Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

Back at One

The guests mingle and shuffle about in their too-expensive dresses and cut-just-right suits. They throw back flute after flute of sparkling champagne, arguing over politics, sport teams, and who's dating who. The waggling tongues, loosened by the endless stream of complimentary alcohol, agree on one think and that one thing only: the happy couple are, indeed, a happy couple. Completely and incandescently happy. They just look right and, it's said with the raising of some eyebrows, can't seem to keep their hands off of each other! London's high society virtually tingles with gossip.

Sliding almost unseen through the throng, Rose hears the whispers and sees the looks. She takes it all in with a smile, seeing Pete grab Jackie's hand and squeeze when he thinks no one's watching. She's glad for her mum, getting her happy ending, even if it wasn't what she could have possibly imagined. She ignores the parallels to her own situation. Today is another one of their anniversary's gone, another celebratory party almost over. She tugs at her cascading silver dress and pats her head to check her too-tightly done up hair as she slips into another room.

She passes through a pair of great oak doors, and comes face to face with a shining floor, illuminated by countless gleaming lights. They cover the ceiling and trickle down the walls like melted trails of ice-cream sliding down a waffle cone. Couples dot the floor, slipping and sliding with the beat as well as they can. (Which, on a whole, isn't very well at all.) A few of the braver souls waltz through the awkward dancers with practiced steps. She rolls her eyes, and with a silent groan, wonders just how, with all these rooms, she manages to land herself right smack in the middle of a ballroom. She turns on her heel, but when she spots him, she hesitates.

He's sitting, alone, at a table close to the corner, shimmering light fluttering down to play with the tips of his hair, turning them golden. One hand taps fingers along with the syrupy song, while the other is splayed out on the side of his face. He's glancing at the dancers, wistful eyes and sulking mouth. The only person not asked to dance, wallowing in his own self-pity. She giggles, forgetting for a second the confused and strained state of things between them. Her laughs falter as he sits up straighter, eyes searching for her as if he's somehow heard her. She's relieved when a co-worker taps her on the shoulder and offers her his hand before his eyes can catch her. She grips the offered appendage, not thinking how it would hurt him if he saw.

She's spun under her partner's arm, lights and people blurring into a tangled blob but still clear enough for her to realize that his table's now completely empty.

As she's spun back around, it doesn't take her long to figure out just where he's gone as she's caught by a different part of arms. He's stepped in front of her original partner, eyes dark. "Rose promised me the next dance, if you don't mind." Then, he's clinging to her, bunching the back of her dress in one of his hands. "If you're trying to make me jealous, you're doing one hell of a job of it." He growls, rotating them around.

"You don't like to dance." She states as her argument, clutching at his arms and trying to put some space between them. Like he was going to let her.

"Wrong." He pulls her back towards him, his harsh tone cancelled out by his now soft, pleading eyes. "The other me didn't like to dance. I might like it, you'd never know." His grip on her loosens and he straightens the back of her dress. "You have to let me in, Rose. Just try. We could be happy, you and me, just as happy as your mum and Pete. We could have parties, and a house. We could have a life. You just have to give it a go." He releases her fully, turning to walk away.

"Wait." She whispers, gripping at his hand as his shoulders grow tense. It doesn't take much effort on her part to turn him back around to face her. He lurches forward, eyes burning into hers, hand ghosting down her arm. She steps forward, pushing his arm around her back and sliding a hand up to rest over his heart. They turn a few more circles, the space between them making them awkward, and then her arms are tight around his neck and she pushes against him as he pulls her still closer. There's a desperate edge to it, but neither of them mind.

For once, it's just them, together. They're starting back at one and for once it feels like they can do it.

And, as they dance on, a new rumor starts to float through the hallways. Pete and Jackie Tyler might just be given a run for their money in the happy couple department if those two keep it up.