Work Text:
The Doctor awoke from a restful sleep and checked his internal time clock. He’d slept seven hours and forty-two minutes. He tried to remember the last time he’d slept so long: it had been years. Decades. Before the Time War stole his peace, for sure.
He stretched, and the slide of sheets against his skin alerted him to the fact that he wasn’t dressed. Strip stark naked, he was. He pondered that for just a moment before a little sound beside him brought the memory of the previous night rushing to the forefront.
Rose.
She lay beside him, snoring quietly. He smiled at that, knowing that she would deny she snored until her last breath. The Doctor planned to tease her about it later, telling her that the loud, chainsaw-like noises she made while she slept had kept him up all night, and compare the sounds she made to a rampaging Stenstibulan plirge. He’d keep at it until she swatted at him, but it would be worth it because he knew that by that time, she'd have blushed the same shade of red as her namesake flower with embarrassment and humor. He’d do all manner of ridiculous things to see that flush... and did, often.
Last night, though, he’d brought that flush about a completely different way. A wonderful way, nearly incomprehensible in its brilliance.
The Doctor propped himself on one elbow and allowed himself the luxury of gazing at her, taking her in. She lay on her side, knees brought up a bit, one of her hands near her beautiful mouth. That mouth that had done miraculous things last night, and left him calling out to gods he didn't believe in.
They’d survived Krop Tor the day before, and he still shuddered at the memory. But he couldn’t be entirely sorry about the miserable detour they’d taken, because that harrowing experience had been the catalyst for he and Rose to finally - finally - give up the pretense that they were nothing more than friends who traveled together. When he’d looked at her, after proclaiming them the stuff of legend, it had been...well, it had just felt right to cup her cheek, sliding his hand back over her jaw and ear until he threaded his fingers in her hair, and then to capture her mouth with his own.
No, as harrowing an experience as it had been, he couldn’t wish that Krop Tor hadn’t happened. He’d never change the past...it’d led to the joy he felt now.
They’d made love twice the night before. The first time had been fast and frantic, both of them too desperate for each other's touch and the release of two years of pent up sexual tension for much more than the main event. The second time, though, they’d made love, sweet and slow, with all the kisses, touches, and caresses that he’d dreamed about since he wore leather and had big ears.
Then, in what may have been the best part - wellll maybe not the best part, but top five, certainly - was in the afterglow of their lovemaking when he’d held her close to him. She’d nuzzled into his side, draping one arm and leg across him and whispered into his ear to hold her, that she was cold. He’d been only too happy to oblige. How could he ever say no to that?
The Doctor decided that, despite all his failings and all the miserable things he’d done in his life, he must have done something very, very right to find himself in bed with the love of his lives, her whisky-brown eyes looking up at him from where she’d cuddled up to him, biting her lip a little and scooting just a bit closer to him. No matter what sins he’d committed, there must be something redeemable about him for this angel to be able to love him, to want him.
And she had redeemed him, taking the broken shards of the man that he was, crafting him with expert touches and soft smiles into something new and whole. Rose Tyler was compassion in human form, and she’d taught him kindness when he’d all but forgotten how to be anything but a soldier.
He vowed to himself, within his own mind, to justify his existence by being what she believed him to be; to make her as happy as she made him for as long as she’d consent to stay with him.
And that was the word of the day, wasn’t it? Happy. The Doctor was fantastically happy lying next to his beautiful companion, still glowing from the love they'd experienced, grinning like a fool, even hours later.
Oh, and he was a fool alright. A fool in love. He was arse-over-teakettle for Rose, had been for a good while, and he knew it showed. He’d waited so long, denying to her and himself what he actually felt, waiting for one of them to give in and flip the switch, desperate to know if she felt it, too.
He’d convinced himself that he didn't want or need a domestic life, didn't deserve it. He believed home and hearth were not for him. That he was meant to wander, never to love, atoning for his sins anywhere he landed.
Then he landed on earth, 2005, found a young shopgirl in the basement of the building he was about to explode, and Rose Tyler had just...happened.
She’d softened his hard edges with her mere presence. That same presence had made his ship domestic. And the TARDIS was...happy with her there.
There was that word again. Happy.
He’d known he wanted her with him forever when he’d found her in the parlor of a morgue, in the clutches of zombies. And then, when the dalek proclaimed that she was the woman he loved, he'd scoffed. It was only when she had stood her ground, his gun aimed at her, that he realized the dalek was right, completely correct in its assessment of the situation. This cruel and wretched being that knew only war and destruction, that should not have understood or cared to understand emotions, had pegged him... and accurately.
When that prat Adam and then Jack Harkness had stumbled into their lives, the Doctor’s need to claim Rose became more urgent. The thought of another man touching her, loving her, was appalling to him. He couldn't bear it, wouldn't bear it. So the glacially slow progression to the point they had now reached had begun.
He’d resisted, of course, clinging to the old Time Lord rules against fraternizing with humans, but those weren’t really the reasons he hesitated, if he was being honest. He hesitated because he knew in his hearts that he wasn't good enough for her. Could never be good enough.
But, Rose, his precious pink-and-yellow girl didn't care about his shortcomings. Somehow, by some miracle, she saw beyond the bitter old man and loved him anyway.
He’d seen a lot of things in his nine hundred plus years, but he'd never believed in miracles until she proved their truth.
Rose sighed beside him and stirred. He reached up with gentle hands to pull back a tendril of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear with a feather-light touch. Her lips quirked up into a small smile even as she slept, and the sight made him feel nothing short of bliss. He wanted to do something for her, something she’d find romantic, something…impressive.
