{DW} The World Becomes Hands
Title: The World Becomes hands
Rating: Teen
Characters: Rose, Ten
Genre: Mostly fluff with a tiny bit of slight angst thrown in
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2839
Summary: It is impossible to be around someone you like and not come to love them just a little. Seven moments with the Doctor when Rose Tyler figured this out.
Author's Note: The images came from a photo prompt over at then_theres_us . I'm not a member of the community, as membership is moderated, but the pictures were too pretty not to use as a prompt.
The title comes from a quote which I've had tacked up on a sticky note for ages: "The world becomes hands when you think you might be falling in love."
The World Becomes Hands
They are in a city called Delphinia on a planet called La'Roue, and staying in a penthouse suite in a very posh hotel all because they happened to be in the right place at the right time to (almost accidentally) save the Governor's daughter from a horde of flying aliens that reminded Rose vaguely of the Krillitane.
Their rooms come with a private patio, and it's here that she finds him later, slouched comfortably on a couch with his feet propped on the table and a smile on his face as he watches the two suns setting. The view is beautiful, the city skyline stretching out to the horizon, and Rose smiles as she sinks down next to him, curling her bare feet under her.
"Not a bad set-up," says the Doctor, turning his grin on her, and Rose feels her eyes rolling, but she's smiling, too.
"Yeah, not bad, considering we basically just happened to walk by in time to catch her when she fell."
"We do have some brilliant strokes of luck, don't we?" he says, and he's giving her that silly smile of his that says he's really truly enthralled with the way things've turned out. Rose shakes her head and punches him lightly in the arm but the Doctor just laughs and drops his head back, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. He's close enough that she can feel his fingertips brush across her shoulder when she breathes, and she feels herself shift back slightly until they press more firmly.
She sees his smile out of the corner of her eye but he lets her get away with it as they both turn their gazes back to the view.
Rose has known some very good music in her days, but this is like nothing she's ever experienced before. This whole world moves to a beat, to a rhythm, and this music is primal, intuitive, automatic. The Doctor had told her it was the concert of a lifetime, the crowning glory of all he best musicians in the universe, but that hardly describes it. Rose is surrounded by people, by lights and sound and energy and so much life, and she wonders if this is what it would feel like to stand in the heart of the TARDIS.
She is surrounded by bodies, all moving and dancing, and all moving and dancing with her and she with them, but she is not so far into the crowd that she can't still make out his figure against the back wall, standing with crossed arms and swaying with the music. There is something intense in his eyes that makes her think of embers in a fire, brown eyes seeming somehow illuminated even though she can't see them in the dim light. She realises he is watching her and it makes her pause, makes her wonder what it is he's seeing that's put that look on his face.
She is halfway to him before she realises she's moved, threading through the crowd as easily as she was dancing a moment before.
"Enjoying yourself?" she asks when she reaches him, leaning one shoulder against the wall beside him.
"Of course," he says, grinning wide at her. "It's absolutely brilliant!"
"And yet," she says, poking at his shoulder, "best concert in the universe and you're still not dancing."
He catches her hand as she goes to poke him again, threading his fingers through hers, holding their clasped hands between them. Something in his grin has shifted, grown brighter, and she finds that the sound and the motion of the crowd has gone somehow distant.
"I dance when I feel like it," he tells her, and the smile he gives her sends sparks rippling down her spine.
The town of Puk-Dek-Phu is built layer upon layer, rising up out of the ocean on it's peninsula, houses and stores stacked on top of one another. Rose has never seen anything like it; the houses are painted in bright colours, blue and green and red and orange and yellow. Washing hangs out to dry on lines strung from house to house. Shopkeepers shout their wares from open windows, everything from flowers to pastries to books to clothes, and a thousand other things she can't quite see from this end of the street.
The Doctor turns to her, excited smile playing across his lips, and asks, "So, where'd you like to start?"
She grins wide and impossible and takes his hand, dragging him down one side of the street and up the other, stopping at every window, every shop, every vendor and stall they come across. She is tempted by a man selling tiny painted wooden birds that chirp, and she finds a woman selling jewellery made of clay beads and thinks about getting one for her mum, and the Doctor buys her a pastry filled with something sweet and nutty that she thinks might just be the most exquisite thing she's ever tasted.
