2. Action

Forty-five minutes, eighteen seconds, and one scorched leather jacket later, Rose slammed the TARDIS doors shut against the herd of very angry Argents that had chased them out of the city. The Doctor was cradling the injured article in his arms, looking it over with medical precision.

She wandered over to him, resting a hand on his strangely inviting jumper-clad shoulder. He just seemed so much more human, more accessible, without the jacket. More like a bloke that you could actually do things with, like Mickey or something.

Frowning, she chased that comparison from her mind. No matter what he was or wasn't wearing, the Doctor would never be the least bit like Mickey, thank God. She loved Mickey, or thought she had, but he couldn't hold a candle to this slightly insane alien, poor bloke.

As she thought, she rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly, not realizing it until the Doctor turned to look at her, a bemused expression on his face. Her first instinct was to pull away, but the very loud, flirtatious voice in her head told her that, after all, he wasn't complaining or anything, so she just grinned back at him and kept on.

Rose moved her hands a bit lower to knead his shoulder blades. "You're one big knot, Doctor," she commented.

"Thought you were the one getting the massage?" he inquired, his voice a little higher than usual.

She laughed. "You need it more than I do." Carefully working at one of the tense muscles, she realized that it was a lot harder to give someone a massage when they were taller than you were.

Pushing him towards the seat next to the console, she said "Sit."

For once, the Doctor didn't seem inclined to argue, like she half expected him to do. He was still clutching his leather jacket, and Rose smiled.

"How's your jacket?" she asked, finally having better access to his broad back. "It gonna pull through?"

"Yeah. Should do," he said. "Been through worse." He grinned, but it quickly faded as Rose pressed down on a particularly tight spot. "Ow!"

"Sorry," she apologized. Then tentatively, "It'd be better if you weren't wearing your jumper." Her hands lessened in their attentions, went back to the gentle rubbing as she waited for his response. She could've sworn he'd stopped breathing, and her own heart was pounding.

Rose knew she was reacting in a stupid way, all over a stupid massage. She'd done the same for Mickey loads of times, when he got sore muscles from working on cars all day and it never had this effect on her. Never got her this worked up. She wondered, yet again, what was the matter with her?

She heard the Doctor swallow hard. He nodded. "Go ahead."

Shocked, her hands stopped completely; she'd just meant for him to do it. Did that mean he wanted her to, or did he think she'd offered?

Telling herself harshly to get a grip, that once again, taking off a bloke's jumper was not a big deal, she took a deep breath and tugged the soft material up over his head, trying not to take too much or too little time in doing so.

He pulled his arms out of the sleeves, folded the jumper and set it down, along with his jacket, on the seat beside him. For a moment, Rose couldn't drag her eyes away from his smooth, pale skin, admiring the strong muscles and elegant contours of his back.

The Doctor shifted restlessly, and she blushed, wondering if he knew she was staring. She set back to work then, gradually easing the tension from his taut muscles. He sighed contentedly, stretching his arms and shoulders over the seat back to give her better access.

Once or twice, her fingertips brushed his sides and he shivered. Rose discovered that she liked the effect, so she did it again, slowly ghosting a finger all the way down his flat stomach. He absolutely trembled.

"You cold, Doctor?" she teased. "Want to put your jumper back on?"

"No!" he answered, in his usual indignant way. "Now shut it, and go back to what you were doing," he ordered.

"What, this?" Her fingers danced over his belly again, more surely this time. He let out a choked sound of protest, something between a laugh and a moan.

"Rose!" he managed.

"Rose what?" she taunted. "Rose, do it again?"

"NO!" he said, panic creeping into his voice. "Not… no!"

"Not no? You mean yes?" It was taking all the willpower she had not to burst out laughing at the Doctor's distress.

Words for once in his life failing him, he grabbed hold of the offending hand and shoved it away from his ticklish belly. Unfortunately, in his eagerness to escape that particular fate, he was rather careless as to where Rose's hand was going.

***

There was a sharp intake of breath, then absolute silence. That was the Doctor's… wow. She silently took back everything she'd ever said about him not being impressive.

While her shocked brain re-started its functioning processes, other thoughts, observations, began to occur. One: She wasn't the only one getting worked up by this stupid massage. Two: He still hadn't let go of her hand. Conclusion: He wanted her too.

So maybe, just maybe, there wasn't anything wrong with her. Or maybe they were both wrong, wrong together.

And because she'd rather be wrong with him than right with anyone else, she reached out her free hand and turned his face towards her; tilted it upward at just the right angle. Then, before a single word, a single anything, could come out of that impressive mouth, she covered it with her own, just for a moment.

Rose pulled back and smiled. "All right, Doctor?"

Being a man of action, he chose to reply by snogging her very thoroughly.

***

In the minutes that followed, there was neither much speech nor conscious thought. They were far too busy attempting to simultaneously rid themselves of clothing and walk to the Doctor's bedroom, all without breaking fully apart from the mouth of the other.

There was a slightly guilty pause on his side at the sound of buttons scattering across the floor. Rose looked down at the remains of her shirt, and decided she'd never liked it much anyway.

When they'd succeeded, reached their destination, and the Doctor immerged from the en-suite bathroom wearing nothing but a triumphant grin and brandishing a condom that it had taken him ten minutes to find, she thought it might possibly be the most fantastic moment of her life.

The most fantastic moment of her life got increasingly more fantastic as the night continued.

***

"You know what I want, Rose?" the Doctor asked, breaking the post-coital silence.

"Mmm?" she answered sleepily, and snuggled closer to his chest.

"I want you to stay with me forever," he said softly, almost as if he could sneak it past time itself if he was careful enough.

"I want that too," Rose told him, matching him in volume and conviction. A little while later, after a mutually contented silence, she spoke again. "You know what else I want?"

He shook his head and she continued.

"A pizza. Not the cheap, frozen kind, either. A real one," she said, very seriously.

The Doctor's peal of laughter rang through the room. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He jumped out of bed so quickly that Rose squeaked in surprise, falling back against the pillows.

"Where d'you think you're going?" she called out as he scrambled into his jeans.

"Naples!" he said joyfully. At her look of confusion, he added, "Best pizza in the universe. Preferably early twentieth century, I've got a specific place in mind." He grinned.

She leapt out of bed, completely naked, to throw her arms around him. "You have completely spoiled me for any other man," she told him truthfully.

He laughed and kissed her. "Good."