A/N: Ten/Rose

~ 3. There is this place, and your words, and your lips. And I move closer ~

It's there that they have their first proper kiss.

The shock of his regeneration has not made her leave. He is so very grateful that she was the first thing he saw when he changed. He is so very grateful that she is the first person he sees every day, when she wanders into the console room after a good night's sleep in her bedroom on the TARDIS.

She has stayed, and they are content, mostly. It's been three months since that Christmas and they have frequented their favourite planet several times.

This time is the most defining, however. It is here, today, that words are almost said, and decisions are definitely made.

"Are you happy, Rose?" he asks her quietly. She is sitting a short distance away from their tree, and she is facing away from him, staring ahead, silent, her fingers twirling a piece of grass around and around.

He amends his statement. "I mean, I know...I know you're not happy happy, because...because of Mickey leaving and everything, but..." He swallows hard. It has been four days since the parallel world and the Cybermen, and thus for four days there has been a continuous lull in his and Rose's usually noisy, easy, flirtatious friendship. "Are you still happy enough to stay with me? Do I...do I..." He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the rough bark. "Do I make you happy?" he finishes in a murmur, half-hoping she will not hear him so that it removes the chance of her saying no.

He opens his eyes again when the air shifts slightly. The speed at which she turns around to regard him with a strange expression tells him she has heard exactly what he has said. "Doctor..." she begins, and her voice is shaky, and that – that's very not good, he thinks.

He waits for her to continue, but she seems frustrated with herself, as if she cannot find the words, and he aches to take away that sadness behind her eyes. He watches, breath held, as she begins to crawl towards him. As she gets closer, he slowly releases his breath, hoping she will not notice the hitch to his voice as he murmurs, "Rose?"

She is silent, still, and sits next to him, drawing her legs up and holding them against her chest. He sees the stains the grass has left on her knees and smiles a little, reaching out to touch the mark on the knee closest to him. "Whoops," he comments lightly.

She looks at him, and her hair falls in front of her face. He brushes it away for her and tucks it behind her ear, and finds her smiling when he checks her expression. "The TARDIS will fix them for me," she answers him. "She's good to me like that."

"That she is," he agrees. It is true. Not just in the trivial sense of amending Rose's jeans when they get too dirty from alien grass or, in the worst cases, slime, for a normal Earth washing machine to contend with. But in every sense. The TARDIS has a unique and mutual fondness concerning Rose Tyler that the ship has never had before with a person who isn't the Doctor.

He is not baffled by this. After what Rose and his TARDIS did for him, uniting as the big bad wolf to save him, he can hardly pretend nonchalance to their attachment. Besides, the TARDIS knows him. Knows his feelings for his pink and yellow girl and knows how much he needs her. It is not surprising that his ship desires her presence with them as much as he does himself.

"You make me happier than anyone," Rose finally answers, and – shocked by the frankness with which she makes this confession – he is startled.

He tugs at his ear, a newfound habit he is not aware that she finds adorable.

"It's my fault one of your closest friends is in another universe, though," he reminds her regretfully.

"It isn't your fault, don't be daft. I'll miss him, but he made his own choice. I was just being selfish to try and make him stay, knowing right well that he and me would never be how he might still've wanted us to be." She lets out a long breath and breaks the Doctor's gaze. "He can move on properly now, and that's good."

"And," the Doctor starts carefully, "You and I?"

She unwraps her arms from around her legs and shifts sideways and down, until she is lying perpendicular to the Doctor with her head pillowed in his lap. She looks across the grass and at the horizon, rather than up at his face. "I'm staying with you forever," she reassures him.

He rests one palm against the top of her head, his fingers submerging into her soft, shiny hair. It is a gesture of protection, acceptance, light-hearted possession. He places his other hand lightly on her stomach, pretending the smoothness and warmth of her thin, cotton t-shirt is her skin against his. He is saying yes, please do. I will take care of you as you take care of me, and we can make each other happy.

"I love this place," she says softly.

He strokes through her hair tenderly and replies, "Me too."

"I love that you shared it with me."

He smiles, slowly and widely. "Me too."

She shifts, turning her head to look up at him at last. "I love..." she trails off in a breathless whisper.

He stares intently into her eyes, his hand moving to cup her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek. "Me too," he whispers back. And then, slightly trembling with both nerves and happiness, he leans down and presses his lips to hers.