Categories > TV > Doctor Who
Bad Case of Lovin' You (Doctor, Doctor)
0 reviewsThe Tenth Doctor is working on the TARDIS when he hears a certain song begin to play, courtesy of one Rose Tyler. And it pretty much goes downhill from there.
0Unrated
Notes: I'm sorry, but it had to be done. I've been hearing this song nonstop recently, and the muses wouldn't let me leave it alone. I'm surprised there aren't more Doctor Who fics with this song. By the way, I totally blame the muses for this one.
Whooaaaaa.
The Doctor's head jerked up from where he was working underneath the controls of the TARDIS at the sound of drums and a drawn-out wail. He instantly recognized the song, cursed in Gallifreyan, and called, "Rose!"
"Yes?" His pretty blonde companion appeared in his line of vision, perched on the seat next to the controls.
The hot summer night fell like a net.
I've got to find my baby yet.
"You had to pick this song?" the Doctor complained.
"Yeah. You have a problem with it?"
I need you to soothe my head,
Turn my blue heart to red.
Now that he thought about it, that part of the song was true. He started to say something about it when Rose cut in, singing along with Robert Palmer:
"Doctor, Doctor, give me the news.
I've got a bad case of lovin' you.
No pill's gonna cure my ill.
I've got a bad case of lovin' you."
"Oh no," the Doctor groaned. "You can't be serious."
Rose grinned. "Lighten up, would you? Besides, it's just a song."
"Yeah, right," he muttered sarcastically.
A pretty face don't make no pretty heart.
I learned that, buddy, from the start.
You think I'm cute, a little bit shy.
Momma, I ain't that kind of guy.
The Doctor had to grin at that.
Doctor, doctor, give me the news.
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
No pill's gonna cure my ill.
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
Whooaaa.
The song cut to an instrumental, and Rose pushed herself off the seat. "Dance with me," she said, smiling, as she held out a hand. The Doctor swallowed, took the offered hand, and the next thing he knew, they were dancing . . . was it the Jitterbug or the Foxtrot? After a few steps, he realized it was the latter. Okay, then.
Then one of them stumbled—it couldn't have been him, because he didn't stumble—and he found he was leaning back against the controls with Rose on top of him.
I know you like it, you like it on top.
Tell me, momma, are you gonna stop?
At that line, the Doctor's brown eyes widened. His hands were braced against the console to prevent him from landing on it completely, but he lifted his right hand and wedge it between their bodies, pushing back gently. Rose flushed but took the hint and stepped back—not far enough for the Time Lord's liking. A smile quirked on her face, and he could have sworn her hazel eyes were traveling down his body.
You had me down, 21 to zip,
Smile of Judas on your lip.
Shake my fist, knock on wood,
I've got it bad, and I've got it good.
Now feeling vaguely uncomfortable, the Doctor edged sideways, eyes downcast. I don't think I like this song very much after all. (That might be because it had suddenly become very personal.)
Doctor, doctor, gimme the news,
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
No pill's gonna cure my ill.
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
Thank Rassilon that song was finally over. The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, rendering it even messier than normal, and eyed Rose with a hint of suspicion. "You planned that, didn't you?"
She shrugged, that playful smile still on her face. "Not really. I just put my iPod on Shuffle and it was the first song that came up—and when I say iPod, I'm not referring to a jukebox."
"Still. That song's by Robert Palmer, yeah?"
Rose nodded.
"What year did it come out in?"
"1978, I think. Why?"
The Doctor flashed a smirk and started activating the controls. Rose must have figured out what he was planning, because she lunged forward. "Doctor, no!" You are not going to go back and destroy the demos!"
"Why not?" He glanced at her, something scary in his eyes. "I'm a Time Lord; I can do whatever I want, and no one will stop me. There is no one to stop me. I made sure of that," he added quietly, bitterly.
Rose made a frustrated noise and pushed him away from the console. "The song isn't even about you! It's about some bloke who falls for his female human doctor—y'know, the kind who work in hospitals."
"Oh." He'd known that—of course he had—but still, it was so easy to associate with him. "I knew that."
She scoffed. "Yeah right. Not everything revolves around you, you know."
He waved that off and cocked an ear to the next song choice. A scowl crossed his face. "Oh, you've got to be kidding! 'Pour Some Sugar on Me'?!"
Rose grinned and began singing along: "Take a bottle, shake it up. Break the bubble, break it up. Pour some sugar on me, ooo, in the name of—"
"Rose?" the Doctor said conversationally.
"Yeah?"
