Rotten day, yeah. When she looked at it his way.

Nasty row with your best mate. Only mate, lone friend, if the truth be told. Locked out of the TARDIS. Horrible creatures bringing about the end of the Earth. Eaten while trying to stop it. Making it back just in time to watch a man die in the street like a dog, and then having to help aforesaid best friend/lone companion, now one hysterical crying female, back to her senses and out of the whole mess.

Reviewing those events, Rose had to acknowledge, bad as she felt, it can't have been a good day for the Doctor, either. She had gone off by herself in the TARDIS for a while afterward, while he tinkered with their trajectory and did all manner of terribly important Time-Lord-y things, or at least pretended to.

The gloves were off. Names were called. Things were said. Accusations had been flung. In a way, that was comforting; his distant façade had sprouted some gaping cracks. And in another way, disconcerting; the lines that made up the boundaries of their relationship were no iron bars. More like thick chalk lines on a child's hopscotch, to be drawn and re-drawn in different colors, neatly, establishing squares and sections. Order from chaos. And every once in a while it rained and they found themselves standing there with no lines at all.

But that was his job, wasn't it? He was Mister Order-from-Chaos (sorry, Doctor Order-from-Chaos) and more than a little out of sorts when things went awry. And she guessed that made her Miss Chaos. She'd certainly done it this time. Upset a really really huge apple cart. Stupid.

She frowned. He'd apologized for calling her a stupid ape, but it still stung, his bloody arrogance. She watched him following their progress on a monitor. She supposed he was used to being totally in charge, enforcing all the rules, knowing everything. Well, he didn't; know everything, that is. No one could.

So of all the things she could have said to him, of all the things to start a conversation with after such a sizable emotional hurricane had swept through, what popped into her brain first was:

"You yelled at my mum."

He looked up, piercing blue eyes narrowing on her. Taking in her state, sizing her up in a matter of seconds, but not giving away his conclusion. He was clever. He stalled. "Sorry?"

"You heard me," she said, arms crossed over her chest, entering from the edge of the room. "And I heard you. You really yelled at her. Shouted orders right in her face. I know she was being difficult, but still."

He rolled his eyes, poking at a row of buttons. Or pretending to. "No harm done. Worked, didn't it?"

"That's not the point." Bloody hell, it had worked. Her mum had even called him 'sir.' Like she was grateful or something. Sometimes, her mother… not the point. "It's not nice."

"Yeah, well, nice doesn't always get the job done." His eyes flicked to hers only for an instant. "You know that as well as me."

Rose pursed her lips. "Sure, but she's my mother."

"If you're angling for another apology, you're not going to get one. You're as bad as she is, sometimes, anyway. You've the same problem."

Rose felt her eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? And what's that? Too stupid?"

Another eye roll, another jab at a button, and the monitor went dark. His eyes met hers as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "No. You just don't listen when you should. A healthy respect for authority. Just a bit, I don't know… narrow-minded."

"I respect authority, when it's to be trusted," she replied, her tone conveying what she thought of his particular brand of authority.

"And knowing when to trust it, too," he added with a finger pointed at her for emphasis. His brow wrinkled, as though he were realizing something. "I guess that's part of it, for you. Growing up as a human girl without a dad. Wild and rebellious. Plus all the sass you get from your mum." He eyed her up and down as though to confirm this brilliant deduction. "Yeah. That's it."

"Oh, is it? Think you have me all figured out, do you?" she retorted. "Mister-Doctor-Know-it-all, come to tell us 'small-minded' ape women what we're doing wrong?"

"Oh, here we go," he said, dropping his eyes back to the controls. "Not apologizing twice for that, either."

"Let me tell you something," she continued, still on a roll. "Showing a little more respect would be good for you, too."

"Oh, yeah?"

She had drawn up next to him, refusing to be ignored. "Yeah, that's right. You're rude!"

"And you're foolish and impulsive," he shot back, palm flat on the panel, fingers twitching. "I suppose all human children do need to be turned over a parent's knee to have their behinds smacked a few times – that way they learn to think about the consequences of their actions. Which, like I said, a daddy you didn't have. Ergo – " and he encompassed her whole existence with a sweep of his hand up and down in the air.

She stared at him, knowing her mouth was agape. "Did you – did you just say I needed a spanking?"

Perhaps realizing from her tone that he'd waded into even more perilous waters, he seemed to hesitate. Not for long, though. "Yeah. Now that you mention it, I guess I was saying that."

She barked out a laugh. Not a nice one, either. He had straightened and was facing her, his gaze even. "Go on, then," she said, biting the tip of her tongue. She nodded at the control panel. "Go on back to the nineteen nineties and see to it. I wrote on a wall at school when I was eight. I'll even tell you the day. You go on and give me a sound paddling, and I'm sure it will all right itself up here—" she tapped her temple as she leaned forward "—and you'll have a much more sensible companion as a result. Maybe one so sensible she would never take off with some man claiming to be an alien to explore the galaxy." She watched his brow furrow. "Go ahead then."