Though they arrived mid-morning, it is early evening before they reach the end of the street again, having seen the whole market from top to bottom, and they pause for a while at a small cafe, sitting on rickety chairs at a small metal table outside, sipping on something like hot chocolate but with a spicy sort of kick at the end. Down the street the lights in the shops and homes make a sort of jewel-tone patchwork, warm yellow light reflecting off blue and green and red painted walls.
"I'd say that makes for a near-perfect day," the Doctor says beside her.
"Let's see," she says, holding up one hand. "No monsters..." She sticks up one finger. "No running for our lives..." Another finger. "No mystery disappearances, no heart-pounding terror..." She smiles at him. "Yeah, I'd say that's a pretty perfect day."
"I think we deserved this," he says, taking her hand and helping her up. He turns slightly, nodding his head back up th street. Behind him, up the street and tucked into an alley, Rose can just make out the edge of the TARDIS. "What do you say we head home?" he asks, and Rose smiles.
"Home sounds good," she says, and tugs him gently by the hand down the street.
He finds her sitting on the beach with her knees drawn up and her arms crossed on top of them, and settles down beside her without a word. She doesn't turn, doesn't look at him; they are both staring straight ahead, but she can see his profile from the corner of her eye, can see the way his eyebrows are drawn together, mouth turned downward and she imagines if she could see his eyes they'd have that look in them, the one that reminds her that not every story has a happy ending.
"I thought I'd really lost you this time," she says finally, and she sees his head turn as he looks at her.
"So did I, for a minute," he says, and she wishes she was strong enough to look at him because his voice is soft and there's a hint of apology in there that she hates. It's not his fault they were outnumbered, or that the only way to save them all was for him to stay behind, and it's not his fault that it nearly cost him his life.
She doesn't realise she's crying until the first tear falls into her lap, but she doesn't dare close her eyes to blink them away, too afraid that she'll see the door he bolted behind him, the door she feared she'd never see open again.
When he takes her hand she jumps, breath catching in her throat. Then his hand is sweeping across her cheek, slowly turning her to face him. He's close, closer than she'd thought, and she feels herself trembling as she looks at him.
"You're really alright, aren't you?" she asks, because for so many long minutes she couldn't believe that he could be, and she's still trying to reassure herself.
"I'm alright, Rose," he says. "Perfectly alright."
His eyes are so sincere, and Rose feels herself fall forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face to his shoulder. She feels the Doctor's hands solid and warm at her back and presses herself closer until she can feel the double-time rhythm of his two hearts beating against hers.
"Don't ever leave me," she says, whispering the words into the fabric at his shoulder. He pulls back just a little, enough to duck his head so he can see her face.
"I'm right here," he says, his thumb brushing the tear-tracks from her face. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. I can't."
His eyes are bright, and for a moment Rose almost thinks he might start crying as well. So she buries her face in his shoulder again and they sit, wrapped around each other on a beach made of smooth grey rocks and Rose finds herself believing that everything will be okay.
There is a room in the TARDIS like a library, filled with bookshelves and a table and chairs and a particularly comfortable couch in one corner where the TARDIS has put an artificial window. Today it's grey and rainy, but quiet and serene and not too dark, and they've spent the day lounging, just reading and drinking tea and talking. Well, mostly the Doctor's been talking, telling her stories of places and times and the things he's seen and the people he's met and the places he's been. Rose has nearly drifted off as she lies on the couch, lulled by the sound of the rain and the Doctor's voice, like when she was a child and her mum would read to her before bed.
Her eyes are closed, taking in the sound of his voice as he sits on the floor beside her, until she almost thinks she's dreaming, except the feather-light touches on her arm are too real to be imagined. She thinks about opening her eyes, but his soft strokes from her wrist her her elbow are sending pleasant little shivers through her skin and it feels nice, and she knows he'll stop if he realises she's awake. So she keeps her eyes closed and tucks her head in a little so he won't see her smile and she can watch him from beneath her eyelashes.
He's following his fingers with his eyes, watching the goosebumps rising on her skin as they pass, and there's something soft in the way he glances at her face, something gentle and new that she's never seen there before, and she wonders if he would ever look at her like that if her eyes weren't closed.
