Thanks a lot for all the reviews, please keep on :) I'll try my best to continue updating as often as I can.

The lyrics are from "After Tonight" by Justin Nozuka.

Disclaimer: I would love to own both Doctor Who and Justin Nozuka but I don't, unfortunately :(

You look up to the sky

You long for something more,

Darling give me your right hand

I think I understand, follow me

And you will never have to wish again


I know that after tonight

You don't have to look up

At the stars, no, no, no, no

Way above the clouds

And high above the stars


Through the unknown black holes

No one knows where we are

But we'll return to earth

And do it all over again


I know that after tonight

You don't have to look up

At the stars

It had been a very pleasant day. They had left Jackie and Pete's house in the early afternoon and went shopping, circling around Oxford Street until they had found enough clothes for the Doctor. He had been surprisingly picky about what to wear, but Rose was happy to see he was sticking to his old style: earth colours, good cuts, blazers and sneakers ended up inside the multiple bags they were carrying in their arms when they made their way back to Rose's apartment. The Doctor had been entertaining her with stories about his previous shopping spree stop in the 1950's ("The last time in decades when they made anything wearable!" as he put it), but still only ten years ago, in his own time. Apparently the sudden need to shop had been resulted by an unfortunate find from the Tardis's wardrobe: some of the clothes had basically moulded to the hangers during the hundreds of years they had hung there. Rose wasn't sure how this was possible though, as she had never seen any moths, dust or other menaces that could destroy clothing inside the Tardis, but didn't bother to ask. The Doctor explained it without asking, though. Apparently some of his former companions had just returned the clothes used and dirty (often soaked in mud or blood) and put them back in to the wardrobe instead of the laundry basket and that, along with the sometimes too dry, sometimes too humid air of the Tardis caused the clothes to get brittle and mouldy during the decades.

On the way home they had popped by a grocery store and bought ingredients for a meat loaf - the Doctor's request - and had a lot of fun cooking it later on, although it ended up half burned and half raw. This strongly reminded Rose of their failed attempts of cookery in the Tardis, lifetimes ago, as it felt like. Most often that not whatever they had been cooking ended up inedible. This time was no exception, and after frantically searching through her freezer Rose managed to trace a bag half full of frozen shrimps and they settled for a shrimp salad, which tasted fine. She made a mental note to write them down for a cooking class first thing next week; they would most likely starve or end up eating take-away for the rest of their lives (very short lives, as it would probably turn out to be) if at least one of them didn't manage to cook something every once in a while.

After eating they had watched telly for a while (Rose couldn't even remember what it was they had been watching, she was too preoccupied by the Doctor's hands caressing her hair when she was leaning against his shoulder) and watched the last rays of sun settle behind the buildings around them. The atmosphere in the apartment was completely different than ever before; there was something very cozy and almost Tardis-like about it, although Rose suspected she only compared it to the Tardis because that was the place where they had mainly felt cozy and safe together. She had missed the feeling of belonging somewhere and with someone.

Now Rose was soaked in bubbles and deep in her thoughts. Sometimes, during the darkest moments of loneliness she had went down to clubs or bars, randomly looking for men that reminded her a bit of the Doctor: brown haired, skinny men, with an arrogant behaviour. Or sometimes she had just looked for any men - with or without any resemblence to the Doctor. After some heavy drinking and clumsy attempts of small talk it had been more than easy to pull these men all the way to her apartment or follow them into theirs - after an uncomfortable night spent together with these men she either tried to sneak out, piling her clothes in her arms and dressing in the hallway or straightforwardly asked the men to leave her place, without caring about their tired reluctancy. Then she had curled into her sheets, feeling empty and thinking of the Doctor. Now she felt a small stab of jealousy: had the Doctor ever loved other girls like he had loved her? That pretty dark girl he had travelled with, perhaps? Had he ever slept with her? For some reason she couldn't bring herself to believe he had. After all, he had never slept with her either, only accepting embraces and cuddles.

The warm water felt good against her skin and she was getting very drowsy and comfortable listening to the Doctor moving around in her apartment outside the bathroom door. Maybe this weird domestic life with him would be all right, after some getting used to. There was still a lot to do though; certificates and papers to be forged, work to look for, things to decide. She didn't even know his real name, but wasn't even sure if she wanted to ask - what if it was something really usual, like Mark? Or even worse, something unusual and nasty, like Wulfrid? She giggled a bit at the thought. Then again, it was quite unlikely that the people of Gallifrey with their advanced culture and technology would name their children with Earthen names. What if his name was something like X356-13U, like a robot? She couldn't help it - she giggled just a bit out loud.

But people would probably think it a bit strange is she kept calling him "Doctor" in public, it just sounded...well, a bit kinky, to be honest. They better come up with a decent name for him and she would continue calling him Doctor in private only.

