Title: And I'll Show You the Stars
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Rose
Rating: K+ (or PG-13) for hinted... stuff. Heh. Trust Ten, really.
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Genre: Romance, Fluff
Disclaimer: Names are copyrighted to the BBC, blah blah blah. I hold the copyright over the place and the storyline, but hey, who'd want to steal those?
Summary: Rose finds out a few of the Doctor's more adorable hobbies. Some light fluff to ease the mood. TenRose.
Word Count: 2,853
Author's Note: Written for the ohsheknows ficathon over at livejournal. This was a pinch hit and an absolute joy to write. I love writing things people request of me. No really, I do :)

Dedication: megoddess2, who wanted geek!Doctor and an established romance.


And I'll Show You the Stars

It had taken a long time for Rose to realise that the Doctor talked in his sleep. One of the reasons for this was that, up until recently, she would never have had any need to be near him when he slept. Another was that, as he liked to remind her on very regular occasions, he needed a lot less sleep than she did and for much shorter intervals.

The first time she heard it, she had actually been in the bathroom, brushing her teeth. A quiet muffle from the next room had caused her to stop, frown, then wander carefully to the doorway and survey the sleeping figure in the bed. She had almost choked on the toothpaste in her mouth to see him wrapped up in a tight cocoon of the duvet, one arm hanging over the side of the bed.

He had been complaining about a giant green spider holding his coin collection hostage and offering it in exchange for the TARDIS. Rose, smirking, had returned to the bathroom to finish her morning routine. Later that day she'd quizzed him on said coin collection, at which the Doctor had gone very silent then mumbled something about not having had one since his childhood. Much later he had, unfortunately, uncovered this lie when he complained at not having collected any coins from Pete's world.

The second time she had heard him sleep talking was when she had found him in the library, legs propped up on the desk and crossed at the ankles. His neck had been arched right back against the curve of the chair and his mouth open as he snored softly. She had stood and watched him for a moment or two, taking in the odd twitch of his muscles and the calming rise and fall of his chest.

He had stirred a little and the book in his lap dropped to the floor.

"You can't possibly expect me to be anything other than a knight," he had proclaimed loudly to whomever was in his dream. "The manoeuvres capable with a knight make them perfect for defence, but with the ability of tactile attacking on top. Besides – I want a horse."

Rose smiled adoringly. Where most might mumble or mutter in their dreams, the Doctor far surpassed anyone else by speaking just as though he were awake.

She had walked over to his side and crouched down, retrieving the book from the floor. The cover had made her laugh so loudly that the Doctor had awoken sharply, sitting up and blinking into reality when he realised that he wasn't on a giant chessboard.

When Rose looked up to him smirking, he had simply replied, "So what if I was re-reading Harry Potter? It's a fantastic piece of literature."

Now, of course, hearing him talk in his sleep was something she was very accustomed to. Although usually, whenever she woke up with him, he was almost always just as awake as she was, lying beside her with large brown eyes, blinking silently and just waiting for her to be wake again. More often than not he would greet her with a gentle good morning and a kiss on the lips, before getting up and getting on with another day.

It was amazing how incredibly easy they felt with each other. For the Doctor's part, he often wondered why he hadn't just taken the risk with Rose when he had first had the chance. It seemed that he needed a whole dual universe to separate them before he felt brave enough to step into a real unknown world. As he had told her on that night he had finally – finally – found a way back to her that would not destroy both universes and leave time to unravel at the seams: he was very, very sorry that he was coward.

Rose didn't care then and she didn't care now. After many, many, blissful, countless months of being back in each other's arms, she found she was more in love with him with every day that passed. And even after he couldn't say the words, even after tears had fallen from his cheeks onto hers the first time they had made love, even after they had gone back to fixing what was wrong on alien worlds ...she still never thought him a coward. He was just the Doctor, in every way.

He was especially the Doctor this very minute in time, complete with glasses in his hair and shirt sleeves ruffled up to his elbows. Rose had come to find him after her shower, and been rewarded with the image of him sitting cross legged on the floor, eyes focused on whatever it was that he held between his fingers and the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

With his other hand he lowered a pair of tweezers, delicately prodding the little thing in his fingers.

"Having fun?" Rose commented, and she couldn't keep the smile out of her voice.

The Doctor looked up and a very large grin affected his whole face. It seemed that, since finding her again, just seeing her was enough to make him happy.

"Oh, yes," he replied with enthusiasm. "Do you know, these things are terribly addictive." He indicated the small thing in his hand.

