Summary: Silly, stupid, random fluffy fic that's very nearly smut. Rose and Ten interaction, something about fruit. If you want sophisticated, I suggest looking elsewhere.

Actual Summary: Rose is in the kitchen, having just woken up, and goes on the hunt for breakfast. Little does she know she finds a Doctor who's up for a game or two... ;)

Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler

Rating: T. I'm pretty sure I can get away with T. I thought about M, but there isn't actually anything explicit just a lot of... innuendoes.

Words: 2,378

Genre: Humour, Romance, Silly Fluff

Spoilers: None. Absolutely none at all. This is just a random piece of fluffy, flirty interaction that sprung to me whilst emptying my dishwasher (ho hum for household chores).

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is nothing of mine. All the BBC's creation and ownership. Believe me, it's something I cry about on a daily basis. But it's probably just as well, because I couldn't come up with the fantastic storylines anyway.

A/N: Just a little bit of story because I had this image of a conversation whilst I was emtpying my dishwasher. Don't ask, honestly. It's sort of... smut without the smut, I guess, only not so intense. It's pointless, so if you're looking for a story with good plot twists and wonderful characterisation, you might either want to go back and find another story. This is just for my own amusement, ans possibly yours too if you like that sort of stuff.

Dedication: I would like to dedicate this entire thing to LunaLovegood5, my fabulous beta, without whom I would never have gotten the encouragement to write this story xD As conversations went on, we were both pretty helpless with laughter at certain suggestions. So, Rachy, this one's for you... (Feel a bit like a DJ putting on a song, but oh well).

Nice Pyjamas

Breakfast in the TARDIS was usually a fairly easy affair. Sometimes, when Rose woke, she would just make her way to the silent kitchen and grab a bowl of cereal, or a piece of toast, or a cup of coffee. And sometimes she wouldn't even bother.

This morning, however - though how the TARDIS really ever had morning, she didn't rightly know - she walked in, ruffled barnyard animal pyjamas and all, to find the Doctor already there, his hair washed, his clothes pristine, and his eyes firmly lodged on the book he was reading. His glasses lay on the bridge of his nose as his eyes flicked back and forth over the soft cover book, and he leant easily against the kitchen surface, his legs crossed at his ankles near the floor.

His coat billowed around him like a cape, and he seemed so comfortable, reading in the kitchen of all places, that Rose wondered exactly how long he had been there.

He looked up briefly and gave her a quick smile.

"Morning," he offered brightly, but his attention soon returned to the words of the pages in front of him.

Rose shrugged sleepily, by way of greeting, then made her way around him towards the fridge. She didn't exactly feel like cereal this morning, so perhaps the TARDIS would offer her something nice in the fridge department. It hadn't let her down yet, after all.

After a few good seconds' rummaging, she pulled out something soft and spongy, about the size of the nectarine, and a good heavy weight. She tossed it easily from one hand to the other, like a tennis ball. It was a muddy green sort of colour with flecks of yellow in its soft, waxy skin. She considered it for a moment. Well, at least it wasn't cereal. Bringing it up to the light, as if expecting to see through it, she was surprised when the Doctor spoke. He didn't look up from his book.

"Wouldn't recommend that if I were you, Rose. Fruit of the Beebong tree isn't highly rated."

She blinked at him, closing the fridge.

"The what?"

He let out a light sigh and looked up again, his glasses giving him an oddly serious look.

"Beebong tree," he repeated, raising an eyebrow at the fruit in her hands. Then his eyes flicked to hers again, their gazes locking for a quick instant. With a shrug he pulled his head down again, already becoming absorbed in his wonderful story. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Rose frowned a little, then shrugged and bit into the fruit.

Instantly, a bizarre combination of textures and flavours hit her all at once. First there was the skin, tough and coarse, but sweet like sugar. A kind of sugar she had never tasted before. It crunched in her mouth, fusing with the soft, red pulp of the fruit's flesh, which itself harboured a tangy flavour between sweet and sour.

There were small seeds in the pulp and as Rose crunched down and swallowed, her entire mouth exploded with flavours she had never even tasted before. It was like fireworks had been let off in her entire mouth, and she couldn't help but close her eyes as the wonderful, aromatic results of the bite began to play havoc with her senses. She could almost hear a slow song drifting out of nowhere, chords strumming on an acoustic guitar. Her head began to sway with the amazing, dancing flavours as they merged together to produce a stunning sensation that travelled all the way from her tongue to the tip of her spine, followed by a little shiver.

"Oh, God," she groaned quietly, licking her lips hungrily and still taking in the wonderful taste of the fruit. It was like nothing else she had ever experienced, let alone tasted. She was completely lost in the clutches of the ball-like fruit, and that was only just one bite.

