Author's Note: Don't look at me, I just did it for the lulz.
"I must say," Romana said, "that this is most unusual."
She took another sip from her coffee and made a mental note to ask young Jones about this specific brew.
"An alternate universe, you say."
Rose Tyler, agent of Torchwood, nodded earnestly.
"Where the Doctor is the last of his race."
Another, somber nod.
"And he travels with you."
The girl gave a sudden, loud sniff and clutched Romana's handkerchief.
"Traveled," Romana corrected herself.
She put her cup back on the table and spent a moment looking thoughtful while Rose's big, mascara-framed eyes remained glued to her.
"I'm afraid there is one thing about your story that doesn't seem to make sense, Miss Tyler," Romana said finally.
The girl stared at her, confused. "What thing?"
"The Doctor," Romana elaborated.
"What about the Doctor?"
"Well," Romana said, "he's asexual."
She had to admit that the range of reactions this initiated on Rose's face was a fascinating display to watch, almost a saga. First, there was confusion, as though the concept hadn't quite occurred to her; then what seemed like all five stages of grief crammed into a minute of intense face-making, with deep, abiding horror in the place of acceptance. Then she blinked several times and looked to be gearing up to do it all over again.
Romana stopped her for what she was sure was her own good. "You weren't aware?"
"But," Rose said dazedly, "he kissed me."
"The Doctor would go to great lengths to save his companions' lives. Why I remember him boasting that he faked three consecutive orgasms to save Sarah Jane Smith from a gang of…" she racked her mind, "pirate ninjas."
"But," Rose said, "we danced – "
"On Gallifrey, dancing is an important part of bonding for parent and child," Romana said very quickly.
Rose looked a little nauseated.
"Have some coffee," Romana said helpfully.
Rose blinked a few more times. Romana had to admire her tentacity if nothing else. "But if he's asexual – why does he get a – "
"Loom plug-in reaction?" Romana filled in, and was immediately quite proud of herself for this one. Rose looked utterly bewildered. "He did tell you how Time Lords procreate, didn't he?"
"What about that time he made me wear a kilt?" Rose demanded.
"Experiencing historical periods – "
"And the time I wore an air hostess uniform? A huge ginger wig? A black velvet suit?"
"A post-regenerative period of instability can stretch out over a long time – "
"A towel reading 'from Zodin with Love'?"
"… excuse me?"
"That time traveling slut," Rose said hotly.
Romana wasn't sure whether that was a step in the right or wrong direction. "The Doctor," she said very clearly, "is an ancient, immortal alien endowed with all the power of time and space and, consequently, completely devoid of hormonal activity. He is a surrogate father and mentor to his companions. He is an example to children everywhere and hearing of such obscene acts attributed to him would make him very tetchy."
She hadn't quite expected Rose to burst into wailing tears, but she supposed that was good enough.
"Thank you for the coffee," she said and got up to return to the TARDIS.
She glanced back several times on her way out of Torchwood Tower, but Rose wasn't following her. It was, Romana thought as she slipped into the blue box, a mission well-fulfilled.
"She's not coming after all," she called towards the console, under which something in a brown pinstripe suit was cowering, arms over his head, "you can come out now."
The Doctor poked his head out and, seeing her unaccompanied, breathed out a sigh of relief. "Oh, Romana, what would I ever have done without you…"
Romana fiddled with the control some, idly thinking of the many uses of towels and kilt. She was very fond of kilts, and she might try ginger next body around. "Been asexual, I suppose."