Closure

by DemDifferentStories

Summary:

The Doctor has left them in Pete's World, and they're faced with the reality that they now have their forever. But forever doesn't come without a few questions, and not without some space needed.

Or,

The metacrisis and Rose's first hours together after saving the multiverse, and the closure that they finally get for a number of things.

Notes:

• For ThirdEyeBlue.

The Doctor couldn’t really believe it when he found himself in a passionate kiss with Rose Tyler. No, his ginormous, clever brain couldn’t fathom it. After one kiss committed with the motive of saving her life, and then another one occurring at the hands of one bitchy trampoline possessing Rose’s body, paired with the intense self-loathing and insecurity that a Time Lord who has committed genocide against his own people feels, he doubted that Rose Tyler would ever kiss him willingly.

Not even after Bad Wolf Bay, in which she tearfully declared her love to him and he was just about to say it back when a cruel twist of fate decided to kill the sun that was powering their final goodbye, and he was left alone in the TARDIS ashamed, regretful, and heartbroken. No — he couldn’t allow himself to believe that such a precious, wonderful being as Rose Tyler had ever loved such a horrible, cruel monster as him

That belief and perception of himself made this kiss all the wilder, as just moments ago, his original self declared him to be a genocidal, uncontrollable maniac who wouldn’t be able to live a productive, healthy life without someone to ground him; to teach him what was right and what was wrong. How could Rose Tyler look at him with that knowledge and still deliver the most passionate, emotional kiss the half-Time Lord had ever experienced in his life?

His Rose always looked for the best in people, he acknowledged as he reciprocated against her desperate, warm lips, searching for the same relief and satisfaction she had yearned for for so long, curling his arms around her and pinning her against his body with an iron-grip, silently declaring, “You’re mine, Rose Tyler, and I’m yours, and we’re never leaving each other again. It’s the slow path together, never alone, forever; just like we promised.”

But then his counterpart slipped away in silent, unspoken resignation and heartbreak (he could feel those emotions tingling in the back of his mind, somewhat sensing the Time Lord’s feelings and thoughts), and Rose tore herself away from him in shock and disbelief, stumbling after the disappearing blue box, kicking up wet sand in her sloppy movements. He felt a little rejected at the response, but he understood. His other self had left her, them , behind, not letting her make a real, proper, final choice. He accepted that kiss as something he could never allow himself to have with Rose Tyler, and bittersweetly accepted the fact that in another life and a different yet familiar body, he was Rose Tyler’s lover.

He had to go before she could say something and tempt him beyond all measures.

He could feel the hesitancy in her grip when he entwined their fingers together, and it hurt him a little in all honesty, but he chose to push away his insecurity and self-doubt for a moment to focus on Rose. Her hesitancy with him wasn’t a personal thing. Well , technically it was, but she was unsure of him because of the Time Lord. He knew that.

One thing he knew for certain was that they were stuck together now. Just like they had pondered about all those years ago beneath a black hole… Houses, carpets, domesticity and a mortgage (or perhaps not, courtesy of one Pete Tyler if they were lucky) (that was if she even wanted that life with him). The Time Lord had pretty much solidified their fate by chucking in the coral, as though he were trying to be a generous salesman. Today, you’re our hundredth unexpected metacrisis who committed genocide to be placed in an alternate universe with the love of your life, so you get a free piece of TARDIS coral to grow — all on your own! Hope that makes up for the fact I’ve left you on a beach without saying ‘I love you’ for a second time, Rose Tyler!

After a moment of silence, standing in a deafening silence and feeling the tension of what Rose was experiencing swelling around them, he gave a gentle squeeze of her hand, leaning in close to her ear.

“Come on, love,” he murmured, the epithet slipping from his lips with no thought or warning, and he could feel her pulse jump as he said it, in sync with his. “Let’s go,” he encouraged.

A beat heavy with anticipation rolled through the both of them before Rose finally let a tremble shake through her body and she stepped away from the beach, the Doctor’s hand acting as her anchor to reality. The Time Lord was gone. The metacrisis was here with her and would age and live out the slow path with her. What more could she want, she asked herself?

The pair followed Jackie away from the spot that held so many bad memories for them both as she rang Pete, trying to see how quickly she could organise a zeppelin to come and pick them up from Norway. They caught each other’s gaze for a moment, and there was an unspoken statement shared between them.

This is it.

---

In the cab to the airport, “which took it’s bloody time to show up,” Jackie had complained, they sat apart from each other. Partly because of the presence of one Jackie Tyler, who prattled on about how she “couldn’t believe that plum brought them to Norway again !” and “no offence to you, love,” added on the end, directed to the half-human half-Time Lord, who merely smiled in response, and partly because they needed space. Well, moreso that Rose needed space. She was sitting close to the window, fingers sitting between her lips as she nervously and anxiously chewed away at her nails, a habit that died hard. Her red, still somewhat teary and glazed eyes stared out the window as Bad Wolf Bay disappeared from their view in a blur and transformed into tunnels, fields and a bit of city landscape. 

The Doctor felt a bit of his singular heart churn with worry and shame (blimey, he was going to get used to only having one!) as he watched his precious girl. Did she really want this, he wondered? Had his counterpart made a rash, stupid decision? Maybe Rose had only kissed him… out of curiosity. Desperation. Confusion. Maybe, she really wanted him . Now, she had to settle for the second-rate option — a lousy half-human with one heart and a handful of Time Lord quirks, very likely not retaining any impressive ones.

Speaking of the kiss, he averted his eyes and sucked in a breath as he found himself chemically analysing the lingering taste of his beloved on his lips. He had done this the two previous times and preciously stored that knowledge deep within the crevices of his long-term memory, carefully reviewing and revisiting it regularly to make sure he never lost those sacred moments, like nurturing a plant. He shivered as he recalled the years in between Torchwood and today; when he didn’t have her and he often found himself returning to the vivid recollections of their lips together quite frequently.

This kiss, like the other two, had new and old elements. The salty taste of her tears was reminiscent of Satellite Five, although this time her tears were of heartbreak and sorrow rather than confusion and overwhelm. The fierceness of the kiss, remnants of her saliva and the near-bruising force reminded him of New Earth. Although she didn’t attempt to slip any tongue like Cassandra had, he shuddered as he recalled the way the tip of her tongue had just grazed his bottom lip near the end of the kiss, and the way he eagerly responded, before the whirring of the TARDIS dragged her attention away from him and their union. There were the basics too: a bit of sweat; the natural salts in her skin; a sweet taste that he had categorised as what Rose tasted like. 

A small detail that broke his heart was the distinctive lack of strawberries this time around. Both previous times, Rose had worn strawberry lip gloss — her signature look and style at that point in her life. But with an odd mixture of pride and sadness, he realised that she no longer wore that makeup. In fact, taking a better look at his former companion, he noted that a lot of her old makeup was gone. She still wore mascara and eyebrow makeup, the general things to enhance her features and fill in the gaps, but the things she often donned like lipstick and gloss, blush, eyeshadow, bronzer, foundation and concealer, that was eradicated from her look. 

