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Pajamas and Poison

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It was an in-between day on the TARDIS. They were hanging out in the vortex while the Doctor did some repairs. Rose was sitting on the jump seat, one leg tucked up and the other swinging, just keeping him company. After a while his steady stream of chatter wound down, and finally she leaned under the console to find him furiously twisting wires with the sonic clenched between his teeth. He smiled brilliantly and plucked the sonic from his mouth.

“Sorry Rose, this might take a while. I've gotten to the tricky bit.” He was interrupted by a shower of sparks as the TARDIS let him know she wasn't happy being ignored. “Right, right, I know you’re still there,” he said, patting the panel above his head before turning his attention back to his companion, “So, see you later for movie night then?”

“I’ll be the girl on the couch,” Rose replied with a wink on her way out of the room.

Movie night was one of their favorite things to do. They took turns making popcorn and picking something to watch from the extensive collection in the media room. Very often it ended with a bit of innocent cuddling and a rousing popcorn war. He’d won last time when he poured the remaining unpopped kernels down the back of her dressing gown, and she’d vowed to trounce him during their next rematch. He was looking forward to it, but maybe not quite as much as the cuddling. Of course he wasn't even about to examine those feelings. Better to just concentrate on popcorn battle strategy and not think about why he wanted to snuggle with his engaging young companion.

Rose loved movie night because of the cuddling, and she wasn't afraid to admit it. (To herself, anyway) Sadly, despite all the over the top flirting and hand-holding, The Doctor didn't seem to have any interest in taking things further. Sometimes she wondered if he even had a sex drive, but then every once in a while she would catch him looking at her in a way that didn't fall under the Best Mates category. Those times were way to few and far-between for her liking.

After wandering around the TARDIS for a bit trying to come up with something to do, Rose finally decided on playing dress up in the wardrobe room. This was one of her favorite things to do on their slow days and she’d even gotten him to join in once or twice. She noticed whenever he participated the TARDIS immediately provided dressing rooms. Rose wasn't sure if the TARDIS was trying to protect her modesty or his. Either way, she found the ship playing chaperone both adorable and annoying.

Today she strolled up and down the racks of clothes, marveling at the sheer variety. She finally decided on a purple stewardess outfit and found a tag around the hanger with a picture of a pillbox hat and a corresponding number for where to find it in the millinery section. After fruitlessly searching for a few minutes, Rose spotted a box pushed all the way back on a top shelf. It seemed far too large for just one pillbox hat, but she figured maybe more than one was inside. Climbing up the shelves was a simple matter. Reaching the box proved harder. She could just barely get her fingers on it. In the end she used the hanger from the stewardess outfit to nudge it off the edge of the shelf where it promptly tumbled down on her head, knocking her flat on the floor.

The lid of the box had come off when it fell and Rose found herself uninjured, but covered in a pile of silky fabric. She plucked one of the garments from the floor and realized the box had been full of playful baby-doll style pajama sets. Each one consisted of a satin empire waist bodice and a short tulle skirt with matching satin shorts to wear underneath. There were five sets in total. As Rose looked through them she got the most wickedly delicious idea. She replaced the sets in the box and practically skipped back to her room with it under her arm, whistling triumphantly.


The Doctor was just finishing up his repairs when the scent of popcorn pervaded the console room. With a final whir of the sonic he finished and slid out from under the panel he was fixing, closing it up with a quiet snick. Looking at the grease staining his fingers and shirt he decided to stop off in his room first to clean up before meeting Rose for the movie. Ten minutes later he arrived in the media room, but there was no Rose. He busied himself picking a movie while he waited for her to join him with the popcorn. After a few minutes he selected one of their favorite horror movies and very firmly told himself that he had not picked it just because last time Rose had jumped into his lap and buried her head in his shoulder during one of the scarier bits. He’d just gotten the movie queued up when he heard her entering the room.

“Look!” he said without turning around, “Vampire Death Machines 4! Remember how much you liked that one? It had the giant man eating fax, and that slug thing that vomited blood all over those innocent bystanders. I always like a good vomiting slug. They don’t have enough of them in movies. Odd, that. I wonder if I should contact the Intergalactic Media Council about it. What do you think?”

Rose stopped just behind him and held the popcorn bowl out so he could grab a handful. He tossed the snack in his mouth and turned around to thank her, but ended up choking on it once he saw her new sleepwear. 56 seconds and several hard thwacks on the back administered by Rose later, and he had more or less composed himself.

“You um, those are…Rose, where did you find those pajamas?” he finally managed to stutter.

“Wardrobe room, why? I think they’re cute. Don’t you?” she replied sweetly, pirouetting so he could get a look from all angles.

He mumbled something that sounded like cursing and then something about having a word with the TARDIS regarding censoring Rose’s choices in the wardrobe room.

“What was that?” she asked, grinning.

He cleared his throat. “Nothing. I didn't say anything.”

Rose looked at him pointedly. “So?”

