Summary: Rose and the Doctor have always found themselves flirting with each other, even when they don't mean to. But when Rose admits to having dreams that have been disturbing her lately, they both have to face up to the fact that perhaps their friendship is more than either of them will admit.

Characters: Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Ninth), The Doctor (Tenth), Jackie Tyler, Mickey Smith, mentions of Reinette Poisson (?) and Adam Mitchell.

Rating: T, at most

Words: 12,233 (But the entire thing is in three parts, so think of it as 4,000 words apiece)

Genre: Romance/Humour. That's pretty much it, because I'm fed up of writing angsty short stories xD

Spoilers: Not too many. A couple possibly for "The Girl in the Fireplace" or "Parting of the Ways", but nothing immense. And, probably, nothing you didn't already know.

Setting: Any time after "The Age of Steel".

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is nothing of mine. All the BBC's creation and ownership. Believe me, it's something I cry about on a daily basis. But it's probably just as well, because I couldn't come up with the fantastic storylines anyway.

A/N: This story started out as just a oneshot, because I suddenly had a plot bunny that bit on my leg and wouldn't let go until I did something with Rose and the Doctor flirting. However, it turned into something more serious, so blame my overactive mind.

Part One

Time in the TARDIS was usually worth about as much as a penny in a millionaire's hand. You slept when you were tired, ate when you were hungry, drank when you were thirsty and so on. Sometimes you read when the situation called for it as well, but that was often very rare as the work involved in finding a book in the library was just as pointless as looking for a specific, unique pair of shoes in the world's largest shoe store. In a foreign country.

So, consequently, it came as quite a shock to the Doctor when, lying on his back under the controls of the TARDIS, his legs splaying out in a most undignified position, he heard Rose's voice from the door. In fact, it shocked him so much that he jumped and whacked his head on the hard, unwelcoming metal.

"Ow," he said thickly, hauling himself out of the depths of his beloved time machine. Rubbing his head with his hand, he pointed his other, sonic screwdriver and all, scoldingly at Rose. "Don't sneak up on me like that. I thought you'd gone to bed."

She looked a little confused actually, he noticed. Glass of water in one hand, half-eaten toast in the other, loosely hanging mauve dressing gown, pink fluffy slippers, beige cotton pyjamas with numerous barn animals engraved surreptitiously on them and wild, frizzy blonde hair. It wasn't often that Rose Tyler's hair could out do his in the manic department, but he was definitely under some serious competition now. And this was the woman he'd chosen to explore the universe with? It was embarrassing, even for his standards; what would the aliens and monsters of the world think if they could see his trusty companion now? But he knew of her hidden depths and knew not to judge a book by its cover, or a Rose by how she looked. In fact, he amended, never judge a Rose at all, because she'll only come out with some new and fascinating way to startle you, even when you think you've got her all figured out. She was good like that. And that, he remembered with a smile, was why he'd chosen her.

"And what was that you were saying about books?" the Doctor continued, standing up and placing the screwdriver on the surface of the controls, where it promptly proceeded to roll stubbornly onto the floor. Thankfully, it landed on his long, brown coat, which he'd torn off and thrown down to the floor before delving into the depths of the TARDIS.

"I asked if you had any on dreams," Rose replied with a yawn, careful not to spill her water. The Doctor thought she didn't look capable of walking, let alone trawling through the library to look for literature on the sub-conscious images of her brain.

He sauntered over to her with a hand in his pocket of his pinstripe suit. Idly, the Doctor plucked the toast from Rose's hand and took a bite, ignoring her incredulous look of indignation. He grinned boyishly before placing it delicately back between her fingers. He'd have gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for (those meddling kids? No, no, that's something else entirely) the massive bite mark in the middle of it – the bit she had been saving whilst she nibbled around the crust of the toast.

"D'you want this over your head?" Rose threatened, waving her mug of water at him menacingly.