His Rose wasn’t the same shopgirl from London anymore. She had grown up. Whether that was by choice or circumstance, he couldn’t be sure. He hoped that she would confide that in him soon. But the simple fact was that his precious girl had matured in their time apart. 

They caught each other’s glance from across the cab, popping the individual bubbles they had placed themselves into. The Doctor panicked, a little unsure of what to do, and then his Rose blessed him with a small smile.

He smiled back at her, and they returned to their bubbles, Jackie’s rambling acting as background noise. Both of them felt a small seed of warmth burst within; a comfort that they were okay.

---

They arrived not too long later, an hour’s trip in total, and Rose practically launched herself out of the cab as soon as it stopped at Oslo Airport. The Doctor followed quickly, as though he were physically attached to her, leaving Jackie to pay the fare and scramble after the couple.

She squawked out where they were meant to find the zeppelin and meet Pete, but neither of them took much notice as the Doctor caught up to Rose, falling into a pace that matched hers. After a few moments of walking side by side, he brushed his hand against hers, desperate to be holding it again, and immediately took it when she swept her fingertips on his palm. Their fingers quickly slid into each others, and the Doctor gave a quick squeeze, flashing his eyes to look down at her, grinning to himself as he saw she was smiling. 

Jackie overtook them, barking, “Oh, follow me, you lovesick puppy dogs!”

The Doctor was glad to see that he wasn’t the only one blushing.

They made their way out to a runaway, the one furthest away from everyone, where a big, round and bulbous zeppelin stood, waiting for take-off. Pete was standing outside of it, waving at the trio as they made their way to him. He quirked a brow at the sight of the Doctor, but the half-human heard Jackie say to him that she would explain later, having retained some of his superhearing.

Pete gave Rose a loving embrace and pressed a kiss to her forehead before greeting the Doctor with a handshake and a polite smile. “Doctor.”

“Hello, Pete,” he grinned back. “Long time no see.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, guiding the Doctor up the stairs, after the Tyler women. He leaned in close.

“Jacks said she would tell me later, but…”

“Why am I here?” the Doctor guessed. 

He nodded. “Rose said she would stay in her original world if she’d ever find you.” The Doctor sucked in a small breath at that fact, a little in shock. He still couldn’t believe he was that important to her. Important enough to leave the life she had built in this world; to leave her family.

“Long story short, there’s two of me now. I’m the copy — half-human, half-Time Lord. So, I decided to stay in your world with Rose,” he answered. Pete stopped as they entered the aircraft, mouth agape and shock written all over his face. The Doctor paused with him, hands tucked behind his back and observed the businessman.

“I— I mean, I know that there’s no surprises when it comes to aliens… but…” he trailed off. The Doctor patted his shoulder.

“Trust me — we’re all surprised about my existence,” he added in a hushed voice, bouncing away to join Rose, who had made herself comfy on a leather passenger seat. He stood before her, waggling his eyebrows in question, and she patted the space beside her to confirm. He threw himself down onto the seat, propping his feet up, and resting his arm beside hers.

They sat together quietly on the journey back home, fingers entwined once more, and things felt normal again just for a few hours. For a few hours, it felt like it was the Doctor and Rose again, travelling Time and Space with no cares or worries, no alternate dimensions or prophecies or stars going out or metacrisises born from a cut-off hand a couple of Christmases old. Just two creatures in love living their lives. 

It felt like good ol’ days, but they both knew they’d have to face the music when they landed in London.

---

Rose dozed off, which didn’t surprise the Doctor in the slightest. She had run herself ragged with all the dimension-hopping, near-regeneration, Dalek fighting, universe-saving, and tearful dilemmas. Her head lolled over, resting on his shoulder, her legs tucked up against her chest, and fingers still entwined with his. He couldn’t help but smile to himself in awe and love as he appreciated her sleeping form, looking so vulnerable and peaceful. 

Very suavely and gracefully, he pinched the blanket that was folded on the seat across from him by kicking it to land on his lap, and then used his free arm to drape it across her body, tucking her in nicely. He also figured out the armrest was liftable and pushed it upwards so he could snuggle up right beside her and give her a more comfortable resting place. When he did, she gave a happy sigh and burrowed against him further. When he brought a hand up to adjust the blanket, she somehow sensed it in her sleep and snatched his arm, clinging onto it. He made no complaints and smiled lazily.

He watched in fascination as she shifted into the REM cycle, in awe of the way her eyes twitched beneath her lids and the way her body slowly shifted and moved. After a little while, she blinked into awakeness, fluttering her eyes at the Doctor as she processed her surroundings.

“Good nap?” he hummed with a grin and raised eyebrows.

“Yeah,” she sighed, resting against him once more. Without thought, he dropped a kiss on her temple, and he froze briefly in worry and embarrassment, but she gave a happy noise that calmed his nerves and fears, snuggling deeper against him.

Maybe this new life wouldn’t be that hard to transition into, he thought to himself.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur, thanks to his new human elements. Tiredness and physical exhaustion were starting to catch up to his body, and he was now feeling the aches in his legs, arms, and… blimey — he was having a headache. He wondered if he was still allergic to aspirin. Point was, one second they were arriving in London, then Jackie and Pete were insisting that they came over for the night, Rose said no with the promise to call tonight and visit tomorrow, and she got him into a taxi. It wasn’t until they got out of the tunnels that he finally processed everything that happened, and he gave a short groan and squeezed his eyes shut briefly.

“You okay?” Rose asked, concern in her voice. Her mind raced with all the worst possibilities. He was going to regenerate or die. He was unwell. He needed a proper medical doctor.

“Yeah — fine,” he answered in a low, hissed voice. “Just… Just adjusting to the rubbish biology,” he teased, giving a smirk to ease the tension and make her smile. He succeeded and earned a light slap on his arm.

“You’re just like one of us now,” she smirked.

He breathed out a whoosh of air and leant back into his seat. “Yep,” he confirmed with a pop. “I’m a human…” he acknowledged. He glanced over to Rose. “Now, where exactly are we going? I was a bit distracted by my headache.”

Her flat was the answer, and he was both excited and terrified. Alone at last with Rose Tyler.

Their privacy came quickly, and before the Doctor could blink, they were getting out of the taxi into the dark night (bloody hell — what time was it, he asked himself?), entering a block of flats with Rose’s keycard and waiting for the lift that would take them to Rose’s place. He was trying his best to listen as she rattled on about her home, explaining that she lived in the mansion for the first few months but eventually moved out, and Pete had been kind enough to pay for her rent to make sure she got something nice and comfortable. He hummed and nodded as she talked about how she wasn’t used to such luxuries and she wasn’t sure if she ever could after living in the estate all her life. 

His mind was buzzing with three words still: alone with Rose.

