Disclaimer: Not my banana. Damn.

Rating: T. Now, I have to say that I'm not sure about this. The story isn't overly explicit, but let me know if you think the rating needs changing. My view is that if you're old enough to read it and understand it, then you're old enough to accept the content and deal with it. Like I said though, it's not too bad. Use your own discretion!

Summary: 10Rose fluff that's so fluffy it's almost smutty. The Doctor reveals why he loves the human body so much, complete with his trademark 'practical' demonstrations. Can be read as a sequel to Dewy, Light and Lush (You won't get the zip thing unless you read that first) but you don't need to have read it. I'd love it if you did though!

A/N: I'm horrifically nervous about posting this story, mainly because it's light years away from how I normally write and also it's the fluffiest, smuttiest(ish) thing I've ever done. So, let me know what you think! Feedback is always loved and it makes me excited when I check my email. So, enjoy! Jen xx


He steps up behind her and takes the zip out of her hands, easily pulling it closed. His hands rest lightly on her shoulders and he leans in to her ear, his breath causing the soft blonde strands of her hair to whisper lightly against her dress. 'What is it with you and zips?' he breathes quietly. 'Sometimes I think you get them stuck on purpose.'

She smiles and leans back into his gentle grip. 'Maybe I do,' she smiles. 'Maybe I don't. Guess you'll never know!'

'I'm sure I could think of a way to find out,' he tells her, his hands slipping down her arms to grasp her waist before she decides to step away from him. 'Y'know,' he adds. 'If I wanted to.'

'I'm sure.' She lets her hands rest over his as they slide over her stomach, flooding her with his warmth as though he could act like a cup of hot chocolate after going for a walk on a snowy day. 'Ooh, that'd be nice,' she whispers, unaware that she has spoken.

His nose presses against her hair and she can feel him smirk from behind her. 'What would be nice, Rose?' he asks, his breath against the shell of her ear doing crazy things to her.

She smiles shyly. 'Hot chocolate,' she tells him.

'Oh yeah,' he agrees. His approval is obvious as he growls low in his throat, his chest rumbling lightly against her back. They both shiver, but not because they are cold. 'Hot chocolate would be good,' he continues, his voice lower than before. 'We should make some.'

She nods, her hair tickling his collar bone as it snags slightly in his shirt. 'We really should.'

He slides his arms away from her and shudders as she steps away from him, the cool air rushing to occupy the space Rose has just vacated. He reaches out and takes her hand, smiling as though he has just won the lottery and pulls her in the direction of the kitchen. His smile grows even further as she follows him without argument, quickly catching up to him to walk at his side. Their hands swing gently between them as they turn a corner. He rubs his thumb over the back of her hand, revelling in the feel of soft skin beneath his, as smooth as silk and as pale as moonlight. It amazes him how her hand fits into his like a glove, like it was always supposed to be there. He has trouble thinking of a time when it wasn't there, and he can't bring himself to think of a time when it will be there no longer. His heart melts as she smiles up at him. 'Doctor,' she says.

That's it; just his name. She doesn't want to say anything else, doesn't need to say anything else for him to know that she's happy. All it takes is a word for him to know how she's feeling, to know that she is content. And it makes him proud.

They enter the kitchen together, separating reluctantly as they begin to prepare the drink. She moves to the cupboard to take out two mugs, the cold ceramic chilling her where his hand had made her so warm only a moment before. He opens the fridge and extracts the milk, the carton like a block of ice as it replaces the touch of her hand. He puts it on the counter, shutting the fridge and opening another cupboard at the same time. He takes out the hot chocolate, putting it next to the milk as Rose places two mugs on the side. They smile at each other at the same time, and then in perfect symmetry they shut the cupboard doors.

He takes out a saucepan and pours in the milk as she takes the hot chocolate powder and spoons it into their mugs. Then they stand in companionable silence, watching the pan, leaning against the marble countertop that currently keeps them apart. After a moment, she walks around it to stand next to him, standing close but not touching. He can hear her breathing, sense her deciding whether or not to say something, unsure over whether or not she wants to break the silence. She decides to stay quiet, instead leaning into him slightly as his hand moves along the counter to rest just behind her. The hum of electricity surrounds them as the walls seem to pulse with energy and the stove clicks quietly as the milk warms in its pan. Bubbles begin to appear on the surface.

