This story originated from a discussion with pir8grl about a scene in her lovely Nine x Rose AU fic, Show Me Your Moves (on AO3 and Teaspoon), where the Doctor is dancing and singing to one of his babies, who is snuggled in a baby carrier against his chest. My ovaries completely exploded and I couldn't get the image of Tentoo doing something similar out of my head…

But it turned into something larger than I had expected… so please enjoy 10 mini-chapters of this story. And PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS AND TAGS! I tried to hit all of them that might apply, but please let me know if I missed any that you think should be there!

WARNING: Baby-fic; Postpartum challenges and mild depression; Breast-feeding

Tags: Baby-fic; Postpartum depression; Postpartum challenges; postpartum body changes; Body image; Breast feeding; Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Strong language; Discussion of sex

Part of my These Two Hearts Series

Title based on the lyrics from Can't Help Falling in Love, by Elvis Presley, 1961. ( watch?v=vGJTaP6anOU )

UNBETAed – mistakes are all mine!

In chapter 1, the Doctor arrives home to chaos and a very frustrated Rose.Chapter WARNINGS: this chapter contains scenes of difficult breast feeding, anxiety, and frustrated baby and parents, and the resultant strong language that goes along with those issues.

Chapter 1

"Don't touch me!"

The Doctor's hand snapped back as though he'd been shocked. "Rose…"

"I… I… I jus' need some space."

"Alright… Rose…" he stammered, fishing for a different approach, something positive that didn't necessarily involve touching her. His eyes roved over the chaos that was the kitchen. Perfect! "Blimey! It looks like something exploded in here! Count me impressed! I mean a disaster like this… weeell, that… now that takes some doing, and I should know! I am the expert when it comes to this sort of thing. But clearly, you've done me one better… Brilliant!" He flashed her a proud, toothy grin.

She glared at him through narrowed eyes, lips pursed, hands buried in a sink full of pots that had been accumulating for days.

The grin slipped from his face. Not good. Perhaps not the sort of thing she wanted to hear. He ruffled the hair at the back of his head and reached out to soothe her through their bond. He was met with an impenetrable mental wall, and backed away, eyes wary. "I'll just leave you to it then, yeah? I'll just go and check on Hope, shall I?"

"Don't you dare wake 'er! You got that? Don't you dare…!"

His hands flew up in surrender. "You have my word. No waking the baby. Scout's Honour!" He retreated from the room backwards, nearly tripping over the laundry basket that sat on the floor. "Oi! Not a wise place to leave this, Rose. Someone could get hurt." Frustrated, he shoved the basket to the side with his foot, glancing up at Rose's rigid form before he whirled away. "Sorry… so sorry. Right! I'm off." Loosening his tie, he fled through the dining room and living room (both in a complete shambles he noted) before leaping up the stairs two at a time.

He tiptoed past the nursery and into the master bedroom to change his clothes. Rose always seemed to like when he wore his jeans… yeah, the jeans and that hoodie that she had given him at Christmas.

He had just taken off his trousers and jacket when he heard Hope's whimper. "Oh, no, no! Shhhhh, sweetheart," he whispered, dashing to the nursery doorway wearing only his shirt and pants. "Mummy is not going to be happy that you're awake, love. And you know who she'll blame, don't you? Your poor, innocent, ol' Dad, that's who!" He stole up to the cot and couldn't suppress his smile of awe as his eyes met the misty-grey, newborn eyes of his daughter. "Back to sleep now, Hope." As he stroked the wild tuft of buoyant, brown hair, and pressed a kiss to her tiny forehead, he felt Hope's artless presence brush his mind. He let his love for her resonate along their connection.

Hope closed her eyes and he turned away, easing from their mental link as he padded back toward the hallway. He had only taken two steps when she began to wail in earnest. In seconds he was by the cot again, sweeping the infant into his arms. Hunger and indignation rushed into his mind with force as the little girl bombarded him with images of Rose… Rose's breasts to be specific… (now that was a lovely sight!) "Keep it together, Doctor," he chided himself, "if you ever want to see those breasts again in real life." He shushed the infant urgently, rocking her to no avail.

Rose appeared at the doorway, fuming. The Doctor looked helplessly into her furious face. "I… I didn't do anything, Rose! I promise!" His gaze was drawn down to her swollen chest where wetness seeped through the fabric of her T-shirt. "You… you're leaking, Rose."

"I'm always fuckin' leakin'!"

"Oi! Swear jar!"

The baby wailed louder, her insistent hunger crashing through the Doctor's brain.

"Fuckin' swear jar is fuckin' full!"

"Oh…"

"Well, give 'er to me, then!" Rose plunked herself down in the squishy rocking chair that sat in the corner of the room. Pulling up the soaking t-shirt, she undid the nursing bra, removing it completely. "More laundry!" she grumbled, abandoning it to the floor.

"Oh…"

Hope's cross, little face was beet red now, and she was gagging on her cries.

"Hurry! Give her to me!"

The Doctor stuttered something that was unintelligible even in his own mind, and passed Hope to her Mum's outstretched arms. He watched as Rose positioned the baby across her body, and allowed wonder to suffuse his face when the squirming little creature's lips suckled on the offered nipple, her little fists coming up to knead Rose's engorged breast.

There was tranquility for a brief few seconds, before he heard a strange gurgle and Hope sputtered milk everywhere.

Her howls of hunger began anew.

"What happened, Rose?"

"I dunno. I'm so useless. It's been 'appening all day. My milk is finally in but now I'm so full," she gestured to her breasts with a free hand, as she moved the distraught baby up to her shoulder with the other, "that she can't get a proper latch, an' then the milk comes shooting out into 'er mouth so fast that she starts to choke. And it bloody hurts to be like this. God, what am I doin' wrong? Why am I so useless? I can't even do this right, the most natural thing in the world!" She screwed her eyes shut in frustration.

The Doctor knelt beside her, stroking her hair. He sent all his love through their bond, and this time she opened to him, allowing his presence, inviting his attempts at comfort. After a minute, Rose had calmed somewhat, and Hope's cries had faded to whimpers.

"She's not getting' enough to eat," Rose murmured. "She'll starve to death!"

"She'll do nothing of the kind. We'll sort this, Rose."

"How?"

"Well, if your breasts are too full, can you not empty them a little first? The milk has no problem flowing, yeah. How about you squeeze a little more out first, love."

She nodded her head frantically. "Yeah, alright. Where?"

"Pass her to me. She'll be all right for a few minutes. There we go. Right, now take off your shirt. It's already soaked anyway," he continued in steady, quiet tones, holding Hope against his shoulder, rubbing her back in gentle circles. "And just hold it up against you and…"

"…squeeze." Rose snorted a manic giggle. "Feel like a bloody cow, I do!" She tried to express the milk into the T-shirt. "'S not working!"

The Doctor could feel her panic escalating again, and apparently so could Hope as she resumed her hungry yowls, fear tingeing the ribbons of her thoughts. "Stay calm, love," he told her. "Give it a minute. There now. It's working now, is it?"

Rose's head bobbed in agreement, tears of relief pooling in her eyes. "Her crying actually 'elped let the milk down again, I think."

"Ready to have her back?"

"Yeah, yeah, I am."

Within a minute he was chuckling with pride at both his girls, as he listened to Hope's greedy gulps. "Well, she's certainly not starving now!"

Rose was silent for a moment, and then their eyes met. "I love you," she offered with a sigh.

"Love you too. Both of you. To the end of space and time."