Disclaimer: No surprises. I don't own Doctor Who.

A response to Jessa L'Rynn's August 2 Challenge: the Doctor and a companion are stuck together somehow, someone must say "hunky-dory", someone must say something out-of-character, and something must explode.

Stuck

"Are they gone?" Rose whispers.

"Seem to be, yeah," he responds, his voice short. If only he can reach… the Doctor wriggles against the bindings holding his arms securely above his head, strong and taut. "Probably don't want to be too close when the barrels go."

Rose shifts against him, pulling against her own ropes, and he can finally see her face illuminated by the fire burning ten feet below them. She looks beseechingly from the barrels to his face, "Right. So this is certain death, yeah?"

"You could say that, yeah." The Doctor pulls at his ropes again. "Don't talk to the women, I said. This is a gender-restricted culture, I said. But, did you listen? No. So now I've got to try and figure out a way to save our bloody skins all because you had to be Miss Friendly Sunshine."

Rose frowns fiercely. "Oh, so this is all my fault then, is it? I'm sure it has nothing to do with you insulting the chieftain when he offered to let us off the hook?"

The Doctor's forehead creases and his eyes darken, "His intentions weren't exactly honorable."

"His intentions were to untie us until somebody had to open their bloody…" Rose snarls through gritted teeth, "Big…" She makes fists and, knowing full well that it's going to be agony, pulls down with all her might on her wrist bindings, "Mouth!" And, using what leverage she's gained, she flings her legs up and wraps them as firmly as she can around the Doctor's torso, thanking God that he's so slim as she crosses her ankles and squeezes her thighs as tightly as possible to keep her hold.

The Doctor's breathing catches. "Rose?" His initial surprise blinds him to what she's doing, but it soon becomes clear as he watches her struggling to free her wrists of their ropes now that she's shifted her weight from them to him.

Her eyes are focused above her head, and she can't see the wonder on his face as her looks at her. "It's not like I would have actually gone with him into the 'ceremonial hut'—and nice euphemism that, by the way. As soon as we were free I had every intention of running to the TARDIS as fast as possible, dragging you behind me the whole way if need be. But no! You had to go into overprotective mode again. You just had to challenge his manhood and call his mother a…"

"Rose," the Doctor interrupts, his eyes distracted by the pulse of her blood straining at her extended neck, "Do you think you could keep it down while you're trying to squeeze me to death? Trust me, we really don't want the Gunteris to notice your peculiar talents at the moment. They may be willing to postpone your upcoming demise for another attempt at that whole ceremonial tent thing."

Rose is affronted, but she lowers her voice to a hissing whisper. "My peculiar talent, which by the way is currently being employed in a last ditch effort to save our skins, isn't half painful at the moment." She squeezes her thighs even tighter as if in emphasis and a small moan escapes her lips, one that the Doctor recognizes as of genuine pain.

She shifts, and he feels one of her newly-freed arms wrap tightly between one of his awkwardly suspended shoulders and his neck. "Peculiar talent!" she snorts in his ear, her head tucked against his neck on the other side, her breath tickling his skin. "If you weren't already going to explode any second now, I might have to kill you for that…" He feels her other hand snake inside his leather jacket. "Where is it?"

The Doctor is confused by her question, or maybe it's her closeness. The smell of her filling his senses, her hand desperately pawing for something at his chest, the tension of her thigh muscles straining around him, the erratic poundings of his double hearts… He's going to explode all right, and it will have nothing to do with the barrels on the fire…

"Doctor," she abruptly interrupts his thoughts, "I wasn't kidding about this nearly killing me. Where's the sonic screwdriver?"

"Screwdriver. Right." The Doctor's voice cuts through the air sounding bright and chipper, and he is suddenly very thankful that Rose Tyler has her head buried against his neck—she won't have to watch his eyes come back into focus. She, who can read him far better than any stupid ape ever should, won't know that he's been entertaining thoughts that would be inappropriate in even of the best of circumstances but which are inexcusable while she's trying to save their lives. "Erm. Right side pocket."

Rose wraps her right arm tightly around him to free her left, and whispers, "Sorry Doctor, but this is gonna to hurt," in his ear before quickly releasing her legs. He immediately feels the additional strain of their new position in his wrists and shoulders, but not as acutely as he feels her hand enter his jacket pocket and fish around for his screwdriver. "Ok, got it." She says breathlessly. "Hold on."

She places the sonic screwdriver between her teeth and wraps her other arm around the Doctor. And, with a similar maneuver to the one she's performed earlier, she has her legs wrapped tightly around him once again. She is exhausted now. He can sense it in her breathing and the trembling of her muscles. "Hold it against the rope, Rose," he encourages quietly, his voice soothing. "If you can just free one, I can get us out of this."

"You'd better," she mutters, the high pitch of her voice revealing her physical strain.

And then, he has a hand free. "Grab onto the rope, Rose," he instructs her. "And hang on as tight as you can." He holds the sonic against the rope that is holding them suspended over the flaming pit. "Remember that timed you saved my life, swinging down over the Nestene Consciousness?"

Her eyes are closed, but he thinks he hears a some sort of sound of affirmation. "Just hold tight Rose," and, as the suspension rope breaks, his free arm wraps around her, "I've got you."

They hit the pole on the far side of the pit just as the barrels explode. They are both knocked to the ground, but the Doctor quickly accesses that neither is too singed. The Doctor deftly frees his other hand and lightly caresses his companion's tightly-clenched face—she is completely spent, he can see, and will most likely need to visit the Med Bay in the TARDIS. At his touch, her eyes open. "How are you?" His voice is almost tender.

"Oh, you know. Hunky-dory." She looks over his shoulder at the wide ceremonial plain, and she sees a group of angry Gunteris headed their way waving torches and pitch-forks. She tilts her head in their direction to indicate to the Doctor that they're coming and sticks her tongue between her teeth in an impish grin. "No time for a trip to the ceremonial hut, I'm afraid."

The Doctor's wide smile floods across his face in an instant and, pulling her to her feet, he grabs her hand. "Run!" he shouts madly. And they do.