Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who I wouldn't be worrying about the price of my college.

AN: This is my response to Jessa L'Rynn's challenge in which I have to use at least one of three lines. I chose the following two:

Line 1: She smiled dreamily. "I wonder what sex is like in zero gravity?" she said. The Doctor spat his drink all over his clothes, the table, and his lap. She looked up at him, shocked, the expression on her face saying, quite clearly, "Oh God, did I just say that aloud?"

Line 3: "If I had a Time Lord for every time you made that outrageous claim..." paragraph "You'd have a whole pantheon of boring?" Paragraph "What's a Time Lord?"


This started out as a one-shot and grew. They tend to do that to me.

"You've brought me to a penal colony." Rose stated flatly, arms crossed in distinct displeasure.

"No!" the Doctor protested. "Well, yes. Well, most of the time. For one decade out of every 200 years, it's a vacation resort."

"It's a prison."

"Not right now! It's halfway between the two stars in orbits. Trapped in this binary star system, this hunk of ice transforms into a work of art. The stars orbit each other and this comet orbits both of them. At this point in its cycle, it's really quite beautiful." The Doctor seized both of Rose's hands and led her from the console to the TARDIS doors. Keeping one of her hands firmly grasped in his, he opened the door to reveal a gorgeous lake shining gold in the setting sun. Rose opened her mouth to ask where the second sun was, but remembered that she was mad at him for not telling her the truth about their "vacation." The air was lightly perfumed and warm, but a breeze blowing off the lake rose goosepimples on her arms. The Doctor stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed slowly up and down her arms, the slight friction causing soothing warmth despite his lower body temperature. Rose could feel her resolve draining, so she voiced one last complaint.

"It's named after the island that Napoleon was exiled to," she reminded him, petulantly.

"What's wrong with that? Elba's a pretty name." The Doctor blinked as a thought came to him. "Besides, how do you know it's not named after the type of toast?"

Rose groaned and rolled her eyes.

"That's Melba toast." She grabbed his hand in hers and began to head towards the building on the lake shore. "C'mon, then. If this is a vacation, we're getting a real hotel room," she informed him semi-sternly. The Doctor grinned and happily allowed himself to be led.


They didn't get a hotel room. Rose had perched herself on a Roman-styled couch allowing the Doctor to procure the living arrangements on his own. While she read the latest gossip in the Andaruvian magazine she had selected at random from the table before her, he chatted amiably with the purple and orange young…being behind the counter. He returned with a key and a smug expression.

As a penal colony, the Doctor explained as they strolled towards their cabin on the other side of the lake, Elba took solitary confinement quite seriously. Each prisoner sentenced to it was locked in his own, small building where everything was provided for by machines. They are then left to their own devices. During the vacation period, these amenities were converted into cabins for the guests. The Doctor proceeded to explain how the flora of this comet had evolved to act as if 200 years were just one long year, and the single decade of warmth was merely a short summer. The trunks of the trees could photosynthesize when the comet was too far from either sun to be warm enough for leaves. Rose cut him off before he could go any further with a squeeze of his arm and a squeal of excitement. Between the photosynthesizing trunks of the fascinating trees, their lodgings had begun to peek. It was charming. A flowering vine obscured about a quarter of its front, but it had quite obviously been designed to resemble a thatched cottage. The romanticism of the scene imprinted itself on Rose who quickly shoved that thought under a mental pile of laundry and ignored it.

The first thing that might tip off a casual viewer that the cottage was not, in fact, from the eighteenth century was the control panel on the door. Rose watched as the Doctor programmed the atmospheric conditions best suited for Rose and himself.

Stars were just appearing as they entered the cabin.


One bed. Of course there was only one bed. Rose wanted to kick herself for insisting that a proper vacation meant a hotel. She mentally cursed a blush that leapt unbidden to her cheeks.

They had been in similar situations before. Often times, the jail cell they were cast into had only one bed. In such cases, the Doctor would insist that Rose rest while he worked on a way out. On occasion, though, just to spice things up, the Doctor would be too injured or sick, so Rose would put him to bed and tend to him as best she could while finding a way to disable the guards. When in jail, the absence of a second bed never had caused a problem.

It will in this jail, Rose thought with a tint of hysteria as she tried to force certain indelicate images from her head. The fact that the Doctor's smile upon being informed of their predicament was both satisfied and longing was completely lost on Rose, who was trying desperately to compose her thoughts.

"Well," the Doctor announced suddenly, startling Rose's eyes open. "It's a big bed. Plenty of room for two." This casual proclamation put an instant end to all of Rose's torturous imaginings. The Doctor didn't see anything wrong because he would never even consider…Rose clamped down on the self pity with a merciless shake of her head. She knew the Doctor didn't think of her like that, and if she didn't stop these baseless fantasies she would only end up with her heart in pieces when she did something stupid and he rightly chucked her out on her ear.

