What If We Were: Doctor/Rose Time-in-flux ficathon
Title: What If We Were?
Author: in_a_union_jack
Characters/Pairing: 9/Rose, Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13 for language?
Spoilers: Through Boomtown, series 1.
Summary: Written for the Doctor/Rose Time-in-flux ficathon. After the Rift in Cardiff is nearly used to destroy the planet, the Doctor seeks out Rose in her room.
Beta: Thank you to dynastessa & aspiringfiction - you are both goddesses among betas!
The Doctor fights the urge to pace as he waits for Rose to return to the TARDIS. Jack, perhaps sensing the Doctor's current mood, remains silent, simply following his orders as the two of them patch up some of the minor damage the extrapolator has wreaked on the TARDIS. It isn't enough of a distraction for the Doctor though; he could do the bulk of these repairs with his eyes closed. Part of him longs to go after Rose, just as she has gone after Mickey, but instead he waits. He'll wait forever for this young woman who has unknowingly turned his universe upside down.
As his hands do what they need to do, his mind replays the scene from a mere hour ago - Blon's attempt to use the Rift and destroy them all in her escape from the planet.
It's never his own life being in jeopardy that frightens him. He's always pragmatic about that. Best case scenario, he regenerates, worst case scenario, well... he's over 900 years old and he can’t say he hasn’t lived a good long time. Rose however, is another story entirely; she’s so young and full of promise. He could have lost her today, something that happens entirely too often for his liking.
There is no doubt in the Doctor's mind that Blon would have killed Rose - if the TARDIS hadn't intervened at his request - either crushing Rose's fragile human windpipe and cutting off the air to her lungs or by simply breaking her neck. If she had, it would have paled in comparison to the violence of the retribution he'd have taken on the Raxacoricofallapatorian. But Blon is no longer a threat, reverted by the heart of the TARDIS to an egg that currently rests on the console. He knows just what to do with it, but fulfilling that act must wait until Rose gets back.
And here he is, back to trying not to pace as he waits for Rose to return to the TARDIS.
Just when he thinks he can't stand the waiting any longer, the door to the TARDIS opens and Rose slips back inside. Alone. He quickly smothers the sense of relief he feels when he realizes that Mickey the Idiot is not in tow.
"We're all powered up to leave. Opening the Rift filled us up with energy - we can go. If that's alright?" he asks Rose.
"Yeah, fine." She replies too quickly. He can see she's fighting to hold back tears.
Doing his best to keep his tone non-committal, he asks, "How's Mickey?"
"He's okay. He's gone."
The Doctor exchanges a glance with Jack before asking, "Do you wanna go and find him? We can wait."
Rose shakes her head. "No need, he deserves better."
Not quite the response he expected. Time to change the subject. "Off we go then, always moving on."
Jack tries to lighten the dark mood that has settled in the console room. "Next stop: Raxacoricofallapatorius. Now, you don’t often get to say that."
"We'll just stop by and pop her in the hatchery," the Doctor says, filling Rose in on the plan he'd come up with while she was gone. "Magaret the Slitheen can live again. A second chance."
"That'd be nice," Rose replies, her eyes fixed firmly on the egg that used to be Blon. When she finally looks away, the Doctor can tell she's losing her battle to hold back her tears.
For a being as clever as he generally is with words, he finds, right then, that he hasn't the slightest idea what to say to her.
Rose bites her lip. "I'm tired, I'm gonna head to bed."
Frowning slightly, the Doctor nods. "Alright then, g’night Rose."
"Goodnight Doctor, Jack," Rose says and then she's walking from the console room so quickly, she might as well be running. The Doctor watches her go, feelings he's not willing to openly acknowledge suddenly quite intent on reminding him of their existence. He sighs, picks up the sonic screwdriver from where he's left it on the console and when he glances up, Jack's arms are crossed against his chest and he's frowning.
"She's been crying," Jack points out.
"Yeah, I'd noticed that, thanks," the Doctor replies through gritted teeth as he slips the sonic screwdriver back into the pocket of his jacket.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Jack demands, at that moment every inch the older brother 'protector' figure.
The Doctor scowls. "Nothing."
"Nothing?!" Jack's tone is incredulous.
The Doctor slams both hands down on the jump seat in frustration. "Damn it Jack, I'm a Time Lord... not some sort of couples therapist."
