Summary: After a visit to an alien planet, the Doctor's inability to whistle quickly becomes something very important, and Rose doesn't know why... DoctorRose - ah, sweet fluff.

Rose couldn't quite remember what had led her to the console room. They couldn't have been back in the TARDIS for longer than a couple of hours at most, and Rose had lost no time in locking herself in the bathroom and giving herself the luxury of a private giggle whilst she waited for the water to run.

A liquid shot of bubble bath later, and she was relaxing in the foam, allowing the heat to knead any knots from her back. And as she relaxed, she remembered the furious look on the Doctor's face as he was informed by that male Farenis that his failure to having the ability to whistle was equable to the worst crime he could think of.

Oh, her usually cheerful doctor had been flummoxed on that one, alright. She paused. Since when had she begun to think of the Doctor as hers? Rose sighed, pushing the thoughts away. It had been a long time, she knew. And he would never think of 'courting such a lovely young alien', as that Farenis had put it. For that was what the fuss had been about.

As they sprinted back to the TARDIS, pursued by the angry Farenis and a few of his friends, Rose had asked why he had been so angry at the alien's request that he court her instead, 'seeing as how you don't seem to be interested.' Rose smirked. She hadn't known that the Doctor knew so many curse words. They had certainly been colourful (and imaginative). The Doctor had replied curtly, to her curious question as to what some of them meant, that it didn't matter.

But it did matter. And now, as she looked across the room to the gently humming console in the centre, she saw the Doctor's face screwed up, as though he was in pain. But he turned his head slowly round, and said plaintively,

"I've been trying for over an hour. But even though I blow and blow, I still can't whistle." He sighed. "What am I doing wrong, Rose? I'm the Doctor - the last Time Lord in existence. Why can't I whistle?"

"Why does it matter so much?" Rose asked, jumping onto a blank space on the console that the TARDIS had obligingly cleared for her, and crossing her legs beneath her. She studied the Doctor's face, only a foot away from her own, and frowned pensively. He jumped, and his brown eyes, which had been studying the opposite wall, were drawn inexorably to her own. She could see his frustration there, and Rose let a chuckle bubble from her chest. He looked hurt.

"I'm sorry," she giggled. "It's just that you never think about whistling, and then all of a sudden you want to whistle... And you sounded so pathetic!"

"I'm not pathetic," he growled.

"Ah, don't worry about that Farenis. He's just sore because he never hope to be as good-looking as you."

"Really?"

"For who could possess your good looks, your wit, your charms?"

""You're making fun of me," he scowled. Rose smiled, and then leant against the panel.

"Just purse your lips. No, not like that. More delicately." The Doctor's efforts were laughable. In the midst of one of her giggles, the Doctor turned an intense look on the young woman before him.

"I can think of much better things to do with my lips, you know."

Rose's heart stopped, gave a short hiccup, and then began to thunder against her chest. Don't be stupid, she told herself sternly. He doesn't mean it like that. But the Doctor's gaze was still resting on her, and she couldn't help but feel that that look wasn't quite platonic.

"O-oh?" she faltered. He drew her to the edge of the console, his eyes never leaving her face, and gently brushed some tendrils of hair behind her ears.

"Yeah, I can." His eyes were burning, and Rose could feel herself losing her nonchalance. She gulped as his strong hands cupped her cheeks, and suddenly -

Suddenly, the Doctor crushed her lips with his mouth, relaying all the frustration he had felt during that visit. In fact, for quite a while. Rose was astonished. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she felt herself melting against him, breathing in the smell that was so much him, the Doctor - her Doctor. And she felt that she would drown in the sweetness of his mouth, the way her pulse raced as he firmly lifted her off the console and held her against his body - the way she couldn't seem to get enough of him.

And when he finally let her breathe, she stood looking up at him a little stunned, with a dreamy expression in her eyes.

"What're you thinking?" the Doctor - her Doctor - asked with a slight smirk.

"Oh," she murmured docilely. "I'm just thinking what a good thing it is that you can't whistle."