"I was an idiot," he said quietly, into the darkness of their room, as he trailed his fingers down her bare back.
"Hmm?" she mumbled sleepily. "What this time?"
He shifted out of her arms and rolled on his side to find his suit jacket on the floor beside the bed, and he fiddled about inside his pocket for a minute before drawing a small velvet box out.
"I didn't even give you an engagement ring," he whispered, as he settled back against the pillows. She hadn't opened her eyes, hadn't seen what he was holding in his hand. "I just let Jackie do the nagging - I mean, suggesting - about the wedding; didn't propose properly, didn't get down on one knee and all that malarky."
He felt Rose smile against his chest. "Didn't need that. I know you've not got many romantic bones in your body. And that's okay. Anna got proposed to in front of everyone at work and it was the cheesiest, most awkward thing I've ever witnessed," she assured him. "I'm actually grateful you spared me that."
"But I should have given you an engagement ring," he protested.
"You got me these earrings," she said, through a yawn, gesturing vaguely to her ear. "On my birthday. They're lovely. Always knew I'd wear 'em today."
"Yes."
"And you did that whole spiel about the impracticalities of wedding rings, so I kind of realised I wouldn't be getting a diamond pretty sharpish," she chuckled. She pressed a kiss to his chest, her eyes still closed. "Which is fine. I like our matching silver bands, anyway. Pretty glad you changed your mind about them. Thanks for that, by the way. It was a nice surprise." She snuggled into him a bit more. "I love you."
He dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too."
They were quiet for a few minutes, and Rose dozed off to sleep. When he was pretty sure she was unlikely to wake up if he jostled her slightly, he sat up, opened the box, and took out the engagement ring. Its small diamond winked at him when the moonlight coming in through the window struck it just so. The Doctor smiled to himself, and picked up Rose's left hand gently, sliding it onto her ring finger to sit nestled with the silver wedding band. There. Much better. Obviously, he was completely daft for doing it all the wrong way around, just as he was completely daft for not doing this whilst she was awake. But it was right. It was perfect. And the truth was, he'd had the ring all along.
He'd had it in that box inside his jacket pocket for months. Years. But in all that time, all those months and years that they'd been living together on Pete's World, loving one another fiercely and yet avoiding talk of children and weddings, he had never, ever felt brave enough to give it to her. Even when they had set a bloody date for the wedding, he couldn't give it to her. He didn't know why. Didn't know what made him so incapable of doing a simple thing like slipping it onto her finger and asking her, properly, if she would marry him. He had bought it, no problem at all, no hesitation - on a whim, yes, but with no reluctance or second thoughts. He had been secure in the knowledge that it was the right ring for Rose, and that he would be the one to give it to her, and that she could interpret it how she liked - a piece of nice jewellery, a token, a promise, whatever. But once he'd had it in that pocket, once he'd started thinking about when would be the perfect moment to drop it into her lap, he just…couldn't.
It wasn't some resurfacing of a fear of commitment that hampered him in this case, not at all. He was fully embracing a long-term, permanent, until-the-end-of-their-lives relationship with her. Knew he would never walk away, knew she wouldn't either. Knew that she was the only woman in the whole of creation that would ever be wearing that ring, from him. He knew, had known, will always know all of this with the utmost certainty.
And yet it had taken him until tonight, their wedding night, until he was able to sneakily slip the diamond ring onto her finger. He was ridiculous. That was, really, the only explanation. But he hoped Rose wouldn't dwell on that too much.
He snuggled back down with her on the bed and she curled her arm around his waist and he felt the press of both her rings against the skin of his back and absurdly, he closed his eyes against a distinct prickling sensation that he was most determinedly not going to let escalate to tears.
When he woke up, hours later, it was to see Rose staring at her hand. "Morning," he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep and thirst. And nerves.
"Morning, Doctor Tyler," she grinned, looking over at him with a quirked brow.
"Mmm, morning, Mrs Tyler."
Rose wrinkled her nose. "That makes me sound like Mum. Also, you said morning already."
"I know I did. But you like it when I'm thorough."
She laughed, and waved her left hand at him. "What's this, then?"
"What's it look like?" he snorted. Then, he reached out and tugged on that hand, pulled her naked body over to his naked body and settled her atop him, shifting the duvet out of the way. "It's your wedding present."
Rose met his eyes seriously. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "Thank you."
"Sorry that I walked through the steps backwards, a bit," he said softly.
"That's okay." She beamed at him, then. "Hey."
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"That's really very lucky, Rose Tyler," he said, sliding his hands up her thighs. "Because I plan on using this week of our honeymoon, and every single week of our lives, showing you just - " He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm, then her wrist, moving up her forearm as he continued, "- how much," he reached the crook of her elbow, "I love you."