Jack grins and the Doctor remembers that Rose had finally sat the former Time Agent down and shown him the original Star Trek series. Of course, Jack had found a kindred spirit in the character of one Captain James T. Kirk.
"One word, Harkness, and I will- "
But Jack's mind is clearly on more important matters, and the Doctor is thankful when Jack lets the opportunity for a good ribbing at the Doctor’s expense slide. "She left him for you, Doctor. The least you can do is go and talk to her now that it looks like they've broken up for good..."
Now it's the Doctor's turn to sound incredulous. "For good? You think?"
Jack sighs. "Doc, for a man-" the Doctor frowns at him and Jack quickly amends, "-I’m sorry, Time Lord who's been around as long as you have, you really have no clue how relationships work, do you? She went after him and came back without him, crying. If it wasn't over before? It's definitely over now."
This brings the Doctor up short. "I'm going to go check on her," he tells Jack. "Can you keep at the repairs?"
Jack nods. "Sure, it shouldn't take long."
With a nod of thanks to Jack, he makes his way out of the console room, baffled by his own uncharacteristic behaviour. Jack's been traveling with him and Rose for barely a week - well, in as much as the passage of time can be judged when traveling through time and space - and already here he is trusting the man with the inner workings of his precious TARDIS.
"I must be going soft in my old age."
* * *
It's ridiculous how long he stands in front of Rose's door, trying to work up the courage to knock. "You're being a bleedin' idiot," he mutters to himself, "you're supposed to be the 'great and powerful Doctor', the 'Oncoming Storm', destroyer of worlds, and the one who single-handedly ended the Time War and here you are hesitating to knock on the bedroom door of one little Earth girl."
He raps on the door before he loses his nerve. "Rose, it's me."
The pause before she answers him has a decidedly startled quality to it, likely because he knocked on the door at all. There'd been a time when he wouldn't have - after all, it's his TARDIS and he can come and go as he likes (or at least he ought to be able to) - but that was before Rose told him in no uncertain terms that if she was going to travel with him she was going to have privacy when she wanted it and if he didn't like it, that was just too bad for him. Since then, he's remembered to knock. Well, most of the time.
"Come in," she calls through the door and he takes a deep breath before turning the knob.
Rose is sitting on the edge of her bed, her bare feet dangling over the side and resting just above the floor. The scarf she'd been wearing earlier hangs over the side of her chair. Her eyes are still a bit red and he can tell immediately that she's been crying again. Still, being Rose, she musters up a smile for him.
He closes the door behind him, then finds himself standing awkwardly just inside the doorway, uncertain of where to go next. The bed is too intimate for him to just sit himself down and make himself at home, the chair too far away from Rose, but damned if he doesn't look daft just hovering here.
He notices that she's already taken out one of her braids. Her hair had been wet when she'd braided it that morning, fresh from the shower and smelling of the lavender shampoo he's come to associate as one of the scents that make up Rose Tyler. She'd braided the damp strands while sitting on the jump seat, her legs resting on the console. Her hair is long dry now; the normally straight locks have gone wavy, released from the confines of its hair tie. She reaches up and takes out the other one, unwinding the braid and then using her fingers to comb it out. She shakes her head once, letting her hair fall naturally.
The urge to run his fingers through it is nearly overwhelming.
It also draws his attention to the fact that as she's no longer wearing her multi-coloured scarf, her neck and throat are now visible and he can see that both are starting to show signs of the injuries caused by one giant, clawed hand.
His worry over this serves as an immediate distraction from the thoughts he really ought not to be having about his companion, so he asks, "I want to take a look at your neck, if that's all right?"
The question seems to take her by surprise. "My neck? Oh ... right." She touches her neck gingerly, wincing. "I'd forgotten. Go ahead."
He hesitates, again unsure of where he ought to be and with a shy smile, she motions for him to join her on the bed. He does, settling himself on the soft surface of her duvet before facing her.
"Can I?" he asks, motioning to her hair.
She nods, and then he's brushing it back and away from her neck with one hand, carefully checking for injuries. He's gentle - oh so gentle - as he assesses the damage inflicted by Blon's crushing grip, but he frowns as Rose can't quite stop herself from hissing in pain his fingers skirt across one especially wicked looking bruise - one of many slowly darkening against her fair skin.
"Sorry," he says softly.