His fingers are travelling up her arm, ghosting down her shoulders and her back toward the dip before her hips as she lies halfway propped on her side. His eyes are focused on where his fingers are tip-tapping their way down the side of her ribs, so she takes a chance and opens her eyes a little more, watching the small, shy smile playing across his lips as he hesitates by the small strip of skin near her waist where her shirt has ridden up slightly. She nearly shivers when he makes up his mind and trails his fingers lightly over her skin, and nearly laughs when he's careful not to touch her again until he's reached her knees, smoothing just the tips of two fingers carefully down her leg to her ankle.
She smiles, and can't help the small sigh that escapes her lips. The Doctor freezes, turning his head to look at her. He doesn't move, though, fingers still pressed lightly against her ankle, and there's something of the softness still in his eyes.
"I, uh," he stammers quietly. "I didn't know you were awake."
"I don't mind," she says softly. "I really don't mind at all." And she smiles at him, feeling relaxed and content and knowing he'll be able to see it on her face.
His smile softens even more and something in his eyes seems to open, like pushing aside the curtains on a window, as he shifts closer.
"Is that so?" he asks, his voice just a quiet rumble against the sound of the rain still falling outside the fake window. His fingers are dancing back upwards, surer now, tracing the curve of her waist back up her ribs to her shoulder and down again, following the inner curve of her elbow. The Doctor holds her eyes and leans forward, placing a small kiss on the inside of her wrist, and Rose feels her breath catch in her chest.
"Then I guess I won't stop," he says, and his smile is more gentle than she's ever seen.
They are sitting on a hill overlooking a valley full of flowers, the sun high and warm above their heads. Rose is wearing a tank top and relishing the feel of the breeze on her arms, and even the Doctor has taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, lying back against the grass with his eyes closed.
"This reminds me of New Earth," Rose says, twirling a bit of grass between her fingers. "D'you remember? We sat outside and you told me about the apple-grass."
"I remember that," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Back when we were first getting to know each other again."
Rose is silent for a moment. She lets her eyes drift closed against the sunlight. "You scared me, at first," she says, and hears him shift, probably leaning up on his elbows to look at her. She keeps her eyes closed and keeps talking.
"You were so different, but still the same somehow, and I didn't know how that was possible. I watched you change, watched you become someone else entirely, just when I thought I'd really gotten to know you. And you're not entirely the same at all, are you? Only you are, because you're still with me, like you promised, still showing me things I never would have even dreamed of before I met you."
She smiles and turns to look at him. "I'm glad you're still you, Doctor," she says, "because now I've known you twice. And I'm nowhere near done knowing you."
The look on his face is slightly awed and slightly humbled, but his smile is so bright that she almost feels she should turn away. The breeze blows her hair off the back of her neck and she sighs, closing her eyes again.
She hears the Doctor sit up beside her, but the light touch on the back of her shoulder is unexpected. "When did you get this?" he asks, fingers playing over the birds inked in black across her shoulder.
"A month or so ago," she says. "Last time I was home." She turns slightly to look at him, the smile on her face feeling silly and shy. "Being with you," she says softly, "it's like flying. And I don't ever want to have to land. I want to keep flying for as long as I can."
The Doctor's eyes are intense staring back at her, and they don't leave her face until he shifts slightly behind her, settling his arms loosely around her waist and resting his chin lightly against her shoulder.
"How long did you say you were going to stay with me?" he asks, breath warm against her cheek and his voice rumbling against her throat, and she smiles, threading her fingers through his and tightening their hold on her.
"Forever."
She feels him duck his head, pressing his lips to the outstretched wings across her shoulder blade and she shivers, smiling stupidly in the sunlight. She presses herself back against him and hears his voice whispering like the breeze in her ear.
"Good."
His hands have become familiar, the brush of his knuckles at her shoulder, the drag of his short nails down her arms, the grip of his fingers against hers. She's learned the texture of his hair as she runs it through her fingers when they lie side by side on the couch in the library. She knows the shape of his ribcage when she hugs him from behind, the expand and contract of his chest when his breath quickens when she's around. She's been lulled to sleep by the beating of his hearts playing in stereo on either side from where her head lies pillowed on his chest. She's learned to read the things he says in his eyes when he gives her that smile, the quiet one she only sees when they're alone and they have time to simply be together, when they're not running or exploring or adventuring; when it's just them and the TARDIS and the humming in the background.
The humming that sounds like every language from every world in the universe all saying, "I love you."