He sighs, happy. He loves this, although he won't tell her that. But it's good, he decides, these little domesticities that she has bought into his life, routines and habits that give his life structure and balance. Like this, for example. The act of taking time out from a day to make hot chocolate and then sit and share it with someone is something he never really appreciated before her. He worries sometimes that he needs her too much, that he is too addicted to her and all that she is. The thought of being separated from her scares him; he would spiral back into oblivion, he knows. And he knows he cannot let that happen. He needs her for his sanity: that, and so much more.

She hears his sigh and smiles to herself, loving the safe feeling of the two of them being together, making a drink and being normal. She loves the rush of adrenaline she gets whenever she sees him, adores how he affects her like her drug, making her crave more and more until she thinks she might go insane. She loves the adventure, the thrill of the danger and the high of saving the world, safe in the knowledge that he will protect her and look out for her. But she lives for moments like this. The two of them, together, doing something mundane that for some reason seems like the most exciting thing in the universe, just because it's him.

The milk is bubbling on the stove now and they move together, simultaneously. He picks up the pan as she grabs a spoon and slides the mugs over to him. He smiles his thanks as he fills one mug, then the other. She stirs them, the sound of the spoon against the china echoing around the quiet room as he fills the now empty saucepan with water and places it on the side. He takes the spoon from her when she has finished and puts it with the pan. Then they take their mugs and walk together, over to the table where they sit and take the first sip of their drinks.

'Mmm,' she says as the hot sweet liquid slides down her throat. He watches as she tilts her head back, her eyes sliding closed and he imagines he can see the liquid chocolate sliding down her throat. He aches to touch her, as he always does at moments like this. He wonders if that is somehow wrong.

No, he decides. It's not. How can it be wrong when it feels so right to slide his hand across the table to meet hers halfway and they join together in perfect mirror image? How can it be wrong when they both smile at the same time? When she presses her hand more tightly into his? How can it be wrong when it feels so damn good?

They sit with their hands joined, both sipping from their drinks and enjoying the chance to relax. She feels her eyes begin to slip closed as she finishes the last of her drink, sleep and warmth and happiness and contentment overtaking her as she lowers her cup to the table. She looks up and catches him staring at her. Then he rises, placing his mug next to hers. He walks around the table, never once letting go of her hand. She watches him from under drooping eyelids. And then he lifts her into his arms, one arm sliding under her legs and the other holding her torso close to his. She doesn't resist as he carries her through the TARDIS to her bedroom, nudging the door open with his hip. He slides her under the covers as sleep overtakes her, smoothing her hair back from her face as he arranges the pillows around her. He presses his lips to her forehead as she begins to dream.


He is there when she wakes. He sits next to her on the bed as she lies tangled in the duvet and the remnants of her dreams. He is smiling softly, his face glowing in the dim light. She feels his hand in her hair as he rubs the strands between his fingers and his palm coasts over her skull. This is bliss.

'Sleep well?' He feels his voice vibrate in his chest, hears it reverberating off the walls.

She nods, her eyes bleary as they adjust to the light. 'Yeah,' she croaks out, her voice rusty with sleep. 'How long was I out for?'

'Not long.' Too long. He remembers the pang in his chest as he walked from her room, leaving her to rest. He remembers the persistent throbbing of his hearts that prompted him to turn and walk back to sit with her, to watch her and stroke her hair while she slept. He remembers her soft sighs and relaxed expression as his hand moved over her face, the way her hair caught in the light and shone like gold, the way her eyes moved beneath their lids as she dreamed…

'Doctor?' She is looking at him now, concerned. He realises that he has been silently staring at her for longer than is considered normal and decent.

But she's just too beautiful. He can't look away; he is entranced as she stretches up and then flops back down on the soft pillows, sighing in contentment. She closes her eyes again, her hand blindly reaching for his. He takes it and holds it in both of his.

He studies her face, her eyes and her mouth. He loves that it's so symmetrical, that one side is almost a perfect mirror image of the other. He removes one of his hands from hers and trails his finger down the centre of her face, starting at her hairline. Her eyes open immediately as his hand comes into contact with her skin, a frown appearing between her brows. He smiles and shakes his head, running his finger down the centre of her forehead to rub at the line that creases her skin, smoothing it over until she relaxes against his touch.

'What are you doing?' she asks as his finger slides down between her eyes to the bridge of her nose. 'Doctor.'