"It's not your fault," she hastens to reassure him. "Honestly, I almost can't feel you touching me at all..." She suddenly blushes, perhaps at how her words could possibly be interpreted, and quickly averts her eyes from his. "I - don't worry about it."
The Doctor swallows, grateful beyond words that Rose isn't looking at him so that she'd notice, he slides the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and quickly scans her neck to check if there's any interior damage. When he finds nothing, he breathes a sigh of deep relief.
"No permanent damage," he reports. "Just some bruising that'll fade in no time."
Regretfully he lets her hair drop back in place, which sends a faint wave of the lavender scent directly toward him. His nostrils flare and both his hearts start to beat just a little bit faster. Wonderful. "Do you want something for the pain?" He tries to keep medical objectivity in mind. It's not working.
Rose shakes her head, her gaze fixed on her lap. When she does speak, it is so soft he almost doesn't hear it, superior Time Lord hearing or not.
"Thanks, but it won't help where it really hurts."
He reaches a hand toward her chest, stopping just shy of actually touching her. Holding her hand or hugging her is one thing, but touching her breasts - well, that's another animal entirely, and a liberty he'd never dare take without her express permission. He holds his hand, palm hovering just over her heart. "You mean here."
She looks up at him, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah."
"Mickey'll be back," he tells her.
Rose shakes her head. "No, he won't. Not this time."
"Mickey may not be the shining example for the men of your planet, but he's loyal, I’ll say that for him."
"He accused me of choosing you over him. He said I always choose you over him," she tells him.
"Rose, I-"
"No, Doctor. He's right," she says, cutting him off. "I do choose you. Have done ever since you asked me to come with you that second time. I chose you, and just up and left him behind." Her voice cracks ever so slightly, but she continues on. "And the worst thing about it is: I'd do it again. Over and over, if I had to make the same choice? I'd choose to go with you."
The confession draws a smile out of him. "That right?" he asks.
She nods. "Always you."
"Good, because I'd keep asking you to come with me," he tells her.
He pulls her toward him and she lets it happen, rests her forehead against his shoulder. He hears her sigh and feels some of the tension in her drain away.
"M'sorry," she murmurs against the leather of his jacket. "I know you don't do domestic, and me getting worked up over a bloke is about as domestic as it gets..."
He lets out a quiet groan. Rassilon help him, he's going to be paying for uttering those words forever, isn't he? And the worst part is it's not as though he doesn't deserve it.
"Oi, none of that," he chides her gently. "You're allowed to cry when you're hurting, regardless of the reason." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Even if that reason is Mickey the Idiot. And domestic with you, well that isn't so bad."
She looks up at him. "Yeah?" she asks with a shaky smile.
He smiles. "Yeah."
"He wanted me to go to a hotel with him," she admits and the Doctor stiffens, feeling what he knows is an irrational mix of jealousy and anger starting to rise in him. He does his best to bury it away, deep inside where it belongs. He's got no claim on Rose; she's his companion and his friend, not his lover. If she wants to go to a hotel with a man, even if that man is Mickey, idiot man-child that he is, that's entirely within her right to do so.
The touch of her hand on his wrenches him back to the present. She's looking up at him, so many emotions evident on her face. "I turned him down."
Funny how four simple words can evoke such a strong reaction within him. For the first time since back before the Time War, he dares to let himself hope. He's acutely aware of how long he's been alone, not willing to let anyone get close to him. But she's right, this life really is better with two. He needs her.
With a sigh, she continues, "I just wish he weren't so jealous of you. He shouldn't be. I kept telling him that we're not like that, you and me." Is it his imagination, or is there a tinge of regret in her tone when she says that?
The words are out of his mouth before he has time to think. "What if we were?"
"What if we were what?" she repeats, confused.
"Like that."
Rose's eyes are as wide as saucers as she looks up at him - as though she can't quite believe what he's saying - but that's alright, that makes two of them. He can't quite believe he's saying it either.
"You don’t mean that," she says, but there's a decided lack of certainty in her voice. It is laced with an undertone of... hope, he thinks.
"I think you'll find that I do mean it, Rose Tyler," he says, bringing his face toward hers. He pauses, their noses not quite touching. This is it, it's now or never and he knows it. If he doesn't make his move right now, he'll chicken out. He'll run from this situation - and this amazing woman and all she can offer him - as he has from so many other things in his long life. And this would be one regret he's fairly certain he couldn't live with.
