Here's celebrating this most special day with a little shot about Nine and Rose who not only are the ones that got me hooked on the show, but who also remained my favorites no matter how much I came to adore all the others, too.

Happy Birthday, Doctor! May you have another fifty years ahead!

So glad I met you

„You comin', Doctor?", her excited call sounds through the room, tearing his attention from the console's core unit.
How she ever managed to dress up before he finished his work there he'll never know. Normally, he's even got time to fix half a dozen of other circuits before she emerges from the wardrobe, eyes alit with that deep sense of ecstasy that only women who've just been clothes shopping could show.

He likes to tease her about it, sometimes, or to complain when it's taking her just a little too long to get done and he's growing impatient. But mostly he just loves to see that look on her face. To revel in her happiness and become infected with her oh so human - and oh so female - delight about profanities such as a pretty dress or fancy shoes.
It's why every now and again he makes sure to take her to places where she's better off blending in with the locals – no starting a riot with wearing something that practically screams time travelers or aliens from outer space when you just want to go on a nice little trip, he tells her then. And she seems to appreciate it, too, can spend hours shuffling through all what his TARDIS has to offer her - trying out all kinds of different outfits, discovering things she maybe wouldn't have considered to put on otherwise although they usually suit her quite perfectly - and often making him wonder whether giving her full access to this part of his ship was such a great idea after all.

Today though, oh today, she's been quick. Or he's been incredibly slow, that would be a possibility, too, he muses but eventually decides it doesn't really matter for the result is the same either way. And so he turns off the sonic and looks up from where he's crouched down to tend to his beloved vessel, his gaze quickly settling on her familiar form as she waits for him, hands fiddling with the hem of the claret frill blouse she's chosen to accompany the black skirt that reaches just below her knees and flows so gently about them.
As always at this point, she looks at him expectantly, dares him to tell her how she looks. He really doesn't know why she still bothers to ask him anyway. For all he cares she could wear a hessian sack and she would still be beautiful to him, but of course he can't tell her that and so he just smiles at her – a smile which signals her she's chosen rather well again.

"Not bad is it?", she chirps then, beaming at him in obvious satisfaction, "Quite lovely… for a human?"

Her lips are parted to reveal her tongue peeking through her teeth in that very grin which never fails to make both his heartbeats fall into that funny rhythm that he has long ago decided he likes.

As finally he gets up to straighten his leather jacket - no need to change when you're the Doctor - he nods in an approving fashion and affirms readily, eyes brimming with something she cannot quite decipher.

"No' bad at all."

He throws her a meaningful look right after, arches a dark eyebrow playfully and adds: "An' not just for a human."

There's something in his voice as he says that which has her watch him for a long second, her expression turning into a quizzical kind for as long as she does it but all too soon it's gone again, replaced by another he's come to know so well.
And he loves that part, Rassilon, he really does. That moment when Rose hurries him to step outside, all eager and ready to go out there and see the universe - a universe he's showing her, each day anew. Every time the TARDIS's doors open.

He doesn't think he could ever grow tired of this, not anymore, not whilst in her company and he can hardly believe that it's not been too long since growing tired was exactly what he did.
Those many days after the War that he travelled alone, haunted by what he had done and driven by the need to run. It seems so oddly impossible to him now: How he's not stopped once to really see the wonder and the beauty that lies in everything alive, and in every planet and sun and even in the space between. He forgot about it all, in the aftermath of the battle he forgot until in walked this pink and yellow human and reminded him again.

That first time he took her to her Earth's past, that was when it happened he always reckons when he thinks about it.
The memory has burnt itself into his mind, fresh and unfading as if it occurred but yesterday. With her hazel eyes so wide and brilliant, so full of wonder and of life itself she showed him what it was like, what it had been like once for him, too, in a different, oh so very different life - showed him what it could be like again if only he was brave enough to let her in. And never since has she let him down.

Of course he expected her to get used to it at some point, and why shouldn't he; expected her to grow accustomed to the impossible and unknown and lose that excitement as so many others would. But not Rose. No, certainly not his Rose.
She's seen so much already, has been to so many places and still there she is. Looking at him the very same way she did back then. And he cannot help but love her for that. Completely and wholly.

She's shuffling her feet now, an unmistakable sign she's about to push him outside if she has to and he sets himself into motion at that, crosses the little distance and comes to a halt right next to her. Offering her his left arm like he did back in 1869 he looks down at her, his gaze bright and unguarded as only she can make it be, waits until she lifts her head and glances up.

Sporting one of his most encouraging expressions he questions her "You ready for this?" although he knows that asking her really is superfluous. The answer to that radiates all from her, always and so easy to see - this lust for a life she's never dared to dream of but longed for nevertheless. The very same thing that made him leave his home to travel the whole of time and space all those many centuries ago. And it's when she happily wraps her hands around his elbow, shifts until her chin comes to rest on his shoulder for this briefest of instants that his hearts swell in awe of her.

"You bet I am", she laughs before she suddenly tugs at his sleeve until she has his hand at level with her own.
Lacing soft, warm fingers through longer and colder ones she takes a step forward, practically drags him behind her now. And he doesn't even mind, just grins like a fool and follows her lead until her free hand is already on the door. Only then does he pull her back a little, keeps her from actually opening it and adds a slight pressure to their shared touch so that she turns around.

"Rose Tyler", he begins, pronounces her name as if it was something precious and already she's trying to figure out what he wants to say, probably thinks there is something important she ought to know.
And indeed there is, though most likely it's not what she expects to hear.

Clearing his throat almost silently he feels the air enter his lungs in a steady and surprisingly pleasant stream, lets himself get distracted by the sensation for just a tiny moment before he exhales, and just tells her.

Not in the face of most certain death like he's done back then, not because he and her might just turn into zombie corpses shortly after. No, this time he tells her properly and because she does not only fight with him, but because she saves him and reminds him, too.
Each and every single day anew.

"I'm so glad I met you."

Watching her eyebrows rise for the shortest fragment of a second, he can just see the words sink in. She recognizes them immediately, his clever Rose, remembers when he first uttered them down in that dungeon and then her whole expression lights up even more, taking him by surprise.
Her joy is almost blinding now, brilliant and beautiful like it's never been before and he believes he might just have to stop breathing at the sight of it, let the respiratory bypass save him from choking.

Turning towards him fully, her gaze softens and her lips curl into this most honest of all her smiles before she replies to him.
The only response worth his confession, the one answer that will leave an imprint on his soul forever.

And when she unlocks the door, leaves the TARDIS together with him to meet yet another one of their adventures it still resonates within his mind, winds its way into that part of him that won't ever change regardless whether one day he once more should have to. And he treasures it, resolves to keep it safe lest he should ever forget again. Her words, her truth.
His salvation.

"Me, too."