The lift went up as quickly as the TARDIS’ materialising process, a slight exaggeration on the Doctor’s part in his dazed state, and they stepped out into a clean and modern-looking hallway that sort of had a hotel aesthetic, striped wallpaper, plants, plain art and all. Rose guided him to the very end, where she opened the door with her keys and gestured for him to follow inside.

As she kicked off her boots at the door and closed it behind them, he entered with awe and curiosity. It was a cute little flat, spacious and clearly expensive, practically looking like a small starter home. The hardwood floors became carpet in some places, and he spied a few rooms. The area was decked out with flora, a few looking a bit dried out, and little bits and bobs and artworks that fit Rose’s personality perfectly, including the shaggy, hot pink rug he was currently standing on. 

She tossed her keys into the bowl she had in her mini-foyer and joined him with a little shoulder nudge, silently asking for a penny for his thoughts.

“Nice place,” the Doctor murmured, unsure of what else to say and going for the default compliment. Blimey, he had only been a human for a handful of hours and he was already struggling with basic social skills and cues and norms. How the bloody hell was he meant to live the rest of his life out as an average man? Simple answer — he couldn’t. The alien in him, he suspected, would always prevail. He already had a creeping feeling that his gob, alongside Donna's sass and sarcasm, was going to get him in mighty amounts of trouble. Sure, it was one thing to insult a queen of a planet you stumbled upon; indirectly offend a native; accidentally harm something sacred, but this was Earth . He could royally fuck up his entire life if he wasn’t careful. Possible job prospects being thrown out the window because he noticed that the employer had an odd nose shape and pointed it out to him; exploding the flat he was renting due to a botched experiment; crashing his car for the same reasons; being seen as the creep on the street or in the workplace because he didn’t second guess anything that came out of his mouth. The Doctor could feel a coil of anxiety curl within him. Nine hundred years of nothing normal, and here he was, about to become just an average Joe.

It was his worst fear, but he had Rose Tyler to guide him through it all, and that gave him an indescribable peace and ease about the whole situation.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “Want a drink? Food?” she asked, making her way into the open kitchen near them and grabbing herself a glass of water. She could tell he was feeling a little bit stressed out; a bit frazzled. She decided this would be a good way to get his mind off of things, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to deny himself some snacks.

“Nah, I’ll be alright,” he said, approaching the half-wall and propping himself against it.

“Not even in the mood for nibbles?” she grinned, making his eyes light up and filling her with pride at her success.

“What kind of nibbles?” he questioned in a low tone.

“Biscuits?”

He beamed. “Yes, please.” She gave a triumphant look, turning to the cupboard behind her and grabbing out the chocolatey ones she had within. Instinctively, his eyes raked over her form, but the moment he realised what he was doing, he stopped, giving himself a mental smack. Naughty, perverted Doctor, he scolded himself! He could already tell that these pesky, human hormones and sex drive would get him into lots of trouble.

That is if Rose wanted him that way.

She spun back around, oblivious to what had happened, and offered the unsheathed tray to him. Unshamefully, he took four biscuits and promptly popped them into his mouth. She gave a giggle, making him grin.

“Not much has changed, huh?” she teased, taking one for herself. “Don’t forget you’ve got rubbish biology, now — diabetes, high cholesterol, hypertension… keep an eye on what you’re eating from now on,” she warned, half-joking and half-serious. 

He swallowed the wet mound of biscuit and chocolate that was in his mouth and gave her a little pout. “Now why did you have to ruin biscuits like that for me?” he whined, prompting her laughter again. He broke out into laughter himself, and together, they cleaned out the plastic tray of biscuits and then a second packet, their unofficial dinner, chatting about mindless, trivial things.

As Rose chucked out the packaging, the Doctor watched in silent terror, feeling the nerves build up in his body as he prepared to ask the question that had been on his mind since they got into the cab. He felt a tremble in his body, his palms sweat up, and his heart race, but he had to ask, especially after all the intimate moments they shared today. His body and heart screamed for it, cried for it. He waited for her to finish.

“Do you want to share a bed tonight?” he suggested quietly. A little fearfully. They had shared a bed before, plenty of times out of necessity during travels. They enjoyed a cuddle on the many couches in the TARDIS together, usually in the library or cinema room. But he wasn’t sure if she was ready to make that step yet. She froze, averting her eyes and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’d prefer not to if that’s alright,” she replied in a mumble, a tinge of shame in her voice.

“Perfectly fine, Rose Tyler,” he assured her in a bright voice, wanting to assure her.

“Could we stay up for a while, though?” she asked, in a hopeful and rushed tone. She didn’t want to make him feel rejected; unwanted. She just needed a bit of space for the night. But she also desperately needed his presence and to spend some time together.

“Always. How about you get into something comfortable?”

“Yeah. I’ll quickly take a shower too - need to get out of all that grime and sweat,” she grinned. “Do you need one too?”

“I’ll have one later.”

“Suit yourself — I’ll be back. Living room is just over there,” she nodded, directing him. He looked and smiled.

“See you in a mo’,” he said, making his way to the space whilst she made her way to her bedroom.

She closed the door behind her with a sigh, a pleased sigh. She had missed this. Missed him. Missed his presence. It nearly brought her to tears how overwhelmingly happy she was to have him back. And although she loved the thought of finally bringing him to bed with her, recalling the way her heart leapt at his timid, shy question, she didn’t want to rush things between them. They were in love. They were reunited after years of loneliness and mourning. But she felt they needed to take their time.

She stripped out of her clothes and socks, tossing them haphazardly into her hamper before approaching her en suite and turning on the shower. She removed her minimal makeup as she waited for the water to heat up, wondering in a small thought if he noticed how much she had changed since they lost each other. A tube of strawberry lip gloss sat on the counter and she smiled at it, thinking that she might start wearing it again. She only wore it on nights out nowadays, but… it felt right to wear it again now he was back. Now that he was home , with her.

She pulled out the pins she had in her hair and stepped into the shower, scrubbing all the sweat and dirt and tears off of her face and body as best as she could with her body wash. She grinned at the smell of her body becoming lavender-y, hoping that it would please him. She washed her hair with her vanilla shampoo and conditioner, knowing that he would love it — it made her smell like cookies. 

After a final rinse over, and an ambitious leg, bikini line and armpit shave (she wanted to be prepared. Who knows what could happen?), she stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, moisturising her skin and slipping into her comfy jimjams. She could save the sexy silk set for another night when they were a bit more settled in and more… comfortable with their new life. If he wanted that with her, of course.

Rose came out to the living room, where the Doctor sat on her couch, blankets covering him and a book in hand. On her flat-screen TV, a video of a fireplace was playing, the noises crackling out of the fancy speakers Pete had bought her a few months ago. There were two steaming mugs of tea on the coffee table, amongst the books, magazines, tissue box and other bits and bobs covering the surface. His eyes immediately jumped to her, taking in her appearance happily. She wore an old tour shirt that was quite large on her — Rocket Baby Dolls. Ah, so Muse stayed with their old name here, he realised. He grimaced internally as he realised he was going to have to reacquaint himself with all of the differences in this universe. It reminded him of that Beatles film, Yesterday , from a couple of years after Rose’s time. Underneath the t-shirt were some pink flannel trousers, and fluffy slippers on her feet. The makeup was wiped clean from her skin and her damp hair was out in loose waves.

