Disclaimer: Is necessary.

Summary: "Because I want to. I want to remember what it's like being close to you before I sober up and remember why I shouldn't." 10Rose.

Apology/Dedication: I have to offer my utmost apologies to 'grey lady of gallifrey', as this is what I ended up writing when I was supposed to be doing the sequel to 'Symmetry'/'When the Universe is Sleeping' that you requested ages ago. I'm sorry! But this is for you to make up for the supreme delay. That other story is happening, I promise! I'll chain myself to the desk one day and finish it, I'm just waiting for the inspiration to strike…

A/N: I can't stop writing fluff at the moment. I miss series 2… But anyway, enjoy the story! Drunk Doctor and random things abound :) Jen xx

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The Doctor tipped back the remains of his drink, swallowing it down in one. He smiled a cheesy grin at Rose, feeling immensely proud of himself. He- the Doctor, the Oncoming Storm, the last of the Time Lords- had just proved to his travelling companion- Rose, Bad Wolf, the inherent weakness of the last of the Time Lords- that he could in fact drink half a pint of the most potent Angdotian whiskey and not feel any effects whatsoever.

Or so he thought. If his elbow missed the table when he went to rest it there then that was just bad luck, and nothing to do with altered judgement or perception of distances. And if he was swaying so much that Rose had to grab his arm to anchor him to their booth, then that was because he was just so ecstatically happy and absolutely nothing to do with the euphoric results of too much alcohol.

Time Lords didn't get drunk. At least, that was the line he was determined to maintain when Rose questioned him on how he was feeling. "I'm perfectly fine, Rose." He gripped the back of the half-circle bench seat they were on to stop himself falling forwards into her (At this point he decided the bar they were in was most definitely on a steep hill). "My superior physiology means that I process alcohol's effects more efficiently. I'm not drunk."

"You're right," Rose replied, making him smile at her agreement. His smile faltered slightly at her next words. "You're not drunk. You're plastered! Apparently your superior physiology means that you process the alcohol to feel its effects more potently." She sipped her own drink, a weak cocktail of fruit juices native to the planet of Angdotia mixed with a half-measure of hypervodka.

"No," he said dumbly, his brain not working fast enough to keep up with her logic. Silly ape, he thought. Must be drunk, bless her. She's slurring her words. He didn't think about the fact that he might be slurring his thoughts.

Rose's hand was on his thigh now. When did that get there? She leaned towards him, her breath washing over the sensitive skin of his neck as her warm hand crept higher up his leg. "Well then," she purred in his ear in a voice he couldn't ever remember hearing her use before, unless he counted the time Cassandra had possessed her. See, can't be drunk if I can remember that! "Seeing as you and I are both mature, consenting adults, perhaps we could have a little fun tonight?" She let her lips brush the shell of his ear as she moved away, instantly causing a flood of X-rated thoughts to slip into his mind unbidden, most of them involving other uses for Rose's lovely mouth.

Well, this is new. If he didn't know any better he'd swear Rose was flirting with him. If he did know better, however, he wouldn't currently be thinking that her proposition was a wonderful idea. He felt his body start to respond as her fingers squeezed the flesh of his thigh through his trousers. "Oh, I'd love to!" he told her before his mind could process just what she was suggesting, bringing his head close to hers with the intention of kissing her senseless.

His lips were mere millimetres from hers when her hand came up to clasp his jaw, moving his face away. She grinned at him. "Doctor, you are so drunk!" she informed him gleefully. "If you were sober you'd be giving me a lecture on the top one hundred reasons why you and I shouldn't give in to the urge to 'have a little fun'."

"But that would be silly," he told her. "Because I'm sober now, and I'm thinking that having some fun is a very good idea. We could go back to the TARDIS, get in the hot tub and party the night away."

Rose looked at him seriously. "As much as I would love to," she told him in a voice that didn't sound strictly serious, "I don't think you'd appreciate it much in the morning when you realised that you let down your masterly Time Lord restraint and indulged in the simple pleasures you spend so much time scorning."

"What?!" That really didn't sound like something he would do, did it?

