Detailed Instructions

Rose rarely even thought about checking her email any more, but when her mum rang her to say she'd emailed Auntie Sara's chicken casserole recipe, Rose insisted that the Doctor get her to present day computer access immediately. He would love this, she knew it. Jack would love it even more. Mind, Jack ate anything you put in front of him, but she'd long since learned that Jack's cooking was so abysmal he was grateful for anyone's that was better. (Everyone was better, actually, even her mum who usually only heated things up in the micro, and Mickey who couldn't boil water without burning the bottom of it.)

The Doctor was cheerful as he materialized the TARDIS in front of a library somewhere in the middle of America. Rose didn't want to go back to London, anyway, so that was fine. Would defeat the whole purpose of having her mum email the thing, really.

The Doctor walked her to the library desk, flashed the psychic paper to get her time with a computer terminal, and then wandered off to keep Jack out of trouble. Rose protested being left alone – just because things would keep happening – but the Doctor insisted it was fine, even promised they'd wait for her in front of a little cafe down the block.

Rose sat down and cleared out all the junk she didn't need - chain letters from Shireen and Keisha, discount offers from the music store that used to be next to Henrick's, "please come back" offers from her old mobile phone company. She read through the "please come back" in her mum's email, sent the recipe to the printer, answered Mickey's latest with, "We'll see you when we see you," and planned to close up and catch the Doctor and Jack. She missed them - she missed him - and she'd hardly been away half an hour.

There was a new message in her inbox from an address she didn't recognize. She planned to delete it as spam, but something about the address caught her eye. Oneofakind, hum? She opened the email and there was no message, just a picture.

It wasn't even a very careful picture. Or, well, it was. But it wasn't of an actual person. Well, no, it was of a person. She'd actually recognize the person anywhere. But it wasn't his face. It was a black and white profile of his neck and shoulder, actually. Included his ear, excluded any true identifying features but, as Rose had observed, she'd been staring at that rather exquisite bit of skin from time to time for awhile now and was positive she would know it absolutely anywhere.

She made a frustrated noise of discontent. First off, where was the rest of the photo because if this tiny sliver of it was this hot, she'd be willing to give drooling at the rest of it a go. She stared at the photo more intently. Second off, who had sent her this, because if it was Jack she was going to rip his arm off and beat him with it, and no one else should really know about her fascination with the subject, should they? She glowered at the photo, now. Finally, who had taken the photo, because she needed to hug them and then have words to get the rest of the picture. She chuffed in frustration at the photo one more time, and then finally noticed something.

In the bottom right hand corner, there was a tiny, tiny little red word and an arrow. The arrow pointed to that sexily displayed bit of skin just along the sinewy column of his neck. And the word? Well, that was...

Rose signed out of her email and sauntered out to find the Doctor, Jack, and this cafe. She was probably going to get herself into trouble, but her life was just like that.

After all, who was she to ignore such detailed instructions?

They spent the afternoon running, running, and running. Also, getting Jack covered in goo seemed to have occurred. The Doctor and Rose had escaped miraculously unscathed, though his jumper was a lost cause, the front of it having been shredded at his torso when the Mustra they'd been alternately chasing and running from got in a lucky swipe with its claws.

Rose was laughing, because... she didn't know why she was laughing. Maybe it was because no one had died, not even the Mustra, which they'd rounded up in a cage until its owners could come claim it. Possibly it was because even Jack couldn't make a pull smelling like daffodils and ketchup simultaneously, even if he had been stupid enough to try it. Maybe it was because the Doctor was laughing.

That was probably it. He was so beautiful when he simply smiled, but his laughter was even more beautiful, and so impossibly rare. Jack stalked off into the depths of the TARDIS corridors, complaining that he needed a shower and a shag and, unfortunately, it was going to have to be in that order.

Still grinning, the Doctor sank into the jumpseat and tilted his head back, rolling his shoulders as if to stretch his muscles. He really needed to get out of that jumper, because it was occasionally revealing glimpses of his golden skin, and making Rose think the most inappropriate things. She looked up at his face and her gaze was arrested, once again, by the beckoning stretch of skin at his throat. She stifled a gasp and, instead, steeled her resolve.

As she remembered it, she'd practically been given a bloody diagram.

Right. Well, there was more than one way to get someone out of a jumper that needed changing. She walked over to him, carefully. "Hold still a sec, would you?" she asked softly.