He thought her beautiful.

“It’s not the library, but it’ll make do, eh?” he grinned, hopefully. She smiled back at him.

“It’s perfect.” He drew back the blankets in invitation, and she walked over to join him, cuddling against his chest as he pulled the blankets back over them and wrapped an arm around her waist. He subtly inhaled her scent, and internally burst with joy at her lavender and vanilla smells. It was delectable and so Rose. “What are we reading?” she asked, picking up her mug and blowing on the milky surface. She took a sip and grinned — it was made just the way she liked it. She was amazed he still remembered.

“Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,” he answered.

“Sounds good.”

The Doctor narrated the words with a strong voice, initially, using goofy tones and imitations for different characters. He masterfully manipulated the speed of his reading, his volume and his diction to place tension and atmosphere in the right places as Rose listened eagerly, observing the drawings with curious eyes as they appeared. But as time went on, the Doctor changed his voice to a low, quiet, gentle voice, with a little bit of theatricality to maintain interest. At some point, after he’d drunk all his tea, he had started to rub circles and shapes against Rose’s waist with his thumb, and subconsciously, he noticed that some of them were circular Gallifreyan. Upon further analysis, he realised they were words and phrases to do with love. 

He had forgotten he used to do it, having become such a natural and subconscious habit. Rose took notice before, but never said anything because she adored the sensation and intimacy of his touch and was too afraid to lose it.

Speaking of Rose, the Doctor acknowledged that her eyelids were starting to droop as she fought to keep them open. She was resisting sleep, but he knew she needed it, feeling the way her heart rate and breath were slowing and the way her body was relaxing further against him.

Memorising the page number, he shut it gently and set it aside on the armrest, meeting Rose’s quizzical face. “You need to rest — you’re on the verge of dozing off,” he teased with a small smile.

She gave a small groan of embarrassment and slipped away from his embrace. “You’re right, but I was really enjoying that,” she sighed.

“We have the rest of our lives to read before bedtime,” he murmured unconsciously. They caught each other’s gaze after the words fell from his lips, smiling to themselves. They did have the rest of their lives. They had their forever now. “May I walk you to your room?” he asked with a sheepish grin and pink cheeks, scratching the back of his neck. He felt like a schoolboy on his first date, ready to walk his date to the front door.

“Of course,” she hummed, stretching out her limbs. “Bad news though — it’s short and not scenic in the slightest,” she grinned teasingly, making him chortle. 

On the TARDIS, the pair had a tradition of the Doctor walking Rose to her room at ‘bedtime’. It was, one, convenient and logical as they often hung out after their travels, and, two, treasured by each of them. The old girl would often change the hallways and route every time. If Rose had been run ragged and exhausted, she would make it short and sweet, and she would also use it if Rose had fallen asleep in the library or during the movie and the Time Lord had to carry her to bed. If they weren’t too tired, she made it nice and long, and changed her usual coral walls into beautiful pictures of landscape and scenery — the solar system; the seaside coast; a sunset, or occasionally, sunrise; rainforests or just a simple forest; a tropical island. Rose would get bored of Earthly images easily, and asked the Doctor to surprise her with something new and unseen. 

The Doctor had fond memories of whispering images and ideas excitedly to the TARDIS in bed at night, projecting his exact vision through their bond as she hummed pleasedly, and he had even fonder memories of watching her face light up with delight at the sight of the universe’s wonders splattered across the hallways and beneath their feet. 

As time went on, they grew more detailed and vivid, adding sound effects, weather simulation and lighting changes. Rose, being a Londoner, always enjoyed the feeling of her skin soaking artificial sunlight, and the Doctor thought she was beautiful bathed in it, her skin honeyed and glowing.

He found himself revisiting those simulations and memories on the more lonelier nights after losing her, and he now yearned for their TARDIS to grow quickly so they could do it again.

“Oh, that’s quite alright,” he assured her. “I just missed walking you to your room,” he admitted without consideration, pinkening when he processed what he had said. She took his hand and squeezed.

“I did too,” she whispered back. “Shall we?”

They stood up, still hand in hand, and made their way out of the living room. The bits of art on the walls and occasional pot plant didn’t compare to the picturesque views the TARDIS had ever conjured, but the Doctor was brimming with joy and tranquillity at their brief movement. They murmured about a few trivial things, as they always did in the past, but as Rose had warned, the bedroom was far too close to the living room for the Doctor’s preference. 

They lingered at the doorway, Rose giving him the opportunity to see her room. Much like her makeup, her room had changed so much since they lost each other, her maturity defining her into a proper adult. The carpet was white, the walls a cream with an accent wall that was a rich, berry colour. He grinned at the slither of the Rose he once knew. Her bedding was floral and subtly pink with a few elements. Her furniture was a rich oak, and the metal accents in things like lamps and handles were gold. There were a few select pieces of art on the walls, outnumbered by pictures of friends and family. She wasn’t as messy as she had been when she was younger, although he spied a loitering jumper hung over a chair, a pair of sneakers abandoned near her built-in wardrobe, an overflowing bin in the corner and items scattered around any available surface. Speaking of her wardrobe, it still looked as bright and disorganised as ever, just with a few more fancy items shoved in there now. 

“I like it,” he murmured, taking one more look before returning his gaze to her with a small, warm smile. It was one of her favourite kinds of smiles from him. Toothless, but lifted his cheeks and crinkled his eyes in a very adorable way, and made him look so boyish as it rendered her a melting pool of lovey-dovey goo. “I shall leave you to rest, Rose Tyler,” he declared theatrically with a bow and a gesture to her bed. She giggled, slinking inside.

“What are you going to get up to?”

“ Well , a shower is on the agenda for sure… Then, I ought to clean out the pockets of my suit — gods know what’s in there. And… I dunno. I’ll think of something before I doze off,” he mused, scratching his sideburns thoughtfully. She also was quite enamoured by this look, appearing both smart and so bloody sexy that it was, frankly, illegal in her eyes.

“No TARDIS… Just don’t destroy my flat within eight hours, ‘kay?” she warned, raising a brow.

“Eight hours? I’d do it in one ,” he winked, making her laugh whilst she silently swooned. God, was she always this giddy and so lovesick, she wondered? Had he always had such an effect on her?

Upon a brief reflection, she affirmed that it was true.

“Your bedroom is the one to the right of the living room. There’s spare toiletries, a spare towel. Fresh bedding. Everything you need,” she said, trying to move along from that brief moment of brain malfunction. “Goodnight, Doctor,” she said.

“Goodnight, Rose,” he smiled. After a moment, he leaned in and planted a kiss on her cheek, before making his way back down the hall, presumably off to the bathroom. She blushed, biting her lip as she grinned, before shutting the door.