"Randy apes unable to keep their minds off sex for ten minutes, was the way I think you put it a couple of weeks ago," she informed him.

"No!" He really couldn't remember that. He didn't know why he would ever say such a thing, especially when sex was sounding really rather good right now. Especially when he could still feel the ghost of Rose's hand caressing his thigh. Especially when she was sitting a mere foot away from him, looking absolutely gorgeous and sending off unconscious signals of pheromones.

Rose looked amused. "No?" she queried.

He nodded emphatically. "That's right," he said. "Even if I did say what you said I said, I never said it was a bad thing, did I?"

She thought for a moment. "No."

"So I've never said I'm against sex?"

She blushed scarlet. "No," she replied, almost inaudibly.

"So there's nothing stopping us from doing it?"

His companion had to think about that one for quite a while. Must be the alcohol, he thought. Poor ape's gonna have one hell of a hangover in the morning. "Not technically," she said hesitantly. "But it's not something we've ever done before."

"Why not? Don't you want to?" He told himself that he was simply curious and wanting to know how Rose's mind worked a bit better, that his inappropriate questioning was nothing to do with the whiskey dulling his capacity to reason.

Rose didn't answer.

"You must want to," he said when she failed to reply. "You just came on to me, putting your hand on my thigh and slobbering all over my ear."

"I wanted to see if you're drunk or not," she retorted.

"I'm not drunk," he told her sincerely, ignoring the fact that the room was starting to spin. He kept his eyes on Rose, using her as a focal point.

"Okay," she replied, not sounding convinced.

"I'll prove it."

"How?"

"By promising you that I'll still think that you and me having sex is a good idea in the morning. I'll even act on that promise if you like."

Rose's face clouded over then and he thought he saw a flash of uncertainty spark in her eyes. She looked away from him. "I'm gonna get another drink," she said, picking up her purse. "I'll get you some water, see if you can clear your head a bit."

"But I'm not drunk," he said, not understanding what he'd done wrong, or why he needed water.

She looked at him sharply as she slid out of the booth and stood up. "Yes, you are." And then she turned and walked away to the bar.

The Doctor frowned, wondering if his companion was feeling okay. She didn't usually get annoyed with him. He wondered if the alien alcohol was making her sick. Come to think of it, her eyes had been looking slightly glassy as she stood up.

His eyes latched onto her as she made her way through the bar's patrons to go and get some more drinks. His hands clutched the table as the room span again. He was not drunk. Most definitely not. Although he probably wouldn't want to take a breath test any time soon. He thought he probably shouldn't attempt to move the TARDIS either, just to be on the safe side. In case it makes Rose's hangover worse, he thought. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm so drunk.

He groaned to himself as he realised that he must indeed be intoxicated with alcohol. He also realised that he had admitted to Rose that he quite fancied the idea of sleeping with her. Now who's the randy ape? So it should be no surprise to him that she had gotten annoyed before. She must think he was a disgusting pervert. That's got to change, he told himself. You have to make Rose think you're a gentleman from now on. He had lost sight of all the reasons he usually kept Rose at arms length, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least attempt some form of damage control.

The Doctor was so lost in his thoughts realising what an idiot he was when he was drunk, that it was another minute or so before he realised that he had lost sight of Rose. He stood up abruptly, not caring when the table rocked dangerously and sent their empty glasses rolling to the floor, making the people at the tables around theirs look up to see what the noise was about. He may have been slightly tipsy, but the Doctor wasn't stupid. He knew that drunk or sober, not being able to see Rose in a crowded alien bar was most definitely what he would label as A Very Bad Thing Indeed.

Pushing the effects of the alcohol to the back of his mind, he cleared his head as best he could and trained his senses on to Rose. He scanned the large room, starting with the press of people queuing at the bar in case she was in the middle. Ten seconds later and he was positive that she wasn't. Ten seconds after that and he knew she wasn't at any of the other tables.

He was just starting to feel the first stages of worry setting in when he caught sight of a flash of blonde hair and blue dress near the wall on the other side of the room. Every little instinct told him it was Rose, and every little instinct- dulled by alcohol or not- told him that something was wrong. He could practically hear her mind screaming out for his, although that could possibly have also been attributed to alcohol-induced dehydration on his part.

