She swings her legs as he holds her so tightly she can barely breath, enjoying the ferocity of his hug and yet needing it to end; he's squeezed all the air from her lungs and it would be uncomfortable if she didn't need to feel him so close, his breath warm on her neck as he chuckles.
Her feet touch the floor again and she moves to extricate herself from is embrace. His hands are still holding her arms, just above the elbow, his eyes boring into her. She returns his rapturous grin, feeling the penetrative aspect of his stare as if he's looking for something hidden in the core of her being, and not caring. It's more than enough to return that smile and feel loved enough that his dark eyes sweep over her, make sure she's one and whole and his.
And so she's shocked when he leans forward, and doesn't know how to react as his mouth covers hers. It's a kiss as fierce as his hug, an assault on her lips and before she's really aware of it she's returning it, falling back into his embrace, her head tilted upwards as he continues kissing her as if the fate of the universe depended on it. The metal of the harness he's still wearing is digging into her, but she doesn't mind. She couldn't break away, even if she wanted to, he's holding her too tightly. The rational core of her brain not swept away by the passion of the kiss wonders if he's scared she might.
It's him that breaks the kiss therefore, two spots of colour burning in his pale cheeks and his eyes aflame now, burning with an emotion she can't name, won't name. It's too ephemeral for that, giving it a title will only encourage it to slip away, for him to step back and clap his hands together, and ask the question.
Where to, Rose Tyler? Where to?
And she knows her reply too well:
Anywhere, as long as it's with you.
"I'm sorry," he breaths, his voice ragged.
She feels her mouth twitch. "It weren't that bad," she replies, and he laughs again, his face alight with joy and she's never loved him more she realises, high on the euphoria of survival and the shock of this new something between them.
Later, she knows there'll be guilt. There'll be Toby's ruined face, his mad red eyes meeting hers as the awful voice rips itself from his vocal cords and his hideous scream as he dies by her hand. There'll be Scooti, and Jeffersen, and the Ood cowering in fear as they fall into the Time Lords' most terrible creation. She knows there'll be nightmares, so vivid they'll leave her screaming in the dark.
But she knows that they will pass, and that when she wakes up there'll be strong hands on her shoulders, bracing her against the horrors and telling her "It's ok, it's just a dream," and giving her water, or tea or maybe even something stronger. And she'll think: Does he ever get his head down? As she drifts back off to sleep she'll hear him tinkering with the TARDIS, talking softly to her, to himself.
But right now there's just him, blushing, and not knowing quite what he's begun. She feels old, mature beyond her years because for this one moment she's in control; she understands and not him. She leans forward, and brushes her lips against his again. It's a delicate kiss this time, although his hands tighten instinctively on her arms again, and he feels her smile under his lips.
"I'm so glad you're safe," he says, in between the butterfly soft kisses, his mouth still pressed against hers.
"S'you that was in danger. When Ida said... when you fell..." She can't finish the sentence, tears stinging her eyes irrationally. He's safe, he's here, it's ok... Her forehead rests against his as he holds her so close she can feel the odd beating of his two hearts. It's funny how something so alien can feel so familiar, that when she hugged Toby and Danny it felt wrong somehow...
"Did Ida...?" he asks, almost hating himself for it as the words seem to bubble up from somewhere within.
"She said... that you said my name."
"You know, Rose, don't you?" he breathes, so quietly she's not quite sure that he's even said it.
"Yeah," she murmurs in reply, "I know."
He draws away at last, smiling in a different way now. He's himself once more, and she feels a fleeting sadness, wondering for a moment if they'll ever feel this close again, and almost fearful of the circumstances that might bring it upon them. "I should let them have their suit back," he says, glancing down at his orange attire, "Don't think this colour's really me."
She shrugs. "I dunno. It's very... Armageddon..."
"It was really," he replied softly, "Wasn't it?" She knows she won't be the only one feeling the guilt once the adrenalin has ebbed away, and if he does ever sleep she knows she won't be the only one screaming in her dreams.
She smiles anyway, and puts her hands on his shoulders where the harness sits like a heavy duty pair of braces. There's seduction in her smile as she slides them over his arms, and reaches round for the zip on the back of his suit. He exhales slowly as she gently pulls it down, and can't quite help the quirk of his eyebrows.
Something has changed, she realises, as he steps out of the space suit and gathers it up in his arms. She watches him as he crosses to the TARDIS door, opens it, and throws the suit into the cargo hold beyond. He crosses back to the console and she stands at his side as he radios Captain Zach. It's in the way he turns to look at her when he talks of humans, and the certainty in his eyes as he tells her the Beast was lying about her death in battle.
The groan and zing of dematerialisation fades, replaced by the hum of the TARDIS in transit. "What do you reckon?" he asks, "A nice cup of tea?"
She nods. "Yeah. You put the kettle on. First of all, I want to grab a shower."
He nods. "Good plan."
She thumps his arm lightly. "Oi! You're not so fragrant yourself you know!" she returns.
He grins. "Well quicker you're finished, faster I can get one."
"I know there's more than one bathroom on this ship. And when I find it, there's gonna be Hell to pay over you making me hurry up all the time."
The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them, and there's an awkward silence for a moment. The Beast was right, in some ways, she realises. He was woven into the fabric of so many cultures, even down to the very words she uses to express herself. It's going to take time to for the effects of this adventure to fade.
But the Doctor's grinning again. "You'll never find them," he replies confidently.
"Oh, so you admit they exist?" she returns, glad he found a simple way to release the tension.
He merely smiles. "I'll put the kettle on, you can pour and then we can go for chips."
"Mmm. Proper ones. From the seaside?"
He nods. "Yeah. Blackpool. Late twentieth century, on a windy day. Sound normal enough?"
"I know it'll be Scarborough in the summer," she says, her tongue poking out from between her teeth as she teases him, "But yeah. Sounds brilliant."
