(no subject)
Some like it hop, Nine/Rose, Jack, PG, 2,644 w
While the jury was still out if she’d ever recover from this misadventure, she was sure of one thing: She had never in her life seen a more unattractive woman than the Doctor in drag. The second thing she knew was that she was never letting Jack plan a jail bust ever again.
A/N: Timeline: After The Doctor Dances and before Battle of the Long Games.
Club Lucky, Rose could now reflect, was a bit of a misnomer. From her perch on the top bunk of the dank alien jail she was beginning to see many things clearly. In fact, just now, she was getting an eyeful of something she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to see…
The Doctor and Jack were fighting over which of them would get to wear her favourite pair of cream silk pumps.
She closed her eyes and shook her head to try and rid herself of the image, but it did no good; so she averted her eyes to avoid the image burning permanently into her retinas.
While the jury was still out if she’d ever recover from this misadventure, she was sure of one thing: She had never in her life seen a more unattractive woman than the Doctor in drag. The second thing she knew was that she was never letting Jack plan a jail bust ever again.
“This is absolutely the last time I let you plan a jailbreak!” hollered the Doctor as he struggled with his stockings. “And how in the name of Rassilon does one get these things on?”
“Oh, Doctor, you look lovely,” flattered the Captain, who truthfully looked quite fetching in the white organza party dress Rose had bought in 1950s Paris with the Doctor some months back.
“I haven’t seen this much meringue since Lady Di’s wedding!” The Doctor said, holding out the hemline of his silver dress in a bizarre mixture of abject horror and fascination. “Rose, you wear these things?”
“Ugh, oh-you’re stretching it all out!” lamented Rose as she watched her favourite silver silk party frock strain to cover the Doctor’s wide shoulders. He’d had to wear a microfiber t-shirt under his dress to hide his hairiness. It looked a bit odd, but in the dim lighting they hoped he’d pass. Jack, in contrast was completely smooth. It seemed he was always prepared for any eventuality.
“Quit whinging, Rose” groused the Doctor. “Y’know I’m not enjoying this any more than you are!”
“I dunno, you seem to know your way around a bra pretty well,” she said acidly as she watched him pad himself up.
“Nine hundred years of age am I-y’think I haven’t figured my way ‘round a simple brassiere? Remember what I told you, Rose. I have danced in my time.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“Come again?”
“I said--Nine-hundred years, is that why you’re beginning to sound like Yoda?”
Rose glowered at the Doctor from across the cramped cell. It was clear to Jack that their mood from earlier had not improved despite being recently chained together. In fact, he’d noticed that things had been a bit tense between the Doctor and Rose since he came aboard. He sighed. He had his work cut out for him this time, he thought. This plan of his had better work.
“Now kids. Play nicely,” scolded Jack. “You can fight all you want once we’re safely back aboard the TARDIS.” He produced a small box of false eyelashes from out of nowhere and began to expertly attach them.
“Remind me again why you need to be in a dress?” queried the Doctor as he adjusted his bushy blonde wig, looking all Farrah Fawcett on steroids.
“I don’t,” confessed Jack “I just didn’t want to miss out on all the fun!” As he shook out his straight black wig Rose was vaguely reminded of Cher in her younger, Bob Mackie days. Jack ran his hands down the length of his body, smoothing out the lines of the dress. “Ooh. Tsk tsk. Panty lines. I guess I’ll just have to go commando and tuck,” he said and reached under the dress to yank his knickers off.
“Aaruugh. This is never gonna work,” whined Rose as she gently thumped her head against the cold, dank wall of the cell.
“Relax, Rose. It’s me!” Jack grinned reassuringly. “I’ve gotten out of worse scrapes with nothing more than sellotape and some dental floss.”
“Please tell me that’s not all you were wearing…” groaned the Doctor.
Jack beamed at him. “Well, it certainly caused a distraction!”
Rose returned to hitting her head against the wall.
***
Three hours before, they’d tailed a "Hostile" into Club Lucky. Jack had been eager to run right into the fray. “Ooh, Lucky! My kind of club, sounds like a promise,” Jack purred, flashing his dimples at Rose who giggled and bit her lip.
The Doctor was not amused. “Oi, Romeo! Don’t get all handsy in there. We’re not sure what we’re dealin’ with or what you might step into.”
“You forget, Doctor-my hardware’s upgraded-I’m compatible with all users.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’ of,” said the Doctor darkly. “I don’t need you and your hardware gettin’ us into any more trouble, Jack. For once, let’s the three of us just try and get business done on a planet without being invited to a complementary stay in an alien hoosegow. K?”
