Inspired by a recent viewing of the 2005 version of the Producers. I had NO idea John Barrowman was the lead tenor in the "Springtime for Hitler" number until I saw him, and I almost fell out of my chair laughing. I figured Rose would have a similar reaction! This can be read either with the Ninth Doctor OR in the "Sundance" canon, following the events in Sundance, since I didn't really use any descriptors. Enjoy! :)
Rose couldn't breathe. Every muscle in her stomach ached, her shoulders were sore, and her eyes watered with unshed tears. Every effort to suck in some precious oxygen only increased her agony, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the image frozen on the screen.
A handsome, smiling, and very blonde man saluted an invisible dictator, and Rose knew it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen in her entire life.
She finally fell off of the plush couch, howling with laughter.
Footsteps thundered along the hallway grating, and the door the television room flew open with a bang. "Rose? What in the world is going on in here?" The mild irritation in the Doctor's tone only exacerbated her amusement. Rose couldn't catch her breath long enough to acknowledge his glowering presence as he loomed over her, waffling between worry and confusion. She could only point at the screen with a shaking finger and try to suppress another round of giggles.
Recognition dawned in the Doctor's blue eyes, and the corner of his mouth quirked up beyond his control. A rather un-masculine snigger snuck out from behind his protesting scowl, and Rose's laughing fit redoubled its efforts to suffocate her.
"Jack!" The Doctor bellowed, between bursts of laughter and over Rose's hiccoughing giggles. "You'd better get down here right away!" The Doctor stepped fully into the room, leaning against the back of the couch and raising a skeptical eyebrow as he choked back another chuckle.
Jack rounded the corner, hip-checking the doorframe in his haste. He was still holding tight onto a hydro-spanner, and perspiration had matted a large lock of brown hair to his forehead. He was panting, sweaty, and irritated. "The hell, Doc?" he groused, looking first to the Time Lord and then Rose before his eyes finally lighted on the telly, and the blood drained from his face.
Rose bit her lip, but the snort of laughter still escaped. A rather opportunistic smudge of grease lingered on Jack's upper lip, only lending insult to injury. The Doctor took one look at Jack's rather unfortunate visage and shook his head, his shoulders quivering with silent laughter.
Jack stared at the image frozen on the screen, mouth forming words without sound. He sputtered, nearly dropped the hydro-spanner, and finally crossed his arms in exasperation as Rose wheezed on the floor. "I have a fabulous voice, and I don't want to hear anyone say another word." Spinning spectacularly on his heel, he stalked out of the room with a dramatic flounce.
He was chased down the hallway by twin howls of laughter, Rose's breathless giggling and the Doctor's throaty chuckle following him as he rounded a corner. Despite his affected annoyance, Jack's mouth curved into a reluctant smile. He wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and tried to remember where he had left the socket wrench.