"What things?" Rose asked, stepping forward into the room and kneeling in front of him. He met her eye across the top of his hand.

"These. I found them, on Earth. A little bit after your era, I think, but terribly popular culturally."

She stared at the little, blue-grey figure he was holding up to her.

"Models?" she questioned with a laugh. "You're making models?"

"What's wrong with models?" the Doctor asked incredulously, sitting back. He put the tweezers down. "It trains the concentration, you know, and the focus. They've got them so small that they're impossible to assemble without tweezers. Well, I say impossible, no doubt it i is /i possible, I just have no desire to try. And, do you know Rose, once you've built them? You can paint them! Ha! How fantastic is that? Models you can paint; brilliant! That's right up there with ball bearings."

He stopped talking when he noticed the look Rose was giving him. She was trying not to laugh, and they both knew it. For humour's sake, he put on a pout.

"Don't you like my models?" he asked glumly.

Rose snorted. "I love your models," she told him, though there was a slight patronising tone to her voice. "Have you, uhm, got a lot of them, then?"

The grin he gave her in response made her wish she hadn't asked.

Within seconds he was pulling her up to her feet and, taking her by the hand, he led her through the TARDIS.

"Not many people know this," he told her as they walked, obviously becoming very excited about his subject, "but the art of model making is actually a very rare gift. Sure, you can buy the packs and assemble them, but actually getting true joy out of them and seeing what they can do for you – that's the clever bit. Imagine it, Rose. Thousands and thousands of little painted figures. Inanimate objects for now, of course, but – and this is the thing – what if I told you I could make them real, hmm?"

The Doctor stopped abruptly and turned to face Rose, his face full of wonder.

"What if I told you that behind this door – " He tapped it with his index finger " – there was a place that was riddled with these little fellas? What if I could make them real? What if I'd created an entire species, Rose, what would you say?"

He was grinning at her, obviously waiting for her verdict. Despite the sheer absurdity of the topic, she couldn't help herself from feeling just as excited as he was about the plastic figures. It was a gift of the Doctor's of being able to spread his feeling about a certain subject and excite it in everyone around him.

"I'd say ...that's brilliant!" she enthused at last, sharing his joy. "Have you?"

"No. But if I could, wouldn't that just be amazing?"

Without waiting for Rose to respond, he opened the door and stepped inside. Rose, with a bewildered and amused look, followed.

The room was massive. And, aside from shelves and shelves and shelves stretching off to either side, it was terribly empty. However, covering the shelves in neat little rows like soldiers were what must have been thousands of the tiny figurines. Rose stared, and she didn't even care if her mouth was open.

The Doctor smirked from her side.

"Impressive, aren't they?"

"I don't know where you find the time," Rose said at length, turning to look at him. Her eyes were wide because of the gloomy light in the room.

"Well, you pick things up, here and there," the Doctor shrugged. "And when you're as impressive as me, little things like models don't take any time at all. I'd call it more of a passing hobby."

She gawked at the shelves again. "That's a passing hobby?"

With a cool smile, the Doctor surreptitiously slid a hand around Rose's waist and pulled her closer to him.

"I have other hobbies," he said and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. She laughed and felt a blush rise to her skin. "And believe me, they're not so passing."

Rose leaned into his touch and gave him a sly smirk. "What hobbies are those then, Doctor?"

"I'm glad you asked!" He dropped his hand from her waist and beamed. "Come with me."


A little later, the Doctor and Rose were standing on a cliff top by a deserted beach. It was dark, the middle of the night according to the Doctor, and the air was crisp and clear. The sound of the sea as it snaked up the shore left a strange echo around the cavernous beach, and Rose shivered into the darkness. It was cold, but she didn't care.

"Where are we?" she asked, gazing around them. The ground felt springy beneath her feet, as though if she jumped she would never come down.

"Solar Plexus," the Doctor replied merrily.

Rose gave him a dubious look and he laughed.

"No, really," he continued, putting an arm around her. "That's where we are. Or rather, we're in the region of the Solar Plexus. It's a complex collection of stars and planets that are all woven together in atmospheric spatio-temporal links. What happens on one affects all the others in turn. In fact, if you go that way..." He pointed up to the sky just past Rose's eye line, "...for just five light-years, you'll get to Woman Wept."

Rose followed the direction of his point, then looked and smiled at him. He was gazing at her with a gentle grin, the sort of smile that reminded her of their first Christmas together, all those years ago. He lowered his arm.

"Is this your hobby, then?" she asked quietly.

