Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, things like this would be broadcast on our screens every week.

A/N: I wanted to write at least one of the plot bunnies I had in my brain before I updated Domestics, so here it is! Basically a semi-cracky reunion fic/Journey's End fix-it/alternate ending.

This doesn't include Ten II. I don't have anything against him, but for the purposes of the story, it's just Ten and Rose.


. . .


She's here, she's really here.

Rose can still barely believe it. That she's found him, that she is back in her real world, her real home. Even with his pinstriped arm barely six inches from her own – steadfastly working to steer the Earth back to its' proper place – she keeps sneaking glances up at him, as though he will disappear if she looks away for too long, smiling shyly when he catches her looking. He grins goofily back, reaches out with his free hand to touch the curve of her neck, the jut of her shoulder blade the dimple of her elbow, eventually entwining his fingers with hers, squeezing lightly. Rose shudders at the touch – yes, he is here – and squeezes back – yes, she is here. The Doctor is in the TARDIS with Rose Tyler and all is as it should be.

Or nearly.

The second the Earth is orbiting correctly again, Rose grabs the Doctor by his lapels, a fierce look in her eyes and – almost as if he knows what she is about to do, almost as if he is about to do the exact same thing – his arms encircle her waist, bringing her as close as is humanly (or Time Lordly) possible as their lips press together.

And then everything is perfect.

They break apart what could be seconds, minutes, hours, later – Rose finds she doesn't really care, she could go on doing this forever, aliens be damned – beaming like idiots, tangled up in each other, and the Doctor leans in for another.

"Finally!" Mickey cries and they both start, turning in one fluid motion to face their audience.

"Oh, don't stop now, you two!" Donna says. "Better than a film, this."

"That's right, get it out all in the open," Jack adds. He pats the TARDIS console invitingly, eyebrows waggling. "Mmm, roomy."

"Oi!" Jackie shouts, and when Rose glances up at the Doctor, he almost looks relieved. "You do realize her mother's standing right here, yeah? I don't need to hear about any of his creepy alien . . . things – I don't even care if he has two of 'em!"

"I do not have two. . . ."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Tyler," Jack interrupts, "I'm simply trying to save your daughter and . . . son-in-law?" - yeah, that sounds right, says Donna - "a lot of nasty sexual tension."

"Thick enough to cut with a knife, that is," says Mickey.

Jack snorts. "A knife? Try a chainsaw. I'm no doctor, but that doesn't seem too healthy."

"It's not," says Martha. "Have you two seriously never. . . ?"

"Nope." The Doctor pops the p, beaming broadly, and promptly starts back as Jackie sends a well-aimed slap this way. "What was that for?"

"Why are you not shagging my daughter?"

"I was being good!"

"Good? Running around with French bimbos while my Rose sits around waiting for you to get your head out of your arse? You call that being good? That's right, I know – he told me" - I had to, boss, says Mickey, shrugging helplessly, but a sly grin plays at the corners of his mouth. "She could have any man she wanted and she chose you, but that's not good enough for Mr. High-and-Mighty Time Lord, is it? Ooh, someone give me something to hit 'im with!"

"Mum, stop it!" says Rose, moving to stand in front of the Doctor and smiling when his arms wrap around her. "We aren't – weren't – like that."

"Oh, don't you try and pull one on me, Rose Tyler." Threateningly, she brandishes a large handbag – proffered by a shell-shocked Sarah Jane – and the Doctor pulls Rose further into his chest. "I've seen the way you look at him, the way he looks at you too, come to that."

"Well, yeah," observes Martha, "but if they did anything about it, then it'd become real. I know for a fact that he's terrified of that."


"It's true! You'll avoid anything rather than face it head-on. You told me you two were together instead of just saying you weren't interested."

"We were together. We traveled together." Face crinkling in confusion, the Doctor turns to Rose for clarification as she snorts with laughter.

"Doctor, you really need to learn how to phrase things better."

"Why, what did she think I - . . . oh! Well, that's a bit awkward."

"The way he talked about you," continues Martha, giggling along with Rose, "I thought it was just a bad break-up, not. . . . I'm sorry, Rose, I shouldn't be laughing."

Rose waves an airy hand. "No, no, it's alright. Long time ago now." Still, her voice falters for a second and she smiles when she feels the Doctor squeeze her just a bit tighter. "Go on, then. What'd he say?"

"You traitor, Rose Tyler." He glares down at her in mock seriousness, but refuses to relinquish his hold.

"Wouldn't shut up about you, would he?" answers Donna. "Could be doing anything in the universe and he'd find a way to relate it back to you. I remember one time him, me, and Martha were at this cute little cafe. . . ."

"Ooh, I remember that!" says Martha. "We were just having lunch and this woman walks by us eating chips. I thought he was hungry for a second, the way he looked at her. Then he just says my friend liked chips and goes quiet."

"I'd like to see that." Jackie laughs.

