I've been in an 11 mood for a bit, but Crossing Timestreams is on a 10 section (if you haven't read it, check out my profile), so I decided to let out some 11 with this little short. I may write more of these from time to time; just little snippets of Lily and the Doctor that do not fit in with the main story, but want to be told.

:Fluffernutter:

"Well, Blossom, pick a place. Anywhere. Anywhen. We can see the Leaning Tower of Pisa—pre-leaning, of course— or the shot that started the American Revolution; we can surf the waves of the furthest super nova or hike in the Perpetual Forests." The Doctor is running around the console, flipping levers and smacking buttons. His flop of brown hair is windswept.

I'm sitting on the jump seat, watching him with my arms crossed.

Honestly, none of that sounds any good. We just got back to the Tardis after being chased by a village of Aztecs who thought we were the personifications of the volcano gods or whatever (Don't ask. It involved a mistranslation by the Tardis and a safety pin.). I'm not in the mood to go anywhere or anywhen right now.

"Let's just stay here," I say.

He stops running right away, eyes wide, mouth gaped, clearly not believing that I just said that. His shoulders slump. "Stay… here?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. I mean, we're in the time vortex, right? How about we take a break? Have something to eat? Let the human recuperate from almost being sacrificed."

Again, don't ask.

Looking as if I just kicked a puppy or took away his favorite toy, the Doctor nods. "Right then. How about some tea?"

I slip off the seat, giving him a small smile. "You make the tea. I want a peanut butter and Fluff sandwich."

He trails behind me, allowing me to lead the way to the kitchen. "A what?"

I glance at him over my shoulder as I push open the double doors into the kitchen, which is the third best place in the Tardis. It is seriously my dream kitchen. Everything is shiny and kitsch and looks like it came out of a TV show from the 1950's. The fridge is avocado! There is a cutting board island! It's seriously awesome.

"Peanut butter and Fluff."

His nose wrinkles. "What is Fluff?"

I stop, mid-reach to opening a cabinet that houses my favorite foods. "Marshmallow fluff?" Nothing. "Creamy marshmallow-y goodness in a jar… well, in a plastic container…"

No response.

"Oh my god, you have to try it. It's amazing."

"As amazing as fish fingers and custard?"

I pull out the container of Fluff and a jar of peanut butter (Skippy, of course), wrinkling my nose. "As fish fingers and custard are disgusting when combined, I would say a fluffernutter is infinitely better." After placing the two delicious items onto the Formica countertop, I grab a loaf of Wonderbread. A fluffernutter must be on tasteless, airy white bread. You know, the kind you can squish into a tiny ball smaller than a golf ball.

"Fish fingers and custard are spectacular when combined!"

I open the jar of peanut butter and scrape a sizable amount onto a piece of bread. "First off, custard is only ok. Second, they're not fish fingers, they're fish sticks. You Brits are weird. Third, why would you eat fish sticks when you're usually in England and you can get the best fish and chips in the world?" I slab some Fluff onto another piece of bread. Of course, the bread breaks, but what's a fluffernutter without getting your hands all sticky with Fluff? "And, fourth, why am I having this argument with you? It's like talking to a brick wall!"

The Doctor, peering at what I'm doing, makes a face like he's gagging. "That smells wretched!"

"You smell wretched," I grumble.

He sniffs under his arm. "I do not!" He chases his own armpit in a circle, trying to get a better sniff.

Giggling, I smoosh my sandwich together and take a bite of pure bliss. Smacking my lips together and licking the corners of my mouth, I grin at the Doctor, who's stopped dancing in circle. He looks like he's about to face a thousand Daleks with only a kettle and some string. I hold out the sandwich to him. "Want a bite?" I ask. But since my mouth is full and sticky, it comes out more like "Wah ah aight?"

Scrutinizing the sandwich as if it's going to take a bite of him, he leans forward and cautiously takes a nibble.

And, of course, he's so slow at it, I do what anyone would do in that situation. I shove the sandwich in his face, spreading peanut butter, Fluff, and bites of bread all over his mouth, chin, and nose.

His eyes widen comically and he stumbles back as if I've hit him. He wipes at his face, then glares at his sticky hands.

The whole time I'm laughing so hard, I have to hurry to swallow the bite I took so that I don't choke.

"What did you do that for?" he yells, holding out his messy hands. I think he might actually want to choke me.

I can't answer. I'm too busy laughing. Tears are starting to well up and my stomach is starting to cramp.