He shrugged but nodded amiably enough, watching her eyes with an interested, curious smile on his face. Rose leaned over, and he put his arms up to hug her. Fine, she went with that for a few seconds, just to help her confidence along. Burying her face in his neck, she savored the awkward hug for a moment and his wonderful, enticing smell. Then, she took a deep breath and, before she could lose her nerve, she found the spot of cool skin just at the base of his throat. She placed a soft kiss there. He didn't jump back or pull away. She kissed again, a little more lingeringly this time. It was such a perfect idea, after all. The Doctor's only response was to shiver a bit and tighten the hug. With a blissful little smile on her face, Rose Tyler did as she was told for once.

She nibbled.

The reaction from the Time Lord beneath her teeth was nigh instantaneous. He groaned low and soft and tilted his head, exposing more of his throat to her. Feeling rather proud of herself, Rose followed the nibble with her tongue. The Doctor's hands lowered from her waist to her bum and gently cupped the flesh there. She traced the line of strong sinew in his neck all the way up to his jaw, alternating kisses with light nips and slow strokes of her tongue.

This was a very, very good idea. She should have thought of it months ago.

He turned his head then and seized her lips, and how he managed to gain the upper hand in a kiss when she was above him, she didn't know. Probably it was because she let him have it, wanted him to have it, as he explored her mouth. His kiss was tender and lingering, his mouth and tongue cool against her heat, his exploration slow and suggestive. He kissed her confidently, as if he knew exactly how to kiss her to reduce her to a squirming bundle of want, and she had to agree that he was right.

She whimpered against his mouth as his teeth nipped her lower lip. He broke the kiss at last and surged to his feet. She wanted to collapse in his arms, maybe with some muttered "just take me" like in a cheap romance novel or something, but he looked down at her with mischief in his eyes. "You should do that more often."

"I should," she agreed. Then, because his mischief was always contagious, she ran her hand across his chest, stopping to pay particular attention when she found the pebbled peak of his nipple beneath the cloth. "And this," she suggested.

"Um hum," theDoctor agreed, his voice a low, contented rumble, his eyes bright as he watched her intently.

She trailed both hands down to his waist, stroking the tempting skin made bare by his ruined jumper. He sucked in a breath of air sharply and his muscles juddered beneath her fingertips. "And this?" she asked.

His hands went to her bum again, tilting her toward him. He hissed out a breath, and a low, compelling, "Yes..." came out with the hiss. His hips pushed sharply against hers when she let her hands explore higher, searching the path she'd taken earlier, brushing across both nipples, flicking them.

He tugged her closer, and kissed her fiercely, his tongue taking possession of her mouth, proving to both of them what she had always known, that he owned her, and all he'd ever had to do was claim her.

When he broke the kiss, she was gasping. His mouth moved lightly across her face, and his hands had found their way into the back pocket of her jeans, fingers pressing into her as he held her hard against him. Rose had no doubts about whether or not he wanted her, or this. His kiss had left her with none and the hardness pressed tight against her stomach cleared up any thoughts that might have lingered that he was only going along with her for her benefit.

"How about this?" she asked him, softly, as she worked a hand down and flicked open the top button of his jeans.

"Depends," he murmured against her ear. He nipped lightly at the lobe. "How d'you want this to go, Rose Tyler?"

"What'd you have in mind, Doctor?" she teased.

He chuckled lightly, and she felt the deep baritone throb more than heard it. "Oh, you don't even wanna know how imaginative a Time Lord can be with something like this."

"Yes, I do," she asserted. "But… I think Jack'll be through here in a few minutes, and I don't want him to think he's got an open invitation or something."

The Doctor grinned. "No, the open invitation's only for you," he said.

The way he said it sent tingles all over her. She grinned, let her tongue poke out through her teeth. "That so? Then I'll take it."

"Good," he growled out. "Because I'm gonna take you."

Rose squealed with delight and surprise when he snatched her up and charged into the corridors, laughing merrily at her incredulous expression. The Doctor reached a door and flung it open, darting through and kicking it closed behind him. Setting her lightly back on her feet, he bent over her and returned his attentions to her ear. "Now, where were we?" Rose hadn't even had time to look around to see where they were when he had her melting in his embrace again.

