It had been three weeks since they were a hybrid experiment. For two of them, Rose knew what Jackie meant when she said that being pregnant was horrible. Morning sickness hit her right after she woke up, and the home remedies from her mother and researched remedies from the Doctor did nothing to help. That morning, she was on the floor of her loo in her flannel jimjams. It had already been thirty minutes and she was still clinging to the toilet, deathly sick and paler than ever.

Instead of knocking, the rude not-ginger Doctor came rushing inside with a worried expression. "Rose? You all right?"

She was too ill to make a snarky comment about his entrance and the fact that she could have been immodestly dressed. Well, more immodestly than usual. All she could muster was a tiny frown. "I've been better."

He crouched in front of her and produced a glass of bubbly liquid. "I read that ginger beer might help. This is close to it. Not the real thing. Sort of a knock off. You need to stay hydrated."

With a weak hand, she took the glass and sipped slightly. She leaned against the door of her shower and took another sip. "I thought that fighting Daleks was hell. They have nothing on this."

Sitting on the floor across from her, he chuckled and balanced his elbows on his knees. "You know, morning sickness is a good thing. Women who don't experience morning sickness can be more likely to miscarry. It's a defensive mechanism that protects the fetus from toxins the mother may have ingested. Certain plants have toxins that adult humans are not affected by, but because the fetus has not fully developed such toxins can be harmful or even lethal. That's also why certain smells or tastes can make a woman nauseated. It probably contains some sort of chemical that would harm the fetus."

"Really interesting," she grimaced as she felt her stomach churning. She handed him the glass and got closer to the toilet. "That defensive mechanism is in action."

She began to vomit again and he frowned, cautiously rubbing her back comfortingly. When she pulled back and hit the handle, he gave her the glass of ginger beer and looked inside of a cupboard. Discovering a cloth, he got up and wet it in the sink, joining her on the floor once more.

She took it in surprise and held the cool fabric to her forehead. "Thank you."

"Yep," he nodded, sitting directly beside her.

"You don't have to…" she began.

"No. It's fine. I have nowhere more important to be than right here."

Her heart fluttered as he grinned, placing his brainy specs on his nose and examining her jimjams. "I like that. What pattern is it?"

"…butterflies…"

"It's nice. I like butterflies. Magnificent creatures."

She smiled and took a small sip, idly cuddling up to his side. "I just know that they're pretty. I'll bet you know everything about them."

"I do," he said brightly. "Would you like to hear about them?"

As she nodded her head, he went into a long dissertation about the butterfly. He only stopped when she had to vomit again, and after making sure she was all right he continued. Every morning after that, she got sick and he arrived with the ginger beer. She told him that it was helping, but only because she wanted him to be there. It really didn't do much at all.

They'd visit safe planets in the daytime, which were still stunning but rather boring. At night, they'd retreat to the library for some reading. The TARDIS had conveniently located all of the parenting books at the front bookcase. They'd sit together on the couch reading different books about pregnancy or raising a child until Rose fell asleep. She'd usually wake up on her own bed, tucked neatly under the sheets on the side closest to the loo.

Every time they would read on the couch, Rose couldn't focus. She wanted to grab him and make out. Honestly, the Doctor wanted to do the same thing. But, both were too afraid to make the first move. She wasn't sure what he felt and he didn't want to screw things up somehow. Even so, their imaginations were in overdrive.

It was driving them bonkers.

One night, while reading a book called Act Properly and Your Child Can Too, Rose felt herself drifting off. The book slid from her hands and she slumped against the Doctor's shoulder. He glanced up from his book about encouraging early learning and smiled gently. Her shampoo was tickling his nostrils and he sensed her breathing deepen. She was out like a light, so it was time to put her to bed. Tenderly, he picked her up and began the walk to her room. When he put her in bed, he didn't notice that she'd left a pointy pink comb on the pink pillow. It was enough to rouse her slightly.

"Doctor?" she yawned as he stopped in his tracks.

"Go back to sleep," he murmured, attempting to back away. She held onto his wrist and he swallowed. His resolve was fading.

Rose was in that grey area of slumber and waking, so she had no idea that her subconscious was talking. "Stay."

"Stay?" he repeated unsurely. "No, no. I shouldn't. I couldn't. I can't. I won't. I might. Not. I might not. I will not. I need to go. Right now. I should go at this very moment."

"Don't," she yawned again, her eyes still closed. "Stay."

"But…but…" he faltered with a defeated expression.

He wanted to stay, and obviously she wanted him there. Besides, that way he could be there when she got sick in the morning. Before he knew what he was doing, he was in bed with her.

"Night," she mumbled as she burrowed into his chest.

His arms looped around her and he grinned. "Goodnight, Rose Tyler. 'Night little one."

When she stirred that morning, she was slightly confused as to why something was draped around her and a comb was beneath her head. She blinked and looked at the arm and glanced over her shoulder to see the Doctor's sleeping face. It took a second to gather what happened, and when she did she was appalled that she slipped and asked him to stay. The other part of her was delighted that he had taken her up on her offer. The glow was short lived, as her stomach bubbled and she threw his arm away, running to the loo.

The Doctor sat up instantly, hearing the unpleasant sounds. He got up and fetched a glass of ginger beer, joining her inside. She looked up and blushed upon seeing him. "Hi."

"Hello," he grinned like an excited school boy. "Good morning. Well, maybe 'good' isn't the right word."

He handed her the glass and sat beside her as she sipped. "You stayed," she commented quietly.

"You asked me," he answered automatically and much too happily. "Then again, you were half asleep. Did you not want me to?"

"Well, I didn't know that I asked you. Like you said, I wasn't all there. But, yeah. I did."

"Really?" he questioned, pleasantly surprised.

"Really. Sorry if I made you stay if you didn't want to. You don't have to. If I accidentally ask again, it's okay to say no. You probably have other things to do. Fiddling with the TARDIS and all that."

He ran a nervous hand through his bedhead, admitting quietly, "No, I wanted to stay."

"Seriously?" she smiled hard enough to make her face sore.

"Yes. I did."

The moment was broken as she vomited again. He rubbed her back as she groaned, resurfacing to use her ginger beer like mouthwash. "I am disgusting right now."

"You're not," he assured her softly, holding a serious and smoldering expression.

The tension was back, pulling them closer. She could feel her heart pounding and so could he. Her breathing was rapid, that he noticed too. Did that mean that Rose Tyler wanted the same thing that he wanted? He didn't care about anything else in that moment. Her lips were too close and too tempting. He barely moved forward and she closed the distance. They kissed for a brief amount of time and she had to turn back to the loo.

He grinned as he held back her hair, whispering, "You tasted like ginger."