The Doctor, who had been rather involved in his book up until now, let his eyes flick up to Rose, keeping his head still. He watched carefully, a little amused, as she took in the effects of the fruit she was eating. A small smile snuck across the corners of his mouth and he let his eyes glide down again before he spoke.

"There's a perfectly eligible room right down the corridor, Rose, if you want to be alone," he commented dryly, doing well to suppress the smile from his voice.

Her eyes flickered open, like an old film grain, and she licked her lips once more before sending him a withering look. Giving in to the temptation her mouth was screaming for, she took another bite of the luscious fruit, her entire mouth tingling with the feel and experience of it. She closed her eyes again, slipping into a heaven she had never been to before. Quite involuntarily, she let out a small groan and the Doctor all but slid off the counter.

She didn't mean to react this way. Her body had taken on its own way of doing things and she was barely in control. Bite after bite of the fruit she took, her teeth tearing away at the skin, her tongue working to dissolve any flesh that it came across. After the fifth or sixth mouthful, she paused for a moment, basking in the wonderful flavours. There had definitely been no fruit like this on Earth. She may never have left it, had there been.

Rose only remembered where she was when the Doctor gave a small cough, and she was suddenly pulled back down to reality. She was standing in the kitchen. In her pyjamas. With barnyard animals all over them. Eating the most gorgeous fruit she had ever eaten, her body all but convulsing with the effects it was having on her. And the Doctor standing right there. Watching. Oh, God.

Her eyes looked up to him a little nervously as she swallowed the last of her mouthful, biting down on her lip. When he didn't say anything, she shrugged and bit into the pulp again, free to drown in the wonderful sensations. Well, if he was just going to stand there, why shouldn't she eat her fruit? He could leave at any time.

His gaze, which had drifted back down the pages of his book, didn't rise when he spoke.

"Having fun?" he asked lightly, turning the page rather dramatically.

Rose closed her eyes and sank into eternal happiness, leaning her body back against the surface.

"It's better than sex," she confirmed, before she realised what she was saying. Her eyes shot open. The effects of the fruit ebbed away. She looked at her hand, all covered with the juices, and her face flushed. She had not just said that.

The Doctor couldn't help the small snort of laughter that escaped him, but he subdued it quickly. He surreptitiously put the book on the counter behind him, spine up and covers folded outwards, before reaching to his temples and removing his glasses. Pocketing them, he turned on his side to look at Rose, the counter digging in to his lower torso. She couldn't look him in the eye, quite understandably.

"Is that so?" he grinned gloatingly, his face lighting up as if he'd just heard the funniest joke in the world.

Rose reached for one of the stacked saucers by the fridge and placed the fruit on it, making a mental note to come back and find it later. If she hadn't died of embarrassment.

He wouldn't let her get away with it, she knew. The Doctor shifted his position a little, folding his arms loosely over his chest, mostly to stop his shaking laughter from escaping.

"Doesn't say much about the... fruit... you used to get on your planet, does it?" he added coyly, raising an eyebrow.

Rose's head snapped to him and, if possible, she blushed more.

"The fruit was fine, Doctor," she mumbled a little shyly, clearing her throat. There was a prickle of juice dribbling down her chin and she quickly wiped a sleeve up to rid her skin of it, the action merely adding to her sheer mortification. She wished the Doctor hadn't've been there... This was not a conversation she had ever envisaged happening between them.

"You sure about that?" he pushed teasingly, his grin spreading. "Because, I don't know, you seemed to like the Beebong fruit much more than... your... fruit. What's a man to assume?"

He topped it all off with a gallish wink, and Rose felt her heart plummet.

"A man is to assume nothing," she replied pointedly, her lips thinning. But he merely grinned harder.

"Ah, but Rose, I'm a Time Lord. I think I'm exempt from those rules."

A moment or two passed by in silence, each considering the other; Rose getting more and more agitated, the Doctor getting more and more amused. This was just too much to let go of. Eventually, when she didn't reply, his mouth twitched with the laughter he was fighting.

"Tell you what..." he continued carefully, his eyes flicking to her. If she was playing a game with him, it was all he could do but to pick up the dice and roll. "Why don't I prove you wrong?"

Prover her wrong? Prove what wrong? About the fruit comparison? His raised eyebrows certainly seemed to think so.

Her entire face dropped about half an inch in shock and she found herself choking. She looked to him, eyes wide and face horrified, before he cracked into peals of amused laughter, tears burning in his eyes. Rose let out a sigh through her nose and put her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowing.