The Doctor couldn't help but grin, his eyes lighting up. "You should try the whole 'I'm-so-menacing-even-with-fluffy-bunny-slippers-and-smudged-makeup' thing on the next planet we visit. God knows I'm getting tired with getting you out of the messes you get yourself in to, and the reaction would be camera worthy." He grinned, flashing her a wink. "Oh, and that toast could do with a tad more butter, too."

Despite her warning, he hadn't actually expected to the contents of Rose's cup to spill over his head, especially with their height difference. So it took a while to register her smooth action of reaching up and tipping the mug; by which point, it was far too late, and the ice-cold liquid began to drip from his hair down his face and the back of his neck before seeping into his clothes. He blinked at Rose in disbelief as a trickle of the water began to make its way between his shoulder blades, making him shiver

Rose looked up at him pointedly, her tongue sticking just out of her mouth and her eyebrow raised in judgemental amusement. The Doctor continued to blink.

"Rose Tyler," he breathed after a moment, still continuing to watch her with his brown eyes. "In all my nine hundred years of being alive, I have never had the contents of my companion's drinking water spilled over my head. You are going to be so sorry."

"Brought it on yourself, Doctor," she shrieked with laughter, darting away from him as he made a grab for her. She bounded around the consol room, putting the controls between them. He had his eyes on her like a hungry wolf, attempting to circle around the TARDIS towards her. But every move he made, she mirrored, and it was pointless trying to catch her. But his clothes were beginning to stick to him, and his hair was dripping, and he was cold, and he was never one to admit defeat. He grinned at her rakishly.

"What did you want the book for?" he asked as he circled, keeping his eyes on her and his body tuned to her motions.

"What?" Rose asked, frowning, concentrating on not getting caught. The Doctor took a step to the left, as did Rose. Infuriating, she was. Clever, though.

"The dream book. You went to bed, then came out asking for a book on dreams. Scared the life out of me in the meantime, made me bang my head, thus giving me a headache and – if I'm not careful – a rather nasty bruise and then, as if that wasn't enough, you feed me dry toast and pour water all over me." The Doctor straightened up and pouted with almost-sincerity. "The thanks I get for showing you the universe!"

"I didn't mean to pour water over you, Doctor," Rose beamed cheekily as he darted towards the right in the hope of trying to catch her. No such luck, as she was just as fast as him.

"No?" he questioned daringly, with a sly grin.

"Nah. My hand... slipped."

He rolled his eyes.

"I supposed you'll be telling me it was all my own fault next, as well."

"You ate my toast!"

"Well, if you will wave it seductively under my nose like that, what can you expect?"

"A bit of self control?" Rose made another dart away from him as he lunged, pleased with herself that this was surprisingly easy. "And there was no 'waving', seductively or otherwise." She paused and flashed him a huge grin. "I'm a good girl!"

"Oh, yeah?" the Doctor asked, straightening up with a raised eyebrow and folding his arms. "Then how come I can see your bra?"

"What?" Rose cried, looking down to her attire instantly, her cheeks flushing. "Doctor, you cannot see my – "

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence as the next thing she knew, the Doctor was ploughing into the side of her and knocking her backwards, sending her cup and her toast flying, and sandwiching her between the TARDIS wall and himself, his eyes gleaming like a mischievous schoolboy on a sugar high.

"Got you!" he beamed triumphantly, grinning down at her and seemingly unaware of the awkward position he had just put her in. Trust him, Rose thought half-bitterly, half-laughingly. "I can't believe you fell for that trick; and I thought you were supposed to be clever!"

Rose arched an eyebrow. "How many times have you said that to someone, Doctor?"

He cleared his throat but didn't answer; he didn't trust that he wouldn't get a slap in the face for it. Instead he grinned and began to shake his head erratically from side to side. At first, Rose wondered what he was doing: until she found herself being showered with tiny droplets of cold water from his hair. She closed her eyes and laughed as he shook himself off like a dog.

