Feeling his breath brush her ear, his hand on her arm, that was almost enough. But hearing those words, it felt like every nerve in her body ignited, heat ebbed upwards, building in her head until her vision tunnelled, tuning in on his face. All that heat left her in the rush of air from her lungs as she closed the remaining distance between them. A kiss, an affirmation, her lips on his, his hands on her back, her arms round his neck and everything else fades out of the world.
It takes the familiar sound of the wooden door closing for her to realise that he was gone, the first, the real one. While she was lost in the fairy tale moment, in the fantasy of his lips on hers, the words she had waited for. For the time it takes for the TARDIS to dematerialise, she follows a myriad of emotions through loss to abandonment. His hand find hers, and when she looks at his face she sees the loss reflected there, he'll never be aboard that wonderful ship again, never flounce around the console reeling off near unpronounceable names and species.
"Oi, you two, its cold. You gunna stand there and freeze cos I'm not." When they turn Jackie has her hands on her hips and her head tossed to one side, but Rose can see the worry there. It's the same worry she wore while Rose worked endless nights on little or no sleep, to get back to the man holding her hands side, the man who just left her on the beach with his damaged facsimile. But his hand feels so real, although warmer than she remembers. They glance at each other and he smiles that careful smile, his hand tightens then tugs on hers pulling her along to catch up with her mother. He keeps that tight grip, as though she may dissolve into the sand any moment, become so many grains herself. When they reach the familiar town, Rose had spent a week there, refusing to leave the bay, coming very close to pneumonia before Mickey surprised her out of her heartbroken reverie by throwing her over one shoulder and forcibly removing that bleak grey seascape from her line of sight. She kicked and screamed and sobbed, until she sat limp in his lap in the back of the Land Rover, almost numb, all but the ache.
Now as she glances at him in profile walking next to her she can see the same lines around his eyes, the same unruly wind ruffled hair. She becomes very aware of his hand in hers, the feel of his palm against hers, the slight brush of his clothed arm against hers. And that ache that had rushed back as the TARDIS vanished from Bad Wolf Bay for the last time, loosened enough for her to draw a deep breath and sigh.
He seemed to hear this and he pulled her into his side, hugging her shoulders, pulling her side flush against his. His warmth seeped through his jacket and she slides her hand up his back to rest between his shoulder blades. She feels the utter exhaustion begin to claim her. They stayed like this until they reached the small fishing village. They are greeted warmly by the landlord of the local inn, a small pub, dark and heavy with the smell of burning pine logs in the open fire. He remembers the strange women who had simply appeared that day, and had stayed a week, though the young blonde woman appears happier, as though there is less weight to the air around her. She is in the arms of a young man who looks down at the top of her head as though the answer to life is contained in the roots. The older woman's husband has phoned ahead and the rooms are arranged, they will be picked up as they were last time from an airfield 20 miles away tomorrow. He gives them the keys, three, though he hesitates when he hands them over, eyeing the young couple, seems a shame to let a room that won't be used. The older woman follows his line of sight and her face creases between her high eyebrows.
The Doctor and Rose are startled from their separate thoughts by the sound of Jackie loudly announcing "Oh don't you start!" before stomping off. The doctor raises an eyebrow at this, and follows the direction Jackie has stomped off in, only to find that rather more of Rose's bodyweight is resting on his side than he realised, he takes in the dark circles and drooped lids before more securely pulling her against his side and leading her towards the dark wooden stairs.
"Rose, Rose..." she just leans further into the warmth, it feels so good to be held against this body. The ache of absence is being replaced by the ache of exhaustion, and right now this warm, safe feeling place is better than anywhere else she could rest weary bones "...can you hear me?" she mumbles at that, something about just resting a while, and suddenly she's weightless, too tired to tense up at the sensation. This is better she thinks, absently rubbing her cheek against the cotton and warmth she rests her head in now.
She puts her arms around his neck as he carries her up the stairs, his heart is fluttering, not because of the exertion of lifting Rose from her feet, but at the sensations her rubbing her face into his shoulder, the feel of her arms round his neck and her body against his. She is lighter than he remembers, her body fits into his arms and it is not until they reach the room that he begins to feel the strain of her weight across his shoulders. Jackie is waiting; she simply raises an eyebrow at him, but seems to see her sleepy daughter and the creases fade, as she unlocks the door for him. He gives her a grateful look and passes her. She is just grateful this alien man has not broken her daughter's heart again, he is grateful she hasn't slapped him hard across the face for leaving her in the first place.
Once in the small room the doctor lays Rose on the bed before removing her boots. He hesitates at her jacket but decides that she will be too warm in the bed with it on, and so sets about removing the royal blue leather. He realises his hand are trembling as he unzips the jacket. "Doctor?" it's a half mumbled whisper as she wrinkles her nose and squirms sleepily on the bed.
"Yes, it's me, still here." He grins at that "I'm just taking this jacket off, you'll be too hot. Come on, sit up so I can take it off." He helps her sit, offering a hand to pull her to a sitting position, where she can shrug off the unzipped jacket. Her hair has fallen across her face, he reaches and pushes it back, his thumb grazing the side of her face as his hand rests cupping the hollow just below her ear. There is a look of absolute wonder on his face, he knows, but he can't help it. He crouches by the edge of the bed putting his face level with hers and looks into those hazel eyes. She smiles back at him, a shy half hiding smile, hiding so much.
Her eyes are more awake now, as if the intensity of his gaze has awakened her, postponed her decent into slumber. As he leans in, towards her face, they don't close their eyes; she's looking into those dark depths as his lips brush almost imperceptibly against hers. She breathes in, almost a gasp, and the inhalation draws his lips tighter against hers, they press for a moment against her closed mouth before her lips give way and their mouths lock in a duel of lips and tongue. Rose feels for a moment that he is eating her soul, as his tongue flicks against the roof of her moth before retreating to brush against her tongue. She can't suppress the moan as his hands, one cupping below her right ear, the other on the bed by her left thigh move simultaneously move to slide into her hair, cupping the back of her neck. He presses closer to her body, and instinctively she parts her legs to allow him to slide a hand to the small of her back and press his now kneeling body to hers. Her hands cup the back of his head, buried in that hair. He breaks the kiss, and she's quaking. This close his face is a blur, the air around them is crackling with something akin to energy, it raises her skin in goose bumps.
"I..." he hesitates, his breath ghosts over her lips and she realises she can taste him, sweet with something slightly beyond her capacity to describe. "...I've waited so long to do that." He states so simply, and in that moment, with no space between them she realises.
With that the exhausted tears fall, he pulls her to lie, her head resting on his chest listening to the spaces between the beat of his heart. He strokes her hair, her shoulders and back, rhythmic and soothing until she finally succumbs. The strangest sensation of heaviness seeps over him...tired...he was tired in a way he had never experienced before. With a slight groan he curled slightly so that though she still rested her head on his shoulder he was enough on his side to watch her sleep, and as he nodded off he muttered distastefully "Half human."