It was strange though. For years she had almost worshipped him, always thought of him to be a bit better than she was with his mysterious character and knowledge. And now, in this world, he was just like any bloke - a bloke who would soon go to work from nine to five, be called John or something and worry about things ordinary, not about saving the world. How would he adapt to the situation? She knew he had always thought himself to be above all that. And he was.

Just thinking about the Doctor staying with her for the rest of his life made her feel shaky. It was so much more than she could ever have wished for - whatever doubts she had about him suddenly felt small and feeble in comparison to all the blessings she had received. So what if he was a bit different? Surely she wasn't exactly the same either. She just hoped it wouldn't come between the two of them.

The water was already turning a bit too cool for her taste but she decided to linger in it for a while more. She was a bit nervous about stepping out because she had a feeling something was definetely going to happen tonight: every time she had thought about meeting the Doctor she had fantasized about leading him to her bed the very night, and doing everything with him she had never had the courage to propose doing when she still had the chance. She couldn't help but to slip her hand into the water and between her legs where she immediately found the familiar sensation, the familiar rhythm. She was thinking of the Doctor lying in this same bath earlier tonight, after coming home from shopping. She was thinking of him naked, perhaps doing what she was doing now - anticipating tonight. Surely he knew just as she did, that tonight was going to be the night. The night they were going to... she didn't dare finish the thought.

Suddenly she was shaken out of her day dream, hearing the Doctor drop something and cuss under his breath. She quickly withdrew her hand, a bit embarrassed. It was a whole different thing to fantasize about the Doctor when he was in a different universe - but to fantasize about him when he was in the next room, well, that was a whole other thing. She stood up and dried herself into a soft blue towel she took out from a cupboard on the left and started applying make up to her eyes and lips - after all, she wanted to definetely look her best. Then she dried her hair and happy with her looks, slipped into her underwear. She had chosen purple silky knickers and a matching bra with black lace at the brim against her breasts and tummy. She looked at herself critically from the mirror. She was still a bit too skinny, but at least the colour of the underwear made her skin look a bit more healthy and warm. All in all she felt quite good - it's not like the Doctor was her first or anything. In fact, she had had her share of men and not one had ever complained about her looks during sex. That made her feel a bit better, even though she still noticed she was shaking a bit. She applied some blush on her cheeks and decided she was ready. She also covered herself with a black silky dressing gown. Then she stepped out of the bathroom.

It was quite dark in the hallway she was: apparently the Doctor had, for one reason or the other, dimmed the lights. She felt her heart beat like mad in her chest. That meant the Doctor had come to the same decision as she had - that tonight indeed was the night. Well, no backing out now, then. Years of friendship, adventure and longing would end tonight, and there would be no going back. She was adult enough to know that sex changed everything - there was no going back to the innocence and friendliness after crossing that line. She started walking towards the living room in the dark, following the quivering light emerging from a few candles he had lit up. The Doctor was sitting on the sofa almost in the same spot he had sat when they had been enjoying their wine last night: he had cleaned the wine glasses away and lit candles on the table in front of him. For a moment it felt like they were eyeing each other like never before; like they were two strangers in a strange sensual situation. Then the illusion broke, he smiled in a very Doctor-kind of a way and held his hands open, inviting her to come and snuzzle up to him. She did, and he smiled down at her tenderly, letting his fingers trail circles on her back. He was wearing a new blue shirt and dark brown trousers. The candlelight made his skin look soft and fresh, and his smile took her breath away.

She kissed him and was happy to feel him answering keenly. He smelled heavenly, just the way she remembered him smelling: masculine, deep, earthy, electric. Like the Doctor always smelled. His smell didn't change even in his reincarnation, and now Rose got a strange burning sensation in her throat smelling his familiar scent. She suddenly realised that it wasn't just the present Doctor she held, it was also the Doctor who had left in the Tardis with a broken look on his face - it was also the Doctor who gave one of his lives to stop the Bad Wolf burning her inside out. Her familiar sweet leather-jacket Doctor with his funny ears and wits. She wanted them all - she wanted to embrace all those memories and people that she had loved and who had loved her back.

So she let him lead her to the bedroom door, among the candles he had lit on the floor there too. She held him close to her when they embraced in front of the bed, letting her arms circle around him for the last time as just friends. It was almost sad, saying good bye to the past. Then, under the Doctor's gentle brown gaze, she slipped the robe off of her shoulders and let it fall on to the floor.

I'm evil leaving it to a cliffhanger...

However, I think the Doctor and Rose making love is going to require a whole own chapter. The next chapter will be rated M so don't read if you're not mature enough!

Hopefully you'll enjoy! ;-)