In the end, however, it was Rose that had gotten them into trouble. Having had a little too much to drink, and having been fed up with the Doctor’s boring surveillance and persistent resistance to her invitations to dance, she’d given up and found her own alien dancing partner. Predictably, things had gotten sticky once her dancing partner showed her he had more than just dancing in mind, and those tentacles of his just seemed to come out of nowhere…
For a man who allegedly abhorred violence, the Doctor sure had one mean left hook.
Rose gawked at the alien bloke who lay sprawled out at her feet and then up to the Doctor, whose dark eyes foretold every legend of the Oncoming Storm. His hands twitched and it looked to Rose like he would have loved to have wrapped them around the randy little bugger’s neck or lop off a few of the necessary limbs that created more humanoidcephalopods-if it hadn’t been for his overdeveloped sense of morals and justice and all-and Rose screaming at him.
“Leave it! JUST LEAVE IT, Doctor!! Let’s get outta here!” She could already hear the familiar wail of sirens coming for them.
Those dark eyes of his locked on her now. Hers grew bigger in anticipation of the harangue that was sure to come next.
“I’ll thank you, Rose Tyler for not acting a complete slapper on the next planet we visit!”
Rose gasped, she couldn’t believe what he’d just said to her! And she thought he hadn’t been watching…
So in the end, it was Rose and the Doctor who had been led out of the club in manacles as they were hooted at by most of the patrons. Most, it had to be said, except for Jack-who almost missed the whole show, apparently too busy trying to download his “hardware” into a “compatible user” over by the bar.
“Don’t worry Doctor! I’ll get you guys out! Just wait for my signal!” He cried happily after them as they were dragged out of the club. He was either enjoying the challenge or enjoying being a spectator for once (the Doctor couldn’t decide which). Jack downed his drink in one hurried gulp, gathered his jacket and made for the side door.
“Who’s worried?” asked the Doctor wryly as they were bundled into their transport to enjoy their complementary stay in an alien hoosegow.
The up-side to the whole jail cell thing was that they were housed together as co-defendants. The downside was that the Doctor was still terribly angry with her. She could tell because he was icily silent and fumed, staring intensely into nothingness. Knowing better than to attempt to engage him in this mood, she wondered if this time she’d finally bought herself a ticket back to the Powell Estates for good, and the thought of being banished from his presence was more than she could take. She fiddled with the zip of her hoodie, trying to figure out how to sort her complicated feelings of guilt about their predicament from her (justifiable) anger at his own ridiculous behaviour and her terrible frustration that the Doctor never seemed to pay enough of the kind of attention to her that she craved.
It was a good thing that Jack didn’t make them wait long. Playing their lawyer, he brandished the psychic paper and was shown into their cell immediately. Whatever the psychic paper had said, his credentials sounded so honorable that no one had bothered to inspect the duffel bag Jack carried in with him, which was fortunate. However, frilly dresses were hardly as good as a file baked in a cake-a fact that the Doctor couldn’t quite ignore.
***
“You brought the psychic paper! That and the sonic could’ve been enough to get us out,” complained the Doctor, “But noooo. Now we’re being forced into some sort of Panto fantasy of yours?”
“Take it easy, Doctor. I didn’t exactly have scads of time to come up with anything else! I just ran to the TARDIS and grabbed what was on hand!”
“You know, you should be thanking him, Doctor,” scolded Rose as she played nervously with the hem of her strapless cream lace dress. It was one thing for him to be angry with her, but quite another to take it out on Jack, who’d been nothing but helpful in this situation and indeed since he came aboard.
“Oh really. Well I beg your pardon! So, maybe you can explain to me exactly how it is that we’ve ended up recreating a scene out of Some Like It Hot?”
“Lookin’ at you, I’d say more like Gene Hackman in the last scenes of The Birdcage!”
“Are you sayin’ I make an ugly woman, Rose? Y’know, you cut me to the quick! It’s the ears, isn’t it? You hate my ears...”
“All right, ENOUGH! Josephine, Sugar-with me,” barked Jack as he sauntered out of the cell, organza fluttering gracefully in his wake. Rose had to hand it to him, as he could certainly work a dress and rock the heels. Why is it that men always look better in heels than women, she wondered. If she lived to one hundred, she would never be able to figure that one out.
For maximum escape potential, the Doctor was told to stay to the rear, keep his head down with his wig covering his face, and hide his “big man hands” in the folds of his dress.