The Doctor perched himself on the edge of the bed and watched the expressions flit across her face. His floor show was ended abruptly, however, when they heard the door to their cabin emit a loud click. The surprise caused them each to instinctively catch the other's gaze before turning towards the front room and advancing slowly, hands clasped tightly.

A red light now blinked menacingly on the front door. The Doctor went forward to examine it.

"We're locked in," he told her. Rose's eyebrows shot towards her hairline in alarm. "Oh, nothing to be concerned about," the Doctor unconvincingly reassured her. "I'm sure it's just that since it's so dark here, what with there being no moon and all, they're afraid people will go outside and hurt themselves." Rose decided to pretend to believe him. She knew he would admit to his misgivings soon enough. Therefore, she changed the subject.

"I've been meaning to ask you about that. Shouldn't there be two suns and almost no night?" Rose delivered the question with such ease that the Doctor relaxed, hopeful that she had believed him. For once, he wanted them to have a nice break; he didn't want this vacation ruined by some government plot like all the others were.

"Thereare two suns," the Doctor informed her. "They just don't rise and set on the same axis. One rises in the East and sets in the West like you're used to. Also, it's up for about the same amount of time that the sun is up in August in…say…Texas. The other sun is only up for about six hours, and it rises in the South and sets in the North. It's very bright from about ten in the morning to about two in the afternoon. At least for now. It'll change as the comet moves."

Rose nodded. She knew that normally she would find this remarkable, and some distant part of her brain was filing it away greedily. But mostly she felt as if she were in a haze. She was flushed, and nervous, and extremely turned on just by his proximity. With any luck, a cup of tea would help. Unfortunately, even the familiar act of making tea brought distinctly impious thoughts to the forefront of her mind. What would he taste like after a sip of tea? Rose found herself wondering before very firmly redirecting her mind to the here and now.

They returned to the bedroom where Rose began to unpack the small bag she had thought to bring with her. She often wondered if perhaps the Doctor had tweaked it, because she was always able to get into it what she needed but very little that was frivolous. The Doctor sat and watched her wander around the room. A companionable silence reigned broken only by occasional questions that sprung to Rose's mind, prompted by their current surroundings. Rose paused in her labor and sipped her tea as she leaned against a wardrobe. She spied another control panel, this one stationed on the inside of the footboard. She placed her mug down and plopped down on the bed lying on her stomach to better examine the various settings. Her perusal quickly revealed a zero-gravity setting, which claimed to be good for the back. Rose could feel the Doctor's gaze, which had never left her, continue to burn into her. She glanced up and caught his gaze. Her breath caught. His eyes were dark and smoldering. In her current mode of thought, she couldn't help but believe she saw desire there. Her imagination ran unfettered under his stare. That look followed her into her fantasies. Bedroom eyes that drank in the sight of her bare skin. Rose's fingers traveled lazily over the footboard. She smiled dreamily.

"I wonder what sex is like in zero-gravity?" she said. The Doctor spat his drink all over his clothes, the table, and his lap. She looked up at him, shocked, the expression on her face saying, quite clearly, "Oh God, did I say that aloud?" Her eyes briefly met his, but his gaze skittered away like a startled squirrel. Gone were the hooded eyes of only moments before. "Just…uh, just idle curiosity," she stammered. "Think I'm gonna get a shower before I hit the hay." Rose grabbed her pajamas and almost ran to the bathroom, only daring to breathe again after barricading herself in the shower. She then proceeded to bang her head repeatedly against the wall. What has gotten into me today?

The Doctor sat motionless, staring at the wrinkles where Rose had lain on the bed. He was completely oblivious to the hot liquid that had soaked through his clothes. A stunned and smug grin soon grew on his face.


Rose emerged from the shower in a cream tank top and maroon pajama pants. Despite the fact that she knew the Doctor had seen her wear considerably less due to the customs of some of the places they'd visited, she felt completely exposed. The Doctor seemed to have forgotten her comment from earlier as he gave her an appreciative smile when she appeared in the doorway. Rose felt herself become even more flustered than usual. The Doctor sat in bed in his jim-jams which had a remarkable resemblance to Howard's. His knees were tucked up to support a large, leather-bound tome that he had selected from a bookshelf in the front hall. His glasses perched delicately on his nose, but he took them off to run his gaze along her frame.

Self-consciously, Rose climbed into the empty side of the bed, very careful not to touch the Doctor as she settled herself as far as possible from him. The Doctor gave her a kind smile which she returned nervously before he reached over to put up his book and flip off the light.

