Author's Note: So, um...I really meant to post this a long time ago, but the my life got really chaotic and this got pushed to the background. Anyway, here it is. The Rose/Nine ship is coming in to dock right here. Enjoy.

We're Like Two Birds in the Air, Landing

Rose grudgingly awakens from a light sleep without dreams, slightly perturbed. She's in her bed in the TARDIS, sheets and blankets making a cocoon, slime-spattered clothes heaped on the floor. (She'd been too exhausted to even put them in the hamper.) Everything is in its place, no strange shadows flit across the walls, so why is she bothered? Trying to shake off the feeling, she rolls over to snuggle into…

…absolutely nothing. Ah. Seems her body's so attached to him that she can't sleep without him lying next to her. Sometimes when she wakes up in the middle of the night (or what passes for night, which the TARDIS usually provides for her), she finds him actually sleeping, but more often he's still dressed in his leather jackets, jumper, and jeans–he'd learned pretty quickly that if he wanted to be allowed into her bed, he'd have to at least lose the boots and socks. At first she'd found his penchant towards watching her sleep creepy, but after a few nightmares she was glad for how quickly he could gather her to him and rock her back into slumber.

This time, however, his reserved space next to her is empty and cold and clearly hasn't been touched. With only a bit of annoyance at losing sleep–she knows it'll be worse if she tries to continue on without him–she sets off to discover where he's gone to and what melancholy mood has overtaken him this time. He's prone to those, and she feels the least she can do is be with him, even if she can't say anything to make it better.

Rose finds him in the Gardens Room, staring at a slightly drooping plant (which she does not know the name of but probably can't pronounce anyway), his arms crossed over his chest. There's a sensation of fear about him, and a little bit of anger. He is still, of course, completely clothed, and not for the first time she wishes he had some pajamas. (Some classy pinstriped ones would be nice.) She can't see his face because the TARDIS's faux-night has draped it in shadow, but she knows exactly what expression is on it: jaw set firmly, lips pressed into a tight line, eyebrows drawn together, bright blue eyes glinting. She's been on the receiving end of that look a few times: when she's almost died or the Doctor has had a particularly trying day (then he's more angry). It terrifies her and endears him to her at the same time.

Rose guesses what he needs right now, and feels a bit like a mother trying to put a petulant child to bed. "Doctor," she whispers just loud enough for him to hear but not enough to startle. "Come to bed." She lets out a big yawn and hears her jaw crack.

"Don't need it," he says, not moving. He tells her often, with varying degrees of exasperation, that he doesn't need to sleep much ("Stupid ape behavior"); he's tried to explain it but she gets distracted remembering all the times she's caught him slumped at various desks throughout the TARDIS, some project spread around his head like a shattered mechanical halo.

Groaning slightly, Rose shuffles over to the bright purple plant to stand next to him. She inserts a hand into the crook of his elbow and buries her face in his leather-covered shoulder. Her nose tingles with his special scent–stardust, musk, and lemon zest–and smiles sleepily. She presses her lips to the bony part of his shoulder and her voice is muffled. "You need to rest."

He sighs heavily and she looks up at his half-shadowed face, the strong line of his nose jutting out. "Can't," he says. His features soften a bit as his body shifts slightly towards her, but he's still too tense: he's trying to keep an unnamed dread from shattering him.

She's not really sure what to say, so she keeps her eyes on his face and massages the inside of his elbow the way a cat kneads things when it's comfortable. After a while, Rose ventures what she hopes might keep him together a little longer: "Don't worry," and then when his head shakes, "I'm here forever."

In one quick, fluid movement he reaches out, cups the back of her head with a large hand and gives her a spine-tingling kiss that causes her to jerk closer to his lean body. She gladly moves her lips and tongue against his for as long as she can while trying to keep her knees from declaring mutiny and collapsing under her, but unfortunately she soon has to pull away to breathe. She grins when his head automatically dips down to try and reclaim her mouth, warmed at the idea that he's unable to stand losing contact with her. Her eyes remain shut and her breath wisps across his lips. "Come to bed, please," she says again and this time–thankfully–he sighs and lets her lead the way.