Rating: Teen
Characters: Rose, Ten
Genre: Mostly fluff with a tiny bit of slight angst thrown in
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2839
Summary: It is impossible to be around someone you like and not come to love them just a little. Seven moments with the Doctor when Rose Tyler figured this out.
Author's Note: The images came from a photo prompt over at then_theres_us . I'm not a member of the community, as membership is moderated, but the pictures were too pretty not to use as a prompt.
The title comes from a quote which I've had tacked up on a sticky note for ages: "The world becomes hands when you think you might be falling in love."
The World Becomes Hands
They are in a city called Delphinia on a planet called La'Roue, and staying in a penthouse suite in a very posh hotel all because they happened to be in the right place at the right time to (almost accidentally) save the Governor's daughter from a horde of flying aliens that reminded Rose vaguely of the Krillitane.
Their rooms come with a private patio, and it's here that she finds him later, slouched comfortably on a couch with his feet propped on the table and a smile on his face as he watches the two suns setting. The view is beautiful, the city skyline stretching out to the horizon, and Rose smiles as she sinks down next to him, curling her bare feet under her.
"Not a bad set-up," says the Doctor, turning his grin on her, and Rose feels her eyes rolling, but she's smiling, too.
"Yeah, not bad, considering we basically just happened to walk by in time to catch her when she fell."
"We do have some brilliant strokes of luck, don't we?" he says, and he's giving her that silly smile of his that says he's really truly enthralled with the way things've turned out. Rose shakes her head and punches him lightly in the arm but the Doctor just laughs and drops his head back, stretching his arms out across the back of the couch. He's close enough that she can feel his fingertips brush across her shoulder when she breathes, and she feels herself shift back slightly until they press more firmly.
She sees his smile out of the corner of her eye but he lets her get away with it as they both turn their gazes back to the view.
Rose has known some very good music in her days, but this is like nothing she's ever experienced before. This whole world moves to a beat, to a rhythm, and this music is primal, intuitive, automatic. The Doctor had told her it was the concert of a lifetime, the crowning glory of all he best musicians in the universe, but that hardly describes it. Rose is surrounded by people, by lights and sound and energy and so much life, and she wonders if this is what it would feel like to stand in the heart of the TARDIS.
She is surrounded by bodies, all moving and dancing, and all moving and dancing with her and she with them, but she is not so far into the crowd that she can't still make out his figure against the back wall, standing with crossed arms and swaying with the music. There is something intense in his eyes that makes her think of embers in a fire, brown eyes seeming somehow illuminated even though she can't see them in the dim light. She realises he is watching her and it makes her pause, makes her wonder what it is he's seeing that's put that look on his face.
She is halfway to him before she realises she's moved, threading through the crowd as easily as she was dancing a moment before.
"Enjoying yourself?" she asks when she reaches him, leaning one shoulder against the wall beside him.
"Of course," he says, grinning wide at her. "It's absolutely brilliant!"
"And yet," she says, poking at his shoulder, "best concert in the universe and you're still not dancing."
He catches her hand as she goes to poke him again, threading his fingers through hers, holding their clasped hands between them. Something in his grin has shifted, grown brighter, and she finds that the sound and the motion of the crowd has gone somehow distant.
"I dance when I feel like it," he tells her, and the smile he gives her sends sparks rippling down her spine.
The town of Puk-Dek-Phu is built layer upon layer, rising up out of the ocean on it's peninsula, houses and stores stacked on top of one another. Rose has never seen anything like it; the houses are painted in bright colours, blue and green and red and orange and yellow. Washing hangs out to dry on lines strung from house to house. Shopkeepers shout their wares from open windows, everything from flowers to pastries to books to clothes, and a thousand other things she can't quite see from this end of the street.
The Doctor turns to her, excited smile playing across his lips, and asks, "So, where'd you like to start?"
She grins wide and impossible and takes his hand, dragging him down one side of the street and up the other, stopping at every window, every shop, every vendor and stall they come across. She is tempted by a man selling tiny painted wooden birds that chirp, and she finds a woman selling jewellery made of clay beads and thinks about getting one for her mum, and the Doctor buys her a pastry filled with something sweet and nutty that she thinks might just be the most exquisite thing she's ever tasted.