He hesitated, and his eyes dipped slowly to her lips, then back up again. Rose felt another shiver travel through her, but it was the look in his eyes that had caused it. He leaned towards her, his breath warm. Their gaze locked for an intense moment.

"Lie down," he hissed, not answering her question.

Rose blinked. "'M sorry?"

With his hand the Doctor reached to brush a few wisps of hair from her face then lowered his finger to tickle along her jaw. His gaze slipped from her eyes to her lips once more and Rose's breath shook.

He then pulled back and dropped both his hands from her, smiling broadly. In a smooth movement he shrugged off his coat and laid it down onto the thick grass at their feet. Then, lying, he reached up for Rose. She took his hand and with a devilish grin he tugged her down so that she was half lying on top of him. Her laughter echoed around them like a bubble of safety; even after months of being with her again, it was still a sound the Doctor couldn't believe. There was a time when he thought he would never hear it again.

That time was long gone.

Trying to get comfortable, Rose shifted on top of him and sat up, settling her hips above his. The Doctor looked up at her and arched a questioning eyebrow as his hands settled at her waist.

"That, Rose Tyler, was not what I had in mind," he said affectionately, meeting her eye.

Rose smiled down at him innocently. "Can't think what you mean, Doctor."

She wriggled from side to side and if possible, his eyebrow arched further. "Indeed."

Hair fell around her face as she looked down at the Doctor, framed by his own coat. The lining shimmered in the moonlight from above and she had the overwhelming urge to bend down and kiss him.

However, his eyes drifted from hers up to the sky above. He nodded his chin upwards and a lazy smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"Tell you what – that's some sight."

Rose, craning her neck, followed his gaze. Before she knew it the hands around her waist had tightened and the Doctor was flipping her onto her side. She giggled like the young teenager she used to be and, as she let her head drop down onto the floor, gazed into his eyes. They sparkled in the bright moonlight as he looked back at her.

"Hello," he said.


The Doctor rolled onto his back and, linking his fingers, put his hands behind his head.

"Gorgeous, aren't they?" he asked, looking starward. Rose shuffled over to him and, moulding her body against his, looked up to the sky.

Pinpricks of light twinkled down at them out of a rich black canvas, millions too many to count.

"Could you name them?" Rose wondered from his side.

The Doctor let out a contented sigh and untangled a hand to weave around her body. "Every one."

Silence settled around them like a thin mist, each one enjoying the simplicity of just being with the other. They had not yet got over that incredible sensation of feeling that little bit more completed when they were around each other, so silences like these were just as important as the spoken words.

Eventually the Doctor did speak, his voice soft and calming.

"You know how I was saying, about the atmospheric link?" he asked. Rose made a semi-awake sound from his side and he realised with fond amusement that she must be on the verge of falling asleep. "Rose," he whispered, turning his head to face her. Bending slightly, he gave her an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"'M listening..." she answered sleepily, stirring slightly in his arms.

He smiled and looked up to the sky again.

"It's got this energy around it," he continued slowly, "this feeling. Up there the stars are the stars and they stay that way no matter what happens. But down here, with enough energy, I can change them. I can form them into different shapes in my mind. I could lie here for hours and just watch them, but if I wanted to, I could make shapes in the sky."

One of Rose's eyes popped open to look at him. "How's that work?"

Settling into her warmth, the Doctor explained. "It's about perception. There's something of a perception filter the TARDIS allows when I come here, which lets me change it for both me and whoever is with me. It stays the same for everyone else. It's sort of like hacking into a very complicated computer system. Brilliant, if you ask me. She's a fantastic thing, is my ship."

"Can't argue with you there," Rose said happily. "She's the one who brought us together."

"Yes," he agreed, regarding the tattered police box with almost as much love as the woman in his arms. "Or she's the one who made it possible, at least. I guess she missed you as much as I did."

"Must be quite a lot, then." Rose slowly slid her arm across the Doctor's chest and nuzzled into the crook of his arm. When he bent and kissed her on the forehead, she added, "Tell me about the sky, Doctor?"

And he did.

They lay there for a long while, the Doctor talking about the skies and the stars, the pictures he had made here, and the constellations he regularly watched. Being a regular stargazer had given him knowledge far surpassing that of a human, and Rose fell asleep to the sound of his soothing words.

Later, when she woke, they kissed, and kissed, and shed themselves of clothes, and filled the sky with soft sighs and loving groans. And, much, much later than that, Rose told the Doctor that she loved everything about him, even his geekish ways.

He simply responded with another long, slow kiss.