Title: Perfectly Normal
Genre: Humor
Characters: 10/Rose
Spoilers: None whatsoever.

Reviews: dig me out of the temporary depression.
Notes: Gosh. Three guesses what prompted this.

There were some things even the Doctor hadn't come into contact with before.

"You mean you're meant to do that?"

"Yeah. Perfectly normal."

"I don't see how!"

"When something happens repeatedly, its perfectly normal," explained Rose considerately, and also impatiently. "That's what perfectly normal means. Its like... I dunno... pasta. You put it in the hot water, it gets all soft, every time. Perfectly normal."

"Not exactly like pasta," grumbled the Doctor, looking suspiciously at Rose, as though half of her was going to erupt, or perform an unexpected strip tease, or something.

"Aw, come on! It happens to all of us. Well," she amended, "not all of us. Men have it easy, the little sods. But more than half of us. Close enough."

"Yeah but..."

"Stop nitpicking! I'm not going to get into the science of it, not even to please you! And neither will I make you another sandwich, so you can stop holding out that plate like that. Men!"


"Alright, aliens, then. Gallifreyans. Stop being so sodding difficult."

"I just can't grasp..." said the Doctor, sounding beleagured. Rose glared at him, then began to cry. "Oh, no, don't..."

"I really wish you had a bathtub on this ship," said Rose, sniffing.

"Wha... why?"


He sat back in abruptly in his chair, and blinked.

"Sorry?" he tried.

"Oh, shut it."

They were quiet for a minute.

"I guess we were just created that way," said Rose, wiping her eyes, throwing her arms in the air and dropping them back onto the chair with a flump. "Perfectly normal, right."

"What kind of mad scientist creates people to have that happen?" queried the Doctor, narrowing his eyes and getting ready to leap for the restraints in case this question elicited any violent actions on the part of his companion.

"God," said Rose after a moment's thought.

The Doctor nodded. "Ah, yes. Sounds like Him..."

He liked that opening. He tried to embark on a detailed, involved, thorough lecture on the vagaries of theology and science, but Rose sent him out for tampons anyway.