Though they arrived mid-morning, it is early evening before they reach the end of the street again, having seen the whole market from top to bottom, and they pause for a while at a small cafe, sitting on rickety chairs at a small metal table outside, sipping on something like hot chocolate but with a spicy sort of kick at the end. Down the street the lights in the shops and homes make a sort of jewel-tone patchwork, warm yellow light reflecting off blue and green and red painted walls.
"I'd say that makes for a near-perfect day," the Doctor says beside her.
"Let's see," she says, holding up one hand. "No monsters..." She sticks up one finger. "No running for our lives..." Another finger. "No mystery disappearances, no heart-pounding terror..." She smiles at him. "Yeah, I'd say that's a pretty perfect day."
"I think we deserved this," he says, taking her hand and helping her up. He turns slightly, nodding his head back up th street. Behind him, up the street and tucked into an alley, Rose can just make out the edge of the TARDIS. "What do you say we head home?" he asks, and Rose smiles.
"Home sounds good," she says, and tugs him gently by the hand down the street.
He finds her sitting on the beach with her knees drawn up and her arms crossed on top of them, and settles down beside her without a word. She doesn't turn, doesn't look at him; they are both staring straight ahead, but she can see his profile from the corner of her eye, can see the way his eyebrows are drawn together, mouth turned downward and she imagines if she could see his eyes they'd have that look in them, the one that reminds her that not every story has a happy ending.
"I thought I'd really lost you this time," she says finally, and she sees his head turn as he looks at her.
"So did I, for a minute," he says, and she wishes she was strong enough to look at him because his voice is soft and there's a hint of apology in there that she hates. It's not his fault they were outnumbered, or that the only way to save them all was for him to stay behind, and it's not his fault that it nearly cost him his life.
She doesn't realise she's crying until the first tear falls into her lap, but she doesn't dare close her eyes to blink them away, too afraid that she'll see the door he bolted behind him, the door she feared she'd never see open again.
When he takes her hand she jumps, breath catching in her throat. Then his hand is sweeping across her cheek, slowly turning her to face him. He's close, closer than she'd thought, and she feels herself trembling as she looks at him.
"You're really alright, aren't you?" she asks, because for so many long minutes she couldn't believe that he could be, and she's still trying to reassure herself.
"I'm alright, Rose," he says. "Perfectly alright."
His eyes are so sincere, and Rose feels herself fall forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face to his shoulder. She feels the Doctor's hands solid and warm at her back and presses herself closer until she can feel the double-time rhythm of his two hearts beating against hers.
"Don't ever leave me," she says, whispering the words into the fabric at his shoulder. He pulls back just a little, enough to duck his head so he can see her face.
"I'm right here," he says, his thumb brushing the tear-tracks from her face. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you. I can't."
His eyes are bright, and for a moment Rose almost thinks he might start crying as well. So she buries her face in his shoulder again and they sit, wrapped around each other on a beach made of smooth grey rocks and Rose finds herself believing that everything will be okay.
There is a room in the TARDIS like a library, filled with bookshelves and a table and chairs and a particularly comfortable couch in one corner where the TARDIS has put an artificial window. Today it's grey and rainy, but quiet and serene and not too dark, and they've spent the day lounging, just reading and drinking tea and talking. Well, mostly the Doctor's been talking, telling her stories of places and times and the things he's seen and the people he's met and the places he's been. Rose has nearly drifted off as she lies on the couch, lulled by the sound of the rain and the Doctor's voice, like when she was a child and her mum would read to her before bed.
Her eyes are closed, taking in the sound of his voice as he sits on the floor beside her, until she almost thinks she's dreaming, except the feather-light touches on her arm are too real to be imagined. She thinks about opening her eyes, but his soft strokes from her wrist her her elbow are sending pleasant little shivers through her skin and it feels nice, and she knows he'll stop if he realises she's awake. So she keeps her eyes closed and tucks her head in a little so he won't see her smile and she can watch him from beneath her eyelashes.
He's following his fingers with his eyes, watching the goosebumps rising on her skin as they pass, and there's something soft in the way he glances at her face, something gentle and new that she's never seen there before, and she wonders if he would ever look at her like that if her eyes weren't closed.
