She hadn't been on a mission for Torchwood in months, and truth be told, this was the exact reason why.
She had gotten quite good at avoiding missions like these, even to the point of temporarily resigning until Pete had begged her to return just once, just for today's mission. "Loud party at empty house, Blowfish sighted by neighbor" had sounded simple enough – promise most of that lot they could ride shotgun in the Torchwood Humvee on the way back to Canary Wharf, plus all the Stoli they wanted back at the facility, and they were normally all for it. Blowfish were quite well-known to Torchwood, after all – they loved good times and fast rides and were usually quite easygoing. Which is why it had surprised Rose so much when the Doctor seized her by the waist and dragged her into the nearest cupboard upon first laying eyes on one of the aliens with a large, goldfish-shaped head.
The cupboard that was now locked from the outside, with them still inside of it.
Originally she had thought he did it because ... well, she thought he did it because … damn, she couldn't even admit the thought out loud to herself. It sounded so girlishly silly now, it's not like they'd done anything like that before in the months since he'd been here. Which was as much her fault as his, she supposed. It's not like she'd encouraged him into acting anything other than platonic towards her, or done anything to make him think that perhaps she would fancy a nice surprise snog on an otherwise run-of-the-mill adventure.
Being stuck like this was certainly making her a little too pensive about things she'd prefer not to think about.
She had gotten very good at lying to herself and telling herself that their distance, from each other and from Torchwood, was in order to give them time to become better adjusted to one another, or because she wanted him to become accustomed to his newly-human body first, or to give them a chance to start a brand new life on a brand new foot, without any of the old reminders of who they used to be. The excuses might vary with the day, but the truth, staring her in the face despite the blackness of their surroundings right now, as they stood huddled together inside a far-smaller-than-it-should-be-on-the-inside kitchen cupboard, was quite clear. She was terrified of working with him again, of finding out that he was similar enough to his old self to break her heart, or different enough from his old self to break it worse.
She wasn't sure she could work with him this closely at least, with her chest pressed tightly against his back to keep her balance, and his bum pressed firmly into a portion of her anatomy she'd been spending the past few months doing a very good job trying to ignore, thank you very much. Despite the hesitancy she wanted herself to feel, she inexplicably found herself pressing even tighter against him, wrapping her arms snuggly around his torso, as a stack of canned goods began to teeter precipitously against her elbow.
She tried to lie to herself again, telling herself that she did not just hear his sharp intake of breath as her thumb gently – yet of course accidentally – grazed his abdomen.
For his part, the Doctor was wiggling about slightly inconveniently from Rose's perspective, trying to unlock the door with his newly-built sonic screwdriver. Trying, and apparently not succeeding, based on the minutes (and minutes and minutes) they had been stuck in here. Every time he moved against her it was a struggle to not shiver, to not let her hand tease a little further down his abdomen and – oooh. She couldn't help but close her eyes and bite her lip as he shifted positions once again, pressing against her a little more firmly.
Right then. Enough was enough.
"You know, you don't need to do this right now," Rose breathed, eyes still squeezed shut, her voice not coming out as breathy as she'd feared yet sounding a little more nervous than she meant it to. "There's no hurry. Search & Rescue will be by at some point later tonight, it's standard protocol."
He sighed suddenly, and this time it did not sound like a pleasant sigh.
"I can still do this, you know. I'm still brilliant. I don't need to be rescued from a bloody cupboard, Rose."
Rose opened her eyes in the darkness, startled. "I never said you couldn't – "
"You haven't needed to," he whispered almost sadly, the sonic screwdriver's whirring coming to an abrupt pause, as he turned around to face her in the darkness. Despite the loud, pulsing music still coming from the other room, Rose swore she could hear his breath quicken as he shifted around towards her in the tiny space. She grabbed onto his shoulders for purchase, her balance in the small space now uneasy, their equilibrium wavering dangerously as he shifted his body closer into her own. She found herself clinging to him even more tightly than before, as his arms came up to gently enfold her waist.
"They looked just the same as Valdousi, Rose," he said, softly, leaning his forehead against her own. "I know Torchwood here takes it for granted that all the pesci-form aliens here are fun-loving and harmless, but they could have been Valdousi. They look the same as most other pesci-forms, and are truly an excellent example of interspacial Mertensian-style evolutionary mimicry of other harmless blowfish, in that they release acid to kill their prey. He was standing not two metres from you, Rose, and I just couldn't risk – "
His voice broke off, and Rose thought she must be imagining feeling his arms seem to encircle her waist ever so slightly, holding her more protectively and gripping her into an embrace that was a little tighter. She felt his breath staccato and desperate on her shoulder and knew his lips must be only an inch away from the point on her neck which she'd only even imagined him ever kissing. She was struck by the sudden and almost overpowering urge to snog him then and there, but she quickly shoved that notion aside. He was her friend, and he needed her comfort and support – she couldn't put herself first, he needed to come first.
She bit her lip so that he wouldn't be able to hear her breath catch, willed herself not to shudder, and slowly let go of his torso, intending to comfort him, to stroke his cheek, his hair, his lips ... but as soon as she removed her arms from him she felt his posture change slightly, almost defeated.
"I'm sorry," he said dully. "I'm sorry about all of this. Let's get you out of here."
He whirled around once more and turned his back to her once again, the whirr of the sonic screwdriver indicating that he was intent on opening the door. Just as Rose was about to protest – protest what, she wasn't quite aware of, but she needed to tell him … to tell him that –
Click.
The door unlocked unceremoniously and swung ajar, letting a single beam of light into the closet. The Doctor stepped slightly away from Rose, as if to give her just enough room to leave the cupboard, looking slightly relieved as he twirled the sonic screwdriver in his fingers.
"There, now!" he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, "Right as rain!"
Rose took a small, brave step towards him, and gently took his hand. His eyes flickered questioningly in the dim light, and he swallowed hard, dropping his gaze towards their joined fingers and giving her hand a small squeeze.
"You know," Rose breathed, with a small smile playing across her lips, "you pick the worst times to be brilliant."
His eyes quickly rose to catch hers, and he opened and shut his mouth uselessly a few times, before finally whispering "I thought you didn't …"
"Oh, I don't know," she smiled. "Stuck … in a cupboard ... with you, that's not so bad."
She grabbed the door handle and closed the door firmly behind them, shutting them once again inside. The Doctor let the sonic clatter to the floor along with a few jars of what might be tomato paste as his arms came up once again around her waist, pressing her lips and body tightly into his own and hoisting her up onto the closest shelf.
They stayed in there for another hour, until Search & Rescue finally came knocking on the door, and neither one of them minded a bit.