I don't own Dr. Who or anything connected to it.

Assume there is a standing romantic relationship between the Doctor and Rose.

It was late and the Doctor was on his way to his room. He had had to complete a few minor repairs and Rose had decided not to wait up. With his superior biology he often stayed awake for weeks at a time while his companion Rose was only human. She had left him with a lingering kiss and a yawn then had headed off to bed.

When he passed Rose's room he had heard what he thought was a distant crack of thunder. Knowing that odd things occurred on his beloved ship he was startled, but he hadn't thought the TARDIS now had her own weather system. He stopped and pressed his ear to Rose's bedroom door. Another crack of thunder sounded faintly on the other side of the door. What the devil was going on in there? Curious, he eased the door open slowly and stepped inside.

"Why's it sound like rain in here?" he mentally asked his ship, his hand on the wall, just inside the door. The room was dark; he could hear Rose breathing deeply, her form unmoving in the bed.

She likes the sound of the wind and the rain when she sleeps. She rarely heard those things growing up in that apartment complex. All the other flats muffled the sound. I found that it soothes her dreams when you're not spending the night with her.

"You read her mind? She won't like that if she finds out." he replied.

I didn't poke too far. Besides I like her and I don't like it when she has troubled dreams. You should sleep with her more often. You're happier when you do. You've been angry and alone for too long.

He harrumphed softly and ignored the last comment. He was fine. He deserved to be alone. Although he did acknowledge that life had been better now that Rose was with him. He stood there a moment watching her sleeping form, listening to the sounds of the storm. A wave of weariness washed over him.

He calculated when the last time he actually slept was. It had been some time ago. He really was due to get some rest. Closing the door softly, he tread carefully across the room and stripped off his cloths, setting them neatly on the chair. He slid into bed next to her his arms easing around her and drawing them close together. She sighed and shifted in her sleep, snuggling into him. Now that they were touching he caught brief flashes of her dreams, smiling when he saw them brighten and include him. He inhaled deeply, her scent filling him, relaxing him. Sleep started to enfold him.

I was right, you know. I always am. You should listen to me more often.

He smiled as his eyelids closed. He'd let her get the last word in. She was right after all, and this time, he didn't care if she knew it.