She smiled widely. "I was nibbling," she said, and nipped at his throat. "Right about here."

He murmured soft approval and tilted his head while she traced with tongue and teeth down to the collar of his jumper. She guessed, from the sounds he was making, and the way his hips rocked gently and rhythmically against hers, that this was a particularly sensitive area of skin.

"Yeah, we'd done that bit," he murmured. "And I'd already kissed you a coupla times, like this." His lips covered hers again, his kiss gentle and thorough, slow and intense, like he had another nine hundred years to spare for just lavishing his attention on her mouth.

"Right," she mumbled dazedly when he pulled away.

"Oh, I remember," he said, as if he'd had a sudden flash of insight. He took her hand and guided it down to the button fly of his jeans.

Whether it was the feel of his rigid length straining at the denim beneath her hand, or whether it was the way he pushed into her hand as she gently cupped him, Rose didn't know, but something about it made an intense flash of arousal go tearing through her body and she moaned aloud. He wants me, she thought, still hardly able to believe it. The Doctor wants me.

She was abruptly seized by the nearly overwhelming urge to see him naked, so she started tugging at the buttons. "Impatient," the Doctor teased.

"Yes," she said, firmly.

"Good," he answered and, before she knew exactly how it had happened, he'd managed to tug her shirt off over her head. "Because I can't tell you how long I've wanted you naked in my bed." He bent over her to kiss along her collarbone, then kiss slow lines, parallel to the first row, shortening the length of the tracing as her bra got in the way.

"Take it off," she suggested. Then she went back to his buttons, popping them open with trembling fingers.

His hands went around her back, finding the clasp of her bra, fumbling it a bit. "Hard to..." He gasped as her hands ventured inside his jeans, seeking her prize. "Hard to concentrate," he muttered. He freed the clasp. "Hard to..." a hiss... "anything... when you're doing... Rose..."

Her hand found the solid length of him, straining against the thin material of his pants, and she traced her fingers over him. A whole series of impulsive desires went tumbling through her head, each more delicious than the last, and a fresh jolt of arousal tightened her internal muscles and soaked her knickers. She wanted to taste him, she wanted to ride him, she wanted him to shag her right now up against the door, she wanted sweet and tender, she wanted rough and fast and desperate. "Doctor," she whispered, pleading.

His hands lowered from her back to his waistband and lowered his jeans and his pants at the same time. Rose had only a second to get a look at him, though, because he swore colorfully and bent over to jerk at the laces on his boots. He kicked them off awkwardly and her heart physically hurt with how much she loved him.

He stood back to full height and the laughter in his eyes stole her breath. "Somehow, I sorta thought I'd be more graceful at this," he mused playfully.

Rose kicked off her trainers and let her eyes roam happily over her Doctor's body. "You're gorgeous," she told him, and meant it with every fiber of her being.

He grinned a slow, lazy grin, eyes bright and dark at once, and reached for her, his hands falling automatically to her waist. "We're suffering from a certain disparity, here," he said. Before she could work out exactly how he could manage to think of words that complicated, never mind any words at all, he had her down to her knickers and was returning her previous favor of a wandering gaze.

The Doctor's eyes languidly caressed her bare skin and Rose felt like she was being worshipped by his piercing blue stare. "Fantastic," he pronounced, softly.

"Still that disparity, though, yeah," she pointed out. Normally, she would pretend she didn't know what the word meant, just to enjoy his enthusiasm for teaching her things, just to listen to him talk. At the moment, she was too busy concentrating on her open invitation and what it offered her. Besides, she didn't need an excuse, this time, to admire him as openly as she liked.

The Doctor was a runner and he had a runner's frame, his build lithe and rangy, his muscles lean and spare but defined beneath his golden skin. She wondered at the tan, but was much more interested in where it tapered off, the pale skin at his narrow hips, his erection tall and proud and, frankly, every bit as impressive as he had ever claimed to be. She noticed the bright and sparkling jewel of liquid at the very tip and was suddenly possessed of an overwhelming desire to taste him. No, not desire, need. She needed to have him in her mouth, needed to know what he tasted like, needed to feel his hard cock against the back of her throat.

Rose didn't bother to argue with her body (they could sort this out later between themselves or something), just dropped to her knees before him. "Rose, what're you…" was all he managed before her lips found her goal and cut his words off with a particularly strangled moan.