His fingers are travelling up her arm, ghosting down her shoulders and her back toward the dip before her hips as she lies halfway propped on her side. His eyes are focused on where his fingers are tip-tapping their way down the side of her ribs, so she takes a chance and opens her eyes a little more, watching the small, shy smile playing across his lips as he hesitates by the small strip of skin near her waist where her shirt has ridden up slightly. She nearly shivers when he makes up his mind and trails his fingers lightly over her skin, and nearly laughs when he's careful not to touch her again until he's reached her knees, smoothing just the tips of two fingers carefully down her leg to her ankle.
She smiles, and can't help the small sigh that escapes her lips. The Doctor freezes, turning his head to look at her. He doesn't move, though, fingers still pressed lightly against her ankle, and there's something of the softness still in his eyes.
"I, uh," he stammers quietly. "I didn't know you were awake."
"I don't mind," she says softly. "I really don't mind at all." And she smiles at him, feeling relaxed and content and knowing he'll be able to see it on her face.
His smile softens even more and something in his eyes seems to open, like pushing aside the curtains on a window, as he shifts closer.
"Is that so?" he asks, his voice just a quiet rumble against the sound of the rain still falling outside the fake window. His fingers are dancing back upwards, surer now, tracing the curve of her waist back up her ribs to her shoulder and down again, following the inner curve of her elbow. The Doctor holds her eyes and leans forward, placing a small kiss on the inside of her wrist, and Rose feels her breath catch in her chest.
"Then I guess I won't stop," he says, and his smile is more gentle than she's ever seen.
They are sitting on a hill overlooking a valley full of flowers, the sun high and warm above their heads. Rose is wearing a tank top and relishing the feel of the breeze on her arms, and even the Doctor has taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, lying back against the grass with his eyes closed.
"This reminds me of New Earth," Rose says, twirling a bit of grass between her fingers. "D'you remember? We sat outside and you told me about the apple-grass."
"I remember that," he says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Back when we were first getting to know each other again."
Rose is silent for a moment. She lets her eyes drift closed against the sunlight. "You scared me, at first," she says, and hears him shift, probably leaning up on his elbows to look at her. She keeps her eyes closed and keeps talking.
"You were so different, but still the same somehow, and I didn't know how that was possible. I watched you change, watched you become someone else entirely, just when I thought I'd really gotten to know you. And you're not entirely the same at all, are you? Only you are, because you're still with me, like you promised, still showing me things I never would have even dreamed of before I met you."
She smiles and turns to look at him. "I'm glad you're still you, Doctor," she says, "because now I've known you twice. And I'm nowhere near done knowing you."
The look on his face is slightly awed and slightly humbled, but his smile is so bright that she almost feels she should turn away. The breeze blows her hair off the back of her neck and she sighs, closing her eyes again.
She hears the Doctor sit up beside her, but the light touch on the back of her shoulder is unexpected. "When did you get this?" he asks, fingers playing over the birds inked in black across her shoulder.
"A month or so ago," she says. "Last time I was home." She turns slightly to look at him, the smile on her face feeling silly and shy. "Being with you," she says softly, "it's like flying. And I don't ever want to have to land. I want to keep flying for as long as I can."
The Doctor's eyes are intense staring back at her, and they don't leave her face until he shifts slightly behind her, settling his arms loosely around her waist and resting his chin lightly against her shoulder.
"How long did you say you were going to stay with me?" he asks, breath warm against her cheek and his voice rumbling against her throat, and she smiles, threading her fingers through his and tightening their hold on her.
"Forever."
She feels him duck his head, pressing his lips to the outstretched wings across her shoulder blade and she shivers, smiling stupidly in the sunlight. She presses herself back against him and hears his voice whispering like the breeze in her ear.
"Good."
His hands have become familiar, the brush of his knuckles at her shoulder, the drag of his short nails down her arms, the grip of his fingers against hers. She's learned the texture of his hair as she runs it through her fingers when they lie side by side on the couch in the library. She knows the shape of his ribcage when she hugs him from behind, the expand and contract of his chest when his breath quickens when she's around. She's been lulled to sleep by the beating of his hearts playing in stereo on either side from where her head lies pillowed on his chest. She's learned to read the things he says in his eyes when he gives her that smile, the quiet one she only sees when they're alone and they have time to simply be together, when they're not running or exploring or adventuring; when it's just them and the TARDIS and the humming in the background.
The humming that sounds like every language from every world in the universe all saying, "I love you."