When they reach her room again, he kicks of his shoes and socks and tries to crawl under the blankets, but Rose shakes her head and pulls him back. "Jacket," she says, and he pulls it off and drapes it over a chair. "Now jumper." He raises an eyebrow at her but she just raises her own back. After a few seconds he grumbles but consents, and she helps him drag it over his head; she takes care on its way up to run her palms over his ridged torso, making him gasp and groan in to her neck. The dense muscles that connect the sides of his throat to his shoulders stand out, and she absolutely must stand on her tiptoes to press a kiss to each little hill as she pulls him down on the bed. He scoots as close as he can get to her.

Her fingers trace the long, jagged scar that cuts across his abdomen and he shudders. All she remembers of that is a flash of claws and her terrified crying as she pulled him, half-conscious and bleeding profusely, back to the TARDIS's Medical Bay. Good thing he'd been able to stitch himself up; otherwise Rose's shaky hands might have caused a lot more damage. She'd yelled at him for putting himself in danger (an exceedingly ludicrous accusation, she knew) then kissed him hard, leaving him more dazed and pretty confused. He was just lucky she hadn't slapped him, too.

Back in the present, his ridiculously talented mouth finds the spot behind her ear and she arches against him. "Tell me a story, Rose," he says. She feels the vibrations of the words more than hears him say them.

"About what?" Her fingers find the belt loops of his jeans and pull his hips flush with hers.

"Anything," he rumbles into the underside of her jaw.

"I'm not much of a storyteller," she whispers.

"I only take the best, remember?" His eyes, electric, lock with hers. She smiles lopsidedly.

"Okay." She gently lowers his eyelids with her fingertips and begins.

"Once upon a time, there was a young girl who lived with her mother in a very ugly part of town. That couldn't be helped, though, because the girl's father had died when she was a small baby and it was still very hard on her mother, who was forced to work many hours to keep them afloat. Still, this little family loved each other, so they got through just fine." His face is pressed up against her collarbone and she can feel his breaths evening out. She stokes his upper arm as she continues.

"Even so, the girl's life wasn't very interesting. She worked in a shop, and doing the same motions day after day began to wear her out. She got into many fights with her mother because they were both tired, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't find a better job or make herself go back to school. She began to think she wasn't good enough."

"But of course she was. Even better than good enough."

"Shush," she says, unable to keep the smile out of her voice. "I'm trying to tell a story here." When he stays quiet, she goes on.

"One day, the girl–"

"The very beautiful girl, you mean."

She pinches him and he laughs. "Quiet. One day, the girl goes down to the basement of the shop looking for someone, and is suddenly attacked by window dummies! She thinks she's going to die–or at least be seriously maimed–when a warm, rough hand slips neatly into her own. Scared, she turns to look at the owner of the hand and sees a tall, dark, handsome man standing there. Very impressive." She can't help stoking the fire of his huge ego, even if she won't hear the end of it for a while. "This man, with adventure in his eyes, says just one word to her–" She lets her lips touch the swirls of his ear for just a moment, then whispers that word.

"Run."

This memory never fails to make him giddy, and he gives a gigantic grin as his hand finds hers and grips it. Rose looks down at their twined fingers and is very glad that what they do is better with two.

"It turns out that the man is actually an alien! A very old alien. I mean really old." He mumbles something like Only 900 but she just laughs, then sobers. "The alien is from a planet very far away from Earth. It's a wonderful place, his home is, and he loves it very much." Her tone takes on a heartbreaking edge. "But a terrible war happened. The alien was forced to do some very painful things to stop it, and his home and his people are gone. He hurts a lot, because he's the last of his kind and lonely, even though he's saved countless other lives."