She could get used to having him around like this, and she couldn’t wait to.

---

The Doctor was lying in bed, fiddling with a thingymabob he had found tucked away in the deep pockets of the trousers he had been wearing from the TARDIS. It seemed that he retained partially a shorter sleep cycle in his Time Lord genetics, although he was feeling a bit drowsy earlier than he usually did. 

The room Rose had put him in for the night was nice enough. It was extremely plain — white walls, furniture and sheets; light grey carpeting and curtains; a basic painting of a flower on the wall — the only decor in the room; one bedside table with a lamp and a box of tissues; an armchair. On said armchair, his suit jacket and pants were currently draped over them, and his Chucks were neatly tucked away underneath it, socks stuffed inside. He was left in his t-shirt and boxer shorts. This room didn’t feel like Rose at all, save for the artwork, and he guessed this was just a guest room herself or Pete had dressed up for visitors until she found another purpose for it. He felt an odd irking of jealousy as he considered that fact. Who had been staying in her home, he wondered? He mentally swatted away those thoughts, a little appalled. Rose didn’t owe him anything — she didn’t have to wait for him; engage in celibacy or a vow of singleness. She had a right to mingle with other people.

Now, he could admit that Time Lords and Gallifreyans were possessive people by nature, especially when it came to lovers. But as his society became more about arranged marriages and politics instead of true love and intimacy, that natural instinct had dwindled away; had been bred out. Rose Tyler reignited that within him. He had always been possessive of her, no matter how much he tried to kill those desires within him. But now… Well, humans can be far worse with possessiveness when compared against his race. It seemed that the Donna within him was now amplifying his possessiveness over Rose Tyler, and he gave a little shiver. 

He would have to work on that if he wanted to have a healthy relationship with her.

Suddenly, a scream cut through the home. He immediately dropped the item he had been playing with, eyes wide with worry and panic and fear.

“ROSE!” he called out, dashing from his bed to her bedroom down the hall, slamming her door open to find her sitting in a ball on her bed, body shaking with sobs. His panic subsided, and he softened, brow furrowing and mouth frowning in empathy. She had had a nightmare — he knew one when he saw one. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he murmured, carefully approaching her. He joined her on the bed, wrapping an arm around her and pressing a kiss to her head as she burrowed herself against him, still shaking and crying. “I’ve got you, love…” he promised, sneaking another kiss against her. “I’ve always got you.”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered out, clutching onto the maroon t-shirt that was now damp with tears. “I’m sorry.”

He furrowed his brow, pulling back to search for her face. She glanced up at him, her face wet, eyes red, skin flushed, lip trembling. “Hey, what are you apologising for, you silly girl?” he crooned, cradling her face with his hands.

“For waking you up… scaring you,” she elaborated with a shaky voice, sniffling and wiping her face with her hands.

“I wasn’t asleep. And yes, you did scare me, but you aren’t in danger and that’s all that mattered to me when I heard you scream,” he explained, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. 

“I should’ve warned you about the nightmares… I just thought that they would stop now that you’re here,” she confessed. His singular heart clenched with honour and love. 

“Nightmares and I are old friends, Rose Tyler,” he countered in a low voice. He continued to stroke her face as they sat in silence, the tension in the air dwindling. “How long have you been having yours for?” he asked in a murmur after a moment.

“Since Torchwood,” she admitted in a whisper. “It’s just a repeat of that day over and over again. Sometimes they’re worse, sometimes they’re not so bad…” she told him, fiddling with her bed sheets distractedly. The half-Time Lord gazed into her eyes, sensing she wasn’t telling him everything.

“And what about just then?” he questioned in a gentle voice. He didn’t want to force the answer out of her. He didn’t want to demand it. He only wanted that knowledge if she was willing to share it.

She tensed up, clutching the bed sheets and averting her eyes. Underneath his hands, he could feel each muscle in her face seize up, go rock solid. He could feel her veins and nerves twitch with anxiety.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he assured her quietly.

“It was that parallel universe… where you died,” she informed him, face grave. 

He took one of her hands, guiding it to his chest and placing it above his heart, which sat in his chest, beating away. She gathered the courage to look at him then.

“I’m very much alive, Rose. And I’m not going anywhere,” he promised her. She stared at him for a moment, and then, as though he were dreaming, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, capturing his small gasp of surprise and relief. 

Their kiss on the beach was one thing — it had been full of passion and love and urgency and tension that had built up between them since that one night in Henrick’s, like an explosion, fireworks going off, a volcanic eruption, a supernova, the end of the world. The way that her lips launched onto his had relieved a desperation and a need that had settled deep in his soul since… well, since the moment he had met her. That sensation had worsened when he lost her, and gotten more agonising when their reunion on the street had been disrupted. Instead of snogging the absolute life out of her and wrapping her body all around his, he had to watch her cry and sob and beg that he didn’t regenerate, her words of, “I came all this way” absolutely breaking his hearts. He felt as though he had disappointed her and it killed him; made him feel that he deserved to regenerate for hurting his precious girl that way. The kiss on the beach was an accumulation of ‘finally’ , too concerned with the fact that they were at last kissing to even make it somewhat pleasurable; content with pressing their lips against each other and trying to get as close as they could together in a hug. 

But this kiss… it was tender. It was love . There was no desperation in this one. There was peace, calmness, and a sense of ‘we have all the time in the world.’ The Doctor couldn’t help but sigh in satisfaction against her lips, easing his remaining hand away from her cheek to hold the back of her head. There wasn’t so much urgency in this kiss; their second one. There were no emotions of confusion or betrayal or heartbreak; no time limit set by the TARDIS and the wall of their worlds; no dilemmas or choices. It was just the Doctor and Rose in bed, kissing because they were a couple, kissing because the Doctor had just promised her he wasn’t leaving her ever (the same promise she had made to him years ago), and kissing her because she had a horrible nightmare about him dying in some distant world and he wanted to comfort her. This kiss wasn’t feverish or desperate. They were taking their time, allowing it to transition from a simple pressing of lips together to the gentle caress of his tongue on her upper lip, to the invitation of his tongue into her mouth, to the tightening of grips on each other, to the changing of where their hands rested on each other’s bodies, to the increase of proximity to feel their bodies pressed together, to the undeniable arousal and sexual tension that was beginning to form as the Doctor eased Rose onto her back, his kisses still strong and powerful.

Rose broke the kiss, and being lost in the beautiful, wonderful intimacy that was growing between them, the Doctor moved his lips to latch onto her neck, jaw and shoulder, alternating between sweet, featherlight kisses and gentle nips. Rose gasped lightly as he nipped at her pulse point, the Doctor savouring the sound, the way her body arched up into his and the smell of her pheromones and arousal wafting into his nose. He gave a small growl that settled at the back of his throat when he inhaled the scent, so primal and full of need and love for her, and only her. She shuddered at the sound.

