SIGHT
Doctor + glasses + just a tad too much vodka puddle of Rose. She just couldn't help herself. Staring hopelessly as the Doctor recalled some extravagant story, Rose watched with a drunken smile and hungry eyes, head resting on one hand as she slouched over the table. His waving arms, flexing fingers, terrifyingly messy hair, hazel eyes - all very attractive qualities in a man. Any man. But the glasses? Oh god the glasses.
"Don't you think Rose?" The Doctor smiled happily at her, waiting for her input. Rose sat up blinking.
"Umm yeah...?"
"Yeah! Exactly!" He was off again. She settled back in her former position and watched the glasses sliding down his nose.
SMELL
Rose loved the smell of the Doctor's leather jacket. Of all the things she missed about him, and there was a long list, the musty unique smell of that old worn leather was high up. She missed the way it creaked when she hugged him and the way it was always slightly cool to the touch, the way it was far too big for her when he draped it over her shoulders, the way it smelled of him when he was far away and the way he smelled of it when he was naked and above her.
TOUCH
The second time they danced was a far more private affair. And no, it's not what your thinking. Rose was listening to an old CD, her favourite ballad on repeat as she searched through the wardrobe room, selecting the perfect outfit for this evenings entertainment. She had squealed with excitement when the Doctor promised her a real ball, a real ball with no monsters or aliens or running for her life. She held the stiff ivory satin up to her waist and twirled a few times in front of the mirror.
When she came to a halt he was standing right behind her. His hands reaching out and slipping round her waist, over her hand that was holding up the satin. He caught her gaze in the mirror.
"It's beautiful." He took both her hands in his and spun her round so that she faced him, the dress discarded behind her. He pulled her close and moved his feet.
"There are so many beautiful dresses though, how do I choose?" she looked up at him, hopeful and eager. He gripped her hands harder.
"I wasn't talking about the dress."
TASTE
The problem with hyper active taste buds is the effect they have on your sense of smell. Smell something yummy, want to eat it. Even if it did have a big multicoloured child friendly warning stating 'Do Not Eat this Wash With it,' or Rose was reciting pretty much the same thing. His current obsession was the lime and coconut hand cream that Rose used. He desperately wanted to have a taste but every time she caught him she took the tub off him, scolding him like a two year old who hadn't learnt to differentiate between chocolate and mud. Finally he settled on pouncing on Rose just after she'd got out of the shower and moisturised. He grabbed one protesting hand and licked a long line from wrist to the tip of her finger.
He pulled a funny face.
"Doesn't taste as good as it smells."
"I'm so pleased you've come to that conclusion."
"I know something that taste's much better." The Doctor pounced again, holding her hands above her head as he began licking long wet lines over Rose's body.
SOUND
When Rose does the washing up, which is admittedly a rare occurrence, she sings along to the stereo. They have a pile of CD's stacked next to the old stereo on the kitchen counter and she turns the volume up and dances round the kitchen, singing at the top of her voice. She has no idea the that the Doctor watches her, hovers at the door as she looses herself to whatever cheesy pop song she's chosen today. No idea that he loves the sound, the joyous, raucous music fills corridors that have been empty and silent for far too long.
She has no idea that he hides the stereo when Martha comes on board.