Fic: Regarding Rose

[fogsblue]

Title: Regarding Rose
Rating: All ages
Characters: Ten/Rose
Summary: The Doctor has a slight dilemma. It's not how he feels about Rose. It's more that he's not sure what he should do about what he feels for Rose.
A/N: Written for silverlunarstar and callistawolf from the prompt 'enamoured Doctor'. This is just fluff, seriously.

The Doctor sighed loudly into the console room. He had a problem. He had a serious problem that he didn’t have the faintest idea about dealing with. It wasn’t exactly a new problem. He had a feeling that if he asked the opinion of certain people (a certain captain, a particular ex of Rose’s and her intimidating mother) they’d say he’d had this problem for a while. Quite possibly since he uttered the line “Did I mention, it also travels in time?”

His problem related to one lovely human named Rose Tyler.

It wasn’t, he admitted, that Rose was the problem exactly. It was more that she was, well, she was Rose. She was friendly and generous, adventurous and brave, courageous and just brilliant. Not one of these attributes was a problem. Well, maybe the adventurous one was, he mused, if she was less adventurous maybe she would wander off less. Not that he minded rescuing her, or the number of times she had rescued him. It was just, that he generally started missing her sooner than he’d like to say.

But tendency to wander off aside, the Doctor still… adored all those aspects that made up Rose Tyler.

His problem wasn’t even the fact that Rose was, in a single word, beautiful. From the top of her lovely blonde hair to her lovely red (this week, at least) toenails, he thought she was rather perfectly made. He shook his head as he considered the amount of times he’d been caught staring by everyone but Rose.

Oddly enough, the fact that he knew he was hopelessly enamoured with her wasn’t the problem either. Nor was it that he would really like to kiss her. And see her naked, in his room, or hers, or anywhere with a convenient surface, preferably just before they had sex.

No, not one of those things was the problem.

The Doctor’s problem was that he didn’t have any idea how to go about letting Rose know he would like to have sex with her. And more importantly, no idea how to let Rose Tyler know he was hopelessly in love with her.

After much thought and consideration, the Doctor had decided to try the typically human way of doing these things. Dating.

However, to make matters slightly more complicated, he never quite worked up the courage to ask her on a date, he just sort of hoped she’d know their next trip was one. Rose was rather brilliant, he thought, she’d realise and if he was very lucky, she’d kiss him. And if he was even luckier, she’d tell him that it was ok and his feelings were entirely mutual.

What he failed to take into account was his tendency to never land where he intended. His first attempt at a date, Elvis in New York in the 1950’s, had turned into the Queen’s coronation and an encounter with the Wire. There were still moments where the Doctor was worried he hadn’t managed to save the day, but thankfully, the smile Rose saved for him served as a reminder he’d brought her back.

He tried not to think too much about his ongoing (two, so far) attempts to take Rose to Barcelona.

Instead of the beauty of Barcelona they had landed on an impossible planet under a black hole. While he’d been terrified he might lose Rose, the Doctor found his faith in her was well founded when she helped him save the day. Again.

Then a planet with a name even he struggled to pronounce, but Rose had decided should just be called Mud. He had a feeling the jeans she had worn that day would never be seen again.

Standing at the console, the Doctor shook his head and entered the coordinates for Barcelona again. Maybe it was time for one more try.

Hearing Rose enter the console room, the Doctor started speaking as he turned around, “So Rose Tyler, what do you think...”

The Doctor trailed off, just staring at the vision presented to him. It wasn’t that she wore something as obvious as a bikini, or as predictable as a fancy gown. She stood there, hair damp from a recent shower, dressed in an old tee and a pair of loose shorts, looking comfortable and content. The Doctor realised he had three thoughts; the first was that he hadn’t realised how empty the console room had felt for the past forty five minutes, or why, the second being that he’d never seen her look so perfect. And the third, well, the third had him walking towards her so quickly he wasn’t even aware he’d moved until he was mere inches away from her and he’d dropped to his knees.

As she looked down at the man before her, his face raised in what she would only term as hope, Rose gently placed a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder and, concern lacing her voice, simply asked, “Doctor?”

“Rose, my Rose. My perfect Rose,” the Doctor started, “I’m would really like to kiss you.” He stopped for a fraction of a second, he was sure he wasn’t going to say that, but now he’d started, well, he thought, he might as well continue. Looking up at Rose’s hopeful but slightly worried face, he continued, “Well, I say kiss you, and I would. But if you wouldn’t be entirely against it, I’d like to take you to the nearest bedroom and marrch laurrgf tooyolf.”

He tried to frown as Rose cut him off with her hand placed gently over his rambling mouth. How was she meant to know if she didn’t let him finish? Without thought he licked her hand and let out a low groan as he tasted her skin. Rose quickly moved her hand back and tried to speak, “Doctor, are you…”

She was given no chance to complete her question as the Doctor started talking again, “You, Rose, and I, in the nearest bedroom. Naked. And then, I could kiss you. And if you’re agreeable, I could taste you, all of you. And then…”

“Doctor,” Rose said as she tried to catch her Doctor’s attention. Unsuccessfully.

“Then, Rose, then we could make love, for days, if you wanted. I want, but I just want you to be happy,” the Doctor said, lost in his own thoughts and daydreams. And her eyes. Had she always had such lovely eyes, he wondered.

Rose leant down a little, until her face was level with the Doctor’s. As her eyes met his, his chatter cut off and she looked at him. For a moment there was simply silence. His mouth opened but before he could say a word, Rose nodded, more to herself than him. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” she asked.

Nodding in agreement, as he would have to almost anything she said, the Doctor smiled, “Yes, it’s me and now that we’ve established that, do you think you might kiss me? Please?” he asked, desperation beginning to colour his voice. “Because I can’t think of a thing I want more, not even…”

The Doctor’s pleas were abruptly cut off as Rose leant forward and dropped what was intended to be a quick kiss on his lips. Before she could retreat however, one of the Doctor’s hands weaved through her hair and his tongue flicked across her lips, asking her, begging her, to deepen the kiss. Letting her mouth open and swiftly stroking his tongue with hers, Rose obliged.

Taking advantage of Rose’s open mouth and playful tongue (and he tried not to spend too much time imagining what she could do with it) the Doctor let himself get lost in the taste of her. And the feel and the smell and…

He broke apart from her to take a deep breath and asked, “Does that mean yes? Because, Rose, all I want is you. I’ll take you anywhere, or anywhen, you want. Just please, tell me it’s me you want?”

Not saying a word, Rose gently tugged the Doctor upwards, until he stood in front of her again. He had a brief thought that on his knees seemed more appropriate. She deserved to be worshipped and begged, never ever looked down upon. Not his Rose.

As if she knew he was about to start rambling again, Rose placed a finger on his lips, smiled softly, letting her emotions show, and said, “I think, Doctor of mine, that you’ll find I’m fully behind,” cheeky grin on her face, “or in front, maybe above, these ideas of yours.

The Doctor was stunned and overjoyed and for the first time since his regeneration, entirely at a loss for words. He decided sometimes actions spoke louder and quickly let himself get lost in the pure joy of kissing his Rose.