The three sashayed down the hall as elegantly as they could manage. Two looking convincingly like girls (as one of them was) but the bigger blonde looking mostly like a compact elephant in a dress…
Everything was fine until the Doctor opened his mouth.
For on the way out of the final door, one of the big burly guards whistled at him as he held open the door for them.
The Doctor turned on one heel, fanned himself with one hand and drawled in his best Blanche DuBois impersonation: “Oh, why thaaank yooou. Y’know, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
“Wasn’t whistling at you, y’old bag,” rasped the bald and unpleasantly sweaty guard. “You’ve got a face like a bulldog, y’do. But I’ll have a go at your blonde sister, up there.”
“Oh yeah? Well get bent, Kraken!” yelled the Doctor, and he sprinted to freedom.
After an initial moment of shock, the guards quickly recovered themselves and with a warrior cry and angry tentacles flying everywhere, they poured out of the jailhouse in hot pursuit of their escapees.
“What happened to our discreet exit?” Jack bellowed.
“What the hell was that accent?” Rose screeched.
“Lots of planets have a south!” shouted the Doctor. “Haven’t you two ever seen A Streetcar Named Desire?”
“RUN!” screamed Jack.
They took off down the street and the police followed closely behind. Rose was dismayed. She’d forgotten how far away they’d parked the TARDIS. They were going to have to run quite far. At one point Jack took them downhill via a shortcut and she almost slipped. Seriously winded and already wincing from some killer blisters, Rose doubted they’d ever make it. After all, she hadn’t run in heels since Jimmy Stone nicked a bottle of champagne on New Year’s Eve some years back, and she was severely out of practice as she’d learned to wear comfortable shoes since stepping aboard the TARDIS. Her feet were positively killing her and she realised that her shoes hadn’t been the best quality purchase she’d ever made either. A fact brought further home once the heel of her right shoe snapped off, causing her to lurch alarmingly.
Similarly, just a bit in front of her, the Doctor was having little luck with his unfamiliar footwear. Too big for them anyway, he looked like he was in agonizing pain, running on unsteady pins-all sixes and sevens-that made him look like a three-legged cat chasing a piece of string. Between them, the air rang with painful exclamations and colorful expletives.
“Take them off, take them off!” Rose screamed to the Doctor as he was losing ground. He ripped the tight shoes off his feet, only to stub his toe painfully on the stony soil beneath. Rose caught up with him and grabbed his arm, helping him to balance.
Behind them she could hear the angry tentacled menace getting closer.
“They’re gaining!” She yelled. “Doctor, c’mon! Hop! HOP!! Hop for your life!!”
Hobbled and sore they raced towards the opened door of the TARDIS like a frenzied couple in a maniacal three-legged race at a school fete, hopping all the way-organza, lace and silk fluttering wildly in the breeze. Once inside, Jack threw the door closed and now safe, the three of them collapsed on the grated floor of the TARDIS giggling like lunatics. Tears of laughter ran down their cheeks and the Doctor struggled for breath. “Hop…? For… Your life! Did you actually say that, Rose!?”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time!” She wheezed between giggles.
“I haven’t had this much fun in years!” Squealed Jack as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He hugged his two friends. “Oh, I’m so glad I met you two!”
“Hop for your life, Rose? I know I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon,” said the Doctor as he helped her up.
“One thing I know I won’t forget anytime soon is the sight of you in that dress. Just wait ‘til I tell mum you wore her old party frock in a jailbreak!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” The Doctor wailed.
“Just try me, Lordy Pants!” She teased as she reached out and goosed the Doctor on his flouncy, silk covered bum.
“Oi! Nine-hundred years old that is. Would you treat the Magna Carta with such disrespect?”
“Only if it dressed itself up in one of my frocks and called itself a duffer!”
“Oh, that’s it. You’re gonna get it now!”
With a yelp, Rose took off through the halls, the Doctor chasing closely behind her, both of them whooping and hollering all the way.
Shaking his head, Jack picked himself up off the floor and walked over to a piece of the TARDIS’ coral struts. “Well old girl, mission accomplished,” he whispered conspiratorially as he lovingly stroked a piece of the strut. “And hey, thanks for the wardrobe suggestion.”
Rose’s shrieks of laughter reverberated through the cavernous ship as the Doctor caught up to her. Jack couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he heard a lightness in the Doctor’s tone that he hadn’t heard in awhile. And he couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he swore he heard the ship humming happily.