"Rose, I..." He is asking so many questions with those two words.
"Yes," she says. And there every question is answered in that single word.
He's never snogged anyone in this body before - with this face and great big, daft nose of his - so he carefully judges his angle before tilting his head slightly and brushing his lips across hers. She stiffens for a moment - not long mind you, maybe the span between one heartbeat the next. He should know exactly how long that is, being a Time Lord and all, but his attention is somewhat divided right now - and then she responds. She responds quite enthusiastically, as a matter of fact.
She parts her lips for him and he deepens the kiss. He can taste the remnants of the saline from her earlier tears and kisses every trace of them away. He longs to touch her, to feel her hair between his fingers again, to kiss her neck, her shoulder. To learn all there is to know about her. But he can't. Not yet.
When he pulls back, she makes a soft sound of disappointment.
"This all right?" he asks. Because he has to ask; he has to know for sure that this is what she really wants, if he is really what she wants. Her arms slide up around his neck and draw him back towards her, her lips against his, soft and inviting - and he knows. She does want him and he can't remember the last time he was so happy.
Joyous laughter begins to bubble up inside him and he can't contain it. He grabs Rose and pulls her into his arms. Rising to his feet, he spins her around until they're both breathless from laughing. When he sets her down on her own two feet, Rose throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly.
"Rose Tyler, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he confesses, running his thumb along her lower lip.
"I didn’t think you’d ever do that," she says, smiling shyly at him again. "I mean, I’d hoped, but..."
"Didn't think it'd be welcome if I did," he admits softly.
"Oh, it's definitely welcome," she says, her tongue poking out from between her teeth.
He grins at her. "I'm starting to figure that out."
Rose laughs. "Only just starting to figure it out? Maybe you're not as clever as you think you are, Doctor."
"Oi!" he says, but he's laughing too. "Maybe you just need to show me again?" His tone suggests a myriad of possible ways she could show him.
"Maybe I do," she says, standing on her toes and leaning up to kiss him again.
"You know this changes everything," the Doctor says against her lips.
"Good," Rose tells him, her eyes shining. "It's changing for the better."
Author: in_a_union_jack
Characters/Pairing: 9/Rose, Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13 for language?
Spoilers: Through Boomtown, series 1.
Summary: Written for the Doctor/Rose Time-in-flux ficathon. After the Rift in Cardiff is nearly used to destroy the planet, the Doctor seeks out Rose in her room.
Beta: Thank you to dynastessa & aspiringfiction - you are both goddesses among betas!
The Doctor fights the urge to pace as he waits for Rose to return to the TARDIS. Jack, perhaps sensing the Doctor's current mood, remains silent, simply following his orders as the two of them patch up some of the minor damage the extrapolator has wreaked on the TARDIS. It isn't enough of a distraction for the Doctor though; he could do the bulk of these repairs with his eyes closed. Part of him longs to go after Rose, just as she has gone after Mickey, but instead he waits. He'll wait forever for this young woman who has unknowingly turned his universe upside down.
As his hands do what they need to do, his mind replays the scene from a mere hour ago - Blon's attempt to use the Rift and destroy them all in her escape from the planet.
It's never his own life being in jeopardy that frightens him. He's always pragmatic about that. Best case scenario, he regenerates, worst case scenario, well... he's over 900 years old and he can’t say he hasn’t lived a good long time. Rose however, is another story entirely; she’s so young and full of promise. He could have lost her today, something that happens entirely too often for his liking.
There is no doubt in the Doctor's mind that Blon would have killed Rose - if the TARDIS hadn't intervened at his request - either crushing Rose's fragile human windpipe and cutting off the air to her lungs or by simply breaking her neck. If she had, it would have paled in comparison to the violence of the retribution he'd have taken on the Raxacoricofallapatorian. But Blon is no longer a threat, reverted by the heart of the TARDIS to an egg that currently rests on the console. He knows just what to do with it, but fulfilling that act must wait until Rose gets back.
And here he is, back to trying not to pace as he waits for Rose to return to the TARDIS.
Just when he thinks he can't stand the waiting any longer, the door to the TARDIS opens and Rose slips back inside. Alone. He quickly smothers the sense of relief he feels when he realizes that Mickey the Idiot is not in tow.