With that in mind, he rolled out of his bed (their bed now, he thought with a jolt of pleasure) and pulled on his discarded trousers. He didn't kiss her, didn't disturb her, just padded to the galley after one last lingering look.
~*~O~*~
An hour later, he returned to the bedroom, pushing the door open with his bare foot, balancing a tray full of breakfast. He’d made her waffles with strawberry and bananas on top, bacon and sausages, scrambled eggs and a pot of tea, just the way Rose liked it. It was likely overkill, but he’d wanted to make her happy.
Rose stirred again when the tray rattled, then settled back into the comfort of his bed with a sigh.
The Doctor set the tray on the table beside the bed and took his trousers off before he slid back into bed with her. He’d not intended to do that, he’d planned on waking her up and showing her what he’d done for her, but the lure of her lying there proved too much for him.
He lay beside her for a moment, just basking in her presence like a cat in a warm beam of sunshine. At length, he put his hand on her bare arm, stroking her skin softly.
“Rooooose,” he crooned. “Wake up, love.”
He could call her ‘love’ now, like he’d always wanted to. He didn’t have to tamp down the impulse any longer. Wasn’t that just brilliant?
Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing her amber eyes, and a smile bloomed across her face when she saw him beside her. The smile she saved only for him. The smile he put on her face. Blimey, he was a lucky bastard.
“G’morning,” she murmured, then raised her arms above her head in a stretch that ended on a little squeak.
“Good morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine twenty-two, Rose time.”
“Blimey, I slept a long time.”
“Sounds like someone tired you out last night.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.
She laughed. “That you did, Time Lord. You most certainly did.”
“I made you breakfast,” he told her, sitting up. “All your favorites.”
Rose took a deep sniff, then gave him an appreciative smile. “Smells wonderful.”
“Ah, wait til you taste it.” Her eyes darkened a little, and he felt a certain part of his anatomy stir. “Not that,” he stammered. “I’m talking about breakfast.”
She laughed and sat up, and the Doctor couldn’t stop his eyes from fixing their gaze on her bare chest. Rose noticed and laughed again.
“Insatiable, you are.”
“Oi! You’re the one who gave me a look when I mentioned eating breakfast.”
“Complaints?” she challenged.
“No, no, no, not at all, no complaints from me.”
“Good.” She leaned over and dropped a kiss on his lips, then spun and threw her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll just pop to the loo for a moment. Be right back.”
He watched her go, her hips swaying in what he thought had to be an exaggerated fashion just to taunt him, and his suspicion proved true when she cast a seductive grin over her shoulder as soon as she got to the bathroom. Her little tease worked brilliantly, and he did his best to redirect blood flow before reaching over to the table and pulling the tea tray onto the bed.
He was just pouring her tea when she came back out of the loo, and his breath caught when he spotted her in one of his vest tops. It skirted her thighs (which he also looked at appreciatively), and she grinned at him as she climbed back on the bed.
“Smells good,” she repeated. “What’s the occasion?”
“Ah. Well. I’m glad you asked, Rose Tyler. Always asking the clever questions, you are.” He handed her the mug of tea as soon as she was settled. “I wanted to treat you to a breakfast in bed. You see, I’ve been watching these earth films with you, and I’ve learned a thing or two. One thing I learned is that breakfast in bed is terribly romantic, and another thing I learned is that the ‘morning after’ holds special significance to humans. From what I’ve seen, the ‘morning after’ can make or break a relationship in a lot of ways. Soooo…with that in mind, I decided to play on what I’ve learned and treat you to some romance in an attempt to impress you, and to impress upon you just how brilliant you are.”
She gave him a tongue-touched smile. “You don’t have to use waffles to impress me, Doctor. You impressed me plenty last night.”
He smirked, ridiculously pleased with the compliment, and leaned over to nuzzle her ear. “Plenty more where that came from, love.” He was gratified when Rose giggled. He sat back, beaming.
“Voila!” he said, pulling the dome off of the plate to reveal the contents.
“Oooh, Doctor, this is brilliant!” she cooed, picking up her fork. “Everything looks so good!”
“Not as good as you look, though.”
“Why, Doctor. Are you trying to seduce me with waffles?”
“Is it working?”
She giggled again and cut off a piece of waffle. Putting the fork in her mouth, she moaned and his biology absolutely took note.
“Good?” he asked.
“It’s divine,” she told him, cutting off another piece. “But you didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to, Rose. I may not be letting you out of bed for a while, thought it best to keep your strength up.”
Rose gave him a look, then picked up one of the sausages. “Might not be letting me out of bed, huh?”
The Doctor swallowed hard as she brought the sausage up to her mouth and closed her lips around it, moaning in pleasure.
“I...er...yes? I mean, yes. I have plans for us, see. After your breakfast.”
“Are you sure you want to wait?” She bit down on the sausage, just the tip, and the Doctor wondered if he had ever been so aroused in all his lives.
“I…”
“You what, Doctor?” She gave him a half-lidded smile, then brought the sausage to her lips again. “Do you want to wait or no?”
He watched as she played with the sausage for a moment before she took it back into her mouth, again wrapping her lips around it.
“I...I don’t know…” he stammered.
“Because, you see, I’m not all that hungry at the moment. Not for food, anyway.”
The Doctor felt his resolve snap. “Sod it,” he proclaimed, putting the dome back on her plate and removing the tray from the bed. When he turned back to Rose, she was grinning at him. He wasted no time before he pushed her back onto the bed and covered her body with his.
Hours later, when they were sharing a tray of cold waffles, bacon and sausages, the Doctor remembered the word of the day.
Happy.