All was right in the universe again. Rose and the Doctor were back on track. Now if he could only get them to shag and get it over with…
While the jury was still out if she’d ever recover from this misadventure, she was sure of one thing: She had never in her life seen a more unattractive woman than the Doctor in drag. The second thing she knew was that she was never letting Jack plan a jail bust ever again.
A/N: Timeline: After The Doctor Dances and before Battle of the Long Games.
Club Lucky, Rose could now reflect, was a bit of a misnomer. From her perch on the top bunk of the dank alien jail she was beginning to see many things clearly. In fact, just now, she was getting an eyeful of something she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to see…
The Doctor and Jack were fighting over which of them would get to wear her favourite pair of cream silk pumps.
She closed her eyes and shook her head to try and rid herself of the image, but it did no good; so she averted her eyes to avoid the image burning permanently into her retinas.
While the jury was still out if she’d ever recover from this misadventure, she was sure of one thing: She had never in her life seen a more unattractive woman than the Doctor in drag. The second thing she knew was that she was never letting Jack plan a jail bust ever again.
“This is absolutely the last time I let you plan a jailbreak!” hollered the Doctor as he struggled with his stockings. “And how in the name of Rassilon does one get these things on?”
“Oh, Doctor, you look lovely,” flattered the Captain, who truthfully looked quite fetching in the white organza party dress Rose had bought in 1950s Paris with the Doctor some months back.
“I haven’t seen this much meringue since Lady Di’s wedding!” The Doctor said, holding out the hemline of his silver dress in a bizarre mixture of abject horror and fascination. “Rose, you wear these things?”
“Ugh, oh-you’re stretching it all out!” lamented Rose as she watched her favourite silver silk party frock strain to cover the Doctor’s wide shoulders. He’d had to wear a microfiber t-shirt under his dress to hide his hairiness. It looked a bit odd, but in the dim lighting they hoped he’d pass. Jack, in contrast was completely smooth. It seemed he was always prepared for any eventuality.
“Quit whinging, Rose” groused the Doctor. “Y’know I’m not enjoying this any more than you are!”
“I dunno, you seem to know your way around a bra pretty well,” she said acidly as she watched him pad himself up.
“Nine hundred years of age am I-y’think I haven’t figured my way ‘round a simple brassiere? Remember what I told you, Rose. I have danced in my time.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“Come again?”
“I said--Nine-hundred years, is that why you’re beginning to sound like Yoda?”
Rose glowered at the Doctor from across the cramped cell. It was clear to Jack that their mood from earlier had not improved despite being recently chained together. In fact, he’d noticed that things had been a bit tense between the Doctor and Rose since he came aboard. He sighed. He had his work cut out for him this time, he thought. This plan of his had better work.
“Now kids. Play nicely,” scolded Jack. “You can fight all you want once we’re safely back aboard the TARDIS.” He produced a small box of false eyelashes from out of nowhere and began to expertly attach them.
“Remind me again why you need to be in a dress?” queried the Doctor as he adjusted his bushy blonde wig, looking all Farrah Fawcett on steroids.
“I don’t,” confessed Jack “I just didn’t want to miss out on all the fun!” As he shook out his straight black wig Rose was vaguely reminded of Cher in her younger, Bob Mackie days. Jack ran his hands down the length of his body, smoothing out the lines of the dress. “Ooh. Tsk tsk. Panty lines. I guess I’ll just have to go commando and tuck,” he said and reached under the dress to yank his knickers off.
“Aaruugh. This is never gonna work,” whined Rose as she gently thumped her head against the cold, dank wall of the cell.
“Relax, Rose. It’s me!” Jack grinned reassuringly. “I’ve gotten out of worse scrapes with nothing more than sellotape and some dental floss.”
“Please tell me that’s not all you were wearing…” groaned the Doctor.
Jack beamed at him. “Well, it certainly caused a distraction!”
Rose returned to hitting her head against the wall.
***
Three hours before, they’d tailed a "Hostile" into Club Lucky. Jack had been eager to run right into the fray. “Ooh, Lucky! My kind of club, sounds like a promise,” Jack purred, flashing his dimples at Rose who giggled and bit her lip.
The Doctor was not amused. “Oi, Romeo! Don’t get all handsy in there. We’re not sure what we’re dealin’ with or what you might step into.”
“You forget, Doctor-my hardware’s upgraded-I’m compatible with all users.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’ of,” said the Doctor darkly. “I don’t need you and your hardware gettin’ us into any more trouble, Jack. For once, let’s the three of us just try and get business done on a planet without being invited to a complementary stay in an alien hoosegow. K?”