The Doctor's taste was like the rest of him, completely unique and virtually inexplicable. Rose decided that he was an alien and, even if his naked body wasn't alien to her in any way that she could discern, there probably would be something. Still, she found she liked it, enjoyed it even, and the feeling of him sliding between her lips did something lovely to her that she could definitely get used to. She flicked her tongue across the tip of his cock and was rewarded with a desperate gasp and a sweet explosion of flavor on her tongue.

Rose grinned and hummed happily, bobbing her head, finding a rhythm that soon had the Doctor groaning. His hands fisted into her hair, almost tight enough to be painful, but it was just right. He kept still otherwise, didn't take advantage of the power he had in this position, and Rose felt like the powerful one. The trembling in his hard thighs and the nearly spasmodic flexing of his fingers against her scalp gave her that.

Then, the profanity started, mixing sweet and filthy, English and languages she would never understand. He confessed to dreaming of this, begged her never to stop, murmured fantasies Rose couldn't wait to fulfill, even if she didn't know what they were. She listened to his groans and the strained syllables he punctuated with her name, and then his fingers abruptly tightened in her hair.

"No," he said, the most coherent sound he had managed since she started. He pulled himself back from her, pulled her off his cock with a tug to her hair. He dragged her back up his body, and she pouted at him. "Stop that," he ordered on a growl, and then seized her mouth, forcing her lips apart, his tongue delving inside to find her heat laced with his taste.

Rose whimpered and writhed against him, the hardness of him caught between them driving her higher. Her nipples were tingling and begging as they rubbed against his chest. Her whole body was singing with longing.

"No, Rose," the Doctor repeated, his voice dark like the night around them. "I'm gonna be inside you when I come, love. I'm gonna fuck you, hard and sweet. You're gonna come for me; you're gonna scream." He dragged her closer and kissed her, then, invading her mouth, taking her with his kiss. When he broke from her mouth, Rose realized they were already moving, had already found a rhythm. The only barrier between them was her knickers and his straining shaft forced them, damp and slick, against her clit.

"D'ya want me inside you, precious girl?" the Doctor purred against her ear.

"Oh, God," Rose answered, whimpering as a fresh wave of wet arousal tore through her.

"Say it, Rose," he murmured, his hand cupping her bum and pulling her impossibly close to him.

Rose wriggled and wished her knickers would vanish. "Doctor!"

"Yes, Rose?" he whispered, lips hovering at her ear, teeth nibbling.

She was going to go mad. He seemed to be touching her everywhere else and she needed him in her, although if he kept moving like that, she might just come like this. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. "Doctor," she whimpered.

His voice was tortured and he ground his hips against her, hard. "Please, Rose, please tell me."

Rose leaned forward and nipped at his shoulder, then licked it, loving the way he gasped and shuddered when she did that. All she knew was the near ecstasy of being with her Doctor and the desperation to have him for her lover. "Doctor, Doctor, Doctor…" Rose knew somewhere in the back of her mind that she wasn't making any sense, just as she was vaguely aware he wanted her to say something.

Before Rose knew exactly how it happened, she was lying on the bed, on her back. He dropped to his knees beside her, blue eyes wide and pleading as he looked up at her face. Rose didn't know what she even thought he was doing when his hands finally slipped under the sides of her knickers and pulled them away. Her fingers caught in his hair, brushing the short strands across her palms and reveling in the soft but spiky feel of it.

The Doctor layered tiny wet kisses all over her stomach and thighs, and his hands were everywhere he could reach her to touch her. Rose groaned and whimpered and tried to get him to pay attention to her center. Her thighs were damp with her arousal and the air around them was heady with the scents of sex and want and rain and time.

When the Doctor found his way between her legs, Rose opened them wide for him, not even caring what she looked like. Her breath was all gasping and panting from where she kept forgetting to breathe. The Doctor's eyes were wicked as his fingers traced idly along the inside of her thighs and Rose tried everything to wriggle closer. "Rose…" He spoke with the voice of temptation itself. "Want you so much, precious girl. Tell me what you need an' it's yours, I promise. Anything, everything. Please, Rose."

"I need… I want… oh, God, Doctor!!" His fingers finally brushed her center and she reached down to catch his hand and hold it there. Wantonly, she ground herself against his trapped digits, her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to concentrate on the gorgeous feeling building up inside her.