The Doctor stumbled across the room, telling himself that his inability to keep his balance was due to his haste to get to Rose and sort out whatever trouble she was in, and not because his current state of inebriation was preventing him from going in a straight line. He cringed as he knocked into a waiter and sent both the man and his tray of empty glasses flying into the crowd at the bar.

Almost there now, and as he neared the edge of the crowded room he could see that Rose was not alone. He was frozen dead in his tracks for a moment as he saw her up against the wall, shoving ineffectually at a man who had one leg between hers and had his hands all over her body.

The Doctor felt all remaining sense and reason leave him as he snapped back into action, instinct taking over as he practically marched across the last few metres before reaching out and grabbing the shirt of the man who was mauling his Rose, pulling him away from her and then holding him by the collar so he couldn't run away or try and get at her again. His eyes caught Rose's as he growled in the man's ear, "What the hell are you doing?"

He didn't wait for an answer before shoving the strange man away and pulling Rose to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He could feel her shaking slightly and he knew that it was not because either of them was drunk. He thought how wrong that was.

He looked up at the man, who was still reeling from the Doctor's rather successful shove. "She's mine," he hissed at him, the expression on his face giving this stranger a full taste of the Oncoming Storm. He bent his head for a moment to press a kiss to Rose's hair to prove his point, and when he looked back up again he couldn't decide whether he was satisfied or not to see the back of the man disappearing off into the press of the crowd.

"Doctor," Rose said, clutching at his jacket and pulling him closer to her.

Alcohol forgotten for the moment, he shifted her in his arms to look down at her properly. "Are you all right?" he asked, almost shocked to hear the low gravelly sound of his own voice.

She nodded. "Yeah." She opened her mouth as though she was going to say something else, but then shut it again and buried her face in his shoulder. "Thanks," he thought he heard her mumble.

"Drunk or not," he said, "Nobody messes with my girl and gets away with it."

Rose looked up at him again, humour coupling with relief in her eyes. "So you're saying you're drunk then?"

He let out a long breath. Damn, she noticed. "Um, slightly, perhaps," he said.

"Knew it," she said. Something sparked in her eye then and she continued, "So, I'm your girl, am I?"

"Yep!" he exclaimed before he could think about it. It seemed that his momentary clear-headedness had dissipated back to drunken logic and reasoning- or lack of it- now that he knew Rose was safe. However, in his drunken state, he didn't completely realise the importance of what he had just admitted.

Rose giggled, apparently taking this as a joke. "Well, I'm happy with that," she told him.

"Excellent," he replied happily. "Well, then, would my girl object to coming back to the TARDIS with me?"

She frowned at him, looping her arms around his neck and leaning back to study his face. One raised eyebrow told him she wasn't being one hundred percent serious. "Are we going back to the TARDIS to have a little fun or just to sleep?"

"Who says sleeping isn't fun?"

"It's more fun than the hangover you'll be nursing in the morning."

"Exactly. So it would be rather nice if you would give me some nice memories to think about while I'm nursing said hangover."

"What are you suggesting, Doctor?"

He frowned, feeling slightly perplexed. "I'm not entirely sure."

-8-8-8-

Approximately four minutes later, Rose was stumbling out of the bar where the Doctor had just proved he couldn't hold his alcohol as well as he would like. She, however, wasn't drunk. The only reason she was stumbling was because of the really rather wasted Time Lord hanging off her arm. Apparently if he didn't keep his eyes on his feet the whole time, he would fall over. "Besides," he had said to her only moments before. "Gotta make sure I don't puke on my shoes."

She was currently deciding that some of the things that had happened tonight should never be mentioned again. She was really rather hoping that the Doctor wouldn't remember his promise to still want to have sex with her when he woke up in the morning. Not because she would object to him wanting to sleep with her, but that she knew he had never intended for her to find out. She wasn't willing to risk asking if he really meant it or not.

"Rose," the Doctor said as they made their way down the street away from the bar.

She slowed so she could turn and look at him as he clutched at her like she was his lifeline. "Yeah?"