In the end, however, it was Rose that had gotten them into trouble. Having had a little too much to drink, and having been fed up with the Doctor’s boring surveillance and persistent resistance to her invitations to dance, she’d given up and found her own alien dancing partner. Predictably, things had gotten sticky once her dancing partner showed her he had more than just dancing in mind, and those tentacles of his just seemed to come out of nowhere…
For a man who allegedly abhorred violence, the Doctor sure had one mean left hook.
Rose gawked at the alien bloke who lay sprawled out at her feet and then up to the Doctor, whose dark eyes foretold every legend of the Oncoming Storm. His hands twitched and it looked to Rose like he would have loved to have wrapped them around the randy little bugger’s neck or lop off a few of the necessary limbs that created more humanoidcephalopods-if it hadn’t been for his overdeveloped sense of morals and justice and all-and Rose screaming at him.
“Leave it! JUST LEAVE IT, Doctor!! Let’s get outta here!” She could already hear the familiar wail of sirens coming for them.
Those dark eyes of his locked on her now. Hers grew bigger in anticipation of the harangue that was sure to come next.
“I’ll thank you, Rose Tyler for not acting a complete slapper on the next planet we visit!”
Rose gasped, she couldn’t believe what he’d just said to her! And she thought he hadn’t been watching…
So in the end, it was Rose and the Doctor who had been led out of the club in manacles as they were hooted at by most of the patrons. Most, it had to be said, except for Jack-who almost missed the whole show, apparently too busy trying to download his “hardware” into a “compatible user” over by the bar.
“Don’t worry Doctor! I’ll get you guys out! Just wait for my signal!” He cried happily after them as they were dragged out of the club. He was either enjoying the challenge or enjoying being a spectator for once (the Doctor couldn’t decide which). Jack downed his drink in one hurried gulp, gathered his jacket and made for the side door.
“Who’s worried?” asked the Doctor wryly as they were bundled into their transport to enjoy their complementary stay in an alien hoosegow.
The up-side to the whole jail cell thing was that they were housed together as co-defendants. The downside was that the Doctor was still terribly angry with her. She could tell because he was icily silent and fumed, staring intensely into nothingness. Knowing better than to attempt to engage him in this mood, she wondered if this time she’d finally bought herself a ticket back to the Powell Estates for good, and the thought of being banished from his presence was more than she could take. She fiddled with the zip of her hoodie, trying to figure out how to sort her complicated feelings of guilt about their predicament from her (justifiable) anger at his own ridiculous behaviour and her terrible frustration that the Doctor never seemed to pay enough of the kind of attention to her that she craved.
It was a good thing that Jack didn’t make them wait long. Playing their lawyer, he brandished the psychic paper and was shown into their cell immediately. Whatever the psychic paper had said, his credentials sounded so honorable that no one had bothered to inspect the duffel bag Jack carried in with him, which was fortunate. However, frilly dresses were hardly as good as a file baked in a cake-a fact that the Doctor couldn’t quite ignore.
***
“You brought the psychic paper! That and the sonic could’ve been enough to get us out,” complained the Doctor, “But noooo. Now we’re being forced into some sort of Panto fantasy of yours?”
“Take it easy, Doctor. I didn’t exactly have scads of time to come up with anything else! I just ran to the TARDIS and grabbed what was on hand!”
“You know, you should be thanking him, Doctor,” scolded Rose as she played nervously with the hem of her strapless cream lace dress. It was one thing for him to be angry with her, but quite another to take it out on Jack, who’d been nothing but helpful in this situation and indeed since he came aboard.
“Oh really. Well I beg your pardon! So, maybe you can explain to me exactly how it is that we’ve ended up recreating a scene out of Some Like It Hot?”
“Lookin’ at you, I’d say more like Gene Hackman in the last scenes of The Birdcage!”
“Are you sayin’ I make an ugly woman, Rose? Y’know, you cut me to the quick! It’s the ears, isn’t it? You hate my ears...”
“All right, ENOUGH! Josephine, Sugar-with me,” barked Jack as he sauntered out of the cell, organza fluttering gracefully in his wake. Rose had to hand it to him, as he could certainly work a dress and rock the heels. Why is it that men always look better in heels than women, she wondered. If she lived to one hundred, she would never be able to figure that one out.
For maximum escape potential, the Doctor was told to stay to the rear, keep his head down with his wig covering his face, and hide his “big man hands” in the folds of his dress.
