A/N: Because it's Spring Break, have a short fic. This is for Andrastesgrace, who is wonderful and marvelous and all good things. :)
Rose stepped closer to the wall, pressing herself against the perspiring back wall of Shireen's flat as a very drunk Ted Milgram from the third floor shook his considerable girth on the makeshift dance floor. Ted was a sweet man, he really was, but his shirt had gone missing half an hour ago, and his good sense well before that. Across the crowded flat Mickey was nodding along to the heavy bass beat, trying to look cool and mature despite the still-damp evidence of his failed keg stand that was spilled all over his shirt.
Rose sighed and rubbed her forehead, wrinkling her nose at the smell of too-sweet appletinis, stale cologne, and sweat that filled the air. She never should have let Shireen convince her to come—right now, she just wanted to curl up in her bed on the TARDIS and sleep for the rest of the conceivable future. But Shireen had called the day after they'd left the barren spaceship and 17th century France, and Rose had been desperate for a distraction—and the Doctor had been, as well. He'd been avoiding her ever since he came back.
Right now he was smashed up next to Mickey, inhaling one banana daiquiri after another as Liv from upstairs cheered him on, and Rose sighed. She should get over there before he made a complete ass of himself—if Jackie caught wind of the Doctor behaving like this, she'd never let him hear the end of it.
The Doctor grinned at Liv, brown eyes bright and hazy, and something in Rose crumbled. She used to be able to make him smile like that, but lately, lately it seemed like he could barely even stand the sight of her.
Mickey had noticed, too, and he leaned over to shout something at the Doctor as the DJ's set crescendoed to the cheers of the crowd.
The Doctor leaned closer to Mickey, raising his voice to a shout as Rose got closer. "What'd you say?"
"I said, you're awfully sure of himself for someone who doesn't even have a name!"
Rose rolled her eyes. Oh, god, not this again. Mickey got like a bulldog when he was drunk, and he'd been furious with the Doctor ever since he'd swanned back to the spaceship, smelling of bananas and expensive perfume. But that was over, done, no good looking back. That was how the Doctor dealt with things, and it was either get used to it or go home. So why did Mickey have to start something now?
The DJ started up a new set, and Rose's lips quirked as the crowd roared in approval. Casey from year 8 had tried to convince her the artist was a genius, but Jackie had grounded her for a week when she found Rose's pirated copy of his debut.
The Doctor grinned suddenly, his eyes brightening with mischief, and threw back the remains of his latest drink before dramatically unbuttoning his jacket. "You want to know what my name is?"
Rose's eyes widened and then narrowed, and covered her face with her hand as he raised his voice to chant along.
"Hi! My name is..."
Liv cackeled, and she joined him. "What?" He grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows, and Mickey snorted loudly as the Doctor continued.
"My name is..."
Billy from down the block raised his beer. "Who?"
"My name is..." the DJ scratched loudly, and the Time Lord crowed, "The Doctor!"
The mess of people in the flat began to laugh, cheering him on, and Rose's lips tightened. Let him act the idiot, she was done with this. She needed air. She turned and made her way through the crowd, his voice raised as he chanted the chorus again.
The cold winter air hit her skin like a physical force, and Rose sighed, absently watching the cloud of cool air that flowed from her mouth. A few minutes later the door to the flat opened behind her, letting out a blast of warm, noisy air, but Rose didn't bother to turn around. Whoever it was could just deal, she only wanted some peace.
"You shouldn't be out here alone."
She blinked and turned around. The Doctor stood there, his shirt damp with sweat and his hair tangled and matted with sweat. So this Doctor was a party animal. Who knew? Well, there were plenty of things she didn't know about him, apparently. Including whether or not he'd come back the next time something shiny caught his attention (a gilded dress flashed into her imagination, almost as golden as the soft curls of the woman who was wearing it). She turned back to the courtyard without speaking.
"Rose. It's cold out here, you should at least wear a jacket."
She pursed her lips. "Plenty of things I should be doing, apparently."
Rose could almost hear the smug amusement in his voice. "Good thing you've got me, then."
She snorted. "Right." There was silence behind her, and she could almost picture his offended, befuddled expression. She was never this short with him. Something small and petty within her crowed with satisfaction. Served him right. "Just go back inside, Doctor. Your adoring audience is waiting, I'm sure."
The door swung open and shut, and she fisted her hands in her pockets. This was what she wanted. Right? She closed her eyes, and the door opened again before a warm weight settled on her shoulders. She looked down at the familiar pinstripes that surrounded her and wrinkled her nose at the scent of Liv's heavy perfume.
"Oi! What's that face for?"
Rose's lips quirked up faintly. "Didn't take ya for a strawberry-and-vanilla type of guy, Doctor, but then again, you are just full of surprises." She swallowed at the bitterness in her own voice. She wasn't going to think about it anymore. That's not how things went on the TARDIS, and she wasn't going to give this life up for anything—not even a broken heart.
"Hey." She jumped at his quiet voice, the smell of bananas and rum still heavy on his breath. When had he gotten that close? "You all right?"
Something in her snapped. "You do not get to ask me that question." He reeled back, eyes wide, as she yanked off his jacket and shoved it into his chest. Her mum's flat was down a few floors. She could be there in minutes. She turned to leave, and a cool hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, back to facing the Doctor and his wounded eyes. She glared at him. "Don't you even try."