“Doctor,” she murmured, receiving a small noise of satisfaction in return as his hand began to travel down her side and cup her thigh. “Oh, god , Doctor… I hate to say it… but we need to stop,” she managed to breathe out into his ear. 

He immediately ceased his touches and movements, sitting up and gazing down at her with worry in his eyes and panic thrumming away in his single heart. Blimey , how did humans cope with just one heart? He felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

She saw the terror in his gaze, and gave a soft smile, rubbing his forearms gently. “Hey — it’s okay. That was nice. We just… we need to talk, yeah?” she assured him. 

Quite literally, all of his worries woodshed out of him as he slumped, the tension gone and out of his body. She tugged at him to lie down beside her, to which he did. He opened up his arm in invitation, and she slid into his embrace happily. Each of them were content, with the Doctor drawing patterns and shapes and circular Gallifreyan along her arm as she rested her palm against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder, unable to stop herself from smiling at the feeling of the one heartbeat. The symbol that he would grow old with her and they got to have their forever. He gazed at her neck, fighting back the triumphant smile that urged to twitch onto his face at the sight of her neck red and glistening.

“What do you want to talk about?” he murmured, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

“I just don’t understand,” she whispered in the darkness. “Why couldn’t he say it? Three words, one sentence. I crossed dimensions for him, did so many things to get back to him but he can’t say it, even though he was ready last time.” He slipped his hand around hers, entwining their fingers together.

“He did it on purpose,” he explained quietly. She furrowed her brow, looking up at him.

“What?”

“He refused to say ‘I love you’ because he wanted you to be mad at him, which pushed you to me,” he embellished, averting his gaze as he felt a little ashamed.

“Why would he want that?” she questioned, still confused.

“So you can be happy. He said to you that he could never spend the rest of his life with you, but through me, you can. He wants your happiness, even if he has to suffer for it.”

He felt the courage to look at her again, and frowned at the sight of tears building up in her eyes. “He didn’t even let us choose . How is that making me, either of us, happy ?” she hissed out, unable to quell her emotions.

He sighed. “Because he knew you wouldn’t choose.”

“But that’s not fair ,” she argued, scowling.

“Rose, he loves you so much, and you know that I’m not lying to you. I can show you the memories that prove that if you really want, that is if my telepathy is still around… And although he does, he knows that you would be better off with me. He would have to watch you die. He would never get to share some of life’s greatest joys with you. And he knows that if you stayed with him, he would be taking you away from your family, the life you built without him. He would be bringing you back to a life of danger. Me ? I’m malleable. I’m a new man with one life, and I don’t want to live this slow path life if it isn’t with you, Rose,” he declared.

Rose blinked through some tears, feeling intense emotions roll through her. “Are you happy, with what he decided for us?”

“I would follow you to the ends of the universe, Rose. Anywhere you go, I want to be with you,” he whispered. 

She gazed into his eyes for a moment, then pressed a kiss against the hollow of his throat, making his heart jump and his body shiver all over. A shaky, choked gasp escaped him as she began to trail kisses along what she had access of his chest, giving small nips on his collarbones and clavicles as she made a journey up his neck, on his jawline, to his lips. She kissed him deeply, swallowing the deep, breathy moan that she drew out of him and pressing her tongue lightly against his upper lip, to which she was immediately brought in his mouth. 

He nudged her to lie on top of him, and his hands naturally went to wrap around her waist, clutching at different parts of her torso as their kiss grew in heat and intensity. She slid one of her hands into his hair and kept her other hand pressed against his chest, relishing in how fast and how hard his heart was pounding away. His one heart. The heart that guaranteed she had him for life. She clutched his locks as their tongues acquainted themselves, prompting another devastating moan from his lips, and rocked against his hips in response. It was small, experimental, but she knew she had done the right thing when he whimpered and reciprocated. Without thought, one of his hands slipped down to her bum and squeezed, making her mewl. 

Within seconds, something hot, solid and long was pulsing against her thigh, and he could feel warmth and dampness radiating onto his own. 

This was heading to a clear outcome, and he needed to know what they were getting into if they were gonna finally end this long-winded suffering and pining between them.

He pulled back from their kiss, panting heavily and staring into her eyes with lust-hazed eyes and droopy eyelids, his chocolate irises rich and dark with desire. Her hazel eyes had a glow to them in the dark from her own arousal, her pupils big and round, and he felt a ghost from the past in this room.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, quietly and breathily.

“Yes,” she declared.

“Do you want to make love with me, or with him?” he questioned, insecurity creeping out and unable to be pushed away.

“I already answered that.” He furrowed his brow in confusion. “You’re the same person, Doctor.”

“Oh. I thought… I thought you didn’t see it like that,” he murmured with a tone of embarrassment and shame.

“How couldn’t I?” she whispered, before pressing her lips against his once more and yanking him down into the rabbit hole. 

The Doctor pulled back from the kiss once more, huffing. “Wait — we’re… we’re genetically compatible now,” he reminded her. “I could get you pregnant.”

“I’m on the pill,” she quickly answered, capturing what could only be described as a whimper escaping from his lips with a kiss. Gods. Blimey. He was going to be inside of her… with no barrier. He was going to feel all the wetness and warmth and tightness…

“Oh, fuck ,” he mewled, pressing his lips against hers firmly, and eagerly taking her tongue into his mouth as he freely and unashamedly started to map out her body with his hands. She let her body take full control, pressing up against him and grinding against his thigh, looping her leg around his calve to bring him nice and close. One of her hands settled on the nape of his neck, entwining her fingers in his locks as she scraped his scalp and clenched as he gently nipped her lip, pulling a devastated moan from his lips. Feeling bold, she moved her hand through the slightly damp roots and continued to tug and clench, feeling pride seep through her as he started to whine and groan without any restraint, his aural expressions of arousal driving her mad. She scratched down his scalp, and squeaked at the sudden thrust against her, moaning at the sensation of his erection pressing against her. 

He suddenly pulled back again, making her whimper from the loss. He gazed down at her with fire and pure, fucking passion and I-wanna-fuck-you-so-bad eyes, breathing heavily. “If you keep teasing me like that, this is going to end far quicker than I’d like it to,” he warned her.

She grinned at him saucily. “But I love how you respond.”

He quirked a brow at her. “Up for a challenge?”

“Always,” she said in a low tone.

Immediately, his hands went to the hem of her shirt, taking a brief moment to receive silent consent before pushing it up her stomach and over her head. His breath hitched as he drank in the sight of her bare torso, and Rose could feel her wetness intensify at the way he was looking at her.

“Gorgeous,” he declared in a husky whisper. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured, diving down without hesitation to bring a nipple into his mouth, savouring her gasp and arch as he sucked and teased the sensitive peak. He brought his hand to its twin, tweaking and massaging it with his fingers, circling his thumb around the top as it started to harden. She gave a whine and started to wriggle beneath him, making him grin proudly. He pulled back and swapped, determined to give equal treatment to the beautiful, brilliantly created tissue before him. She continued to move and vocalise, strengthening the Doctor’s ego. He relinquished the breasts once he was satisfied, sitting up and gazing down at his beloved with a knowing smirk as she panted.