He moves his hand to cup her cheek, running his thumb over her face so that she shivers and leans into his touch. 'The human body, Rose,' he says as though it explains everything. 'It's a marvellous thing, so beautifully designed, majestically crafted.' He leans closer to her ear, a smile in his voice. 'It's no wonder you apes evolve so slowly. The one thing your race is good at- aesthetics.' He moves back and studies her face. 'Some of you are better at it than others.' Admiration for her shines in his eyes as he waits for her response.

She laughs. 'What are you on about?' she asks affectionately. She taps him on the side of the head. 'You think too much, you do.'

He shakes his head. 'No,' he says firmly.

The smile drops off her face as she sees he is perfectly serious.

'I mean it, Rose,' he says, extracting his other hand from hers and using it to pull the duvet away from her. She shivers slightly from the sudden rush of cold and the effects of his intense gaze. His eyes travel down, over her neck and chest, down across her stomach and over her legs. She squirms as though he were touching her. 'Like I said,' he tells her. 'Marvellous. Symmetry is a wonderful thing.'

He senses that she wants to laugh again, but that this time she is uncertain, unsure of what to make of his words. He feels a compulsion to make her understand her worth. 'Let me show you,' he says, his voice low and quiet.

She nods, struggling to keep the frown and confusion off her face. 'Go on then,' she smiles. 'Explain yourself, Einstein.'

He rests his hands either side of her head. 'Great man, Einstein.' He grins. 'But not as good as me.'

'Who is?' she indulges his ego, enjoying the pride and good humoured smile that spreads across his face. She leans up closer to him. 'So Doctor, if you're the best that the universe has to offer, I think you'd better tell me why symmetry is such a wonderful thing.'

'I said that I'll show you Rose, not tell. I'm a big supporter of practical based learning.'

She wriggles into a more comfortable spot on the bed, snuggling down into the pillows and sheets. 'Go on then,' she says again.

He nods. 'Okay,' he tells her. 'Close your eyes.'

She does as he asks, gasping as she feels him swing himself over so he is straddling her on the bed, his knees coming to rest either side of her hips and both of his hands coming up to cup her face tenderly. She moves to bring her own hands up to grasp at his arms but he stops her, his hands leaving her face momentarily to grip her wrists gently and lower them to rest by her head. She resists the temptation to open her eyes and study his face. She wonders what he sees as he looks at her beneath him.

'The human body Rose,' he begins, his thumbs rubbing her temples, soothing her slight anxiety. 'It's essentially symmetrical. Two ears, one on each side of your head.' He runs his fingers over her ears and she gasps, the gentle touch sending shivers down her spine. 'A wonderful sound system,' he says. 'No need to buy additional speakers. You have your own surround sound built in. Brilliant!'

She smiles and she knows that he is too. She pulls in a breath, breathing becoming slightly more difficult the more he touches her, affects her.

'Two eyes,' he continues. 'One on each side of your face so you can see as much as possible, with as much scope on each side as possible.' He skims his thumbs over her eyelids. 'Beautiful things, eyes. They allow you to see, they show your emotions, show you the wonders all around you. Magnificent.'

He moves onwards, sliding his fingers over her nose. 'One nose,' he says. 'Serves its purpose, I guess. Think of the jokes you'd get if you didn't have one!' They both laugh. 'I mean, how would you smell?'

'Terrible,' she says. 'I see your point.'

She wants to say more but is rendered speechless when he touches her lips, parting them gently with his finger. 'Lips,' he breathes, his voice slightly more choked than before, her breath on his hand making him crazy. 'They help you eat, make you look more attractive, entice members of the opposite sex…' He trails off as he lowers his head, unable to resist the impulse any longer. They both gasp as he gently touches his mouth to hers, rubbing back and forth.

He speaks against her lips as he continues his explanation of the wonders of symmetry. 'And tongues!' He resists the urge to clear his throat. 'Tongues are useful,' he says, his voice on the verge of cracking. She nods against him, sliding her lips over his. 'We couldn't speak properly without tongues, we couldn't eat properly, we couldn't… kiss properly, although I blame the French for that.' He carefully traces her lips with his tongue, loving the feel of her smooth skin beneath his, relishing the slight moan that she cannot help but let escape.

'Facial features,' he says pulling away slightly. 'All arranged in the most attractive way possible, designed for optimum use, high efficiency. Symmetry Rose, see, what did I tell you? It's practical as well as attractive.'