His eyes narrowed at her again, and his back straightened. He wasn't giving an inch. "Don't think I wouldn't."

"I'd bloody well like to see you try!" she hissed, clenching her fists inches from his jacket-clad chest. She didn't like how tall he was, that she had to yell up at him, so she made up for it with an even sterner expression. She hoped.

"Would you now?" he responded in a low, restrained tone that she had learned usually meant trouble. "Are you sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go on and give it your best shot, and see where it gets you!"

"All right, then," he said, seeming to shrug, and the next thing Rose knew, she was being bodily lifted off her feet and found herself staring at the Doctor's back from above, as he hauled her over his shoulder and started to walk.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, her fists pounding uselessly on his shoulder blade. "Put me down!"

"Okay," he answered, and he sat on something, and down she went. Her knees came to rest on metal and she fell forward onto her hands. She was facedown across his lap.

"You've got to be bloody kidding," she said through gritted teeth.

"Nope," he said, far too cheerfully for the circumstances. "It was sort of your idea, though."

"Don't even think about it."

He leaned forward and cupped her jaw in his large hand, turning her face toward him. "Already have done. I can think fast when the situation calls for it. But, here's the thing—the choice is yours. It always has been. I'll drop you right back off in Cardiff in 2006, or you can play by my rules, like them or not. Not even I make the rules, you know. Plenty of them I don't care for myself, but they exist nonetheless. So what's it going to be – go home, or accept the consequences?"

Rose huffed out a sigh, annoyed to pieces with him. He had to be right, had to win the argument. And he held the trump card – she wanted to be with him, wanted to travel and have adventures. Maybe she had a little bargaining power, since he did seem to want her along, but she wasn't sure she could leverage it twice in one day. He could be an arrogant bastard sometimes.

She met his gaze, noticing the heat sparking in his blue irises. She wondered if he knew it was there. He was going to spank her like a child. And he wanted to, she was pretty sure. Did Time Lords come in red, blue and perverted, too?

Whatever. She'd get him back later. He could count on that. But she kept that last thought to herself.

"Go ahead, then," she said, swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry throat. "If that's how it is."

"Oh, it is," he agreed. His skin had flushed and he looked way too pleased. Yeah, she had an inkling what this was all about. She turned her face away.

Smack.

The slap to her bottom surprised her with how quickly it had come, and that he'd actually done it. The handprint he'd left through her jeans faded from light pain to warmth. Blood rushing to the skin. She bit her lip, bracing for another.

Smack.

The other cheek this time. Heat flared in her face as well as across her backside. Fine, just have it done with, she silently prayed.

Smack.

On top of the first spot, the last strike stung a bit more and she made a small noise in her throat. She felt his response; he jumped a little, and the hand resting on the back of her thigh tightened its grip.

"Satisfied?" she couldn't help saying, twisting to look at him. He was still, breathing hard, the hand he'd used to spank her resting hotly on her back.

"Just for that bit of sass, no," he answered, patting her side in a way she took to mean, stand up. "Once, properly. Take those jeans off."

"My jeans? Off?" she repeated, incredulous. But then his eyes lifted to hers, burning so bright and hot, and she forgot what game she was playing. Only for a second, though. "All right," she said, trying to sound nonchalant and she kicked off her shoes. She watched his face as she lowered a hand to the button above her fly and flicked it open. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his fingers intertwined. She had his full attention, at least.

She lowered the zipper, slowly enough to hear all the teeth unlocking, not so slowly he'd think she was teasing. No, no, he mustn't think that. Mustn't know.

She made sure to face him straight on as she hooked her thumbs in the side belt loops and shimmied her jeans down over her hips. Watching his chest rise and fall, she could swear his breath caught as she dropped the jeans to the floor. She stepped out of them.

"Well?"

"Jacket too," he said, and cleared his throat. Even she had heard the slight hitch in his voice. Did he realize what he was doing? This was the wrong time to ask if and how Time Lords went about seductions, exactly. As she shrugged out of her denim jacket, maybe arching her back a little more than necessary- just a bit – she remembered his adventurous nature, and ability to jump right in to other cultures. Yeah, she was pretty sure he'd shagged his way across a few planets. Innocent, he was not. Far from it. Jaded. So jaded.

She stood a foot from him, watching him breathe, wearing only her camisole top and knickers. "Anything else?" she asked, hoping she didn't sound sarcastic. No, that wouldn't do.

His eyes darted up. Moved over her face. They didn't rest, moving from left to right over her like he couldn't take her all in at once. He nodded once. "The hair."