“What?” The Doctor asked while looking studiously over her head, apparently fascinated with that particular few feet of soundproof wall.

“Do. You. Think. They’re. Cute.” Rose said, trying not to laugh.

“What?” he squeaked out again while giving her a cursory glance, “Oh, the pajamas, yes. They’re fine. Fine. Do you think maybe that you might get cold, though Rose? I could fetch you a parka or something. I’m sure we have full length ones around here somewhere, with down and furry hoods. Or maybe I could get you a sub-zero sleeping bag. I’m pretty sure there’s one or two of those in with the camping gear. Want me to check? I should check.”

The Doctor thought about Rose and sub-zero sleeping bags, and then he thought about being in a tent with Rose sharing the sleeping bag. The tips of his ears went pink, and he found he needed to clear his throat again. “Maybe, um, maybe not the sleeping bag, now that I think of it. I’m not even sure we have them, actually. Best to not even check then. Never mind.”

Rose picked up the small knit throw from the back of the couch and shook it out. “I think this will be plenty Doctor. S’not really cold in here, I reckon I’ll be fine.”

“Right. Going with the tiny blanket, brilliant. Well then, I’ll just start the movie, shall I?” He picked up the sonic and aimed it at the theater system.

“Aren't you gonna dim the lights? S’easier to see the screen that way, yeah? I’ll get them.” Rose popped up and helpfully lowered the lighting in the room for him, while he told himself he was absolutely not looking at her bum in those tiny shorts.

The Doctor watched her flounce back across the darkened room and wondered how he was going to survive the next 90 minutes with a nearly naked Rose diving on him every time she got frightened. Somewhere all the gods he didn't believe in were having a massive laugh at his expense.

Rose curled up on a couch cushion and wondered how she was going to sit through the entire movie without jumping on the Doctor and snogging him senseless. Especially with him sneakily checking her out every time she moved. So far her seduction by pajamas was going excellently. Rose wiggled happily on the couch and the Doctor had to close his eyes and count to ten very slowly and deliberately before he opened them again just to maintain his sanity.

Eight minutes into the film one of the blood vomiting slugs made an appearance and happily slurped up a picnicking family of Raxacoricofallapatorians. Rose shrieked and hurled herself at the Doctor, clutching his lapels in both hands and ducking her head against his chest. The slug then vomited the unfortunate aliens back out and she slapped her hands over her ears to shut out the sound of retching.

“S’it over?” she asked, still curled tightly against him.

“Is what over?” The Doctor hadn't been paying attention. He was far too absorbed in the fact that the tulle skirt of her top allowed him to see more Rose Tyler flesh than he thought should be legally viewable. When she lunged towards him he’d caught a glimpse of navel and his entire Time Lord brain shut down and went on auxiliary power.

Rose pushed away from his chest and peered up at him. “The slug? Is it gone? The one eating the Raxacoricofallapatorians?”

“Oh, him. Yes, he’s gone. Bravo on saying Raxacoricofallapatorians by the way. You've really gotten a handle on that word. Very good, Rose Tyler,” he said, tapping her on the nose. Noses were safe. Well, safer than the other parts of her on display anyway.

She beamed at him, tongue caught between her teeth. “Thanks, I've been practicing.”

The rest of the movie was an exercise in torture and endurance for the Doctor, and one of amusement and teasing for Rose. Just like last time she did end up cowering in his lap, and it took all of his concentration to keep certain manly parts of his very manly self under control. It seemed those parts did not share his feelings on keeping things between them platonic. In fact, those parts were highly interested in the fact that she was currently leaning forward and a lovely expanse of simply scrumptious décolletage was on display. The Doctor groaned. He had to stop applying words like scrumptious décolletage to her chest, or this was all going to fall apart and soon.

“Um Doctor? You alright?” Rose touched his shoulder in concern and he nearly jumped off the couch.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he said briskly, “Why are you asking?”

Rose fought hard to keep her lips from twitching. “You just groaned, you sure you aren't sick or something?”

He stared at the screen rigidly. “I didn't.”

“Didn't what?”

“Groan. I didn't. You must have heard something else, maybe it was one of the man-eating fax machines in the movie,” he said. Rose decided not to argue.

After what seemed like several regeneration's worth of lifetimes to the Doctor the movie was finally over. Both of them were buzzing and slightly high from the electricity crackling between them. Rose started tossing the remaining popcorn up in the air and catching it in her mouth as the credits ran. He longed for a convenient space slug to eat him and put him out of his misery as she bounced and ducked to position her lips under the tiny white kernels.

Rose was thoroughly enjoying herself. So far the whole evening had been a smashing success. A few more movie nights like this and he was sure to cave. Plus, with him so distracted she was about to take control of the popcorn war. After catching the final piece of popcorn on her outstretched tongue and showing it to him with a flourish before eating it, she dumped the bowl, remaining kernels and all, on top of his gorgeously coiffed head. Then she leaned over, planted a kiss on top of the upended bowl and sauntered out of the room.