"We're all powered up to leave. Opening the Rift filled us up with energy - we can go. If that's alright?" he asks Rose.
"Yeah, fine." She replies too quickly. He can see she's fighting to hold back tears.
Doing his best to keep his tone non-committal, he asks, "How's Mickey?"
"He's okay. He's gone."
The Doctor exchanges a glance with Jack before asking, "Do you wanna go and find him? We can wait."
Rose shakes her head. "No need, he deserves better."
Not quite the response he expected. Time to change the subject. "Off we go then, always moving on."
Jack tries to lighten the dark mood that has settled in the console room. "Next stop: Raxacoricofallapatorius. Now, you don’t often get to say that."
"We'll just stop by and pop her in the hatchery," the Doctor says, filling Rose in on the plan he'd come up with while she was gone. "Magaret the Slitheen can live again. A second chance."
"That'd be nice," Rose replies, her eyes fixed firmly on the egg that used to be Blon. When she finally looks away, the Doctor can tell she's losing her battle to hold back her tears.
For a being as clever as he generally is with words, he finds, right then, that he hasn't the slightest idea what to say to her.
Rose bites her lip. "I'm tired, I'm gonna head to bed."
Frowning slightly, the Doctor nods. "Alright then, g’night Rose."
"Goodnight Doctor, Jack," Rose says and then she's walking from the console room so quickly, she might as well be running. The Doctor watches her go, feelings he's not willing to openly acknowledge suddenly quite intent on reminding him of their existence. He sighs, picks up the sonic screwdriver from where he's left it on the console and when he glances up, Jack's arms are crossed against his chest and he's frowning.
"She's been crying," Jack points out.
"Yeah, I'd noticed that, thanks," the Doctor replies through gritted teeth as he slips the sonic screwdriver back into the pocket of his jacket.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Jack demands, at that moment every inch the older brother 'protector' figure.
The Doctor scowls. "Nothing."
"Nothing?!" Jack's tone is incredulous.
The Doctor slams both hands down on the jump seat in frustration. "Damn it Jack, I'm a Time Lord... not some sort of couples therapist."
Jack grins and the Doctor remembers that Rose had finally sat the former Time Agent down and shown him the original Star Trek series. Of course, Jack had found a kindred spirit in the character of one Captain James T. Kirk.
"One word, Harkness, and I will- "
But Jack's mind is clearly on more important matters, and the Doctor is thankful when Jack lets the opportunity for a good ribbing at the Doctor’s expense slide. "She left him for you, Doctor. The least you can do is go and talk to her now that it looks like they've broken up for good..."
Now it's the Doctor's turn to sound incredulous. "For good? You think?"
Jack sighs. "Doc, for a man-" the Doctor frowns at him and Jack quickly amends, "-I’m sorry, Time Lord who's been around as long as you have, you really have no clue how relationships work, do you? She went after him and came back without him, crying. If it wasn't over before? It's definitely over now."
This brings the Doctor up short. "I'm going to go check on her," he tells Jack. "Can you keep at the repairs?"
Jack nods. "Sure, it shouldn't take long."
With a nod of thanks to Jack, he makes his way out of the console room, baffled by his own uncharacteristic behaviour. Jack's been traveling with him and Rose for barely a week - well, in as much as the passage of time can be judged when traveling through time and space - and already here he is trusting the man with the inner workings of his precious TARDIS.
"I must be going soft in my old age."
* * *
It's ridiculous how long he stands in front of Rose's door, trying to work up the courage to knock. "You're being a bleedin' idiot," he mutters to himself, "you're supposed to be the 'great and powerful Doctor', the 'Oncoming Storm', destroyer of worlds, and the one who single-handedly ended the Time War and here you are hesitating to knock on the bedroom door of one little Earth girl."
He raps on the door before he loses his nerve. "Rose, it's me."
The pause before she answers him has a decidedly startled quality to it, likely because he knocked on the door at all. There'd been a time when he wouldn't have - after all, it's his TARDIS and he can come and go as he likes (or at least he ought to be able to) - but that was before Rose told him in no uncertain terms that if she was going to travel with him she was going to have privacy when she wanted it and if he didn't like it, that was just too bad for him. Since then, he's remembered to knock. Well, most of the time.
"Come in," she calls through the door and he takes a deep breath before turning the knob.