"Shut it and go to your room." The Doctor frowned. "Those are terrible last words."
"Don't you know it," Rose teased, unhooking her iPod from the console and sashaying out of the main room. The Doctor returned to working on whatever he'd been fixing when he thought, I wonder what else she has on there. . . .
Whooaaaaa.
The Doctor's head jerked up from where he was working underneath the controls of the TARDIS at the sound of drums and a drawn-out wail. He instantly recognized the song, cursed in Gallifreyan, and called, "Rose!"
"Yes?" His pretty blonde companion appeared in his line of vision, perched on the seat next to the controls.
The hot summer night fell like a net.
I've got to find my baby yet.
"You had to pick this song?" the Doctor complained.
"Yeah. You have a problem with it?"
I need you to soothe my head,
Turn my blue heart to red.
Now that he thought about it, that part of the song was true. He started to say something about it when Rose cut in, singing along with Robert Palmer:
"Doctor, Doctor, give me the news.
I've got a bad case of lovin' you.
No pill's gonna cure my ill.
I've got a bad case of lovin' you."
"Oh no," the Doctor groaned. "You can't be serious."
Rose grinned. "Lighten up, would you? Besides, it's just a song."
"Yeah, right," he muttered sarcastically.
A pretty face don't make no pretty heart.
I learned that, buddy, from the start.
You think I'm cute, a little bit shy.
Momma, I ain't that kind of guy.
The Doctor had to grin at that.
Doctor, doctor, give me the news.
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
No pill's gonna cure my ill.
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
Whooaaa.
The song cut to an instrumental, and Rose pushed herself off the seat. "Dance with me," she said, smiling, as she held out a hand. The Doctor swallowed, took the offered hand, and the next thing he knew, they were dancing . . . was it the Jitterbug or the Foxtrot? After a few steps, he realized it was the latter. Okay, then.
Then one of them stumbled—it couldn't have been him, because he didn't stumble—and he found he was leaning back against the controls with Rose on top of him.
I know you like it, you like it on top.
Tell me, momma, are you gonna stop?
At that line, the Doctor's brown eyes widened. His hands were braced against the console to prevent him from landing on it completely, but he lifted his right hand and wedge it between their bodies, pushing back gently. Rose flushed but took the hint and stepped back—not far enough for the Time Lord's liking. A smile quirked on her face, and he could have sworn her hazel eyes were traveling down his body.
You had me down, 21 to zip,
Smile of Judas on your lip.
Shake my fist, knock on wood,
I've got it bad, and I've got it good.
Now feeling vaguely uncomfortable, the Doctor edged sideways, eyes downcast. I don't think I like this song very much after all. (That might be because it had suddenly become very personal.)
Doctor, doctor, gimme the news,
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
No pill's gonna cure my ill.
I got a bad case of lovin' you.
Thank Rassilon that song was finally over. The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, rendering it even messier than normal, and eyed Rose with a hint of suspicion. "You planned that, didn't you?"
She shrugged, that playful smile still on her face. "Not really. I just put my iPod on Shuffle and it was the first song that came up—and when I say iPod, I'm not referring to a jukebox."
"Still. That song's by Robert Palmer, yeah?"
Rose nodded.
"What year did it come out in?"
"1978, I think. Why?"
The Doctor flashed a smirk and started activating the controls. Rose must have figured out what he was planning, because she lunged forward. "Doctor, no!" You are not going to go back and destroy the demos!"
"Why not?" He glanced at her, something scary in his eyes. "I'm a Time Lord; I can do whatever I want, and no one will stop me. There is no one to stop me. I made sure of that," he added quietly, bitterly.
Rose made a frustrated noise and pushed him away from the console. "The song isn't even about you! It's about some bloke who falls for his female human doctor—y'know, the kind who work in hospitals."
"Oh." He'd known that—of course he had—but still, it was so easy to associate with him. "I knew that."
She scoffed. "Yeah right. Not everything revolves around you, you know."
He waved that off and cocked an ear to the next song choice. A scowl crossed his face. "Oh, you've got to be kidding! 'Pour Some Sugar on Me'?!"
Rose grinned and began singing along: "Take a bottle, shake it up. Break the bubble, break it up. Pour some sugar on me, ooo, in the name of—"
"Rose?" the Doctor said conversationally.
"Yeah?"
"Shut it and go to your room." The Doctor frowned. "Those are terrible last words."
"Don't you know it," Rose teased, unhooking her iPod from the console and sashaying out of the main room. The Doctor returned to working on whatever he'd been fixing when he thought, I wonder what else she has on there. . . .
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