She tried to keep her expression neutral as she began to un-knot the tie that held her ponytail, and worked out the pins that kept the front pieces in place. She dropped the tie and pins from her fingers and they clicked softly on the floor. She combed her fingers through her hair until it was down around her shoulders.

"Anything else?" she asked again, feeling her chest get tighter with each breath. Easy, now.

Aside from their friendship, he held this really weird fascination for her, it was true. The tallness. The adventuresome nature. The leather. The strangeness. She wasn't entirely sure. Only that the face she'd initially found odd was now dear, so incredibly dear, and seeing the way he was looking at her now was doing hot, twisty things to her insides.

"Come here," he said, reaching for her, and she took the single step that would bring her between his spread knees.

He guided her closer and closer, between his long legs, and she found herself almost against him with her hands upon his shoulders. They were hard and tense under her fingers. "Hold still, now," he nearly whispered, leaning forward.

She felt the muscles flex in his shoulder when he reached out to bring his palm against her backside, hard, this time skin making contact with skin outside the edge of her underwear.

She sucked in a breath. It didn't hurt, not really. The strike wasn't as forceful as the first time.

His hand lingered there, just below her bottom. His palm, now moist with perspiration, slid an inch or so down over her bare leg. It was almost, almost a caress.

At the thought, arousal shot straight down through her, and it was all she could do not to make a noise that would give it away.

He'd said once, properly – one smack or one spanking? And when was he going to realize this was a bloody terrible idea? She imagined he'd flee for safer ground in a double heartbeat, once he did.

She rested lower so that her elbows were just off his shoulders, her face beside his ear. "Is that it, then?" she whispered.

He didn't reply, but his long-fingered hand came back up along her backside. Stopped. Squeezed. She drew in a breath. Surely he could feel the heat radiating from about three inches away from his hand.

She let her breath flow across his neck as she exhaled, and she felt his body tense even more. He was torn, she knew, between desire and fear of the risk of continuing. If this went on further, there would be consequences for them. He wouldn't want to risk that.

She smiled a little to herself, biting the tip of her tongue. Well, good thing she was here to throw in a little chaos, right?

"Anything else?" she whispered slowly, inches from his ear, trying her damnedest to sound sincere and not seductive. Trying and perhaps failing.

A sigh from him, that hitched in his throat. Both of his hands were now firmly cupping her bottom, but unmoving. Trapped in indecision. She hooked an arm gently around his neck, laying her cheek on his shoulder, as though she could wait all night. Or day. Whatever time it was, or wasn't.

"Anything else, Doctor?" she said quietly, moving her lips against the hot skin of his neck. His skin tasted marvelous. Salt and man and indefinable mystery.

A deep breath filled his chest. "Rose," he got out, and his voice was dark and gravelly.

"Doctor?"

"Damn it, Rose."

So he'd realized.

"Hm?" she said, not moving her head, just turning so her cheek was along his, and her lips were at his jawline. His skin was hot, so hot. Guess two hearts made for good circulation.

"If you've decided to trust me after all… fair warning, this is the wrong moment… ah."

She had moved her slightly parted lips along his jaw, lightly, as though she were just dazed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the rules are about to go out the damn window. If there was a window."

She laughed a little, against his neck. His hands slid up and over her bottom to her lower back, where his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt. She sucked in a gasp.

"And you like this too, don't you, Rose? I can tell, by the lovely way you've been flushing pink and getting warm." He turned his head, burying his face in her hair. He inhaled deep. "I couldn't stop myself. Couldn't help myself. It's you has to walk away now."

She pulled back, catching his face between her hands. His skin was feverishly hot. His eyes were lit up fiercely with need. "I'm not walking away. Haven't up till now, have I? Besides, that's what I'm here for. Healthy bit of chaos. Bollocks to the bloody rules."

He gave a choked laugh, which rapidly became a groan as she leaned in, pressing her body against his. "Even my own rules?"

"Oh, especially those," she agreed, taking his earlobe between her teeth.

"Fair enough," he growled, and caught her about the waist, pulling her forward to straddle his lap.

It was like someone flipped a switch on her entire body, at once.

His hips lifted between her thighs, pressing undeniable proof of his arousal through the thin cotton of her knickers. Her breasts were cradled against his chest, and his arms closed around her back tightly. And her head fell back a little, and with one last possessive look over her face, he captured her mouth in a bruisingly hard kiss.

It was hard enough to have hurt. It didn't. She kissed him back with equal passion, rising up on her knees to rub herself all along his length, her arms crossing behind his neck as she parted her lips to let him deepen the kiss.

Oh, God, the pleasure of it. Him, against her, his tongue tasting every recess of her mouth. He felt good, tasted good, foreign but male, or perhaps those were the same idea? He was making her want him more than any man had managed thus far.