“ Doctor ,” she whined.

“ Rose ,” he crooned back in a mocking voice, leaning down to kiss her. As they kissed for a few moments, he cupped one of her breasts and squeezed gently, committing the feeling to memory. Gods, she was one of the finest creatures, no the finest creature, he ever had the privilege of touching, let alone being loved by. 

“Please,” she whispered against his lips. “I need you so badly,” she begged. He began to trail kisses down her neck.

“Mmm… good things come to those who are patient, love,” he promised, now inching down her sternum. “Such as… what I’m about to do to you.” Rose furrowed her brow, but then she felt him tuck his thumbs into the elastic of her trousers and knickers, and a flood of arousal rushed through her.

Oh my God. Was he? He always did have a thing for tasting…

He dragged the fabric over her legs and tossed it behind him in a bundle, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before him. A few tears reached his eyes, and Rose noticed, becoming worried.

“Sweetheart?” he snapped out of it at the use of the epithet. Rose’s first one with him. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” he promised with a shaky sigh. “I’m just— I just realised how lucky I am,” he confessed in a whisper, pressing a kiss to the side of her knee. She sat up and ushered him into an embrace, feeling her own tears build.

“I’m lucky too,” she murmured in the same volume. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head before pulling back, once more cherishing her nude form.

“You really are so beautiful, love,” he declared, running a hand down her side. “Care to keep going?”

“I want to undress you first — I think you’ve got too many layers on,” she smirked.

“No complaints here,” he grinned. She eased the t-shirt up his chest, helped by the lifting of his arms, and treasured his hairy, bare chest with a delighted smile and a twinkle in her eyes. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the spot where his heart was, which thumped away rapidly, and then, she pressed a kiss where his second heart would’ve been, gazing up at him. 

She dragged her hands down his sides, tucking her thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, starting to tug them down. His erection sprang free, jutting out proudly and eagerly. She surveyed it as the Doctor wiggled his underwear off, watching with observation and curiosity as it bobbed from the movement. He noticed her entrancement.

“As much as I appreciate you ogling my cock, I’d be much more interested in becoming acquainted with your cunt,” he growled sensually into her ear, gently pushing her down onto the bed. His filthy words and assertion in the bedroom turned her on even further, feeling a new wave of wetness course through her. He nuzzled her temple, looking down at her. “Not too rude?” he murmured, checking in to make sure she felt comfortable.

She gave a sheepish grin. “That was pretty sexy, actually,” she admitted. 

He pecked her lips. “Good.”

And there he was again, travelling down to between her thighs. He spread open her legs, his pupils dilating as he bore witness to her. She blushed a little, feeling sheepish and (metaphorically) naked before him; underneath his passionated gaze. He flicked his eyes back up to her.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he declared, inching closer to her warmth and wetness, making her heart race like a rabbit. Gently, he drew a finger down her slit, making her gasp as her back arched, gathering the slickness onto his fingertip. His breath became ragged, and he popped the digit into his mouth, moaning softly as his eyes fluttered closed. She whimpered at the sight and held his gaze when he opened his eyes. “Your taste is delectable ,” he growled quietly, no longer in the mood for drawing things out, and spread her labia with his index and ring finger, latching his lips onto her erect, throbbing clit.

She cried out, nails digging into her bedsheets.

“ Yes ,” he purred against her, the vibrations going straight into her sensitive nerves and making her squeak, “I want to hear you, Rose. I want to you shout; scream. I want you to feel the most pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life and know that it was me who brought you to it,” he promulgated quietly in a possessive tone, swiping his tongue through her folds and listening with keen ears as she made devastated noises, feeling himself twitch against the manchester beneath him. 

He wanted more, and so did she.

He kept her spread, lapping away and suckling and absolutely feasting on her, drinking in her wetness with appreciative, wanton moans and noises. He teased her clit, alternating between direct stimulation and light attention — tracing the tip of his tongue just around the erect, swollen nub; blowing a gentle stream of air onto it; flicking his tongue with the barest graze on it. But at times he couldn’t help himself, desperate to feel her pulse and arousal — evidence she wanted him so badly — and engulfed his mouth around her, making her cry out loudly. At some point, her hands became attached to his head, fingers deeply buried in his thick locks and clenching as he nudged her further and further to climax, scratching her nails along his scalp. He knew how to tease and provoke her, to the point she was practically shoving his face further against her heat, rocking against his mouth and pleading in desperate, needy tones and whimpers of, “ Please , Doctor. Please . I need it so bad,” in a breathy, little falsetto voice that had him trembling and fighting away his own completion. 

He had fantasised about this countless times, despite the academy training that had been drilled in his head and the shame that his culture imbedded in their people regarding physical desire. Such primitivity was sex, Gallifrey had decided. What disgusting and depraved behaviours. You had an occasional person who gave in to desire and temptation, and they were promptly shunned and humiliated; made an example of. But with his planet long gone, and often faced with long, lonely nights whilst Rose slept on the TARDIS, he had found himself starting to give into his wandering imagination and salacious needs in the privacy and darkness of his room. It started in his first body, and gods, he could remember the immense embarassment and mortification he felt, convinced that Rose knew of his transgressions; that she had heard as he hushedly moaned and whimpered out her name in the night as he spilled over his hand. But in this body, he had become cockier and more confident, and he didn’t feel so much self-loathing when it came to self-pleasure. He had never been more thankful for sound-proofing in his room when his quiet, grumbled noises became loud cries and devastated whimpers and moans, desperate to get his Rose’s name on his lips as he begged to an imaginary her to please give him what he needed.

Now, she was beneath him, desperate and pleading, and it was better than anything his wide, expansive, clever mind had ever cooked up in his moments of lost self-control. No, she was a siren; an angel. She had him curled tightly around her finger and beckoning to her every call. She had him, he had her. She was glorious in this way; in the throes of passion, and he knew he would never tire of bringing her to this state in their life together.

“Can I put my fingers inside of you?” he panted out heavily, pressing kisses along her thighs and mons. “ Please ?” It was his turn to beg, now. Years of fantasies and pining had brought him here. He needed to feel her, and he needed to see her fall.

“Yes,” she whimpered. He nodded, releasing his fingers from her labia, now gliding them through her folds to gather some lubrication. He positioned one of his digits at her entrance, and after looking in her eyes for a brief moment of confirmation, he slid it inside of her. 

She gave a gasp as he groaned, overwhelmed by the feel of her. He shuddered to think at what this would feel like around him, silky, warm, smooth, wet, hot and textured. He slowly eased it out of her partially, then thrust back in, indulging in her quiet, vibratoed moan and the way she clenched around his finger. He continued to move it inside of her at an intimate pace, his gaze entirely fixed on her flushed, gleaming face, his mouth popping open as her brow furrowed in arousal, biting her lip. He lowered his face back down, placing gentle, featherlight kisses on her clit and feeling pride at her hisses of pleasure. 