He gestured to the left with his head before dragging her off into a deserted little square down a path between two buildings. He stopped walking once they were in the middle of the square next to a fountain, turning to face her and taking her hands in his.

"What is it?" she asked. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he said.

Rose watched the Doctor carefully as he stood before her, looking down at her with a lazy smile on his face. His pupils were dilated- probably the alcohol, she thought-, his face was relaxed and if she wasn't mistaken he was gently rubbing his thumbs over the backs of her hands. She found herself frozen to the spot as he bought one hand up to touch her cheek, brushing her hair away behind her ear. The warm air of the night suddenly felt a lot warmer what with the way the Doctor was looking at her, as though she was definitely on his menu tonight. Is his face closer than it was before? "What are you doing?" she asked in hushed tones, not wanting to destroy the new found peace of the night.

He bought his head round to her ear and whispered, "Making a nice memory."

"Huh?"

He drew back and smiled at her. "For my hangover tomorrow, remember?"

"Oh." That made some sense, she decided. Or at least it must make some sense to him in his drunken stupor.

"And also just because."

"Because why?"

He shrugged. "Because I want to. I want to remember what it's like being close to you before I sober up and remember why I shouldn't."

Rose felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. She didn't think anyone had ever said anything so sweet and yet so heartbreaking to her in a good long time, if ever. Heartbreaking not because it would hurt her when he pulled away, but heartbreaking because he would be alone again when he did. She resolved to make an effort to keep him close, even after all alcohol was gone from his system. Even if he did give her a lecture on the top one hundred reasons why they should never give in to the urge to have some fun. "There's nothing wrong with being close whether you're drunk or not."

"I know," he admitted. "But you know what an idiot I can be."

She nodded. "All that wisdom, not much common sense."

He smiled. "Rose."

And then his lips were on hers, pressing gently as he held her head to his with a hand on her hair, stroking gently. His other hand went around her back to draw her body to his. She felt herself melt into him easily, the feel of his mouth on hers sending a warmth through her body that she knew was nothing to do with alcohol. She sighed into him and opened her mouth under his, shivering as his tongue swept past her lips to run over the roof of her mouth, learning all the bumps and ridges before duelling with her own tongue.

It wasn't the first time they had kissed, but it was the first time they had kissed when he'd actually told her he thought of her as more than a friend and so, drunk Doctor or not, she was going to make sure both of them remembered it in the morning.

-8-8-8-

The Doctor's mind was spinning. He wondered what Rose would think if he told her he wasn't as drunk as he had been earlier, that he knew full well what he was doing. Then he realised that to tell her would mean he had to stop kissing her, and kissing her was a far better idea than attempting to explain his actions. So he pulled her body closer to his, and went right on with what he was doing.

-8-8-8-

Some time later- seconds, minutes, hours?- Rose felt the Doctor relax in her arms as he kissed her senseless, his weight falling forwards onto her and pushing her back slightly. Reluctantly she disentangled her tongue from his and pulled back to find his gaze unfocused and his neck apparently not strong enough to keep his head upright. "Doctor?" she whispered, her breath washing over his lips as his head drifted near hers.

"Not drunk," he mumbled. "Sleep."

"What?" she asked, somewhat confused in the abrupt change of mood from sexy as hell to disjointed Time Lord.

He yawned widely. "I have to sleep," he said. "Alcohol… Brain hurts."

"I'm not surprised, considering how fast you drank that whiskey," she told him, looking at him as though he was a small child in trouble. "You should've passed out straight away."

The Doctor shook his head, wincing when that apparently turned out to be a daft action. He looked at her, holding her gaze as he spoke. "Had to save my girl," he replied. "That was more important."

She smiled at him fondly. "Thanks," she said. "TARDIS now?"

His eyes lit up at her proposal.

"To sleep," she clarified.

"Oh yes," he said. "I need sleep, don't I?"

"I think so."

And so Rose led him back to the TARDIS with her arms around him to stop him falling over his own feet or veering off into some poor stranger's house. As a result the journey took four times as long as it should have done.

