A/N: Crack. Complete and utter crack. Enjoy!

Feedback: Is love. Please review!

The Doctor finally managed to unseal his lips from Rose's and, breathing heavily, looked down at the companion who had him pinned against the wall. "Rose," he panted, "are you sure about this?"

The hands roving over his skin stilled. "What?" she asked, incredulous.

"I said—"

"I heard what you said," Rose snapped, "I just can't believe it. One hand up your shirt, the other down your trousers, and you're asking me if I'm sure?"

"I…I just wanted to make sure you were…" Yeah, it did sound rather laughable, now that he thought about it. "…sure," he finished, hesitantly.

Rose stared at him for a moment in disbelief. "You know what? No, I'm not," she said, stepping back and holding up her hands as if in surrender—or perhaps it was disgust. "Not if you have to check. Next time, don't ask." And with that, she turned and walked out of the console room.

"Rose, I'm sorry! I'm sure now!" he called to her retreating form, but it seemed that apologies were not going to put Rose Tyler in the mood this night.

When the Doctor didn't question Rose's sureness, they got further than the console room. Much further than the console room, in fact.

They'd managed to fumble their way into the Doctor's bedroom and onto his bed, and he was currently in the process of stripping her of her shirt as quickly as possible, in order to expose more of her silky skin. Unfortunately, in his haste he managed to tear the thin cotton and pop off a button or two.

"Oi!" Rose muttered. "I liked this shirt."

The Doctor barely paused his exploration of her clavicle. "We'll go to Top Shop and get you another one," he murmured, kissing and nibbling his way down to her bellybutton. "Or we could go to the year 2148 and get it when it's a 'retro' style that's come back into fashion." He gave a small exclamation of victory when he reached the scrap of fabric that passed as knickers and quickly yanked them down.

He didn't notice the soft ripping sound, but Rose must have, as she sat up and scooted away from him. "Oi!" she exclaimed, with even more vehemence than the first. "Stop murdering my clothes!"

"What?" The Doctor looked at her, brow furrowing. "They're just knickers, Rose." His gaze glanced down for a moment. "Black, lacy, and quite pretty knickers, I'll give you that, but still just knickers. We'll get you some new ones, just like the top."

"No, we can't," Rose whinged. "They're not just knickers, they're my—" She stopped abruptly, lips clamping down into a thin line.

"Your what?"

Rose stayed silent, shaking her head side to side.

"Come on," he cajoled, stroking his fingers softly up and down her upper thigh. "You know I'll get it out of you eventually."

She sighed, defeated. "They're my lucky knickers."

A pause.

"Your lucky knickers." the Doctor drew out.

"Yes. No matter what's happening, they make me feel prettier, sexier. I'm more confident when I'm wearing them. In fact, I'm…" She paused, and then took a deep breath. "I'm more likely to get shagged," she said in a rush.

The Doctor stared at her for a moment.

And then burst out laughing.

"Rose Tyler," he cackled as her cheeks flamed, "they're not your lucky knickers—they're your gettin' lucky knickers!"

"That amuses you, does it?" she gritted out. "Well, then maybe spending the night by yourself will amuse you too." She got off the bed and stalked to the door.

"Rose, wait. I'm sorry. Rose!"

When Rose had been in her bedroom for over ten hours—much longer than any human needed to sleep—the Doctor couldn't wait any longer. He knocked softly on her door and, finding it unlocked, stepped carefully into the room. Rose was awake, but huddled under the covers of her bed.

"Rose," he said, walking over to the bed and sitting down beside her, "I really am sorry. I didn't realize how important your clothes were to you."

Rose shifted in the bed and looked up at him. "I know. It's okay—I was overreacting anyway." She gave him a small smile. "You're forgiven."

The Doctor smiled back. "Glad that's over, then." Shifting gears, he slowly trailed a finger down the arm that wasn't buried beneath the covers. "Leaves us plenty of time to move on to other things…"

Rose moved away from his meandering hands. "Not tonight, Doctor," she said apologetically. "I'm feeling poorly."

"That's no problem!" the Doctor exclaimed. "We'll get you to the med bay and fix you right up."

"That's really not necessary. I'll be fine—"

"Nonsense!" he cried. "No reason for you to be sick any longer than you already have been."

Rose looked uncomfortable that he wasn't dropping the subject. "Really, Doctor, I don't think the med bay will help."

"Oi! No knocking the TARDIS. I'll have you know that I can diagnose and treat practically any illness in the universe from that infirmary."

"That's the thing," Rose said delicately. "I'm not sick."

The Doctor paused and pulled back, looking at her in confusion. "How can you be feeling poorly if you're not sick?"

Rose buried her head in her pillow and groaned. "God, you're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

"Say what?" he asked, perplexed.

Rose sighed. "I'm not sick. I'm…it's…it's just…" She struggled for the right words. "It's just that time of the month," she finally finished, looking at him pointedly.

