"Fishing!"

She looked over her book at him, skepticism written plainly over her face. "Fishing?" She tried to fix him with a glare, but his grin was contagious. Finally, she cracked, a chuckle escaping her lips as she set down her book – A Brief History of the Martian Empire: Red Jewel of Sol. She was certain the book wasn't written in English, or any other Earth language, but the TARDIS was doing a fine job for her. "You want to take me fishing?"

"Well yeah! Sky fishing on the sea-plains of Aruenta. Like nothing you've ever seen before – the sea-plains are full of blue grass…"

"What is this gonna be like Deliverance? Full of bluegrass?" She hummed the twanging refrain from that movie, but quit when the joke was apparently lost on the Doctor. "Blue grass. Ok."

He frowned, trying to understand her reference, but got over it in short order. "And the grass is taller than you, and the sky fish live there – levitating creatures that look like huge flying bluegill or perch or trout. There are exotic ones too, but really only the most daring sportsmen go after the Filoterins. Big, mean things, they are."

"And we're not the most daring sportsmen?" When he only opened and closed his mouth, she tossed the book at him lightly, watching him dance easily out of the way. "So what does one wear to fish for flying Filoterins?"

"To fish for flying Filoterins, I find it fun to fenangle fancy frocks for females and fine fedoras for men." He picked up the book and walked it back to the table next to wear she was sitting, grinning from ear to ear.

"Yeah? For flying fish like Filoterins, fine folk wear fuzzy fezzes, I find." She stood up, stretching up in her tiptoes and moving muscles that had fallen asleep while she was reading. Her looped hands fell down loosely over his head, pulling him close to her.

"Fezzes? Heaven forfend! More finely, fuzzy fezzes are frightening." He rested one hand on her hip, his grin still firmly in place.

"Hmm. Fuzzy fezzes are fun, in my philosophy."

"Fine." He leaned close. "But there are more things in heaven and on earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

She tilted her head back and laughed loudly. "My philosophy? Well sure. No amount of my philosophy can even vaguely show me all the things you've taken me to see. The slug people? God, you know how well I took that."

"Not terribly."

"Stop humoring me, Doctor." She stepped back, sliding down the couch's curved front like an invertebrate. "Great glopping massive hulks of grey goo, they were. Like overgrown escargot. But they're the best singers in the universe." As she spoke, she slid slowly down, curving down into a hunched-over pool on the floor. "But I was too busy making slug jokes, til you, um, made me listen."

"I made you listen?"

"Like you don't remember, Mr. Casanova. Scientific demonstration of humanoid interaction my behind."

"I didn't demonstrate any interactions with your behind. I thought that would be a bit much for the very conservative natives."

She guffawed. "As it was, didn't you tell them that we were sharing songs between the two of us? You're lucky I can sing."

"You saying I can't?"

"No such words ever crossed my lips. Just like no discernible melody has crossed yours."

"You wound me, Miranda, my dear." He clutched his hand over his double heartbeat. "I can sing."

"Just like you're a doctor."

"I am a doctor. A very impressive one. Studied medicine at Seelian II's medical school - the finest in the galaxy. Not to mention a degree from Oxford in medicine. Impressive enough for you?"

"So impressive. 19th century medicine and the ability to practice on cat people. Good show." She smirked at him, teasing.

"Stomping on a wounded man's pride now, that's low." He sat heavily in the seat behind him.

"Well prove it then."

"Prove it? Prove what?"

"That you can sing. Or that you're a medical doctor, and don't just have a PhD in Cheesemaking."

"That was an excellent course of study, I'll have you know."

"I'll bet it was, Doctor." She emphasized the last word and sat on his lap. It was familiar and fun, something she would have done with a boyfriend back home, but she brushed that thought aside. She brushed a lot of thoughts aside, as she was now in direct contact with him, and direct contact was the time she was most likely to slip, as far as their mental connection went. Or maybe he was slipping. It was hard to tell sometimes, between the two of them. "So prove it."

He began to hum a few bars, and she could feel his chest rumble against her with the deep notes. She let it vibrate through her and relaxed into him a bit as he stroked her hair and hummed. She recognized the lullaby that she heard in her own sleep, the one that he had once told her he used to sing to his own children, and a long breath escaped her as the long tones became words she didn't recognize. She had never heard the words before, except in her dream, and it was changing something. She didn't understand it, but she could practically feel the import of the words against her skin as he traced shapes she didn't know onto the palm of her hand.

