Birthday one-shot for ascballerina, who was bummed that my break meant no new chapter for her special day. Fits in my personal variety of Whoniverse somewhere between Runaway Bride and Royal Hope Hospital, but can be anywhere if you assume a relationship between the Doctor and Rose.
"No, I'm sorry, Rose," the Doctor said. "I really am. But it is an indisputable fact that Fred Astaire is superior to Gene Kelly in every way."
"How can it be indisputable?" she asked doubtfully. "I'm disputing it right now."
The Doctor was sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace in the library, Rose stretched out next to him with her legs resting over his. They each had a book they had been reading, and the Doctor held his in one hand, the other arm draped over her thighs, his hand occasionally stroking or massaging them.
"Well, that's because you…have been misinformed," he said with a shake of his head. "That's the only possible explanation. Give me one solid reason why you think Gene Kelly is better than Fred Astaire."
"Gene Kelly danced with Jerry," she suggested. "Never seen Fred Astaire do that."
"Tell me you're joking," he said with a withering stare, which she met straight on. "Rose, Jerry is a cartoon mouse. That says absolutely nothing about Gene Kelley's ability. In fact, if you're going to bring partners into it, you're simply strengthening my case. Look at Ginger Rogers. Did everything Freddie did, backwards and on heels. And she was real, not some bit drawn in later."
"Hmm…maybe," Rose conceded reluctantly, and he beamed at her. "Oi, but what about Singin' in the Rain? That's a classic, that is."
"Yeah, and how many others were just weird?" the Doctor said. "Remember the strange little dance numbers that were in all his movies. Even that one. Whereas, with Fred Astaire, all of his dance numbers were actually contained within the plot."
"What about Daddy Long Legs?" she asked, giving her standard tongue in teeth grin.
"We don't discuss Daddy Long Legs," he said darkly, and she snickered. "Well, obviously there's no reasoning with you, Rose Tyler. We're just going to have to settle this the old fashioned way."
"Oh, not another movie marathon," she groaned.
"I'm sorry, Rose, but I cannot let this injustice stand," he said, arching an eyebrow at her.
"Fine," she conceded. "But not right now. I'm comfortable."
"Me too," he said, settling back down with his book, wrapping one long fingered hand around the back of her knee while his thumb stroked the side lightly.
They read in silence for several minutes before the Doctor became aware of eyes on him. He looked up and then over at Rose. "What?"
"You know, you sort of remind me of Gene Kelly," she said slowly.
"Rose, you're not going to win this by appealing to my ego," he said, arching an eyebrow. "Substantial though it undoubtedly is."
"It's true though," she said with a laugh.
"Explain."
"Because you look at Gene Kelly, the way he moves and the way he dances," she said. "At any given time, he's like force and motion barely constrained, and then when he dances, there's such passion and power in it. Sort of like you…you walk around all the time all confidence and ego, and then when you face a problem it all sort of comes together into the brilliance and strength of a Time Lord."
"Hmm," he said, eyes narrowing. "Not actually a bad attempt. Except…I'd rather think of myself as Fred Astaire."
"Of course you would," she said with an eyeroll. "Alright then, how come?"
"Because he's so quick and light on his feet, so adaptable to any scene or situation," the Doctor explained. "Completely ready and willing to use anything at his disposal, even if it's just himself. Plus…"
"Plus?"
"Well, like I said before…there is Ginger," the Doctor said, waggling his eyebrows at her until she giggled. "But really…I told you, she did everything he did backwards and on heels. She had to be ready to adapt not only to the environment, but also to him and whatever he made of it. She's arguably better than him in a lot of ways, and there were times he'd be useless without her."
"He'd still be Fred Astaire," Rose pointed out. "He had plenty of other dance partners in his time."
"True," he said with a nod. "Yeah, I mean, of course. But none of them were her. None of them could be as in sync with him, so easily keep up with him, tell a story half so well with him, not to mention keep him from getting completely out of hand. Without her, he'd still be Fred Astaire, sure, but think how much harder he'd have to work to be as effective, much less happy, and probably completely chaotic half the time without her to stand in the way of some his less prudent…dance moves."
"She did all that, huh?" Rose asked with a small smile, and he glanced away.
"Well…"
"We're not talking about Fred and Ginger anymore, are we?" she asked softly, and he looked back up at her.
"Were we ever?" he asked quietly.
She smiled then, that tongue in tooth grin that drove him mad, shaking her head at him before sitting up and moving so that she was on his lap, her knees resting on either side of his hips.
"Just so we're clear," she said, looping her arms lightly around his neck as his hands rested lightly on her hips. "I'll gladly be the Ginger to your Fred any day."
"Mmm," he murmured, a happy, contented sound rising from the back of his throat. "And I'm happy to be the Jerry to your Gene, love."
"Oooh, dunno about that," she said, her eyes rolling up to the ceiling thoughtfully before returning to his. "Do you really think you could do justice to someone as brilliant as Jerry?"
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," he growled, arching an eyebrow at her when she laughed, then moving his hands up to her back and pulling her forward to capture her lips with his. He happily lost himself in her for several minutes until they both needed to come up for air.
"Rose…"
"Hmm?" she asked against his neck as she pressed soft kisses to his skin.
"You moved," he said softly. He grinned when she froze, then laughed when she groaned and slumped against him. "Come on," he said quickly, pressing a kiss against her hair before standing, sliding her off his lap as he pulled her up with him. "You get the popcorn, I'll sort the films."
"Fine," she said sulkily as he pulled her from the room. "But we're watching Singin' in the Rain first."
"Of course we'll start with Gene," he said benevolently. "After all, we have to save the best for last," he added with a grin.