"You're unbelievable," she giggled as, seemingly satisfied with his retaliation, the Doctor released her from the wall and ran a hand through his damp – but not soaking – hair.

"I shall take that as a compliment," he grinned good-naturedly, giving Rose one of his award winning smiles. "And now that that's out of the way, would you kindly retrieve your toast from the TARDIS' floor? I don't want it to stain."

Rose burst into snorts of laughter. "If you hadn't've bloody rugby tackled me against a wall, I wouldn't have dropped it!" she complained with a laugh.

"Yes, well, if you hadn't have emptied the contents of your glass over my head, I wouldn't have had to tackle you."

"Be glad it wasn't a mug of tea! And you bit my toast first."

"You made me bang my head!"

"Well you... talk to yourself when you think no one's listening!"

The Doctor stopped and blinked at her for a moment.

"I what?" he asked incredulously.

"You heard me," Rose grinned. "You sing too. Badly."

"I do not!" he complained with a mock frown.

"Yeah you do. Really old stuff, from the sixties; my Mum has better taste than you."

"It was a good era!"

"Says who?" Rose snorted. "Your oh-so-fabulous TARDIS?"

"Don't insult my TARDIS!" the Doctor whined defensively, folding his arms. "What's she ever done to you?"

"Trapped me here with you?" Rose smirked.

"At least I don't snore," the Doctor said pointedly. Rose blinked at him for a moment, a little stunned.

"Neither do I," she replied after a while, though her voice was less than confident.

The Doctor let out a bark of laughter. "You're not the one who has to lie here coming up with ways to drown it out."

Rose opened her mouth in shock. Then she closed it again and swallowed hard, her eyes beginning to sting with raw tears.

"When I was in school once, I fell asleep during class. I woke up to find everyone laughing; they all said I snored like a pig. Even the teacher was laughing. It went round the whole school. They called me pig-girl for an absolute age..." Rose sniffed, her shoulders hunched. The Doctor felt the blood fall away from his face and guilt rise up in him like the Loch Ness Monster. What an absolute idiot he was. His face immediately softened and his jesting fell away. He walked over to the room and took Rose in his arms, wrapping himself protectively around her, as if he could protect her from the past in this simple way. He tucked her head into the crook of his neck and laid his chin in her hair. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Kids can be the nastiest of creatures. I didn't mean what I said, you're not..."

He trailed off for a moment when he felt her shake in his arms. He closed his eyes bitterly for a moment, before pulling back and reaching to cup her chin in his hand.

"Don't cry," he began to say tentatively. But he never got that far. The look on Rose's face was enough to slay him. She was creasing with laughter.

"The – look – on – your – face," she panted with laughter, reaching up to hit him affectionately on the cheek. He dropped his arms away from her and took a step backwards, his mouth half open. Had she just manipulated him? Had she just pretended to cry, to make him feel like the lowest scum in the world – lower than pond scum – for a joke? Oh yes, he decided defiantly; Rose Tyler could definitely give as good as she got.

"Perhaps you should go to bed," the Doctor said stiffly, turning away from her and reaching for the keyboard of the TARDIS controls. The laughing stopped and an awkward silence hung in the air.

"What?" Rose asked cautiously.

"You're probably tired," the Doctor replied, not turning around. "I can find you a book on dreams once I'm finished up here. I'll drop it in later."

There was a pause of silence, in which the Doctor pretended to tap vehemently at his keyboard.

"Right," he heard Rose stutter behind him, shame clear in her voice. "I'll just... go then, shall I?"

He didn't answer. He heard the sound of her slippers trail along the grille of the TARDIS floor, but they paused for a moment.

"Good night Doctor," she said softly.

"Rose," he said back simply, nodding his head a little. Then he heard her walk away completely, and only then did he let out his sigh. When he finally did turn around, he saw that Rose had cleaned both her cup and toast away. She was good like that, after all, and the Doctor couldn't help but give a small, sad smile.