Character/Pairing: Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The BBC owns all, I am merely borrowing.
Spoilers: Through Girl in the Fireplace.
"Know?" She watched him carefully, doubting the sincerity of his expression. "Know what, Doctor?"
"How much you mean to me."
"You've got a strange way of showin' it," she retorted, pulling her hands out his grasp. "Tossin' me aside like that."
His hands fell limply to his side. "Rose, nothing happened. Nothing." He took a deep breath. "I had to save her."
"That what you're going to say every time?"
"Sometimes I have to do things. You know that," he spat back.
"You didn't think you'd find a way back. Could've been a lot longer than five and a half hours, yeah?"
"I would have found a way, Rose. Even if it had to be the slow path." He reached up and brushed aside a strand of her hair, still crinkly from her earlier hairstyle. He added quietly, "I thought you trusted me."
"I did, until..."
His hand fell to rest beside her head against the bookcase. "Until what, Rose? Until I changed?" he asked bitterly, lips curling into a grimace. "I thought you'd gotten past that."
"I did! It's just..." She looked down at the plush carpet and absently toed a circle with her slipper. "Since it happened, you've pushed me away. I thought, when we went to New Earth, that things were goin' forward."
"Rose..."
"Don't 'Rose' me!" Rose met his gaze defiantly. "S'not going to work. God...Why'd the TARDIS have to lock us in here?"
The Doctor ran his free hand through his hair and then placed it on the other side of her head. "Well...She can be a bit impatient. And we've been dancing around this for a substantial period of time really."
"This?" Rose squeaked, noticing that the Doctor was near enough that she could make out his freckles.
"Yes," he confirmed, closing the distance before she could even consider escaping.
Her eyes fluttered shut as she felt the gentle pressure of lips brushing tentatively against hers. The Doctor was kissing her. Actually kissing her. She stiffened at the unexpected development and the Doctor, noticing her discomfort, withdrew.
It contradicted everything he had ever expressed about relationships. Except for that one conversation about dancing so long ago now that it hardly counted. His teasing and flirting had always been just that. They were best friends, a team, the Doctor and Rose. But never like this.
"You don't...you don't do this." She shook her head slowly. "Least not w'me."
"Not with..." he started, looking entirely perplexed. "Rose, I don't do this with anyone."
"What changed? Can't be just 'cause you finally accepted m'not with Mickey."
"No. It's not," he said carefully.
"What then?" Rose insisted. "Better not be 'cause you lost her. M'not gonna be a replacement."
"Replacement? Replacement?" He laughed. "Honestly, how could you be?"
"Right, 'cause she was everythin' I'm not."
"Exactly." He beamed.
Rose punched his shoulder. Hard.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"You kissed me!"
"Right." The Doctor took a step back, rubbing his shoulder as he squinted at her. "That's not the usual response, is it? I mean, I am terribly out of practice and really not altogether familiar with these types of situations. But, I was looking...no, hoping for something a little more positive. Of course, if it's the fashion to affirmatively answer like that than I'm very much in favor of it. The positive answer, that is. Not the punching. Or any slapping you might be planning." Pausing, he observed her clenched fists. "Are you planning any slapping?" He sounded naturally curious, but was leaning backwards preemptively.
"You just told me that blonde tart was better'n me!"
"What? What?!" he sputtered. "That's not what I said. She's the opposite of you. Complete opposite."
"Better'n me, you mean."
"No, no, no, no, no, no! Not better at all. Different. She was different."
"Good different or bad different, Doctor?"
"Just dif--" He stopped as he realized he'd been effectively cornered. "Oh, that's not playing fair, Rose Tyler!"
"You kissed me, then told me another woman was everythin' I'm not. I don't think I hafta play fair," Rose remarked haughtily.
"She was everything you're not," the Doctor insisted. "Everything I like about you, she was missing."
Instead of being pleased at his clarification, Rose narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe. Then she firmly pressed a hand against his forehead.
The Doctor glanced up at her hand and then back at her in confusion. "Rose. What are you doing?"
"Checkin' for a fever. Obviously you're sick or...or...possessed!" She swiftly withdrew her hand. "S'like when Cassandra messed with our heads. Must've been something on that ship."
"I am not sick, Rose. Or possessed."
"'Course you're going to say that," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "If you are possessed you're not exactly gonna admit to it. Except, you sound like the Doctor. Even if you're sayin' stuff he never would." She sighed resignedly. "Gotta be a dream, then."
One eyebrow raised, the Doctor reached down and pinched her arm resulting in a very undignified yelp.
"Not a dream," he verified with a soft smile.
"So, you're not possessed or sick an' this isn't a dream." She shifted her gaze away from him and fiddled with a button on her pajama top. "Pining after any French?"
"Well...Juliette Binoche, but who isn't, eh?"
"Not a lack of bananas?"
"Never." He pursed his lips and studied the ceiling for a moment. "Actually, I have no idea what would happen if that were the case. You should hide all the bananas at some point so we can find out."
"You've got emergency supplies m'sure," Rose pointed out, the edge of her mouth twitching in contained amusement.
"Those would run out eventually," the Doctor assured her. "However if I was delirious, I'd probably be kissing Mickey. Blech." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
Rose giggled and then caught herself, biting her lip and shyly observing him from beneath her eyelashes. "I dunno if I'm convinced you're in your right mind."
"Well, we can't have that." He let out an exaggerated sigh. "I suppose I'll just have to persuade you."