"Cassandra said you think this new body's 'foxy'. So - is that true?"

The minute the words leave his mouth he freezes for a second or two as he sees a hint of panic cross Rose's face. He should have known that they were the wrong words to choose. So much for nixing the nonchalant approach, he curses himself, now she's going to think that you're not taking this, taking her, seriously and that's gonna cause no end of trouble. Try again, and this time try not to be such an arse about it.

He does not want (not after what he put her through during, and after, his latest regeneration) to be a source of any kind of fear, or pain, for this fantastic woman he loves so much. He feels her withdrawing from him, almost in fear of what he might think or say.

Rassilon, Rose, I thought the two of us were close enough that you could tell me anything without fear of my laughing at you or thinking you stupid.

Not for the first time, he curses his previous self's intransigence on the subject of human "apes"; the man had his issues, fair enough, but he had thought he would have known better to transfer them on to Rose like that. It's just one of a number of things about his previous self that he is rapidly learning to dislike, if only because it created another barrier between them that he now has to break down.

Still, much as he loves turning things over in his head like this, it's not getting him any closer to where he wants - no, needs - to be; instead of worrying about what someone who was gone and never coming back had been saying to Rose, time to worry about what he is saying to her and how it is being received. He feels her start to withdraw the hand she still has in his hair and his mind screams against the loss of contact.

I cannot let her go thinking that I don't feel anything for her; can't go back to the way things were before Cassandra. It would drive both of us entirely mad.

His mind barely processes the thought before his hand moves swiftly from Rose's face to her hand, capturing it before it manages to withdraw from his hair completely.

"Rose."

He wipes all hints of levity and nonchalance from his voice but the tenderness, and the sense of urgency, remain. (He's not about to make the same mistake a second time; for all his cockiness he's at least learnt that much from previous incarnations.) He is pleased to see that the panic has disappeared from her expression but not so happy at the sight of the almost wary look in her eyes that has replaced it. The next words come almost without conscious thought on his part.

"Rose, love, you're not scared of me, are you?" She shakes her head, which is something at least, although the unidentifiable emotion that flickers across her expression at his semi-intentional use of the word 'love' excites him.

Must not babble. Must not babble. Rassilon, will you not concentrate for once in your miserable existence?

"No, 'm not scared of you. Should I be?"

She speaks the last words with wry amusement, and he is relieved to see that the wariness in her eyes is slowly disappearing. Time to capitalise on his advantage and press her, gently, for the information he so badly wants to know.

"I couldn't possibly comment, Rose," he chuckles briefly before becoming serious again. "Now - you know you can trust me, that I'd never do anything to hurt you if there were any possible way to prevent it?"

She nods.

"Of course I trust you. I'd have told you to leave me behind on Earth if I didn't" (you don't - and never will - know how close I came to doing exactly that, she thinks).

"Then talk to me, my rosey Rose. You can tell me anything, anything at all," he releases the hand holding hers in his hair and moves it to cup her cheek, "absolutely anything, and I'll listen."

Talk to me, my love; please, please, talk to me. I love you, have been in love with you for what seems like for ever, and I need to know where I stand with you. Tell me I didn't imagine what Cassandra said, that you have feelings for me similar to those I've had for you for such a long time now; that the kiss you gave me when she was in your mind actually meant something to you. Please? Before this sends us both mad?

"Doctor?"

Here goes nothing, she thinks; time to call him on this "you can tell me anything" crap he's pulling, and find out just how truthful he's being with me.

"Yes, Rose?"

He feels her hand moving from the side of his head to the back of it and tries not to react to it or think about what she could be meaning to do next. He wants her to kiss him, wants it badly, but he cannot afford to entertain the notion if all he's going to be is disappointed.

"I've wanted to do this for bloody ages," she muses, ignoring his slightly confused expression, "and I am so mad at Cassandra that she managed to get there first."

He is now definitely confused, and starts to say so.

He's cut off before he can start speaking by Rose pulling his head down towards her to kiss him, gently, on the lips - as different a kiss to Cassandra's as it was possible to be and still be a kiss. He feels her nervousness and pre-empts her pulling away by moving a hand from her cheek to the back of her head and beginning to kiss her back.

He uses his tongue to lick his way along her lower lip, not assuming anything but asking for entrance; she parts her lips slightly and he takes this as assent and takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth ...

... and what is, after all, a (comparatively) chaste kiss metamorphoses into its precise opposite as each of them use their tongues, teeth, lips, just about everything to try to impart to the other that yes, yes, there is something between them, something deeply felt and positively wonderful, that the word "friend" could never begin to encompass.

Finally, finally, finally; she's not the only one who's wanted to do this for ages (not that I'm going to tell her that). Rassilon, though, I could get used to this.

She breaks from the kiss first, gasping for breath and looking decidedly pink; he reluctantly squashes his first impulse to make a nonchalant comment about how proud he is to have been the one to do that to her.

"Rose?"

He practically growls at her.

"Doctor?"