When they finally made it inside, Rose had to physically wrestle her drunken Time Lord away from the console and straight into the interior of the ship. "Bed," she told him sternly, taking him in the direction of his bedroom.

"Rose?" he asked as they navigated the corridors.

"Yeah?"

"Are you mad I kissed you?"

He was looking at her with such huge soulful eyes that she couldn't help but smile. "No."

"Am I a good kisser?"

No harm, I guess. "Yes."

"Good. So are you."

"Thanks."

They had reached his door. Rose opened it for him and then helped the Doctor inside. "Will you be all right now?" she asked as he moved away from her and headed to his large armoire.

He held up his finger, signalling for her to wait as he opened the wardrobe with his other hand. After a minute's rooting around he emerged from the wardrobe with a large blue shirt. He turned and held it out to Rose. She took it warily.

"What's this for?" she queried.

"For you to wear," he replied, pulling off his suit jacket and tugging his tie over his head. Rose had to help him when he got it stuck on his ear. "Fuzzy head," he mumbled to himself as he started to unbutton his shirt.

"Why?" She was talking about the shirt.

"Stay with me," he said. "Please?"

She could never refuse him when he said 'please', no matter how intoxicated he was. "Okay," she agreed.

He seemed to light up at that, taking his shirt off and starting on his trousers. Rose decided that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to stay and watch lest either of them got ideas so she grabbed the shirt off him and went into his ensuite bathroom, changing quickly. She then pressed her ear to the door, listening to try and determine what the Doctor was up to. She decided that he couldn't be trusted after he had been drinking.

Not hearing any sound coming from the Doctor's bedroom, she cracked open the bathroom door and then ventured out to find the Doctor lying in bed, hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling. She made her way over to the bed, telling herself it didn't really mean anything when he gave her a smile that made her feel like the centre of his universe and pulled back the covers for her, patting the empty spot beside him.

"Do you want some water?" she asked him.

He shook his head slightly. "No," he said. "Sleep."

She slid into bed beside him, not bothering to resist when his arms went around her and pulled her into him, settling her head on his chest and wrapping his arms tight around her back. The TARDIS helpfully dimmed the lights.

"I like you, Rose," the Doctor said sleepily.

She gripped his bicep in her hand. "I like you too," she replied truthfully.

"I promise I'll still want you in the morning."

She didn't reply to that.

"Rose?"

"Mmm?"

"You're pretty."

Her face broke out into a big grin. "Thanks," she said. "Drunk git."

-8-8-8-

The Doctor awoke to an intense pounding in his head and the feeling of a weight pressing down against his body. He opened his eyes, glad of the dim lighting as his head protested further. Ow, he thought.

Slowly looking down, he found Rose wrapped around him and wearing his shirt. He wondered how she had gotten there, and also why he was only wearing his boxers…

Wracking his brains proved too painful for the current time, and so he simply lay in bed, absently stroking Rose's back through her- his- shirt and resting his cheek on her head. His mouth tasted like old socks, and there was a smell… He puzzled for a moment trying to work out what it was.

"Oh no," he groaned as realisation dawned. Alcohol. It all came flooding back in a rush of images. So this is the hangover, I suppose. Suddenly he remembered every little thing that had happened last night. Drinking the whiskey to try and show off to Rose, making inappropriate comments, losing her in the crowd, roughing up some guy who tried to have a go with her, calling her my girl, kissing her… Well, he thought, not a completely bad night. The kissing bit he recalled as being particularly fun…

He looked down at her sleeping peacefully against his chest, one hand wrapped around his bicep and the other resting against his rib cage. He felt a pang at having her here with him like this. He knew he should feel guilty about it but… It felt so good. And there was something he needed to say to her…

"Rose," he whispered almost inaudibly so that he could be sure he wouldn't wake her. His hand drifted over her face, tracing the outline of her lips gently with one finger whilst his other hand held her body firmly against his.

He whispered in her ear, sincerity and want coming through in his voice. He hoped she would be able to hear him in her dreams for he knew he would never be able to tell her when she was awake- he still wasn't sure if she wanted it too, but he just couldn't resist… "I still want you."

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A/N: Thanks for reading, please leave a review and I'll love you lots and lots!