Casanova of the Time Lines

by Joseph Q Publique [Reviews - 9]

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  • All Ages
  • General
  • Humor, General

Author's Notes:
I love shippers, shipping and everything that goes squee in the night. But any romance in this story is entirely coincidental. If any feelings of light-headness, tight-chestedness or 'but they have a true love!' should occur, please see a doctor. :-)

One day, the Doctor looked up from the TARDIS console at Rose and said “You have beautiful cheekbones.”

As this came out of the blue entirely, not being the usual sort of thing that the Doctor said to her - his usual topics of discussion frequently having the words ‘stupid’ and ‘ape’ somewhere in close proximity to each other — this threw Rose somewhat. “What?” She asked, frowning.

The Doctor meanwhile, was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. Sort of like he’d been expecting to find a pen and had found a triceratops instead. “Your cheekbones. They’re nice. They’re very… humany. And female. Did I mention female? Because you are. Female, I mean.”

It took Rose a moment to find words to speak; she’d seemingly run out of them. “Thanks, I think.” She replied uncertainly. “What’s - ”

“Know how I can tell you’re female?” the Doctor asked. “Breasts. You have them. They’re very nice as well.”

“Doctor - ”

“Not that I spend a lot of time looking at them, of course, ‘cos I gather that’s not polite or appropriate. But they are. And you have very well developed gluteus maximus and gluteus medius muscles as well.”

“What - ”

“Buttocks.”

“Okay!” Rose suddenly yelled. “Stop right there! That’s… what’s going on? What’s happening?”

The Doctor looked like a puppy who’d given his master his favourite dog toy and had received a good kicking for the trouble. “I’m flirting.” He said, as if it should have been obvious.

There was a long pause.

“Flirting.”

“Yeah. This is how you humans do it, isn’t it? Sort of, compliment each other. Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done it and I’m a bit out of practice - ”

“Why are you flirting with me?”

“I’m supposed to, aren’t I?”

“Supposed to?”

“Yeah. I’m a bloke, you’re a girl, we’ve got this whole tortured romance thing going on. I’m being blokey.” A puzzled frown crossed the Doctor’s face. “Aren’t I?”

“Not unless you’ve drunk seventeen pints and gone to Ibiza. Since when did we have a tortured romance, anyway?”

The Doctor shook his hand about vaguely. “Since always! ‘You’re the only one who understands me’, ‘my planet’s blown up and I need to learn to love again’, that kind of thing. Can’t think why; never used to do this sort of thing…”

“Doctor…”

“Destruction of Gallifrey must have given me a sexuality. I dunno. Come on, you can’t fool me. I know how this sort of thing goes. I’ve seen The X-Files.”

“Doctor…”

“The musical episode was rubbish, though. They should never have brought it back in 2013.”

“Doctor… isn’t there a bit of an age difference?”

The Doctor cocked his head.

“You're nine-hundred. I'm nineteen. The math's not difficult.”

“So? Where I come from, some bloke hooked up with a woman one-thousand and forty-two years younger than him.”

“How old was he?

“One thousand five hundred.”

“Yeah, that’s… that’s not really the same kind of thing, though, is it? I mean, when you’re counting your age in centuries…”

“Rose,” the Doctor said slowly, “I’m sensing some reluctance here.”

Before Rose could reply, the interior door opened — Mercy! Salvation — and Captain Jack walked in, grinning as always. “Hey hey hey, boys and girls, where next for the good ship TARDIS? Sand dunes of Mars, oceans of Oregana? Must say, I’ve always wanted to visit Slough - ”

“Jack!” Rose blurted out, running to his side. “Thank God! There’s something wrong with the Doctor, I think he’s ill or possessed or something. He thinks he’s flirting with me.”

The Doctor huffed and studied the monitor sulkily.

Jack, meanwhile, had turned three shades of grey. “Oh, God.” He muttered.

“Yeah, do something! Reason with him or knock him out…”

“Oh, God.” Jack repeated.

“Jack!” The Doctor suddenly yelled, having the best idea in the universe ever. “I don’t think Rose wants to be my girlfriend. You’ll do!”

Jack’s eyes widened in terror. “Um — no — well — uh — ah — ”

“What’s wrong?” The Doctor frowned.

Jack took a deep breath; it was time. “Well, see, the thing is, Doc — you’re just not my type.” He admitted.

“There, Rose, you see — what?!” The Doctor stared at him, eyes wide. Jack cringed. This was not going to end well.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Jack clapped his hands. “Hey, say what — why don’t we go to Tedia 4? They’ve got a really big postcard collection there…”

“What do you mean, I’m not your type? Why not? Since when did you have a ‘type’ anyway?!”

Jack puffed up, indignant. “Hey, it may surprise you, Doctor, but I don’t just sleep with anyone or anything, you know.”

The Doctor and Rose merely stared at him in silence for a full two minutes.

Jack threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” Even he didn’t buy that.

The Doctor frowned, suddenly. “Hold on,” he said softly. “Are you both telling me you don’t want to go out with me? That you don’t want a romantic relationship with me?”

Jack and Rose shuffled awkwardly. Given that this was a man who, if enraged, had the power and knowledge to wipe themselves and their loved ones from the entirety of time and space if so he wished, it seemed that delicacy would be required here. Plus, they still loved him deeply — even if they weren’t in love with him — and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Finally, they both nodded and looked away.

“Really?” The Doctor asked, even quieter.

“Sorry.” Rose said shamefully, not looking up.

“Yeah.” Jack said, not meeting the Doctor’s eyes.

The Doctor clapped his hands and grinned.

“Thank God for that.” He declared happily. “That makes everything a lot easier. Wasn’t looking forward to all the sighing and cooing and roses and stuff, you know, of a relationship. And all that poetry…”

As Rose and Jack shared incredulous glances, the Doctor swung back to the console in a whirlwind of speed and began to tinker once again.