A/N: This is just a short bit of fluff I wrote for a friend a while ago. I realized while poking through my computer yesterday that I hadn't really posted it online, so here you go.
That tongue was taunting him.
Every time it popped out from behind her beaming smile, it teased him.
Oh, so you're a high and mighty Time Lord, you are? Completely uninterested? I see how you watch me. I see how you stumble, just that one little bit, every time I show up. Magnificent Time Lord brain, but you lose your trains of thought when I appear. All 87 of them.
What would I do if you kissed her, I wonder? Would I be shy, hiding behind her full, pink lips? Would I dance with yours, letting you taste her strawberry lip gloss and the crisp spearmint of her toothpaste?
At that point, all he could think about was how soft Rose's lips always looked, how the faint fruity scent of her lip gloss mixed in with the clean, soft smell of her soap and the floral scent of her shampoo. She always smelled wonderful, his Rose (and there was a Shakespeare quote there, but he was not about to be that cheesy); even when she was covered in sweat and grime from their latest escapade. Well, all right, maybe not wonderful, but there was always an underlying note of Rose, no matter the superficial smells she was covered in.
Of course, by the time he was analyzing (mooning over) her bouquet and imagining snogging the breath out of her, they would have inevitably run into trouble, either metaphorically or literally (it was always a toss-up with the two of them). Generally their adventures were quite wonderfully distracting for him, following a customary outline—find trouble (don't think about snogging Rose), track down whoever or whatever is responsible for said trouble (don't think about how that alcove would be a lovely spot to snog Rose), shout a bit and give "final warning" speech (does Rose like that one? Dammit), and overall just be impressive.
Of course, most of the time Rose was right there being rather impressive herself, so that didn't work out quite the way he planned. Then again, things rarely did, and if he weren't having so much fun plowing right into the chaos with her he'd be rather put out with the universe.
Then he regenerated, and things got a bit bungled up for a while—but he rather liked his new body. Young, trim, buoyant... he wasn't going to think about how he matched Rose rather well, now. Nope. Not thinking about how she fit so perfectly against him when they hugged, which only happened judiciously. Such as when they realized they were in trouble... or when they got out of trouble... or when they decided to look for trouble. Or when they realized there was no trouble (granted, those hugs were far rarer than the others).
And yes, so they really had no concept of personal space, but really, who would want to be stand-offish around Rose Tyler? She was always so lovely and soft and warm, and her hand just happened to fit perfectly in the space between his fingers (complete coincidence, he was sure). She was just... impossible to resist. He blamed the universe.
That tongue was taunting her.
Every time it popped out, testing the chemical make-up of whatever the Doctor found interesting, it teased her.
Not interested, are you? Just friends? Sure. That's why you can't help wondering what else I'm good at, how it would feel to have me run across your skin. Every time this overactive gob starts going, you can't help but wonder what would happen if you silenced him with a kiss, the one guaranteed way to stop this mouth of his.
And how would he respond, do you think? You remember the way he arched into you, when Cassandra had control of your body. Oh, he's definitely still got it. And if all those times you've caught him looking up when you turn around are any indication, he's been looking, too.
At that point, it would be all Rose could do to respond when he spoke. Why yes, Doctor, the view from the balcony here on Philos Delta is amazing. Now turn around again so I can see the best part.
Of course, then he'd point something else out, and her breath would catch as they leaned next to each other. The view really was amazing, the triple sunsets sending rainbow light fragmenting off the clouds. The thought that she might not see something like that again if she was wrong—that maybe she'd misread the situation with her hormone-clouded stupid ape brain, and he wasn't actually looking at her like she was the most precious girl in all the universe—was the only thing that kept her from snagging that tie like she'd wanted to do from the moment he walked into her Mum's flat on Christmas and tugging him down to her lips.
So she held his hand and reveled in his hugs and tried to stop her hopes from rising. She didn't do very well at it—every time his eyes scanned her body after an adventure, pausing just a little too long on her chest, those thoughts would start popping up like a damn Whack-A-Mole game. But she forced them down, taking the hand that fit hers so perfectly (although the last had, too—all calloused palms and thick fingers, making her feel tiny and protected when he held her hand) and smiling up at him knowing that no matter what, he meant more to her than any hopes or dreams that drifted through her mind when she lay in her bed in the deep-purple walls of her bedroom on the TARDIS.
That he'd share his friendship, his thoughts, his life with her—that was more than enough. And just because he happened to have turned out drop-dead gorgeous this time, well, that was just the universe taunting her.
She would swear they were taunting Her.