There was a dark chuckle that she could feel and Rose's eyes flew open. Cool air had, indeed just ghosted across her clit – brought to her by her Doctor, where he bowed his head over her. She made a noise that she knew was incoherent, and the Doctor's eyes flew to her own. He grinned pure lust and his tongue snaked out to touch her. He never broke eye contact.

Rose let go of his hand. Her eyes slammed shut, her head went back, her body bowed. The Doctor chased every single pleasurable sensation he could find with his lips and his tongue and his fingers on her clit and inside her. Her hands clenched in the sheets, her jaw clenched over her screams. He forced her right up to the edge and then let her hang there, languorously fucking her with his fingers while she writhed and tried to get just enough to fly.

"Doctor, please, I want… I need to… please."

"Rose, tell me," he ground out, his voice harsh. His body surged until he was leaning over her, his fingers still toying and tormenting and still not quite enough.

Two or three bits of the exploded, pleasure drunk mess inside her head finally collided in a way that made his insistence make sense. "Want you!" she finally managed. "Just you, only you, my Doctor, my… oh God, Doctor, please just make me come…"

She whispered pleas and delicious, lurid suggestions, babbling half-coherently about what she wanted until the Doctor twisted his hand just so and jerked another finger across her swollen clit at the same time. Then, she screamed. She called him God and meant it as her orgasm pulsed and thrummed through her, shockwaves of pleasure that reduced her to quivering and, she realized some moments later, tears.

The Doctor was leaning over her, kissing the tears from her face, and that was how she knew they were there. "I don't know what to say," she said, her voice surprisingly hoarse.

The Doctor's grin was smug and happy at the same time, and his expression made her heart shiver. "Jus' say you'll let me do it again," he answered. "I'd be happy with that."

"Let?" she demanded, shocked. She shook her head incredulously. "Is begging okay?"

The light in his eyes was brighter than beacons in space. Rose realized that love was going to be blue for her instead of red. She also realized he was hard and almost hot where he was pressed against her. "You didn't let me finish earlier," she pointed out, crossly.

"There's time, love, there's time."

"Time machine," Rose agreed. She wriggled. "I'm almost sorta coherent now," she said.

The Doctor gasped and closed his eyes, apparently focused on the sensation as she brought a hand between them to stroke him gently. "And?" he murmured.

"And I can figure out how to say I want you inside me," she said. Firmly, she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, tapping one finger against his pelvis in an effort to coax him lower. "Now!" she added.

The Doctor laughed. "As you wish," he said, and repositioned himself. "This alright?" he asked, leaning against her, supporting his weight on his elbows.

Rose was concentrating on the feeling of the head of his cock pressed against her entrance. His delay and question constituted an interruption, really. She let one hand drop to his bum, raised the other to curl around to the back of his neck. "Now," she repeated, sweetly.

"Precious girl," the Doctor murmured, and lowered his head to kiss her.

His kiss became fierce in a way and at a speed that stole her breath. Rose wrapped her leg around the back of the Doctor's and raised her hips to accept him, her hand on his arse flexing to encourage him further. Rose couldn't help but think that they'd make a beautiful picture like this, his gorgeous backside with her strong thighs for a frame, her hands for decoration.

He broke the kiss with a gasp as he sank into her, eyes closed, lips moving in some sort of soundless prayer. His hand splayed on her hip as he made a minute adjustment. He filled her so completely that Rose was sure she'd be stretched, yet he fit so perfectly that the heat inside her already went from coiled spring to coiled molten lava. If that made any sense, which she doubted.

Then he began to move and she tumbled into completely incoherent thought almost immediately. His thrusts were slow and long and careful, every one of them angled just so to put the right pressure on her clit. She couldn't help wanting him to speed up, wanting him to lose control. It wasn't right that he could think when her whole universe was slowly spiraling down to a pinpoint location that was his cock inside her.

His thumbs toyed with her nipples, his kisses lingered sweetly, and his motion was steady and deliberate. If she sped up, he would catch on, but slow her back down almost immediately. Rose didn't care what happened next as long as she got to see him lose control. She could tell he was concentrating on prolonging this, on holding back his release as long as he could. He was actually sweating.

She tightened her fingers in the back of his neck, tugged him down to where she could reach him, and started nibbling at his throat again. The touch at that sensitive spot disarmed him and he groaned loudly.