He quieted, and she tilted her head up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. "Ok, so you can sing," she whispered, not quite wanting to ruin the moment, but knowing it was bound to end soon anyway.

"I can that."

"Still haven't shown your doctoring skills."

"Haven't I?" He held up her own hand, bringing back the memories of burns and scars that had healed far quicker than natural.

"Nanogenes were lucky."

"It's better to be lucky than good, I always say."

"Always? Funny, I've never heard you say it before."

"Well, I think it an awful lot."

"And you expect me to read your thoughts?"

"It was one of my favorite experiences when you did." That lingered in the air for a bit, until she stood up and offered him her hand.

"Come on then."

"Where are we going?"

"The wardrobe, of course. Gotta find fuzzy fezzes and frilly frocks. Or whatever one actually wears to go sky fishing." She winked at him and he followed her out of the room, shaking his head happily.

"How long you gonna stay with me?"

She pursed her lips, considering some options for sky fishing, finally settling on an answer. "Oh, you know, I was thinking about forever. How's that sound?"

"Sounds fantastic!" He turned to grin at her, but sputtered when a fez hit him square in the nose. "Oi!"

Miranda bent double laughing when a fedora was flung like a frisbee at her head, where it bounced lightly and landed at her feet. "Hey now! Watch where you're tossing stuff!"

"You just pegged me with a fez!"

"Fezzes are cool!" She defended herself by plucking it up off the floor and placing it atop her head. "See?"

"Yeah, I see." He was chuckling, a deep sound that was contagious."But really, let's get changed so we can get out there. Filoterins aren't going to catch themselves! Well, I mean, they occasionally wander into forests and get caught on a branch, especially the ones with whiskers. Unfortunate, that."

"So, jeans and a tshirt ok? Practical shoes, yeah? Course, I always need practical shoes when I'm out with you. Never know when I'm going to be running for my life."

"Hey, it's not like I'm in trainers!"

"I've only seen you out of the combat boots, jeans, jumper, and jacket for 2 reasons."

"And if I recall, you practically begged for a dance."

She quirked an eyebrow as she slid into a blue t-shirt and shrugged on a black leather jacket to match his. She wouldn't admit to him that she liked having a similar look to him, and he hadn't yet called her on it. "Dancing? Is that what the kids call it these days?"

"Oi, little girl, I was talking about the masque on Venus!"

She stuck her tongue out. "Oh yeah. That."

"You've got a dirty mind, you."

"Yep. You like it."

He mumbled something to himself, but didn't offer a comeback. Because after all, he did. "You look nice. For a human."

"Not so bad yourself. For a humanoid."

He caught the small of her back and swept her lightly out of the wardrobe. "You know, before humans had developed a coherent language with prefixes and suffixes like -oid, humans were known in more refined circles as a type of being related to Time Lords. Actually, in Gallifreyan, it would probably translate best as 'little wannabe Time Lords.'"

She turned, bumping the TARDIS door open with her hip and facing him. "Wannabe Time Lords? A great big fancy civilization like the Time Lords called an ENTIRE segment of the universe's population wannabes?"

"We invented gravity, Miranda! How could we not see your bloated little baby heads as wannabes?"

"Our heads were bloated? Geez. Yours were so big that when you died it created black holes, huh? You know, implosion of a supernova?"

"Almost there with the science jokes."

"Well, at least humans kept being able to procreate. No curse of Pythia on earth, mister."

"Doctor, you know. And it's just so messy..."

"Mmhmm. Not what you usually say. Though it's kinda the truth. But, to risk sounding repetitive, you like it. A lot."

The Doctor paused, and she stopped suddenly. She hadn't stopped once, and had taken a nice little tumble down a dirt embankment. She wasn't much worse for the wear, but she'd learned, if she was walking backwards while talking to him, to stop when he did. And to turn around.

She was glad she did. They were parked at the edge of a forest of silver-barked trees, the green leaves reaching up for ages over the plain below. Tall grasses undulated and swayed in the wind, each little breeze eddying through the blades and making it look almost liquid - these must be the sea-plains. She could see fish floating among the tops of the grass leaves, big ones, little ones, familiar looking ones, and ones altogether foreign. "Wow," she breathed. "Seven years with you and you still manage to impress me."

"That's cause I'm impressive."

"Yeah. That's it." She took his hand and bumped shoulders with him. "So. Sky fishing. Where do we get the poles? Do you fish with poles? Or what?"

He grinned and tugged on her hand. "Let's go see, shall we?"