"Is that—"
"Snow!" The Doctor beamed at her like a four-year-old on a snow day, reaching out for Rose's hand as they walked down the already-slick wooden steps to the asphalt path below. Well, he explained, noting how Rose's hand eluded his grip, it was like asphalt, but it was made of slightly different compounds, and, in fact, if it came into contact with the exhaust fumes from Earth cars, it would explode. Quite quickly. But in no way was he speaking from experience.
"It's not ash or… or something?" she asked.
"No, why? Are you suddenly suspicious of snow, Rose Tyler?"
"Well, no, but… it's blue. Right? That's not the lights or anything?"
"Periwinkle, and no, the snow's actually periwinkle."
"What is with you and strangely coloured things?" she asked with a smile, an idea tickling her brain. Snow… what about it? What can you do with snow?
"I like the colours! Lavender spaghetti, green skies, magenta suns… periwinkle snow. It's… it's nice." So caught up was he, ambling down the path towards the sea, that he didn't notice Rose scoop up a handful of the stuff that was already two feet deep. How long had they been in the restaurant? she wondered. The lights must have gone on a lot longer than it'd felt. Wouldn't have minded if they'd been longer…
Convinced that the heat suddenly radiating off her body would melt the snow in her hands, she promptly chucked it at the Doctor's back. Snow must have been flung down his collar as he yelped and spun round quickly, finding Rose laughing silently at him, eyes shining, tongue between her teeth.
"Oh yeah?" he challenged, scooping snow up in his hands and packing it into a ball.
"I'll have you know I was the best shot on Gallifrey."
"Oh really? Did everyone tremble in your wake, Doctor?" She attempted to escape him, but in heels, low as they were, and trying to march through snow in her dress, she was slowed enough for him to plaster her with his icy projectile. She shrieked, chucking a formless tuft of precipitation.
"You bet," he announced proudly, enunciating each syllable in that way he did when he was overconfident about something. The path they were on continued in a circular shape, enclosing a small area with a few trees that might have been pine, but fluffier, as if shedding cats climbed their branches day and night. They were ensconced heavily in lavender, and were therefore motionless in the light breeze that wafted off the roiling sea.
Rose ran into the deeper snow of the once-grassy island, hiding behind one of the trees. The Doctor, a snowball in each hand, followed close behind. As he moved towards her round the tree, she edged away, and they danced back and forth, the tree between them, each trying to start in the opposite direction of the other and end up on the same side. As she moved left, he dove right, and soon they were racing round the base of the tree, attempting to hit each other.
His jacket soaked through, the Doctor set his goal to bury Rose completely, and when she was the farthest from him, he lunged back, knocking the branches of their snow. If he'd been a second later, Rose would be up to the waist in periwinkle… but she was quick, and already halfway across the clearing. He made a mental note to ask her how she'd managed that in a dress and heels.
As he reached her, he spotted the heels on the path they hade been walking, catching the trails they'd left through the snow in addition. Chasing her, he was glad for the cold temperatures when he noted that, to run easier, she had hitched the sides of her gown up just above her knees, and her legs were exposed. She must be cold, he thought briefly, but most of his thoughts ran along the lines of tackling her and finally doing what he'd forbidden himself to do. Just…
A snowball connected with his head, and he realised that he'd been standing stationary for some moments. Rose was laughing again, and he thought that nothing horrible could ever erase that wonderful sound from his memory.
"Oi! No head hunting!" His voice was a little off pitch, she noted with amusement, but said nothing, just dancing away from him as he pitched more snow at her.
The periwinkle flakes clung to her hair and eyelashes, newly fallen ones melting on her skin after barely even a second. He briefly worried that she'd catch a fever, hypothermia, at the very least a cold. But the way she was looking at him, their lack of company from inhabitants of the planet, the past few weeks, her clothes, and the snow—all combined, rendered him powerless, finally, to the desire to—
The Doctor caught up with her and dragged her down into the snow with him. She laughed, tossing snow into his hair, secretly loving the way it looked, all mixed up in those wild strands, and he laughed with her, tossing some right back. The pair was suddenly still when they realised the position they were in: his arm round her waist, her hand on his chest, and their bodies pressed… very close. The best part, she mused, was feeling his hearts beating in excited sync against her chest.
He looked up from studying how her leg was somehow slung over his and how the hollow of her hip was perched on his own bone, how somehow all his blood was moving southerly. Her face was as close to his as it had been during the lights, but this time he was bloody well going to do something about it.
His brown eyes looked into hers with a kind of calm urgency, a decision made, and not a small amount of desire. This close, she could see the spokes of the snowflakes that were caught in his eyelashes and hair. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek in stark contrast with the cool air, and this time she wasn't going to let him just exhale and walk away.
In fact, he wasn't sure who moved first, only that she was kissing him and he was kissing her, and her hands were in his hair, his on her hips, and there was the feeling of release surrounding them as thoroughly as the still-falling snow; contentedness as thick as the falling flakes. Her mouth was hot on his, his tongue smooth in her mouth, and the snow was soft all around them.
"So I guess we both lose," Rose murmured when he gave her a moment to breathe. He grinned.
"Rose Tyler, this is a win."
The End
A/N: Oh the cheer. All right, I've successfully forgotten for the past few chapters to sincerely thank all forty-six of you who have put this story on their alerts: thanks a heap, I appreciate it. And thank you all for reading.