Oh, no, it doesn't matter that you two are perfect for each other in every way, that she's more your equal than any of the stuffed-shirt Time Lords ever were. Just keep ignoring it, and maybe it'll go away.
If She had eyes, She would've rolled them.
Then again, if She had a body, maybe She could manage to smack some sense into the both of them. The hormones and the longing floating through Her halls (and no matter what the Wolf cub thought, it was definitely coming from both of them) wouldn't just float there uselessly, clogging up Her circuits.
Honestly. If Her Idiot was so worried about all the times She landed them somewhere other than he wanted, maybe he should pay attention to where they landed. It was no coincidence that the last five stops they'd had had ended with her two loves trapped together in a small room. Of course, she wouldn't take them anywhere truly dangerous—the Wolf was still a cub, after all—but She was getting tired of being subtle.
Maybe She should just empty both their wardrobes and be done with it.
Her front doors slammed shut, and Her loves came storming in. Her hum deepened with worry. They weren't afraid to disagree with each other, these two, but they hardly ever had a out-and-out row like this (and row was such an odd term, really—this was more like the storm that was threatening to capsize the boat than anything).
Their tension stung like fried circuits to Her, sparking desperately because the connection had been severed.
Rose had folded her arms and braced herself through the tremors as Her Idiot sent Her into the Vortex. She felt the urge to sigh. They could be so mulishly stubborn, these two. Rose cleared her throat. "I'm off to bed, then."
The Doctor tightened his lips and continued fiddling with the console. If She hadn't thought he'd use it as a distraction, She'd have zapped him. Her console didn't need maintenance right now, thank you very much, and Rose did. She'd never understand how they could walk around like nothing was the matter when there was a whole cocktail of emotions brewing inside them. The Doctor finally spoke, the muscles in his jaw jumping. "Oh, are you still here? I'd have thought you'd have wandered off by now."
Rose's jaw dropped, and her hands flew to her hips. Judging by the way Her Idiot was reacting, the Wolf cub apparently reminded him of her mother right now. She'd have to meet the woman, someday. Anyone human that could instill that deep of a fear in Her Idiot was bound to be interesting. "Oh, no you don't! You don't get to just blow up on me like that, and then say that it was my fault!"
His head snapped up. "Yes, I do, when I bloody well IS your fault!"
"I saved your life! I'm not going to apologize for that!"
"If I hadn't gotten there when I did, Rose, you'd be married to His Royal Highness! Of course, you always did have a thing for the pretty boys, didn't you? Maybe you fancied being a Queen, and thought you'd—"
Slap.
She winced. Her Idiot really should've seen that coming. Rose was standing right in front of him now, her single heart thundering in her chest and tears swimming in her eyes. "You utter bastard. If I hadn't agreed to marry him, he would've killed you on the spot. And tell me, Doctor, do you have much experience with decapitation? Can you just regenerate from that?" His glare faltered, and she wrapped her arms tightly around her rib cage. "I wasn't going to let him hurt you, Doctor, not if I could do anything about it. I knew you'd come for me, Doctor, and besides, even if you didn't, we could just hop on the TARDIS and get out of there."
The Doctor's jaw clenched. "But we couldn't, Rose." She opened her mouth to protest, and he raised a long-fingered hand. "If he'd finished the ceremony, Rose, he'd have been branded onto you. Every part of you, marked by him so deeply that you'd never have been able to leave him."
Rose recoiled, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"
"Hroxians are telepathic, Rose. If he'd managed to touch you before we got away, he'd have seared himself into your mind. You'd never be free of him, and there would be nothing I could to stop him."
Rose's jaw tightened, though she looked shaken. Really, Her two were just too stubborn sometimes. "You'd still be alive, though."
His voice snapped out, low and furious. "Do you think that would be worth anything if I didn't have you?"
They both froze, breathing deeply, and She stilled. The console room echoed with silence.
She'd never be able to say who moved first, but suddenly Her two were wrapped around each other like a love knot, all clinging arms and desperate mouths.
Well. She hadn't expected that to happen, and judging from the way Her Idiot just jerked back, neither did he. He was staring at Rose, his eyes wide and his hearts thundering in his chest. Rose stared back up at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, and She decided that if they didn't clear this up, She was going to drop them both into a volcano and be done with it (Well, not really, but sometimes She felt like it).
He groaned suddenly and grabbed Rose again, crushing her against him as his lips sought hers out. Well, it was about time. Her hum deepened as Rose's bra flew free and caught on the dimensional transistor lever.
Now, if only they'd take it to the bedroom. These many hormones were bound to clog up her circuits.