s it? That’s your escape plan?”
“Yep.” He popped the ‘p’ and shot her a dazzling grin. “Been the plan all along, really. Funny stuff, this aoooeiiiieeauu. As you said, feels like water-only on the surface, though. Hard as diamonds when you get down to it. Harder, really…due to a variety of things you clearly don’t care about.” He had noticed Rose’s impatient look. “It’d be a job to get out of here even if they hadn’t nicked my jacket-and don’t think I’m forgetting that you persuaded me-practically forced me!-to sign a contract to give up my clothes!”
Rose was slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in the conversation’s pace and focus, but the Doctor carried on.
“Funny about the shoes, really, but still. You rushed me! Didn’t even give me a chance to get beyond the first page, all ‘Will you just sign it’ and ‘sign the bloody thing, Doctor.’ Given enough time, I could have found a legal loophole before they took our clothes.”
“They had a gun pointed at you.” Rose felt compelled to remind him of this detail.
“Pish posh, Hieronymus Bosch.” He pulled a face at the phrase. “Yes, it was a gun in the strictest sense of the word, firing a projectile, yes. But all it would have done was knocked me out again! And they wouldn’t have taken my clothes without a signature, so they’d have to have woken me up eventually. I would have been through that contract in no time. But nooooo, you had to rush me.”
Rose threw her hands up in the air and settled against the opposite wall. The room was chilly, and she wrapped her arms across her chest, rubbing her hands over her upper arms to generate some heat. The chill wasn’t helped by the strange, unsettling, watery feeling of the wall at her back. The Doctor, his rant apparently over, came over and sat down, pulling her into an embrace. Rose snuggled into him, the room cool enough to make even the Doctor’s body feel warm. And the Doctor’s body was far nicer to lean against than the wall-of-water-that-wasn’t-water.
“I may have forgotten a social more, but I remember this-we’ll be brought before a judge and asked to explain what we did. They’re really quite reasonable here, and we should be free in a jiff.” He winced at his use of the word. “Just let me do the talking.”
“I never have much of a choice with you, do I? Can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“You’re hilarious, Rose Tyler,” he told her dryly.
She giggled.
“I don’t have anywhere to put my specs,” he complained.
“Put them on top of your head.”
“I don’t like to do that,” he said, shifting to lift a hand to perch them precariously in the thicket of his hair.
“Why not?” When he didn’t answer, she tipped her head back so she could see him. “Why don’t you like to do that?”
He shrugged innocently. “No reason.”
She grinned at him. “Is it because they ruin your hair?”
“No,” he responded, sounding almost as if he were on the edge of another sulk.
“Your hair’s always a mess. It looks good that way. You know it.”
“I don’t care how my hair looks,” he denied, although he looked a little pleased at her comment.
She settled comfortably back against him, cuddling into him for warmth. She’d kill for a blanket, she thought. She had to get her mind off the coolness of the air. “Let’s play a game.”
“What sort of game?”
“I went to the store and I bought apples,” said Rose.
“What did you buy apples for?” he asked, with interest.
She laughed. “No, no, now it’s your turn.”
“My turn to buy apples?” He was plainly perplexed.
“No, it’s a game. The alphabet game. You know, I go to the store and I buy apples, then you go to the store and you buy apples and bread.”
“What am I doing with the apples and the bread?”
“Forget it,” she sighed, and they lapsed into silence. Rose picked up one of his hands and traced the lines of his palm.
“Now, Rose,” he began, after a moment, in a tone she recognized as his Lecture Tone. “What have we learned today?”
“We have learned,” she answered obediently, walking her fingertips across his knuckles, “that you shouldn’t lick things that aren’t me.”
“That isn’t what we’ve learned,” he chided.
“Oh, no? That’s what you’re going to learn, then, the next time I don’t let that tongue of yours near me.”
He cheated by rasping his tongue over the pulse point in her neck, which, of course, caused her to make an embarrassing sound rather like a purr.
“Well, that’s what I’ve learned today,” he mumbled against her skin.
“What?” she murmured.
“That you will be unable to enforce any rule that prohibits my tongue from making contact with you.”
“And I’ve learned today that you’re a smug bastard.”
He chuckled. “No, you’ve learned today that you should always read everything before you sign.”
“No, I really think I’ve learned today that you’re a smug bastard.”
He kissed her earlobe in reply, not with any purpose, almost absently, full of half-distracted affection. Little gestures like that never failed to undo her. She could never stay angry with him, for anything, because he would do something random and silly and totally endearing, like kiss her earlobe, or suddenly unearth a brush and set to combing out her hair, or hug her to him and button them both into his coat.
Despite wearing trainers, the lack of socks meant Rose’s toes were growing cold. She slid the toes of her shoes under the Doctor’s leg, but that had very little effect because his leg was cold. Possibly colder than she was. For the first time actually concentrating on it, she pressed his fingers between her hands, recognizing that they were cool to the touch. He was normally cooler than she expected, and for the first time she connected that with all of those layers he was fond of wearing. When she was comfortable in a T-shirt, he would keep his coat wrapped around him, and she had put it down to just the Doctor being the Doctor and eccentric and not human. But she now suspected he was susceptible to cold, which made her feel a bit bad; she was getting uncomfortably chilly, so it had to be worse for him. And he wasn’t complaining, which deserved a reward.
She draped her legs over his in an effort to share some of her warmth with him, then said, “I’m sorry I made you sign the form. Before you could find the loophole.”
“Ah, well, it taught us a very good lesson, didn’t it, though?”
“I was worried,” she said, running her fingers along his fingers. “I was worried about you. Even if the gun was only supposed to knock you out, they don’t know you’re a Time Lord. How was I to know it wouldn’t affect you differently? You dropped like a ton of bricks, no warning.” She kissed the tip of his thumb. “I was worried.”
He was silent for a moment. “I am very difficult to kill. Much more difficult to kill than you, you know, so you really shouldn’t have been so foolish as to get yourself arrested and thrown in this cell with me.”
“Better with two, right?”
“Indeed.” She felt him rest his lips in her hair. “Thank you for being worried.”
“Oh, any time,” she said, lightly, shifting to press her chest against his side and rest her hands against his chest, which did nothing to warm them up. No wonder he preferred being naked in rooms with duvets, she thought. “You’re sure this isn’t a shag-or-die situation?”
“Really, Rose, you’re obsessed with this shag-or-die business.”
“It’s just…They stick us in this cell, they take all our clothing, and it’s freezing. Of course we’re going to think how to share body warmth.”
“I wasn’t thinking any such thing. You have an extremely dirty mind, Rose Tyler. I do admire it so.”
She laughed. “This is the most uneventful imprisonment we’ve ever had.”
“The solicitors will be by any minute. Then it’ll take no time at all to get our clothes back.”
“Solicitors? What, like at home?”
“Welll…not quite. They adopted the English legal system-Crown Court even though they don’t have a King or Queen, barristers, solicitors, the whole kit and caboodle. But after a few years, the thing fell apart-everyone was confused, you see, about the difference between a solicitor and a barrister. They had to re-set the entire system. Not the laws of course, but how they tried them. Nothing against the barristers-lovely silks-but they decided to just combine the two and call them 'solicitor.' The barristers weren't happy, but they got some concessions. Sped cases right up, but it seems there’s a ton of frivolous litigation now that it’s so easy to use the system…” He trailed off as the wall to their right slid open.
Standing in the hallway was the spokesalien from earlier in the day, and an alien wearing a wig and dressed in something that looked suspiciously like the black robes worn in court. “Is he…she…it wearing a peruke?!” Rose whispered in astonishment.
Chapter 2: Where things grow more interesting. Perhaps.