A/N: So, this is the first DW fic of any kind that I've posted, and given the immensity and well-establishedness of the fandom, makes it kinda terrifying to step into. So, hope you all at least somewhat enjoy it!

It was abnormally quiet, and this fact suddenly dawned on Rose. "Where's Liam?" she asked suspiciously.

The Doctor looked up from where he was sprawled on the couch, laptop balanced on one leg, notebook on the other and pen held between his teeth. Dread seeped into his brown eyes that were half-hidden by his unkempt hair. "Oh no," he breathed, practically throwing his laptop and the pen onto a nearby chair and leaping to his feet, the notebook dropping in a discarded heap on the floor. "Liam?!" he called.

No response.

"Where was he last?" Rose asked.

"In here, not 10 minutes ago!" he replied.

Rose looked around and realized something else. "Where's the dog?" she asked.

The two of them exchanged a look at this "coincident" disappearance and jointly went very still to try to pick up some sort of out-of-place noise in the house. Sure enough, they could now just pick out the faintest sound of soft bangs from the bathroom, and then a sudden, "No! Hold still!" in a peeved toddler voice.

Rose and the Doctor shared another look before making a beeline for the bathroom. The door was closed and when Rose went to open it, the handle turned but she couldn't push it further than the doorframe. "Liam?" she called, "It's mummy. Sweetheart, what's in front of the door?"

From inside, an enthusiastic voice enunciated, "PooP. Tail!"

Behind her, Rose heard her husband dissolve into chokes of laughter. "Liam," she said, "The dog's name is not 'pooptail', remember?"

"But…but…he HAD poop, on his tail!"

There were sounds of the boy closing a cupboard door.

"Mummy, he DID have poop ON. HIS. TAIL!"

It was an unfortunate truth, and since that event, they had not been able to get their 3y/o to stop called their dog, "pooptail", as the poor animal also got enthusiastically introduced by the toddler, to anyone who came over. Rose glared at the Doctor who was sliding down the wall he was laughing so hard silently, his face turning brilliant red. "You're not helping!" she hissed at him.

He flapped one hand while holding himself up with the other. "Oh I think you're doing brilliant!" he wheezed, through tears.

Rose shot him vicious look before returning her attention to the matter at hand. "Liam, what are you doing with Winston?" she asked through the still-impeded bathroom door.

There was no answer, just the sound of their little terror clearly working very hard to proceed with whatever he had planned. There was a heavy THUMP as he jumped off something, and then Rose heard a buzzing sound start from inside the bathroom. A buzzing that sounded horribly familiar. "Liam," she said, her stomach sinking a little, "What are you doing?"

But all she got for an answer were mischievous giggles.

The buzzing changed pitch slightly, and out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw the Doctor, face still red with laughter, finally pull himself back together. "Liam," she said sternly through the door, "Tell Mummy right now what you're doing."

"PooooooPtail needs…" (Rose could hear little huffs of effort from the boy, and there was a tiny yelp from the dog before the buzzing resumed as loud as ever) "….a haircut."

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose in despair.

Shrieks of gleeful giggles and the sound of electric clippers going through fur continued from the bathroom. Rose tried pushing against the door again, but their 115lb Burnese Mountain dog sitting against it made it immovable. "Doctor, help me," she ordered him.

But he was already next to her, giving an experimental push to the door. He knocked on it to get the boy's attention, "Liam, put the clippers down and let the dog get away from the door so he can get out."

The most defiant, toddler, "NO!" came from the bathroom.

It was Rose's turn to look smug as she saw the Doctor's eyes flash and jaw set at their child's "NO!" and had to hide her laughter behind her hand. The clash of wills between these two was epic, at only three, their little boy already showing he had clearly inherited his father's stubbornness and quick sass, and Rose took no end of delight in seeing her self-assured half-Timelord meet his match in a toddler.

He pointed one finger at her without turning his head from where he was glaring through the door. "It is NOT funny!" he growled.

"Oh but you're doing so brilliantly!" Rose cooed, echoing his words back at him.

"I'm going to get you later," he leveled at her.

"oooooh, you are, are you?" Rose said, waggling her fingers tauntingly at him, "I don't think you can, toughboy."

She watched in amusement as her teasing made his blood pressure visibly rise. He took several deep breaths. "Rose, I am trying to prevent our dog from being shaved bald, if you don't mind," he said haughtily.

Rose coughed, "Right, yes, I'll leave you to it."

He knocked on the door again to get their little boy's attention, "Liam, I'm going to open the door. I want you to put the clippers down and back up."

There was another defiant, "NO!"

"Back up from the door," his voice took on a slightly clipped edge as he turned the handle.

There were times when Rose was reminded that despite having a human body, it wasn't just his mind that wasn't human. A somewhat-human body would have been a more accurate description for him, as he'd carried over (although to a slightly lesser degree than before), some of the resiliency and strength of his Gallifreyan DNA. As he pushed the bathroom door open against the weight that was braced against it with only a modicum of effort, this was one of those times.

"Back up," he repeated to the boy as the door slowly opened, "Or you're going to get…"

But the repeated warning and instruction came too late. As slowly and carefully as he'd pushed the door open, the poor dog immediately took the opportunity of being moved, to jump up and run across the bathroom to "hide" in the tub. But Liam was still practically on the poor animal, "trimming" its fur, and the body mass of a 35lb three year old was no match to that of a 115lb miniature horse of a dog.

As Winston practically fled to the bathtub, Rose and the Doctor heard a THUD, followed by a moment of silence, and then an unmistakable bawling. His eyes filling with nothing but concern, the Doctor rushed into the bathroom and scooped his little boy off the floor and into his arms.

"Hey, shhh, shhh, it's okay. Come on, let me see," he soothed Liam as he held him and tried to find if he was actually hurt. Rose had been right on his heels, and he cuddled their crying child to his chest, repeating his quiet words of reassurance as Rose took over the injury assessment.

"It's just going to be a small goose egg," Rose told him, and he could hear the sigh of relief in her voice.

He sat down on the toilet and shifted his three year old to his lap as the little boy hiccupped his way to a cessation of tears. The Doctor looked over at the bathtub where Winston was staring at him and Rose with the most mournful eyes a dog could possibly have, huge chunks of fur missing from random spots all over his body. He felt so tempted to burst out laughing, but realized that would not be the wisest thing to do at the moment. Instead he kissed his tiny trouble-maker's forehead and wiped tears off red, chubby cheeks.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Liam just nodded as he leaned back against his dad's chest.

"No more trying to give the dog a haircut, alright?" the Doctor gently told their toddler, ruffling the boy's hair.

There was a nod into his t-shirt before Liam sat bolt upright, eyes shining, and his minor injury already forgotten. "How about with scissors, Daddy?" he asked.

"No!" Rose and the Doctor echoed in horror at the same time.