A/N: I just want to take a moment to say thank you for all the reviews, alerts and favorites. I'm super bad about saying thanks, but they all mean so much to me. So thank you!
Rose had stopped looking, annoyed and feeling overheated for some reason. Every time she tried to do anything all she could see were flashes of the Doctors smile. The slow, lazy one he didn't give her very often.
The one she imagined might mirror one he would use if they ever made love.
So instead of trying she bought an ice cream cone from a nice older lady, and sat at an outside table. The town was quite but she imagined that was due to the ban on travel.
As her tongue pulled the cool treat into her mouth she felt a smidgen guilty about not looking harder. She didn't want the Doctor to be any more disappointed in her then he probably already was now.
She would have to try to focus better, try to remember what she was doing instead of how the Doctor smelled when he was so near. Or what his lips felt like beneath hers, now that she knew it was double the torture.
Ignorance was its own sort of twisted bliss.
She was lost in thought when she heard him softly whisper her name. She almost missed it. It was low and full of something she couldn't identify. She turned to find him watching her, eyes full of a black desire.
"Doctor?"
DW
He saw here sitting at a table, her tongue dancing around this planets version of an ice cream cone. It was a slow easy pattern that he allowed himself to burn into his memory. He would forever remember this moment, and he was drowning in desire.
He suspected most of it was all his own. He was in far too deep, and with these flowers of apology in his hand he almost didn't care.
She deserved a whole man, someone so much better than him. Would it matter if he would try every day to be that man? That he would do anything to be her man forever? That he would love her deeply, just as she was, forever?
He didn't know. He couldn't ask. But how he longed to hear that he was enough- broken and lost- but enough.
"Rose," he whispered without meaning to do so. His mouth betrayed his mind. He was lost, drugged by his own body, chemicals flowing to every crevice of him.
She turned to look at him, surprised at first and then her face slid down into a more challenging look. What was it a challenge of though? Was she waiting for an apology, or for him to finally admit was he was stubbornly holding out on.
She watched him, eyes darkening as she licked a loop around the ice cream and he swallowed hard. His body was stirring and he cleared his throat and ignored what he was trying to imagine she was using that talented tongue for.
"Doctor?"
That was the second time she had said his name, and he was still struggling to answer. Then his feet were moving, and his hands were offering her that vase of flowers.
"I'm sorry," he told her, softly. He meant it, but he wasn't entirely sure that it was he that said it. At least not that it had come from his part of the brain.
She took them, handing him her cone. He took it without a thought. He looked down at it realizing whether it was just to hold something, or to be her mate, he would always be there for her. He already was, he just didn't let himself admit it.
"They're pretty," she admitted, and when she looked up there was softness in the brown orbs.
He sat, still holding her cone, which was dripping down over his hand. "I didn't find it," she told him.
He really didn't care. No, he did. He had to care. He still had to fix this; it was just getting hard to remember why. Was forever with Rose Tyler really so bad of a trade for a little werewolf venom in his body.
Eternity for a small price of the change. Somebody decided it might just be worth it, he just wasn't sure if it was him.
"The TARDIS is outside of town," the Doctor told her. He let out a long breath, fighting for control.
She seemed to accept his apology; he hoped that was the case.
"So how are we going to get it?"
Get it? Oh, right. They needed the TARDIS. He had forgotten again, even in that short amount of time. He wondered why she was in better control of her wolf than he was.
Probably sheer stubbornness, she had that going for her.
"I'm not sure," he admitted, knowing that he should be able to come up with a solution easy. He was a genius after all. So why could he think of nothing but Rose.
He thought of her smile, her warm laugh, her cone that was now mostly a sticky puddle on his hand and the table.
She leaned back, and he rose to throw the cone away. He looked around for something to wipe his hand on, but came up with nothing. Instead he licked the mess from his fingers, glancing at her when she inhaled sharply.
He could smell her then, in the gentle breeze. Her pheromones were enough to make him growl, and he thought he might have to have his way with her in this street if they didn't return to their room.
She was standing, walking away. Had he scared her? He started to calm, his focus being drawn away from his desire until he saw that she was heading back to the inn.
If he was smart he would stay away, take a cool shower somewhere that wasn't near her, and fight back what he wanted to do.
Well, even a genius had to be a fool sometimes. He followed her, inside the inn, up the stairs.
He closed the door behind him, and she turned to look at him.
He moved towards her, like a predator to prey. She was his. Always.