Rose is sitting on the edge of her bed, her bare feet dangling over the side and resting just above the floor. The scarf she'd been wearing earlier hangs over the side of her chair. Her eyes are still a bit red and he can tell immediately that she's been crying again. Still, being Rose, she musters up a smile for him.
He closes the door behind him, then finds himself standing awkwardly just inside the doorway, uncertain of where to go next. The bed is too intimate for him to just sit himself down and make himself at home, the chair too far away from Rose, but damned if he doesn't look daft just hovering here.
He notices that she's already taken out one of her braids. Her hair had been wet when she'd braided it that morning, fresh from the shower and smelling of the lavender shampoo he's come to associate as one of the scents that make up Rose Tyler. She'd braided the damp strands while sitting on the jump seat, her legs resting on the console. Her hair is long dry now; the normally straight locks have gone wavy, released from the confines of its hair tie. She reaches up and takes out the other one, unwinding the braid and then using her fingers to comb it out. She shakes her head once, letting her hair fall naturally.
The urge to run his fingers through it is nearly overwhelming.
It also draws his attention to the fact that as she's no longer wearing her multi-coloured scarf, her neck and throat are now visible and he can see that both are starting to show signs of the injuries caused by one giant, clawed hand.
His worry over this serves as an immediate distraction from the thoughts he really ought not to be having about his companion, so he asks, "I want to take a look at your neck, if that's all right?"
The question seems to take her by surprise. "My neck? Oh ... right." She touches her neck gingerly, wincing. "I'd forgotten. Go ahead."
He hesitates, again unsure of where he ought to be and with a shy smile, she motions for him to join her on the bed. He does, settling himself on the soft surface of her duvet before facing her.
"Can I?" he asks, motioning to her hair.
She nods, and then he's brushing it back and away from her neck with one hand, carefully checking for injuries. He's gentle - oh so gentle - as he assesses the damage inflicted by Blon's crushing grip, but he frowns as Rose can't quite stop herself from hissing in pain his fingers skirt across one especially wicked looking bruise - one of many slowly darkening against her fair skin.
"Sorry," he says softly.
"It's not your fault," she hastens to reassure him. "Honestly, I almost can't feel you touching me at all..." She suddenly blushes, perhaps at how her words could possibly be interpreted, and quickly averts her eyes from his. "I - don't worry about it."
The Doctor swallows, grateful beyond words that Rose isn't looking at him so that she'd notice, he slides the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and quickly scans her neck to check if there's any interior damage. When he finds nothing, he breathes a sigh of deep relief.
"No permanent damage," he reports. "Just some bruising that'll fade in no time."
Regretfully he lets her hair drop back in place, which sends a faint wave of the lavender scent directly toward him. His nostrils flare and both his hearts start to beat just a little bit faster. Wonderful. "Do you want something for the pain?" He tries to keep medical objectivity in mind. It's not working.
Rose shakes her head, her gaze fixed on her lap. When she does speak, it is so soft he almost doesn't hear it, superior Time Lord hearing or not.
"Thanks, but it won't help where it really hurts."
He reaches a hand toward her chest, stopping just shy of actually touching her. Holding her hand or hugging her is one thing, but touching her breasts - well, that's another animal entirely, and a liberty he'd never dare take without her express permission. He holds his hand, palm hovering just over her heart. "You mean here."
She looks up at him, a wry smile on her face. "Yeah."
"Mickey'll be back," he tells her.
Rose shakes her head. "No, he won't. Not this time."
"Mickey may not be the shining example for the men of your planet, but he's loyal, I’ll say that for him."
"He accused me of choosing you over him. He said I always choose you over him," she tells him.
"Rose, I-"
"No, Doctor. He's right," she says, cutting him off. "I do choose you. Have done ever since you asked me to come with you that second time. I chose you, and just up and left him behind." Her voice cracks ever so slightly, but she continues on. "And the worst thing about it is: I'd do it again. Over and over, if I had to make the same choice? I'd choose to go with you."
The confession draws a smile out of him. "That right?" he asks.
She nods. "Always you."
"Good, because I'd keep asking you to come with me," he tells her.
He pulls her toward him and she lets it happen, rests her forehead against his shoulder. He hears her sigh and feels some of the tension in her drain away.
"M'sorry," she murmurs against the leather of his jacket. "I know you don't do domestic, and me getting worked up over a bloke is about as domestic as it gets..."
