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The day Mickey left, the Doctor almost said something to Rose. He'd been trying to put distance between them recently, reminded that he was playing a dangerous game in getting so close to her without considering the repercussions.
But he had to admit, watching Rose sob over her ex-boyfriend made him feel jealous of the guy in a way he'd never foreseen. The two of them had history and a bond he couldn't hope to match. But he wanted to. He wanted to be Rose's whole universe.
When he thought about it now, all other concerns, cautions, questions of morality flew out of the Doctor's head. Maybe there could still be a future for them.
It just never seemed to be the right time.
When Rose came back inside after saying goodbye, she leaned against the door in her little black maid's uniform, and sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her head there.
Once the Doctor had set what he hoped was the proper course out of this universe, he came to sit beside her against the doors. Automatically, she shifted to lean against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her.
Slowly, Rose's tears subsided and she breathed steadily. The Doctor's hand found the nape of her neck and played with the very edge of her hair. At once he felt her pulse and breath speed up, and those dizzying pheromones filled his senses. He felt his own hearts hitch before restarting a little faster.
Was this the moment? Their chance?
Mickey choosing to stay behind in another universe with no chance of seeing him ever again felt a little like the universes trying to tell them something. It was like fate was pushing Rose and the Doctor together. If he believed in such things.
The longer they sat together, their bodies curled in towards each other, legs tangling and their free hands lacing together. Rose's head was tucked into its favorite place beneath his chin, filling his nose with faintly lavender shampoo. He could stay there, entwined with her on the hard floor forever, and be happy.
The Doctor pressed a kiss to the top of Rose's head, and she stirred, lifting her head to look at him. They were so close, it felt like he was fighting against gravity not to lean in and kiss her. But their eyes met, and he saw the red encircling hers, the smudges where tears had made her mascara run. Now wasn't the time. If he kissed her now it would always be associated with Mickey, with Rose's grief and guilt. She might not even want to, if it weren't for her need for comfort. He couldn't assume anything.
Instead of giving in to gravity, he leaned in and kissed her forehead, pulling her back to his chest. She felt her sag a little in disappointment - no greater than his own - before relaxing at the soothing touch of his fingers combing through her hair.
---
A few weeks later, the Doctor took Rose to 1953. It was supposed to be a sort of… date.
Elvis was to perform Hound dog on the Ed Sullivan Show, but he would be whisked off right after nd end up performing at a private club. Not many people knew about the impromptu performance, a handful of celebrities who'd be present at the filming that day. But the Doctor knew just where to go.
The Doctor had a picture in his head of swinging Rose in his arms late into the night, showing off and making her laugh. Just when she was happiest, Elvis would change the mood, start singing something slow and romantic, and the Doctor would pull Rose close before she knew what was happening. He could picture the surprise on her face, the blush that would climb up her cheeks, before she would wrap her arms around his neck, and bite her lips around that little smile that always drove him mad. And maybe then it would finally be the right moment.
Unfortunately, the TARDIS had other ideas. She could really be a bit of a party pooper with her irrepressible sense of justice, but the Doctor could never stay mad at her for long.
This time, though, the unthinkable happened. Rose got hurt. There'd been close calls before, certainly, and they'd both been put in near death situations together many times. But she'd never actually been seriously hurt.
The worst part was, it was because he'd left her on her own. It was his responsibility to take care of her, to make sure no harm came to her, and he'd let her down. She stood in front of him with no face, no response, no life except for a pulse, and the Doctor thought: how can a person be here and not here? How can I touch her but know she's nowhere near? How do I grieve someone who isn't really gone?
A fire ignited inside him, rage like he hadn't felt in months. They weren't going to take his Rose away from him.
And they didn't. It was a close call, and he may have been a bit reckless, but he got her back. Whole and complete and unscathed. The second he saw her face again he realized how afraid he'd been that he wouldn't.
As soon as they left that little town, the Doctor set course for another year, another country. “A consolation prize,” he said, pulling a still poodle skirt-clad Rose out onto a grassy hill overlooking a parking lot with an enormous movie screen.
The drive-in was showing Viva Las Vegas, and from their vantage they could spot a handful of teenage couples already necking in the privacy of their cars. The Doctor laid out a picnic blanket and sat in the very middle, pulling Rose down to sit between his knees. For the first half hour they watched the film in silence, and Rose eventually pulled the pins out of her beehive, letting her hair fall to her shoulders and releasing a waft of that lavender scent.
The Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist, making her lean back against him and hold on to his arms across her torso. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the picture of her faceless body that kept intruding on his thoughts. He tucked his face into her neck, breathing her in, reminding himself that she was there, she was safe.
“Doctor?” Rose's face turned a little towards his, “you okay?”
He nodded slightly, breathing a hot sigh into her hair before saying, “I'm sorry, Rose. I let you down today.”
The Doctor felt fingers thread themselves into his hair. “You didn't,” she said quietly. “It's not your job to keep me safe all the time. Besides… You saved me, yeah? You've never let me down. Not once.”
He lifted his head to look at her, those big Hazel eyes reflecting the stars, as if she had a universe inside her. His eyes took in every corner and bump of the features that had been stolen - her bold eyebrows, her high cheekbones, her slightly upturned nose and wide mouth. His gaze lingered there.
“I hope I never do,” he said, unable to pull his eyes off her lips. A moment later their lips were pressed together - he couldn't be sure which of them had closed the distance. Gravity had done it. They didn't kiss for very long, and it was relatively chaste, but it felt like the world stopped turning, like the music had gone silent and the stars were holding in a breath.
Soon the Doctor pulled back, and the world resumed. Rose opened her eyes a second later. She looked a little dazed. Smiling, he placed a peck on her nose before wrapping her up in his arms again and returning his attention to the movie.
At least, he pretended to. Very little external information could interest him for the rest of the night.