He's regained some of his momentum now that he has moved his mouth away from hers; her rosy lips proving too much of a temptation for him to resist. All in the name of science, he tries to rationalise his behaviour.

'Can I open my eyes now?' she asks, her voice husky.

He ponders the question. 'If you like.'

Her eyes open and they stare at each other, pupils dilated so that almost no colour is visible. Lust is heavy in the air as they both breathe in, his chest rubbing against hers as he lowers himself further over her. He smiles, loving this moment. 'Doctor…' she says, her head lolling back on the pillow as her mind is overtaken by thoughts of him and her, and what they could be doing right now, what could happen between them…

He shifts to grasp her hands in his, still lying on the pillow next to her head. He traces his thumbs over her palms, schooling himself to remain calm as she shivers beneath his touch. 'Hands,' he says. He feels as though he has to keep talking, carry on explaining in order to keep his reason for touching her. It somehow quantifies his actions, he feels. She flexes her fingers against his.

'All the things that hands are used for, Rose. Think of them, there's so many it's almost impossible to count!' He attempts to count them anyway, in the way that he always does. 'You eat with them, move things with them, hold things, touch things, write things…' He trails off, taking a deep breath. 'Explore things,' he says. His voice has taken on a far away quality as he lets his grip on her loosen to travel down her arms.

'Opposable thumbs,' she says. 'You haven't mentioned them yet!'

He laughs. 'Very true,' he agrees. 'Now they're very useful.'

'And they're symmetrical,' she says. 'Well, a mirror image at least.'

'They are, yes.' He skims his hands across her shoulders to her collarbone, dipping his fingers down into the space where it meets her throat. 'Collarbone,' he continues, his explanations beginning to lose clarity. 'One on each side, meeting in the middle. They're there for protection.' His thumbs find the ends of her collarbones, rubbing gently over the skin there. 'Perfect,' he whispers.

He lowers his head, his breath spreading over her neck like a warm mist. 'The gap between,' he says. 'So vulnerable…' His mouth comes down to press against the hollow place at the base of her throat, his teeth gently scraping against the place where it joins into her breastbone. She lets out a sound that is not quite a moan, not quite a sigh and he smiles against her flesh. 'Vulnerable and sensitive,' he says, his smile widening at her reaction.

His hands move down over her chest and he feels her breathing quicken and become shallower. He slides his hands round so his fingers are gently digging in to her shoulders, massaging the tension out of them before moving on downwards. His heart rate increases dramatically as he lets his hands rest over the top of her breasts, hoping that she won't push him off. He relaxes slightly when he sees her hands are still laying either side of her head, turned slightly to grip at the pillow. He lifts his head to follow his own actions, watching as his hands move further down and then inwards, coming to rest at the middle of her breastbone. He can feel her pulse racing and he imagines that he can see a thin row of sweat breaking out on her brow.

'The heart,' he says as he holds his hands over hers. 'One of the most important organs in the body.' It scares him slightly that he is having to consciously stop himself from shaking, from reaching out and crushing her to him. He loves that she is letting him touch her like this. 'It pumps life through your veins, oxygen and blood. If it were to stop… well, you know what would happen.'

She nods, staring down at him intently.

'It's the centre of your being, Rose,' he tells her as his fingers begin to wander slightly over her chest, running down her ribcage and venturing up the swell of her breast. She gasps at his intimate touch. 'It doesn't matter how vitally important your brain is,' he says. 'It's your heart that really matters. It houses your soul. Well, if you believe in that kind of thing, it does.' He lowers his head to lie on her chest, hearing the thump of her heart in his ear. 'Do you believe in that stuff?'

She hesitates, attempting to think. She can barely bring herself to focus as his body surrounds hers like a shroud. 'I think I do,' she says. 'I didn't used to; I thought it was rubbish.' She pauses and smiles. 'But then I met you.'

He grins, knowing that she will feel his smile against her body. He knows that he has changed her life beyond all recognition, and it thrills him to think that he has impacted her in a positive way, that she is happier now than she has ever been. He moves a hand down to run his fingers over the underwire of her bra, plucking at it beneath the fabric of her dress. He places a soft kiss in the centre of her chest before moving his other hand down to join the other one in perfect symmetry on the other side of her body. He lifts his head to look into her eyes, attempting to continue with his explanations.