Burning tears wet her skin, and she holds him as he shakes; his fingers press bruises into her arms. There are no words to say here, so she waits, weeping with him, until he snuffles and lies still. She hopes he can hear her single heart beating a pattern with his two–their own special dance.

"The alien had been traveling alone before he met the girl, which wasn't good for him. He tried to keep his distance, because he was afraid of and angry at himself, but no matter what he's done, the young girl still wanted–wants–to be with him. She can see that he's very special and very kind, and needs someone to be with, though he tries very hard to hide it. She needs him and he needs her, so they start traveling together, saving the day all across the universe. It's the most fun the girl's ever had, and she loves every second of it–except for the slimy clothes." Rose wrinkles her nose. "She loves running from danger, she loves holding her best friend's hand, and the hugs they share, and she especially loves keeping other planets safe and peaceful." His thumb rubs across her palm as she gets to one of her favorite parts.

"It didn't take very long for the girl to fall in love with the alien. She tried to keep it to herself for a while–it was quite a hard thing to do–since there were so many impediments that could ruin their relationship, but after some time she couldn't hold it in any longer and jumped him."

"Damn right," he says, chuckling.

"Her life becomes so much more fantastic than she ever thought it could be, and she wouldn't trade it for anything…even if she is rather jeopardy-friendly."

"Maybe if she wouldn't wander off when the alien specifically tells her not to…"

She lets go of his hand and tugs on his sizeable ear, ignoring the Ow!

"The girl and the alien live happily ever after for a long, long time." She yawns widely. "So? How'd you like it?" If he complains, he'll have to sleep on his own.

"You missed a part," he says sweetly.

"Oh?" she says nonchalantly, nudging him to the edge of the mattress, ready to push him out of it if his answer isn't to her liking.

"Yeah." She's not prepared, though, for when he flips her under him with a tiger's grace. "You forgot the part where the really old alien falls in love with the brilliant and beautiful young woman." Propping himself on an elbow, he kisses up and down her neck, scraping his teeth gently on especially sensitive areas. He knows just how to make her putty in his hands.

"Oh?" she chokes out, unable to get any farther than that.

"It was good that she was the one who jumped him since he was too shy to do anything, even though he'd had quite a few naughty daydreams." As if to demonstrate, he nudges her sleep shirt up and kisses his way down between her breasts.

Electrified, she pushes herself as close to him as she can get. "You're a dirty old man, you know that?" she moans and grips his ears. Even from this angle she can see his back muscles rising and falling and shifting beneath his skin. It takes some effort, but she manages to keep her eyes open to watch the cords play just under the surface.

"Mmmm," he hums lows in his chest, now focusing all his attention on the lower tip of her sternum. She might just die right here, in her silly cupcake pajamas, because of his mouth. The same mouth that gets them into trouble faster than he can disappear when she visits her mother. He's got quite a talent.

"Oh, God! Doctor!" Rose cries out. Her eyes drift closed and her mind goes blurry. She knows no more for a while, until she feels their chests touch and his nose bump her nose; his breathing's still heavy. "I love you," she whispers, and his entire body shudders.

"You know what else?" She shakes her head, nose rubbing his cheek. "The girl was the best thing that ever happened to the alien, and she made his two hearts beat again." A gentle brush of the lips and he looks at her, startling blue to deep brown. "And she's going to stay with him forever."

"Forever. Damn right," she whispers, and grins radiantly.

"Because he really, really loves her, and will not ever let her go." Warm and comforted, he drapes his frame over hers and listens to the strong beat of her heart. "Thank you for the story, Rose."

"You're welcome, Doctor. Now go to sleep."

He nods, short hair tickling her skin. "Where should we go tomorrow?"

"Somewhere exciting. You pick a place. But tomorrow."

"Are you ready?" he asks as his eyes drift closed, knowing the answer yet needing it to be said.

Rose can't help but grin and kiss him. "Geronimo."

AD FINEM

And there you have it. I hope you liked it. Write a review if you'd like–constructive criticism accepted. Or you could buy me a puppy; I'd like that, too.