"Rose, I…"

"Doctor," she interrupted. "Please?"

His blue eyes locked which hers. Rose rolled her hips in a figure eight. The Doctor grunted and thrust into her hard. "Stop that," he growled out.

"No," she answered, and did it again. He gasped and shook. She did it again, and bit his shoulder for good measure. Softly, tenderly, she breathed across his skin, "Doctor. I've got you. Let go."

The sound he made was like triumph and surrender all at once. Rose kept up with his increased speed and intensity right at first, but soon she became too delirious with pleasure and heat and the sheer beauty of watching him fly for her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and splayed her hands across his back and let him take her hard.

He said such things to her in those moments that Rose thought she would never forget them for as long as she lived. Sometimes, after this, he could say anything and she would need to change her clothes, she was sure of it. He told her how much he had wanted this, how relieved he was that she was the brave one, how hot and tight and good she was, how precious.

The pleasure was building up inside her. His face was fierce and shining, his eyes were the only things Rose could see. All she could feel was him inside her and her around him and the tugging that seemed to draw her whole body in like a vortex, sinking and tightening and squeezing and, finally, finally! The orgasm that tore through her this time just went on and on, lights and juddering and her voice crying out his name.

The Doctor surged to his knees and caught the headboard with one hand, using it to brace himself while he pounded into her. His movements were wild and unrestrained and Rose would never forget the look on his face when his orgasm finally broke over him. His cry was strange and alien and punctuated by her name said reverently and importantly, like it belonged to a goddess.

They cuddled together, wrapped around each other like lovers should be, whispering soft promises of next time and forever. They teased and laughed gentle laughs and, after the unexpected conversation managed to degenerate into when it was appropriate to yell at an evil dictator, they decided they'd best hit the shower.

Together, of course, because that was where they belonged.

Jack couldn't remember what he was celebrating, but he did it with his usual style. He eventually dragged himself out of the cheap American bar before they threw him out, but only just. He'd had entirely too much fun, really, although he'd love to know why that one guy called him a community bicycle.

Well, Jack decided, he'd never know. Obviously, the poor bastard had needed a lay and just didn't know a good thing when it offered him a ride.

"Oh," Jack slurred as he approached the TARDIS, "that's what he meant. Bastard."

"I beg your pardon?" said a Matarite, who was leaning on the TARDIS looking quite disturbed. Also, he looked blue, but the Matarites were a type of chameleon, so really, that was only to be expected.

"Nothing," Jack said. "You here for your giant ferret of doom?"

"My what?" the alien asked.

"Mustra," Jack clarified, a touch drunkenly. It was impressive as hell, that, because he should be talking completely drunkenly with what he'd downed in the last hour alone.

"Yes!"

"One sec."

Jack got rid of the alien and grabbed for his vortex manipulator to use the computer to leave the Doctor a note. He couldn't find it. "Not good," Jack muttered, and turned out his pockets.

A single floodlight over the console came on, while the rest of the lighting went dim. "No, worse," Jack said, glaring petulantly at the ceiling. "Can't find it if I can't see. If I lost it in this century, the Doc'll kill me."

The floodlight blinked. Jack frowned and went over to see what the heck She wanted. There, on the console, was his vortex manipulator. It still wasn't working, Jack noticed, but the wrist computer was showing that some of the communications functions had been improved, two of the cameras reactivated, and it would now track Rose's mobile if it needed to do.

It was also blinking at him.

Jack picked it up. "You have one new email message," the tiny screen read.

Jack blinked at it in surprise and wondered when he'd gotten email. Hesitantly, he pressed the corresponding flashing button. A hologram of a computer screen appeared in the projection beam, which might have appeared first. Jack wasn't sure because he was drunk.

"Dear Jack," the message read, "Thanks for the loan of your computer, camera, and photo editor. It was very, very helpful. Best, the Doctor."

Jack shook his head, uncertain what that meant. And what was oneofakind at UNIT dot MIL, anyway?

"PS: This message will self-destruct in ten seconds."

Jack yelled and hurled the vortex manipulator across the room.

The holographic screen scrolled. "PPS: Just kidding."

Obviously, Jack decided, the Doctor had his sense of humor set on 'completely silly'. In Jack's considerable experience, that probably meant the Time Lord had finally gotten laid.

Jack grinned as he remembered why he was celebrating.