"Oh," he responded. A moment later, his eyes widened. "Oooooohhhhhh."

"Yeah."

He got off the bed and stood in front of her, rocking back and forth from toe to heel. "But that's even better, Rose! Even by your time doctors are discovering that women don't need to menstruate every month, and by the twenty-fourth century, birth control is the complete opposite of what you're used to. It doesn't stop your menstruation cycle when you don't want to get pregnant—it starts it when you do! One injection stops the entire process, and another one restarts it. Isn't that brilliant?" He gave her a wide smile.

Rose just stared at him without expression. "And you have these injections on the TARDIS?" she asked.

"Of course!" he replied. "I keep a variety of medicines from all different time periods on board. Never know what you'll need."

"So you're saying," Rose said, voice becoming higher and angrier with each word, "that you've had this the entire time I've been traveling with you, and you're just telling me about it now?"

"Oh." The Doctor swallowed. "Um. I…I'd forgotten."

His companion glared at him. "And you remembered in time for you to get shagged sooner?!"

"…sorry?"

Rose pointed stiffly to the door. "Med bay. NOW."

The Doctor did not have sex that night.

The Doctor found Rose in the kitchen the next morning, absently sipping her tea. He came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, pressing his nose into the crook of her neck. "Feeling better this morning?" he asked.

Rose wormed her way out of his embrace. "Yeah," she said, setting her empty cup in the sink, "but usually I wouldn't be feeling better for at least three, four more days. So you're not going to be getting any for a little longer."

The Doctor stared at her, dumbfounded. "But…" he spluttered.

"Two years!" she exclaimed. "I've been traveling with you for almost two years—that's over twenty periods that I didn't have to have! You're lucky I didn't make you regenerate again!" She paused at the door. "Bloody wanker," she muttered.

The Doctor let out a growl of frustration and dismay. "I'm going to be," he called after her retreating form, "if something doesn't happen soon!"

It took many days of groveling, but the Doctor finally got back into Rose's good graces. And now they were almost there, back in his bedroom and his bed, a mass of sweaty, tangled limbs. They were so close…

A shrill ringing sounded from the floor.

"Don't answer it," the Doctor said immediately.

"It's my mobile," Rose said. "That's my mum's ring."

"And you know all she wants to do is chat," he replied, nibbling on the skin below her ear. "Let her leave a message, and you can call her back later."

"Okay," she murmured, recapturing his wandering mouth, and after a few more rings the phone went blissfully silent.

Only to start ringing again almost instantly.

Rose rolled away from the Doctor. "That's her again. Something must be wrong," she said anxiously, getting off the bed and rummaging through the pockets of her discarded jeans for her mobile.

The Doctor flopped onto his back and grabbed a pillow, covering his face as he swore.

Less than ten minutes later they were dressed and in the console room, about to head back to London. Jackie was terrified that someone was after them. Rose was furious that someone had scared her mum. And when the Doctor was done, Elton Pope was going to wish he had never met Jackie Tyler.

Of course, the motivation for the Doctor's ire was far different than Rose's.

Finally.

After all the false starts and anger and misunderstandings, the Doctor and Rose had finally had a night without interruptions. And now they lay in bed, both on their backs and staring up at the ceiling. Neither spoke for a moment. Then, finally—

"I'm sorry," Rose said.

The Doctor rolled on his side to face her. "Why are you apologizing? It wasn't your fault."

Rose glanced over at him. "Wasn't your fault either." He raised an eyebrow. Her lips quirked. "Well, I guess it was your fault, but it's not like you wanted it to happen." She fought down a smile as he scowled at her. "Happens to loads of blokes, otherwise they wouldn't have all those adverts on the telly—"

"But that's different!" the Doctor exploded. "That's for human males. I have superior physiology—binary vascular system, respiratory bypass system, loads of extra senses…this isn't supposed to happen to me!"

"So Time Lords are supposed to be perfect?" Rose asked, sniggering slightly. "Ideal figures of male virility? Never…never have any…any trouble…" She was shaking with repressed laughter and had to take a few deep breaths before she could spit the rest out.

"…getting it up?" she said in a rush, and then burst out in hysterics. The Doctor buried his face in his pillow and made a noise of frustration and anger.

When she finally calmed down she reached over and pushed on his shoulder, forcing his face out of the pillow. "Hey," she soothed, "s'okay. It's not always perfect the first time. We'll just try again later. No matter what did or didn't happen, we're still here together. Lots of worse places to be." Her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Besides—nice big bed like this, no planets to save…lots of things we could still do."

The irritation and disappointment finally bled out of the Doctor, and he smiled. "This is true," he said, snaking an arm around Rose's waist.

"Like cuddling," she supplied as he pulled her closer.

"Or naked cuddling," the Doctor murmured. "Even better."