The three sashayed down the hall as elegantly as they could manage. Two looking convincingly like girls (as one of them was) but the bigger blonde looking mostly like a compact elephant in a dress…
Everything was fine until the Doctor opened his mouth.
For on the way out of the final door, one of the big burly guards whistled at him as he held open the door for them.
The Doctor turned on one heel, fanned himself with one hand and drawled in his best Blanche DuBois impersonation: “Oh, why thaaank yooou. Y’know, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”
“Wasn’t whistling at you, y’old bag,” rasped the bald and unpleasantly sweaty guard. “You’ve got a face like a bulldog, y’do. But I’ll have a go at your blonde sister, up there.”
“Oh yeah? Well get bent, Kraken!” yelled the Doctor, and he sprinted to freedom.
After an initial moment of shock, the guards quickly recovered themselves and with a warrior cry and angry tentacles flying everywhere, they poured out of the jailhouse in hot pursuit of their escapees.
“What happened to our discreet exit?” Jack bellowed.
“What the hell was that accent?” Rose screeched.
“Lots of planets have a south!” shouted the Doctor. “Haven’t you two ever seen A Streetcar Named Desire?”
“RUN!” screamed Jack.
They took off down the street and the police followed closely behind. Rose was dismayed. She’d forgotten how far away they’d parked the TARDIS. They were going to have to run quite far. At one point Jack took them downhill via a shortcut and she almost slipped. Seriously winded and already wincing from some killer blisters, Rose doubted they’d ever make it. After all, she hadn’t run in heels since Jimmy Stone nicked a bottle of champagne on New Year’s Eve some years back, and she was severely out of practice as she’d learned to wear comfortable shoes since stepping aboard the TARDIS. Her feet were positively killing her and she realised that her shoes hadn’t been the best quality purchase she’d ever made either. A fact brought further home once the heel of her right shoe snapped off, causing her to lurch alarmingly.
Similarly, just a bit in front of her, the Doctor was having little luck with his unfamiliar footwear. Too big for them anyway, he looked like he was in agonizing pain, running on unsteady pins-all sixes and sevens-that made him look like a three-legged cat chasing a piece of string. Between them, the air rang with painful exclamations and colorful expletives.
“Take them off, take them off!” Rose screamed to the Doctor as he was losing ground. He ripped the tight shoes off his feet, only to stub his toe painfully on the stony soil beneath. Rose caught up with him and grabbed his arm, helping him to balance.
Behind them she could hear the angry tentacled menace getting closer.
“They’re gaining!” She yelled. “Doctor, c’mon! Hop! HOP!! Hop for your life!!”
Hobbled and sore they raced towards the opened door of the TARDIS like a frenzied couple in a maniacal three-legged race at a school fete, hopping all the way-organza, lace and silk fluttering wildly in the breeze. Once inside, Jack threw the door closed and now safe, the three of them collapsed on the grated floor of the TARDIS giggling like lunatics. Tears of laughter ran down their cheeks and the Doctor struggled for breath. “Hop…? For… Your life! Did you actually say that, Rose!?”
“It sounded like a good idea at the time!” She wheezed between giggles.
“I haven’t had this much fun in years!” Squealed Jack as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He hugged his two friends. “Oh, I’m so glad I met you two!”
“Hop for your life, Rose? I know I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon,” said the Doctor as he helped her up.
“One thing I know I won’t forget anytime soon is the sight of you in that dress. Just wait ‘til I tell mum you wore her old party frock in a jailbreak!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” The Doctor wailed.
“Just try me, Lordy Pants!” She teased as she reached out and goosed the Doctor on his flouncy, silk covered bum.
“Oi! Nine-hundred years old that is. Would you treat the Magna Carta with such disrespect?”
“Only if it dressed itself up in one of my frocks and called itself a duffer!”
“Oh, that’s it. You’re gonna get it now!”
With a yelp, Rose took off through the halls, the Doctor chasing closely behind her, both of them whooping and hollering all the way.
Shaking his head, Jack picked himself up off the floor and walked over to a piece of the TARDIS’ coral struts. “Well old girl, mission accomplished,” he whispered conspiratorially as he lovingly stroked a piece of the strut. “And hey, thanks for the wardrobe suggestion.”
Rose’s shrieks of laughter reverberated through the cavernous ship as the Doctor caught up to her. Jack couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he heard a lightness in the Doctor’s tone that he hadn’t heard in awhile. And he couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he swore he heard the ship humming happily.
All was right in the universe again. Rose and the Doctor were back on track. Now if he could only get them to shag and get it over with…