She eased his jacket off his shoulders, struggling a little with being entangled in his arms as she did so. But he was cooperating, now; no more games at the moment, a single goal. It occurred that when the two of them both had their minds on something, they were nigh unstoppable. So this was bound to happen. Eventually.

Sooner than later. Now, now, let it be now.

His lips came back down on hers, hungrily, after they'd separated to lift his shirt up and over his head. He insinuated his hands under her camisole and made short work of getting that off her. He had his mouth open along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Tasting her. Making small noises of appreciation. He couldn't get enough. Fast, now.

Was anything fast enough for a Time Lord on a mission? she thought wryly, as he grew more and more impatient with each passing second. His fingers stroked through her hair, gripping the strands to hold her at the right angle for his kiss. Her bra was almost ripped off, given how forcefully he jerked the clasp open.

The feel of her bare breasts in his hands. He had such amazing hands, large and elegant and capable of such kindness and pleasure… she'd grown to love how he clasped her hand without even thinking twice, and now those lovely hands were kneading and lifting her sensitive flesh, her nipples caught roughly under his thumbs. Yes. More.

Had she said that aloud? He had groaned, and quickly moved to catch her nipple in his mouth, flicking a glance up at her to see her reaction. Her eyes fluttered closed. Oh don't stop. So good. So, so good.

He guided her hands to touch him, and she stroked the smooth skin of his chest, his sides, his back, while he fumbled with his trousers and finally managed to slide them off. She didn't see anything beneath them. Figured. Why would a Time Lord bother with shorts?

As it happened, he didn't care much for her knickers, either. Sliding two fingers inside along the seam, he tore them with a simple flick of his wrist. It occurred to tell him that if he'd let her stand up, she could have just taken them off. But no. He wasn't actually having that. His forearm kept her trapped firmly against him, as though he'd never let her go. Not even to save one pair of precious knickers.

When he slid his fingers between the folds of her sex, they groaned in unison; her because she had been craving his touch since the whole thing began, and him perhaps because he was pleased to find her so wet and ready. He stroked her and she moved with him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hanging on. God, it was so sinfully, blissfully good.

She didn't watch as he entered her. She didn't actually know what he looked like. He was human-ish, but some part of her wasn't entirely ready to be reminded of their differences. She only know he was thick and hot and hard as iron, and he slid in with relative ease compared to others, maybe because she was about to jump out of her skin with needing him so badly.

Oh God, what now? He was inside her. This man she hardly knew and yet who meant the world to her. He looked a little fazed too, his blue eyes haunted as they met hers. This wasn't going to end in happily ever after, was it? No. Right then, carpe diem. Fuck now, wrestle existential questions later. Please, please, fuck now.

"All right?" he said.

Quit stalling, she thought.

"Yeah," she managed.

He held her against him and turned, and she was lying on her back against the metal bench, him looming above her. "Beautiful. You are," he whispered, brokenly, as though full sentences in order were beyond him at that moment.

She didn't respond. Her throat felt tight. When he drove deep inside her, she cried out and searched his arms, shoulders, neck with her hands for somewhere to hold on. Slick and hot and male, everywhere he touched her. He soon discovered the perfect angle to make her gasp and cling to him in total capitulation, which she answered by raking her nails over his shoulder blades until he hissed with pleasure. He was way too good at this. She tried not to think about 900 years of alien women being shagged mindless. She would just need more practice.

From plateau to peak was a steep climb. He kissed her, thoroughly, never wavering in a relentless rhythm. Somehow he knew when she was totally mindless and wound up tighter than a steel coil, and he reached down with deft fingers all the while whispering, Rose. Rose. Come for me, Rose.

This time, this one time, she was ready to obey. The pleasure was so intense, she could only hold on and let her mouth drop open to scream, no longer worried about giving herself away with a noise. And the smile on his face when she opened her eyes again was not a kind smile. It was a really smug smile. Yeah, you win. So you think.

He didn't get to bask in victory very long, because her climax had tipped him over the edge of his arousal, too, and before long he was shaking as his hips pumped furiously, and she heard him grinding out her name from between tightly clenched teeth. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and held on as tight as she could.

She wanted it to last a long time, this total intimate union. His breath against her ear, her hair, the joined sweat of their bodies between them. She knew it wouldn't last as long as she wanted. She wondered if he could even feel the seconds or minutes passing.

They would have to move eventually. Soon. But she wanted him to stay hers just a moment longer. She wasn't even sure they would speak of this or acknowledge it once it was over. He could be odd about things. Especially personal things.

When he met her eyes, she could see the exhaustion; it was like sparks fading. "So much happened today," she said, tracing a thumb underneath his eye. "It's exhausting to think about. Maybe we should rest."

"Sure," he said, his expression unaltered. "Not such a bad day though. When you consider all of it. Us being here to see the end of it."

She had to agree with that, too.