"That's right," says Donna. "He only mentioned you by name a few times. Otherwise, it was always my friend. Me and Martha, though, we knew who he meant. He'd get this look in his eyes."

His face pressed into her hair, Rose can all but feel the Doctor blushing. That, and his wide grin.

"Friends with benefits?" Jack proposes, brows waggling again.

The Doctor makes a warning noise in his throat, a soft growl that sends shudders coursing through Rose's body. She extracts herself from him with difficulty, trying her best to ignore the hurt look he sends her. There's no point exciting herself further, not with this many people on-board (several, she is sure, who would be listening at the keyhole given half a chance).

"Oh, come on." She rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "We've kissed – what is it, Doctor, once before today? And that was Cassandra anyway, not really. . . ."

"Well." The Doctor ruffles his hair, a familiar, nervous gesture. "Twice-ish."

"Twice-ish? What's that mean, then: twice-ish? It doesn't get much more ish than being possessed by a flap of skin."

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this," says Jack.

"Shall I make the popcorn?" Donna asks.

"You were dying. I had to. . . ."

"What was it – like CPR, then?"

"Yes! No. Well . . . kind of. It was when you came back to Satellite Five. . . ."

"After you sent me home, you mean."

"Er . . . yeah." To his credit, the Doctor sends her an apologetic look (complete with his best puppy-dog eyes) before continuing. "Problem is, you had looked into the time vortex. You destroyed the Daleks, you saved my life; but that same power was going to kill you, burn you alive. I had to take it out of you and the only way to do that was to initiate certain . . . certain contact."


"Stop it, Jack."

"So you had to kiss me? You couldn't have just . . . I dunno, touched my arm or something?"

Donna chuckles under her breath.

"No, that was the most . . . er, the most direct method. You didn't have much time left and I needed to act fast." The Doctor's hand flies to his hair again.


"Stop it, Jack. So that's why you regenerated, then?"

"Yep! Any complaints?"

"Can't say I miss the ears," Jack interjects. "But I do like you in leather, Doc, I have to say."

"Leather?" Martha and Donna ask simultaneously.

"And I suppose that's why you didn't tell me," Rose says, trying her best to hide her wounded tone. "What with the regeneration coma and the Sycorax and all."

"Well," he says slowly, winding an arm around her once more, "yes, I suppose so. And I suppose" - he tips her head up - "that I have quite a bit to make up for."

"Mmm," Rose murmurs when they have parted again, the Doctor nipping slightly at her lower lip before releasing her this time. "I think that's a good start. Mind you, there are a few other things. . . ."

"Have a list, do you?"

"Yep." She pops the p and he grins. "Krop Tor, the Olympics, the Queen's coronation, numerous prison cells. . . ."

He nuzzles her cheek. "Sounds good to me."

"Get on with it, then!" shouts Donna. "Look, you two love each other – oh, don't give me that face, Spaceman, we all know it's true. . . ."

"It was going to be romantic," the Doctor pouts. "With chocolates and champagne. . . ." Rose squeezes his hand. "Any time you want to do that's fine by me."

". . . and if you don't start shagging soon, either you're going to explode or we are."

"That's right," agrees Martha. "We've had quite a few cases of Idiots In Love Syndrome."

Mickey laughs. "That's them, alright. Always a tragic end, I've heard."

"If only they'd shagged in time, they might have saved themselves," Jack sighs. "I've heard up against a console is the best place."

The Doctor growls again and Rose doesn't even attempt to hide her shudder.

"Bedroom," says Donna firmly, chivvying them down the corridor with the rest of the passengers following close behind, her tone brooking no argument. "Now."

"I like you," says Jack.

"Not too bad yourself, Captain." Donna winks, giving the Doctor a particularly vicious poke to the ribs as he rolls his eyes. "Oi, don't you be offering opinions on my love life when you haven't shagged in centuries! Go on!" She pushes the Doctor further down the corridor and Rose, clutching his hand, is dragged along with him.

"Don't have much of a choice, do we?" the Doctor asks.

"Nope." The Doctor isn't sure who says it: perhaps the collective thoughts of the crew finding voice in one monosyllable, perhaps the TARDIS who is even now bringing his (their?) bedroom to the forefront of the ship, perhaps even his own enormous brain, finally sorting out its' priorities.

"Have fun, sweetheart!" Jackie calls. "And you, don't go all crazy with your alien tech. She only has one."

"Well," says the Doctor, "this is possibly the most awkward thing ever."

"Are you complaining?" asks Rose.

He grins, sweeping her up in his arms to carry her over the threshold – the universe's most imperfect perfection – as the door slams behind them. "Nope."

. . .

A/N: This was actually a bit hard to write just because there were so many characters to coordinate. When I was reading it over, I noticed I didn't give Sarah Jane any lines. Just pretend she said some things "off-screen," OK? That, or she was just so struck by the adorableness of Doctor/Rose that she was rendered mute. Either one works.

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