"This smells horrid!" the Doctor yells, wiping his hands and face on a towel, to no avail. Nothing sticks like peanut butter and Fluff.

Trying to quell my laughter, but still giggling, I say, "Oh, you deserved it."

He glares at me. "I very much did not!"

His glare makes me push away my hysterics. He clearly isn't happy. "Oh, Doctor, it's not going to stain."

"It's sticky," he whines. "I hate things that are sticky."

This, of course, sends me off into childish hysterics. Hehe… sticky…

"Oh, right, laugh at the Doctor!" he tosses his arms in the air. "I take you through time and space and on fun adventures and you repay me by shoving horrid peanut butter and Fluff in my face! I saved you from being sacrificed by the Aztecs!"

I stand back up (when did I sit on the floor?) and almost put my hands on my hips, but remember at the last second that they're covered in Fluff. "You were the one who made them almost sacrifice me!"

He has the gall to stick his nose in the air. "Only because you had to wear a shirt made entirely of safety pins!"

"There were like twenty safety pins! We just came back from a Billy Idol concert in 1983! I, unlike you, blended in at the concert! And you didn't give my time to change before whisking us off to Aztec land!"

"Oh, please, if there was any fabric on that so-called shirt, I'm the Queen!"

I bob a horrible curtsy and put on a dreadful high-pitch, drawling posh English accent. "Well, hello, Your Majesty. May I inquire as to the health of His Highness Prince Charles?"

The Doctor gives me a look as if I've just skinned a cat. "Never do that again, please."

"Wot?" I say, doing my best (read: worst) Eliza Doolittle. "Tauk like this? 'Ello, Dohk-tah! Fancy a cuppa? 'Ow 'bout a chim-a-ney sweep? Anyone eva tell you, you 'ave poofter hair? Bob's yer uncle, Fanny's yer aunt…"

He puts his hand over my mouth. For a second, I think he might actually be annoyed. But then he asks, with a grin, "Poofter?"

I raise an eyebrow and lick his hand, so he'll let me go. And he does. "One of my favorites," I say, trying to regain my dignity. "That, and git."

He's now trying to repress his grin, but his eyes sparkle in delight. "Anyone ever tell you that you're completely bonkers?"

"Well, I am traveling with a mad man in a box who doesn't like fluffernutters."

He gives me a quick up and down with his eyes. "You, my blossom, are fluffernutters, but I like you."

I shake my head. "That was… bad. Cheesy, almost cute, but bad." Rolling my eyes, I grab a paper towel and wet it with warm water. "Here, this'll clean your face up. Though I'm not sorry I did it. You deserved it."

He sticks his chin out, leaning down a bit so that I can clean it off for him. That wasn't my plan, but he's a big baby, so I start wiping his face. "Maybe a bit," he agrees. "But that sandwich is horrid. Were you trying to poison me?"

I grab his chin to hold it still. "Yes, Doctor. I'm totally trying to kill you. You have found me out. I am the one who kills the Doctor. All because of a peanut butter and Fluff sandwich."

He gives me a dark appraising look as I wipe the paper towel across his lips. I slow a bit, accidentally caressing his bottom lip with my thumb. He sucks in a small breath.

"Sorry," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat.

We stand there for a good, solid minute, staring at each other. I don't even know what to think.

Then I drop my land, shove the paper towel into his hand, and turn away to clean up the ruins of my sandwich. I've barely thrown it out, when he clears his throat.

"Is that how I die? You force feed me a disgusting sandwich?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah. Totally."

"Oh, don't be like that. I'm just trying to have a bit of a laugh."

"Be like what?"

"You know, all…" He rolls his eyes, sighs, and drops his shoulders, doing a terrific impersonation of a sullen teenager.

"Maybe I don't want to think about you dying," I grumble.

He catches my hand. "Hey," he whispers, forcing my chin up. "We all have to die someday. And it's not going to happen anytime soon. I promise you that."

"Rule number one," I recite. "The Doctor lies."

"I'm not lying this time, Lillian."

I step out of his grasp. "Oo, you just used my full name. You must be serious right now."

"Maybe I am."

"I thought you were having a laugh?"

"I thought you were being serious?"

"We're never in compatible moods, are we?"

Pause.

"No, I suppose not. But, really, where's the fun in that?"

I purse my lips, considering. "Well… there are worse things, I suppose."

"Such as?"

"Fish fingers and custard."

He snorts. "More like fluffernutters."