This is a collection of stand-alone chapters about 10.5 and Rose. They'll be published as they're written, so they might not be in chronological order, but hopefully it won't be confusing - and you're Doctor Who fans, you should be used to that sort of thing ;) And I don't own Doctor Who, it belongs to the clever people at the BBC.

She was stretched out on her side, watching him lying on his back, gazing at the ceiling. Her fingertips traced light patterns over his bare chest. He had his deep-in-thought face on, the one that had always made her quietly move to the seat in the console room and let him think in peace. However, since she could be fairly sure that for once the fate of an entire planet did not rest on his shoulders, she decided to ask what was going on underneath that really great hair.

"What are you thinking about?" Rose said quietly.

In the pause before he answered, she suddenly thought, what if it was her? What if he had changed his mind about this strange situation? What if –

"I think I need to come up with a backstory. A human backstory, I mean."

"What?" she replied, somewhat thrown by this.

The Doctor shifted in the bed, turning towards her. "I need a short, human history to tell people if I don't want to give them a 10 minute lecture involving Gallifrey, the TARDIS and metacrises."

"It is a bit complicated," she said with a smile.

For a minute they simply grinned at each other.

"You need a name," Rose said finally.

"John Smith," came the quick reply.

She raised her eyebrows.

"What?" he cried, his voice getting a little higher, with an offended look on his face.

"Well, don't you want to choose something a little more... original?"

"That name has got me through seven centuries of time and space travel!"

"Alright!"

Not wanting to let the moment get awkward, he leaned over and kissed her.

When they broke apart, she whispered, "So what should I call you?"

"Whatever you want to call me," he murmured, and kissed her again.

"I might call you both, just to keep you on your toes," she said in a teasing voice. "So, that's name covered. How old are you?"

"905."

"How old are you, John?"

"How old do I look?"

"35, maybe? I'm never good at judging age though."

"Me neither. How... I never asked... How old are you now?"

"26."

"Are you alright with a nine year age gap?"

"Doctor, I was alright with a 900 year age gap," she sighed, snuggling into him.

Her ear was pressed against his chest, and she listened to the beat of his single heart. She had done that a lot over the past three weeks, reminding herself that they really did have each other for the rest of their lives.

"Then I'm 35. What else do I need?"

"A birthday."

"26th of March" he said immediately.

Surprised at the speed of his answer, she rolled back so she could look at him.

"Is that the Earth equivalent of your Gallifreyan birthday?"

"Gallifreyan dates can't really be translated to Earth dates, the calendars are too different."

Seeing that he was about to launch into a probably interesting, almost certainly long, ramble about the intricacies of the Gallifreyan calendar, she quickly cut him off.

"So why that day?"

"You mean you don't remember?" he asked, grinning.

Rose frowned. "Remember what?"

"You were angry enough about it at the time."

"What did you do?"

"I blew up your job, in your words."

The Doctor's grin got bigger as her eyes widened in understanding.

"That was the day we met."

"Can I use it as my birthday?"

"Of course," she said, and kissed him passionately.

His arms wrapped around her and her fingers wound into his hair.

"Those are... the basics... the rest... can wait," he murmured between the kisses he was trailing down her neck.

"Definitely."