Just Checking

"Erm, Rose?" he frowned, spinning around to face her with a piece of paper held in a raised hand. "What's this list of men doing tacked to my console screen?"

She lifted her head from her makeshift pillow, namely, the Doctor's jacket, lying sprawled as she was across the jumpseat. Glancing briefly at his discovery, she snuggled back down and mumbled tiredly, "Oh, that's just the list of historical figures I'd like us to meet."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and asked cheekily, "Wow, making lists; is that us now?" throwing her a wink.

She giggled. "Thought you always made lists," she pointed out, gesturing to the post-it notes stuck on the console.

He followed her gaze and blushed a delightful shade of pink. "Oh, no, no, they're not...er...lists."

Rose sat up straight, no longer tired, as she watched him shift awkwardly, as if he was embarrassed. "What are they, then? Gallifreyan love poems?" she scoffed.

His eyes widened and he stumbled backwards, hitting his bum on the edge of the console. "No!" he exclaimed, far too quickly, tugging at his ear. She wasn't exactly correct, but she was closer to the truth than what he was going to pretend the writing meant.

She couldn't help the grin that spread wide across her face. "Oh my god, they are, aren't they?" she laughed. "I knew you were secretly a troubled romantic!"

"I most certainly am not!" he denied vehemently, not-so-subtly reaching behind himself to screw up said post-it notes before the TARDIS could suddenly switch sides and translate Gallifreyan for Rose's benefit. Not that the TARDIS ever seemed to be on his side of late, anyway. He was rather put out, actually, that Rose seemed to be in acquired favour ever since she stepped aboard. He harrumphed to himself at this thought, but then turned his attention back to the issue at hand, i.e. a nice bit of improvisation: "They're calculations, Rose Tyler. Mathematical, chemical," he rallied off, counting on his fingers. "Physical, biological – oh, er, no, not that one," he amended hastily. "Maths, chemistry and physics and a bunch of other subjects that aren't relevant to human women...they're just equations. You wouldn't understand. Very complicated. To do with, er, timey...wimey...stuff," he finished lamely.

Rose had stood and started stalking towards him with every rubbish piece of lexis that had fallen from his lips. "Really?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, really," he agreed firmly, nodding as if it would affirm his conviction.

To his surprise, Rose simply shrugged in acceptance. Then he realised that she would probably conspire with the TARDIS later and find out anyway. Damn; he had to be more careful about what he wrote down from now on. Maybe he should buy a secret journal! Oh blimey, he thought, once he'd thought his previous thought; is that what kind of man I am? The kind who writes in a diary? No, no. No, that's not...I'm manly. I'm a manly man. He nodded firmly to himself and decided that he'd just have to figure out a way to stop his girls ganging up on him...

She yawned widely then, and backtracked her way to the jumpseat, this time sitting upright and propping up her legs on the console beside him. He grinned suddenly, wickedly, and tickled her feet, and she whipped her legs away with a yelp. "Evil Time Lord," she glared at him playfully, before yawning again and shifting sideways until she was lying horizontally again, staring up at him. He smiled at her warmly for a moment, then realised he still had the piece of paper that had started all this in his hand. He read it over again, and made a noise in the back of his throat. Rose interpreted it as a grunt of either: arrogance, dismissal, or displeasure.

"What is it?" she asked. "Some of 'em aliens?"

He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes wearily. "No, no. Well, yes, some; but mostly the harmless kind, that's all."

"Then what's wrong?"

He sighed, and looked back at her with a pointed look. "Weeelll, I cannot help but notice that all the 'historical figures' on this list are of the male variety."

"I can't help it if my species held the view that men were superior for about a billion years," she retorted with a huff.

"Rose," he said emphatically. "You can't exactly act all feminist when you've put this bloody fellow on your list!" He moved closer and thrust the paper in front of her nose, pointing at number fourteen.

Rose giggled to herself. "Oh yeah. Weeelll," she drawled, imitating him. "Thought it could be fun."

"Yes, I'm sure it would be, for you," he grumbled, lifting her legs so he could sit down next to her, before settling them in his lap. "But Casanova, Rose? Really? Bit of an insult!"

"How is it?" she replied, folding her arms across her chest defiantly.

From the position the Doctor was sitting in, her motion did very pleasant things for his vision. He blinked silently for a moment, surreptitiously eying her cleavage, then remembered he ought to answer her. "Well, I could take us anywhere in the universe, and you've got a list of some poxy human blokes you want to visit? And one of them is the renowned Italian lover, Giac Casanova?" He stared solemnly at the paper in a righteous sulk. "And, wait a minute," he continued, putting his glasses back on. "Johnny bloody Depp? Historical figure? Are you serious?"

"Well, you know, Captain Jack Sparrow and all that. Always had a thing for blokes called Jack," she teased.

He looked at her with big puppy-dog eyes and slightly downturned lips. As if she was slowly breaking his hearts.

Rose smothered a laugh, and took the list out of his hands, before tearing it in two. He looked back at her in shock.

"What'd you do that, for?" he asked her, confused and delighted all at once.

She screwed up the torn paper and threw it at the Doctor's forehead with a smug smile creeping upon her face. "I was only checking, Doctor."

"Checking what?" he replied petulantly.

"That you knew," she shrugged casually, before letting her eyes drift shut.

"Knew what?" he asked her. When she didn't reply, he shook her legs a bit. "Rose? Knew what?"

He huffed when she remained silent, and leaned over her, blowing in her ear. She jumped in surprise, giggled, and watched him with mischievous eyes. He didn't move away, and he watched her right back from his face's position four inches above hers. "Knew what?" he repeated quietly.

"That I belong to you," she finished softly.

His left heart actually skipped a beat. Rassilon, this woman was turning him into a walking cliché. "You do?" he whispered, his eyes wide in awe.

"Yeah," she replied. "It's why you get so jealous."

"I don't - " he cut himself off when she raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Weeelll. Okay, maybe I do," he relented. "Didn't know it was because you belong to me, though."

"No?"

He wasn't sure why, but now felt like the perfect, most natural time to tell her the secret he had kept from her for oh...so very long.

"No," he answered, his voice lowering, "Thought it was just because I'm in love with you."

Rose's smile lit up her face. "You do realise what's gonna happen now, yeah?" she whispered cheekily.

His throat was dry as he murmured hoarsely, "What's that?"

Instead of replying, Rose tilted her head up slightly to brush her lips against his. Before she could pull away, he was kissing her back, opening his mouth above hers, his hands flying to her hair to guide their movements. Together, they sat up straight, allowing Rose to shift onto his lap, one of his hands slipping to the back of her thigh to slide her leg around his hip until she was astride him on the jumpseat, kissing him just as relentlessly as he was her.

"Rose," he whispered against her lips.

She was breathless as she replied, "Yeah?"

"You don't actually fancy Johnny Depp, do you?"

Rose just giggled and kissed him again.