'Lungs,' he says, his chest rumbling against her stomach as he shifts down. 'They separate oxygen from carbon dioxide and dispel the bad stuff from your body. They stop you from being poisoned by the air you breathe. One on each side of your chest, still symmetrical. Housing your heart in the middle.' He slips his hands down to hold her ribcage, exploring the ridges of bone with his fingers and enjoying her sighs as he moves the fabric of her dress over her skin. He is finding it more and more difficult to continue talking.

He moves on to her stomach, caressing her gently, cursing her dress for standing between him and her skin. Then he curses himself for thinking of her like that when he's not one hundred percent sure that it is what she wants.

He looks up at her face and his fears disappear. Her eyes are closed in ecstasy; her hands balled up in the pillow and her mouth open in a silent 'oh' shape. She moans lightly as he moves his hands to her hip bones, circling his fingers around her flesh and bunching her dress up slightly.

'Doctor,' she says, her voice full of need.

He moans then, a deep throaty growl that he can no longer keep at bay. It is too hard to hide the effect she has on him any longer and he cannot stop himself from pressing an open mouthed kiss into her stomach. Her hips arch off the bed, pushing herself into him and he holds her hips harder, keeping her still against the bed. 'Doctor,' she says again.

He takes a deep breath and schools his voice to try and calm his raging lust for her, to try and finish what he started without losing control. He is not quite sure of what to say next without sounding disgusting.

'Reproductive system,' he blurts out. Oh, well done you idiot. She stills beneath him and lifts her head slightly to look at him. 'There's everything you need to house a baby while it develops, everything you need to feed it, keep it warm and safe. Everything you need to bring it out into the world… except maybe the painkillers.' He attempts a joke, but it falls flat as the heady atmosphere surrounding them refuses to abate no matter what rubbish he comes out with. Suddenly he is all too aware of where this is heading…

His hands slide further downwards of their own accord and he hears her head fall back into the pillow as he caresses the tops of her thighs. 'Ooh,' she says.

He clears his throat. 'Of course,' he says quietly, carefully. 'It's not just there for babies.' Quickly he moves his hands down and then up under her dress, gently skimming over her knees and back up to the tops of her thighs. 'That area…' His voice is barely audible. Shit shit shit. '… is quite possibly the most erotic, seductive thing in the universe. It's all arranged for the simple reason of making you feel good.'

The temperature seems to jump upwards rapidly as he flicks his fingers over the edges of her underwear, making her jolt and gasp. He soothes her with a delicate kiss against her hip bone. 'Shhh,' he says. 'It's alright.'

She settles again, her breathing loud as her chest rises and falls in quick succession. He moves his hands onwards, downwards. His fingers coast over her thighs and slide around to the backs of her knees, stroking the delicate flesh there. 'Legs,' he says, regaining some of his composure. 'They give you balance, allow you to walk, to run and move around. Again, they add towards the symmetry of the human body.' For some reason, the word body sounds a lot more weighted and meaningful than it did when this first started. He rushes on, nearing the end of his practical lesson in anatomy.

'Symmetry is vital to the survival of the race, Rose. Imagine if you had one shoulder bigger than the other; you'd tilt over. Or imagine if you only had one leg, you'd be vulnerable to predators because you couldn't escape fast enough. Or if you couldn't hear like you do, you wouldn't even hear the predators coming. Symmetry,' he says again. 'It's quite a marvellous thing, really. And the human body really is quite…' he trails off as he moves back up her body to lace his fingers in hers and lean his torso down on top of hers. 'Spectacular,' he finishes, his face only inches from hers.

His head comes down then and he touches his lips to hers, working the soft red flesh with his own. She tastes of chocolate and strawberries and sex, and he loves it. He deepens the kiss as his hands move down and around to her back so he can hold her tight against him, feel her heart beating in time with his, feel her chest crushed to his. He slips his tongue into her mouth as she wraps her arms around his back, pulling him down to her.

He begins to pull at the zip on her dress, needing to feel her skin beneath his. She pulls back slightly to study his face. 'Didn't know you loved symmetry this much,' she purrs at him. 'Science freak.'

He smiles, kissing her again, drawing her taste into his mouth. 'The human anatomy cannot be properly explored with clothes on,' he says, as a way of explaining his actions, his impulses, his needs.

They smile at each other and then he moves to kiss her neck. He holds her closer to him and gently sucks on her pulse point. Then slowly, he slides her zip down.


A/N: I apologise for the ending; I know it's a bit rushed. However, I managed to scare myself and couldn't bring myself to write anymore. Ah well, perhaps I'll do a sequel!