He lets out a quiet groan. Rassilon help him, he's going to be paying for uttering those words forever, isn't he? And the worst part is it's not as though he doesn't deserve it.
"Oi, none of that," he chides her gently. "You're allowed to cry when you're hurting, regardless of the reason." He presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Even if that reason is Mickey the Idiot. And domestic with you, well that isn't so bad."
She looks up at him. "Yeah?" she asks with a shaky smile.
He smiles. "Yeah."
"He wanted me to go to a hotel with him," she admits and the Doctor stiffens, feeling what he knows is an irrational mix of jealousy and anger starting to rise in him. He does his best to bury it away, deep inside where it belongs. He's got no claim on Rose; she's his companion and his friend, not his lover. If she wants to go to a hotel with a man, even if that man is Mickey, idiot man-child that he is, that's entirely within her right to do so.
The touch of her hand on his wrenches him back to the present. She's looking up at him, so many emotions evident on her face. "I turned him down."
Funny how four simple words can evoke such a strong reaction within him. For the first time since back before the Time War, he dares to let himself hope. He's acutely aware of how long he's been alone, not willing to let anyone get close to him. But she's right, this life really is better with two. He needs her.
With a sigh, she continues, "I just wish he weren't so jealous of you. He shouldn't be. I kept telling him that we're not like that, you and me." Is it his imagination, or is there a tinge of regret in her tone when she says that?
The words are out of his mouth before he has time to think. "What if we were?"
"What if we were what?" she repeats, confused.
"Like that."
Rose's eyes are as wide as saucers as she looks up at him - as though she can't quite believe what he's saying - but that's alright, that makes two of them. He can't quite believe he's saying it either.
"You don’t mean that," she says, but there's a decided lack of certainty in her voice. It is laced with an undertone of... hope, he thinks.
"I think you'll find that I do mean it, Rose Tyler," he says, bringing his face toward hers. He pauses, their noses not quite touching. This is it, it's now or never and he knows it. If he doesn't make his move right now, he'll chicken out. He'll run from this situation - and this amazing woman and all she can offer him - as he has from so many other things in his long life. And this would be one regret he's fairly certain he couldn't live with.
"Rose, I..." He is asking so many questions with those two words.
"Yes," she says. And there every question is answered in that single word.
He's never snogged anyone in this body before - with this face and great big, daft nose of his - so he carefully judges his angle before tilting his head slightly and brushing his lips across hers. She stiffens for a moment - not long mind you, maybe the span between one heartbeat the next. He should know exactly how long that is, being a Time Lord and all, but his attention is somewhat divided right now - and then she responds. She responds quite enthusiastically, as a matter of fact.
She parts her lips for him and he deepens the kiss. He can taste the remnants of the saline from her earlier tears and kisses every trace of them away. He longs to touch her, to feel her hair between his fingers again, to kiss her neck, her shoulder. To learn all there is to know about her. But he can't. Not yet.
When he pulls back, she makes a soft sound of disappointment.
"This all right?" he asks. Because he has to ask; he has to know for sure that this is what she really wants, if he is really what she wants. Her arms slide up around his neck and draw him back towards her, her lips against his, soft and inviting - and he knows. She does want him and he can't remember the last time he was so happy.
Joyous laughter begins to bubble up inside him and he can't contain it. He grabs Rose and pulls her into his arms. Rising to his feet, he spins her around until they're both breathless from laughing. When he sets her down on her own two feet, Rose throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly.
"Rose Tyler, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he confesses, running his thumb along her lower lip.
"I didn’t think you’d ever do that," she says, smiling shyly at him again. "I mean, I’d hoped, but..."
"Didn't think it'd be welcome if I did," he admits softly.
"Oh, it's definitely welcome," she says, her tongue poking out from between her teeth.
He grins at her. "I'm starting to figure that out."
Rose laughs. "Only just starting to figure it out? Maybe you're not as clever as you think you are, Doctor."
"Oi!" he says, but he's laughing too. "Maybe you just need to show me again?" His tone suggests a myriad of possible ways she could show him.
"Maybe I do," she says, standing on her toes and leaning up to kiss him again.
"You know this changes everything," the Doctor says against her lips.
"Good," Rose tells him, her eyes shining. "It's changing for the better."