Summary: The Doctor finds an unexpected way to express his feelings for Rose.
Where was Rose? the Doctor wondered. He had been sitting on the captain's chair in the TARDIS control room for over an hour, waiting for Rose after she had told him she'd be right back and disappeared off to her room. And he was bored. Sooooooo bored. Finally, he decided to go and ask her to hurry up.
"Rose?" he called, knocking on her door.
"Yes?" came her voice, sounding frustrated. He went in, noticing that she shoved many sheets of paper out of sight under her pillow.
"Ro-ose," he wheedled, sounding like a little kid. "I'm bored. Are you ready yet?"
"Yeah, alright," she replied, sounding depressed. Before she had stood up, the Doctor was reading one of the sheets of paper. Leaving the question "how on earth did he get that so fast?" for later, Rose grabbed the paper and attempted to pull it out of his hands, but he held it up out of her reach, still reading, so she tickled his underarms. Apparently the Doctor was very ticklish, because he immediately slammed his arms down and Rose got the paper back off him.
He grinned at her.
"I've read it already," he said, looking smug. Rose scowled at him. "It's good!" he said. "But, you know, 'soon' doesn't actually rhyme with 'doom'."
Rose scowled even more.
"It's stupid," she muttered.
"It's not stupid," the Doctor said, "it just…lacks a bit of rhythm."
Rose slapped it into his chest until he grabbed hold of it. "You try, then," she told him, and the Doctor grinned.
"Alright, then," he agreed, and turned to walk out the door. "One question," he added, pausing and turning back briefly, "why are you writing poems about day and night?"
Rose blushed. "I downloaded this English Open University course off the internet. I was just having a go."
The Doctor grinned, not in jest, in pride. He nodded, and left the room.
15 minutes later, Rose heard a knock on her door. "Come in," she called, and the Doctor entered. He was smiling - he looked…shy. Well, that was a side of him she hadn't seen before. He gave her a folded sheet of paper, still with the smile on his face, then his eyes widened and his hand froze before he let go. After a moment, he did, and then, muttering something about fixing the TARDIS, he fled. There was no other word for it, he fled.
Rose unfolded the paper, and read his poem.
The moon is dead, the stars are gone,
There's just one left, and you're the one,
Darkness fills my broken soul,
Only with you can I be whole.
You are the day, and I the night,
And in my world, you're the only light,
I killed the moon, the stars as well,
It's all my fault, my personal Hell.
I was drowning in the dark,
But then came you, the only spark,
You're a far-away star in a black, black sky,
Kept away by my awful lie.
You're always there when it's too much,
Too far away for me to touch,
There's nothing more that I can do,
Than tell you, Rose, I love you.
Rose's heart flipped over. She actually stopped breathing for at least 30 seconds.
She read the poem again.
And this time it sank in, and a wide smile spread across her face. Still clutching the paper, she went to find the Doctor, discovering he was sat in the captain's chair in the console room. He stood up as he heard her footsteps, and stared at her, his eyes wide, and scared, and hopeful, and…loving. He waited nervously as Rose walked slowly over to him until she spoke.
"Do you really mean it?" Rose asked, not wanting to make any mistake.
"Every word," he said quietly. The smile took over Rose's face again, a mirror of it on the Doctor's face too. She ran towards him and threw herself onto him, holding him tightly. She slipped slowly to the floor, and when she tried to pull away, the Doctor would not let her go. She smiled a little, and held on. The next time she let go, he did too, and they stared into each other's eyes for a second. "I love you," Rose murmured. The Doctor made no reply; instead he put one hand gently on her cheek and kissed her. Rose somehow managed to gasp with the Doctor's lips still pressed against hers. He drew away and grinned at her expression. "Rose Tyler," he began with relish. "I love you." And he kissed her again, and Rose felt his tongue touch her lips. His kiss was clumsy - he may have lived for over 900 years, but he hadn't had much practice - but the most loving she had ever received. His hands slid down her ribs, making her shudder as his tongue entered her mouth. He drew away to leave a trail of kisses across her cheeks and over to her ear. He stared into her eyes.
"I love you, Rose," he said again, more shyly.
Rose grinned. "I should get you to write poems more often," she said.