Minutes passed in which Rose was conscious of every second, agonizing over the slowness of the passing time. She lay stiffly, convinced that she would be completely unable to sleep. After an unspecifiable period of time, Rose felt the Doctor's fingers slide along her spine. His touch was too light to be a massage, but even the lightest touch can do wonders to muscles tensed past the point of pain. She stiffened at first, but the gentleness and safe repetitiveness of the motion soothed her slowly into relaxation and sleep.

When he was certain that Rose was asleep, the Doctor hooked an arm about her waist and drew her closer to him, fitting their bodies together before following Rose to the sweet beckonings of the subconscious.


Sunlight filtered in through the small, eastern-facing window and lovingly caressed the pair snuggled together on the bed. Rose scrunched up her face in an attempt to keep the light out and return to sleep. She was warm and comfortable and, for some reason, felt protected, even cherished. The Doctor's thumb twitched against her stomach.

Rose's eyes shot open. She held herself perfectly still, scarcely breathing, until she was sure that the Doctor was still asleep. Her face was burning. She'd known there being only one bed was going to cause problems. When the Doctor showed no signs of being awake, Rose tentatively removed his had from where it had curled around her waist. She carefully turned over to examine his sleeping form. At first, he seemed to be at peace, a rare expression to be seen on his face. Over the next few moments, the tranquility evaporated. Worry creased his brow, and slight whimpers began to sound in time to his facial twitches. Rose reached up and gently laid her hand on his cheek. The Doctor instantly stilled. His hand snaked out to wrap around her waist and pulled her flush against him. He nuzzled her hand that still rested on his cheek and smiled slightly, calm once more.

Heart pounding, Rose tried to assess her situation. Nope, no good. Thinking about it made in even more real, and, if the heat suffusing her body was anything to go by, it was real enough already. Slowly, so as not to wake him, Rose pulled her hand down from his cheek, drawing her fingers along his jaw in the process. The slight rasp along the pads of her fingers from his stubble was erotic and stimulated her to unthinkingly prolong the contact following his jaw to the underside of his chin and down his neck. Rose shivered as she imagined what that scraping would feel like between her legs. For that matter, what would his lips feel like down there? Or against her own lips?

Only inches separated her from that knowledge, and she almost gave in. She did lean closer to him so that their breath mingled and she could feel the warmth of his lips radiating towards hers.

Rose jumped as a loud click came from their front door. The surge of adrenalin gave her an instant of clear thinking and she pulled back a bit from the temptation. She was profoundly grateful that she had when she glanced up and noticed him staring intently at her. How long had he been awake? Had he known what she had meant to do? His gaze was locked on her lips, and disappointment was evident on his face. He raised his eyes, and Rose was stunned by their depth, darkened by arousal. He released his hold on Rose's waist and grinned manicly to disguise what Rose was nearly certain she had glimpsed.

"Door's unlocked. C'mon, let's go see why we were locked in in the first place!" He bounded from the bed in excitement.

"Thought you said it was to keep people from hurting themselves in the dark," Rose teased him.

"Well, it's possible. It would be nice to be sure, though, wouldn't it?" His enthusiasm was, as always, contagious, and she grinned back. The Doctor bounded to the front door and wrenched it open, grinning in the sunlight that dappled his face. Knowing Rose would take some time to properly wake up, the Doctor jumped into the shower.

When Rose heard the water start, she breathed in to sigh in relief. The air was so saturated by his scent, though, that it became a sigh of longing. She threw the covers back, greedily breathing his musk that this action stirred up. Only after firmly locking the door, did Rose dare to strip off her pajamas in order to get ready for the day.

She was drinking tea and nibbling on an apple when the bathroom door opened and the Doctor emerged. In a towel. Rose was very grateful that she had set down her mug in order to pick a good apple from the fruit bowl, because she was sure that she would have broken it. As it was, she gripped the apple so tightly that her nails punctured the skin, and juice dripped down her fingers and pooled in her palms. The Doctor, after staring hungrily at her sticky hands, had the grace to look sheepish.

"I forgot my suit." He informed her. Rose managed to nod as he walked to the bedroom, even as her eyes jealously followed a drop of water down his back.


Rose broke through the mental haze almost as soon as they left the cabin. She was still dead attracted to him, but she felt her thoughts come flooding back. Her skin still tingled where his hand gripped hers, but it no longer threatened to overcome her better judgment. With this renewed clarity, Rose realized that she had begun to allow her desires to run away with her almost the moment she had entered the cottage. Suddenly, Rose had a few questions of her own to ask the operators of this establishment.