He added a second finger, thrusting faster and deeper, and suckled on her bud briefly before lifting up his head and moving closer to her, his breath panting against her neck.

“How does it feel?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“So good,” she whimpered. “Please — I want more of you.” He took this as initiative to go further, curling his fingers inside of her on his upward thrusts and savouring her little, devastated moans. “I want— Oh , I want—”

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he hummed into her ear, his palm now hitting her clit as he fingered her powerfully. “Do you need to come, love?” he questioned with a tender voice, wrapped up in the moment.

“I need to come with you ,” she corrected, gasping. “Please. I want you inside of me.” He could never deny her such a thing.

He took no time to ease his fingers out of her, taking only a momentary pause to suck the fluids off of his digits before moving with Rose into position. Her legs were spread, waiting to cradle his slim hips. His erection brushed against her thigh, making her shudder and his member twitch, and he lined himself up with her entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asked in a gentle, yet determined voice. 

“Yes,” she promised, taking his free hand into hers and entwining their fingers.

“I might not last long,” he warned her, a little bit insecure and anxious. He didn’t want to disappoint her — he wanted her to know about the possibilities. “New body, and I’ll be a lot more sensitive as a human…”

“I don’t care — I just want us to make love,” she said, staring deep into his eyes with fire and awe in hers. He felt his eyes glaze slightly at her words, his singular heart singing with every word and phrase associated with love in every language, pulsing and clenching with so much honour and love for his precious girl. She wanted this as much as he did, had yearned for it just as strongly. They wanted to be unified in this way.

“I love you, Rose Tyler,” he whispered, in his mother tongue, coming so naturally and without thought. Her own heart sang as the lyrical, cadenced, intricate, vibrating, smooth words and syllables drifted into her ears, sounding so sweet and powerful and intimate and textured. She felt a few tears reach her eyes — she didn’t need to ask what language he’d just spoken to her. She could tell what it was from the way his eyes swirled with so much emotion; so much sincerity and serenity. He had spoken in Gallifreyan. He had blessed her with such an honour of hearing his near-extinct language; to get a taste of his culture and the nuances and niches that composed it. 

“I love you too,” she smiled waterly at him. He felt his breath hitch at her response and his own tears build. Somehow, somehow , his precious, clever, brilliant girl knew what he had said to her. Whether it be a guess, a sense within herself, or just the first reply that came to her head, he felt so much tremendous love that his Rose had communicated with him after he spoke to her in Gallifreyan, even though not a drop of his people’s language came from her lips. Perhaps he’d teach her one day.

With that, he thrust inside of her, moaning in harmonisation with her as he filled her to the brim. They panted against each other’s necks, pressing small, gentle kisses on what they had access to. He vibrated, overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of her. Gods, she felt like everything and brought him so much satisfaction and pleasure and love. The Doctor waited patiently for her cue, even though he throbbed so intensely inside of her, desperate to make love to her and make her come so hard, and when she wiggled her hips, he started to move.

They moved in sync with each other, Rose only needing a few thrusts of his hips to start to reciprocate with the rolling of her hips. That pulled a ruined moan from his lips, overwhelmed by the sensation of her pushing herself over him, then taking him back. Her legs wrapped around his hips, feet digging into the top of his bum, forcing him deeper inside of her body. He slid a hand beneath her back, encouraging her to lift her hips a little with a nudge, changing the angle and driving him in further, reaching the spot nestled in the back of her. She cried out, head thrown back, and he growled at the sight, peppering kisses down her flushed, sweat-shined chest, nipping the side of her breasts and sucking hickies on her neck.

“That’s it, love… Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he proclaimed in a murmur, gazing at her reddened neck with pride. She gazed up at him through fluttering eyelashes, taking in his passioned face; the way his face was furrowed and screwed in pleasure.

“You’re gorgeous,” she whispered, nipping his earlobe. He whimpered, thrusting harder and faster. He snuck a hand between their bodies, rubbing side-to-side on her clit and watching as she mewled at his touch. She gave a whine, pressing up into his hand, begging for me.

“You’re so close… I want you to come,” he pleaded. She clenched his member, silently asking him to fall with her. He gave a moan, pressing and thrusting more; as much as he could. “Come on, Rose. Come for me,” he asked, gazing at her as best as he could through his dazy eyes. They locked gaze, and after a few moments, Rose squeezed him tightly and cried out as she came. He caught her for a brief couple of seconds before his own orgasm rushed upon him, thrusting erratically and in shallow, small movements.

Before he could collapse, she pulled him down to lie on top of her, the both of them humming happily as they pressed kisses on to each other’s skin, locked in embrace. The only sounds filling the room was their heavy breathing, and their lips making contact with flesh. After a beat, he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her gently as he eased himself out of her body, a little reluctant to do so. He spotted a towel tossed over her chair, and quickly left the bed to grab it before returning back to his beloved, who laid sated and relaxed in her bed. 

Tenderly, he cleaned her of their fluids as they started to seep out, being as precise as he could be before tossing the towel into her hamper. He pulled her into a cuddle, greeting her with a smile and a kiss.

“That was…” she began, lost for words.

“Yeah,” he agreed, giggling and pecking her lips. She laughed too before cradling his face with one of her hands, looking at him with bright, longing eyes.

“I didn’t lie to you all those years ago. Being stuck with you isn’t so bad,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his Adam’s apple.

“I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he admitted in a mumble, kissing her temple. She glanced up at him again.

“We’ll make this life work for us,” she promised.

“We always do,” he replied, running his hand up and down her side. He kissed her again, unable to stop himself from doing it now that he could whenever he liked. She grinned into the kiss, making him do the same, and they got under the covers, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

They were stuck together forever, and they were content.

Notes:

Dedicated to ThirdEyeBlue, who is... how can I put it into words? Well, one of, if not *the* best fanfiction writers in the Doctor Who fandom (at least to me). They are such a wonderful person, and after getting a lovely surprise gift from them a few weeks back, I couldn't help myself but gift them back this WIP that's been sitting in my drafts for a few months. If you've not read any of their work, please give them a go - especially if you're a massive TenRose shipper like myself. Their way with words is utterly mesmerising!

Also, little milestone moment - this is my longest one-shot! I'm kinda amazed at how much I wrote, and when I first started this months ago (little behind-the-scenes fact here - first thing I wrote for this, and what remained to be the only thing I wrote for this until I got inspired, was:

“I just don’t understand,” she whispered in the darkness. “Why couldn’t he say it? Three words, one sentence. I crossed dimensions for him, did so many things to get back to him but he can’t say it, even though he was ready last time.”

“He did it on purpose.”

“What?”

“He refused to say ‘I love you’ because he wanted you to be mad at him, which pushed you to me.")

I honestly didn't expect it to become so long and so detailed. Quite proud, if I don't mind saying!

I hope you all enjoyed! Thank you for the love, support, and reading <3