"I'll ask what I damn well want to. Tell me, Rose. You've been off all day. What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? What's wrong?" She laughed harshly. "So now you care."
The Doctor stared at her, confused. "I always care, Rose."
"Could've fooled me. As I recall, Mickey an' me were strapped down by killer robots yesterday, an' you were too busy partying to care."
His jaw tightened. "I stopped them, Rose."
"Do you have any idea how close I was to dying? Or did that not even matter to you, so long as you got your witty little quip in?"
The Doctor's eyes darkened. "You don't understand."
"You're damn right I don't. Why the hell couldn't you have used the TARDIS to break the mirror? Or I could've gone instead—hell, even Mickey. But no, you stranded us there on a ship filled with killer robots without any way of piloting the TARDIS." Unaccountably, the Doctor flushed, and Rose blinked and broke off her tirade. "What?" He mumbled something, tugging on his earlobe, and Rose tilted her head. "What did you say?"
"I said, I forgot." She blinked at him, and his hand migrated to his hair, ruffling the nape of his neck furiously. "I forgot that you can't pilot the TARDIS."
"How the hell would I know that?"
He smiled ingratiatingly at her. "'Cause we're partners, you and me. What I know, you should know, and so on."
"Really. So, 'cause we're partners, I should tell you what's bothering me."
"Exactly."
"Like you should tell me what's bothering you."
He froze, his smile half-formed, and Rose nodded tiredly. "Thought so. Goodbye, Doctor. I'm goin' to Mum's."
She'd almost reached the stairwell before he finally found his voice. "Don't." She tightened her lips and continued, but with a few hurried steps he reached her and caught her shoulders. "Rose, don't. Please don't go."
Rose glared at him defiantly over her shoulder. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't."
His eyes darted to the side. "Mickey's not TARDIS-broken yet."
"Yeah, no. Goodbye."
His grip tightened almost painfully. "Fine! Fine. Because... because I need you." He snorted, his hands loosening abruptly. "Ridiculous as it is, I need you. Without you, all there is out there, it's just... nothing. So be angry with me if you want, but please. Don't leave me."
She crossed her arms, forcing herself not to care about the hollow tone of his voice. It didn't work. "Well, that's a change." He stayed silent, and she glanced behind her. "'Cause you've been pushin' me away pretty hard and pretty fast."
"Rose, I—"
Her soft voice interrupted him, thick with tears. He could hardly hear it over the raucous music from the flat. "Why?" She turned, and his hearts constricted in his chest. Her dark eyes were swimming with tears, and she dashed them away impatiently. "What did I do?"
"No. No no no no no no, it wasn't anything you did. It's—Rose, we're—" he started to turn away, yanking at his hair angrily, but turned back as she tightened her arms across her ribs. Finally, he barked out a mirthless laugh and turned to lean against the railing, sliding down until his bum met the cold floor.
After a moment Rose joined him there, watching him carefully. She shivered and he picked his jacket off the floor, wrapping it around her shoulders once again. This time, she didn't push it off.
He caught her hand in his own, tracing the delicate framework of bones. "D'you have any idea how terrifying you are?" She snorted, but one glance from his dark eyes quieted her. He was serious. "When I'm with you, I'm... I'm not alone." He noticed her raised eyebrows and shook his head a little. "No, you don't understand—there's no one like me anymore, Rose. No one. But when you're with me, that's enough. But you're going to be gone someday, and I don't know who I'm going to be without you."
"So you're really gonna be this selfish?" His eyes widened, and he turned to her. She was watching their intertwined hands, her shoulders slumped under his jacket. She glanced up at him. "'S all about you, is it? 'Cause I gotta say, Doctor, losing people? It's a part of life, just like Sarah Jane said. Everything ends. But that doesn't mean it's worthless when it's happening." She clenched her jaw, the smooth lines of her face outlined by faded streetlights. "Remember when you took me to see my dad?"
He blinked. "Yes...?"
"You knew. You knew how hard it was goin' to be for me, but you still took me." She lifted her chin. "Why?"
"Because you asked."
Rose's eyes narrowed. "There's more to it, and you know it."
He crossed his arms. "I'm not playing this game."
She huffed impatiently and spun around, kneeling in front of him. "It's not a game, Doctor." She caught his cheek as he turned away. "You knew how important it would be to me, to meet my dad. Even if there was no way it was going to end well, you knew it would still be worth it." He swallowed, then nodded grudgingly, and she raised her eyebrows at him. "So what makes us so different?"
The Doctor opened his mouth, closed it. He'd been with her through the night after her father died, whispering soft apologies into her hair after she'd sobbed herself to sleep against his chest. He'd sworn to himself that he'd never let her be hurt like that again, not unless her life was at stake. But he was the one who had hurt her this time, and worse, he was the one who had endangered her, as well, all because he was too afraid to face what she meant to him.
He closed his eyes. He always had been an expert at running away. "Rose, I—"
"Yes?" She was still on her knees, her eyes bright and wary, and he groaned and leaned forward, crashing his lips against hers. She froze before throwing her arms around his shoulders, shifting forward on her knees until she bracketed his hips, her chest pressed against his. He clutched her closer, clinging to her desperately as he forcibly silenced the all-too-human hum of her timeline in his head.
He never had been able to deny her anything.