"You're enjoying this!" she accused with more force than she meant to.

He straightened up a little, quelling the laughs but unable to hide the smirk in his eyes.

"Well," he reasoned with a flirtatious air to his voice, "You make it so easy. How can I resist?"

Despite herself, Rose felt a tinge of anger rising in her. She needed to get dressed. Standing up, she wiped her hands on her trousers and made to walk past him.

"You're just a big flirt who can't keep his mind out of the gutter," she replied testily as she brushed past him. "My Mum was right about you."

"Oh, Rose," he laughed good-naturedly, reaching out a hand to catch her by the elbow. He looked down at her, more than willing to admit that he was teasing. But then he spotted something in her eyes, and a little voice inside of him gave him something else to say. The voice he spoke in was so overly patronising, he may even have punched himself. "Your mother is never right about anything."

She stopped to his touched and sniffed, before turning to look at him, her large eyes as wide and amber. Then her face cracked into a mischievous smile of her own, and her eyes flicked suspiciously southwards. He cleared his throat meaningfully and raised an eyebrow when she looked back up to his eyes.

"D'you know what I think, Doctor?" she asked cheekily, her tongue slipping to the corner of her mouth.

"What's that?"

Right, if he wanted to play, perhaps she was more than game. Ever so slightly, she pushed herself into his touch, her shoulder leaning gently against his chest.

"I think... You're just jealous that the fruit I've eaten is better than anything you could ever find anywhere in the universe." She paused a moment, looking at him through her lashes, her flirtatious look making his hearts race. "And jealous 'cause it was from Earth, not... the TARDIS."

He blinked down to her calmly and swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat. Oh, she played a good game, did Rose Tyler. But he wasn't about to lose to some nineteen-year-old chav he'd picked up from London, even if she could make him wish that he had been that Beebong fruit in her hand. He'd more than cottoned on to her tricks, and he could match them, call for call.

Not quite realising his own strength, he pushed her back against the surface, sandwiching her body between the counter and himself. There wasn't a millimetre of air between them as he reached his hands to slide roughly down her arms. He could feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, even through the clothes, and heard her breath catch in her throat as he danced down her arms.

He pressed himself closer to her, his eyes boring into her with a ferocity he didn't even know he had. His hands stopped on hers, his fingers pushed through hers, pinning her to the counter with brute force; her arms were pushed back unnaturally against her body. He wondered, briefly, if he was hurting her, or if he'd stepped too far. But the look she gave him when their eyes met told him she knew he was playing. Which was just as well, because he wasn't quite sure that he was.

He slowly lowered his head to hers, pretending not to notice the shiver that ran through her as he did so. He hovered his mouth by her ear, letting his breath fall over her skin; he was close enough to inhale her scent, close enough for his breath to tickle her lightly.

"Rose," he growled in a voice darker than he meant, a husky tone having adopted it from somewhere deep inside his chest, "Forget Earth, forget every single Beebong tree you might come across, forget everything you ever thought you knew about fruit. You know why? Because the best bloody fruit you will ever have comes from Gallifrey. And that's a promise."

He straightened up, his body relaxing, releasing her from his grip He walked briskly to the door of the kitchen before laying a hand on the doorframe and spinning, quite artistically, on his heel, his coat flapping out behind him. The look of bewilderment on Rose's face was almost enough to send him into fits of laughter right there - but he controlled himself.

"By the way," he added, pleased to find that his voice was back to its normal pitch. She looked at him, silently, fidgeting with the hem of her top. His eyes grazed her entire body for a moment, just a moment, before he let his eyes fall back on hers. A rakish grin spread entirely over his face. "Nice pyjamas."

Just a few extras here. There was a line somewhere up there,

"Tell you what..." he continued carefully, his eyes flicking to her. If she was playing a game with him, it was all he could do but to pick up the dice and roll. "Why don't I prove you wrong?"

I wasn't sure I was happy with this so far as picking up on Rose's line earlier, and Rach agreed it needed something more. Here's just a few of the suggestions we came up with...

"Tell you what. You think the fruit's better? Why don't I prove you wrong?"

"Tell you what. Seeing as you think the fruit's better, why don't I prove you wrong?"

"Tell you what. Why don't I prove your fruit theory wrong?"

As you can see, these were all fairly abominable. Giving up, We came to the final conclusion:

"Oh, forget the fruit. Why don't I just shag you senseless?"

After falling about laughing for a bit, I just stuck something in afterwards, which I think worked rather well. But yes, now you've... ahem... seen what it is I actually get up to with my betas, I'll leave you in peace. Hope it wasn't too cringeworthy.