My True Love Gave To Me
By Melissa (dettiot)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Ten/Rose, Jackie
Setting: Post-Fear Her.
Betas: leighleighla and clevermonikerr were great cheerleaders for this story as I wrote it. manticoran did a wonderful job betaing this huge story with very little time; thank you so much!
Summary: Christmas is a time for getting your heart's desire. Sometimes, the gift you truly want most can't be wrapped in pretty paper and bows.
Author's Note: Absolute fluff, written for waxingobscure, as part of the time_x_space Christmas ficathon. The prompts were needing a last-minute gift for a major character, Baby's First Christmas for the child of the Doctor and Rose, and/or carolling. See if I fit them all in. :-) Additional author's notes at the end.

Part 1 || Part 2


Her mother's words made Rose start, wince, and gulp. At least, she'd do that, if she wasn't too busy looking at the Doctor and wondering just what he'd do. Would he laugh it off? Kiss her cheek? Or would he actually do it--kiss her for real? Her, Rose Marion Tyler, in full possession of her mind and body?

His tight smile vanished quickly, leaving his face utterly blank. She had never seen his face look so still. He flicked his eyes up towards the small sprig of mistletoe that was pinned into the wood above her head, and then focused on Jackie. "Why'd you put that up?"

Jackie shrugged. "Hope springs eternal and all that. Go on, then. If you don't kiss, it's bad luck. Doubt the two of you need any more of that." With that, she turned her back on them, fussing with dinner.

"Right. Bad luck," the Doctor said, his voice uneasy and cautious. He took a few steps towards Rose, pausing in front of her. His hands were fisted at his sides, and she frowned. He acted like it was such a chore to kiss her. She felt a stab of annoyance.

"It's no big deal, Doctor," she said, speaking softly. "It's not like it's gotta mean anything."

At her words, his eyebrows drew together, a dark look coming over his face. With a long stride, he stood in front of her, almost on top of her. He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. She started in surprise, knowing her eyes must be the size of dinner plates.

He leaned even closer, speaking in a low, honeyed whisper. "Oh, it's gonna mean something."

She opened her mouth to speak, only for the Doctor to close the sliver of space between them and press his lips against hers.

At that first touch, she felt like sighing. After all this time, of wondering and imagining and hoping, the Doctor was kissing her. It was soft and gentle and sweet, his thumb still moving across her skin as his lips brushed against hers. Her eyes had fallen shut at some point, so she fumbled a bit as she reached out and rested a hand at his waist.

If it was possible, he moved even closer to her, and she let her hand drift around to his back, unable to prevent her fingers from drifting up and down his lower spine. And to her utter delight, he made a small sound, one that could almost be called a whimper. His other hand came up to her face, and at the same moment they each opened their mouths, the kiss becoming more intimate.

The hand that had been hanging at her side came up and clutched his shoulder; she felt like she was hanging on for dear life. He was kissing her like he was studying her, analyzing her, trying to figure out what she liked. And she was just as eager to discover all she could about him, and his mouth, and what would make him make that noise again.

She let her tongue brush against his, once, twice, and then she slowly eased out of the kiss, feeling a whisper of regret that she had to stop for breath. The Doctor's forehead came to rest against her own, each of them breathing rapidly, puffs of air rushing across their faces.

She opened her eyes and found his, full of something that looked like such a deep contentment that she almost had to step back in surprise. He looked like he had just gotten something he thought he'd never get, and it made her experience such a jumble of emotions that she couldn't pinpoint what she felt. But then, he nuzzled his nose against hers, and brought his lips back to hers.

His teeth softly nibbled on her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth with a sigh. She could feel his lips quirk up in a smile, and she smiled as well. She let the hand on his shoulder drift to the back of his neck, playing with the hair on his nape, and he practically purred. She couldn't help a small giggle, and she pulled away, grinning up at him.

He grinned at her, a silly, goofy grin. "Much nicer to use mistletoe for this, rather than scaring off a lupine haemoveriform."

She laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I agree."

"And so do I!" called Jackie, bringing them back to Earth. "Not that I have any idea what a lupine hemi-whatsit is."

Rose took a step back from the Doctor, feeling a surge of embarrassment that rivaled the time that Jackie had come home to find her and Jimmy Stone making out on the couch. Her hands slid from his body, and she ducked her head.

"About time you two finished--there's only so much a mother can take," Jackie said. "Rose, be a love and help me with this all--I need you to do the salad up."

The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was listen to her mother natter on and arrange greens. But she wasn't sure what she wanted to do instead. Drag the Doctor into her room, or even better out to the TARDIS, and have her way with him? Sit down with him and figure out whether this was just a one-off, to be written off as an over-abundance of holiday spirit? Or, the most tempting prospect of all: getting the hell out of here?

She slowly stepped around the Doctor, feeling him stare at her but doing her best to not really look at him. She went to the counter and picked up the head of lettuce, taking it to the sink and beginning to wash it. She heard the Doctor clear his throat.

"Um, I'll just be . . . in the lounge. If you need me."

Was it her imagination, or had he seemed to emphasize the last sentence? She stared at the lettuce, the cold water already making her hands ache, but she focused on that feeling, rather than the other emotions roiling inside her.

She had guessed that kissing the Doctor would be a life-changing event. But she hadn't realized just how much it would affect her. She still felt weak-kneed, like she would just drop to the floor if she didn't have the counter to lean against. But at the same time, it was all she could do not to sob from the fear that swamped her.

They had spent so long as friends, pretending that was all they were to each other. What if it wasn't enough? What if she wasn't enough? She remembered how he had been when they first met, how damaged and sad and lonely. She thought she had helped him deal with the Time War, with the loss of his whole planet. It had made her feel special, needed, unique. Even Sarah Jane and Reinette hadn't been able to shake her faith in the two of them, not completely.

What if the one thing that seemed so perfectly natural and so very right--a friendship that evolved into love--was the thing that tore them apart?

She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears, thankful that her mother wasn't saying anything. And as she fixed a salad, and put out plates, and made a fresh pot of tea, she wondered if her reaction had already doomed them before they'd even had the chance to be together.

***

It was all he could do not to walk out of the flat, go to the TARDIS, and leave. Run as far and as fast as he could, and perhaps he might be able to outrun some of this hurt. Because he wasn't sure if he could handle this.

The Doctor sat slumped in a chair, leaning forward with his head in his hands. He thought he had experienced just how high you could fly, how low you could crash. But he'd never flown so high or crashed so hard as right now.

He pulled on his hair, the pain grounding him and helping him push his emotions back enough to give him some distance, to let him think. Because this was not going to happen to them. He refused to let the one thing he wanted most, something he wanted more than anything else he'd ever wanted, be destroyed by fear or doubt or regret.

Not that he couldn't help wondering if he had mistaken her feelings. Maybe she just wanted to be friends? After all, he wasn't a prize. He was rude and arrogant and damaged, and he was only able to get along in polite company because she had made him less rude, less damaged, than he had been before. He risked her life every single day--oftentimes more than once a day, in fact--and did it all with a smile on his face. True, he was a genius and utterly brilliant. But that didn't stop him from saying the wrong thing quite often, making mistakes on a regular basis, or just being thick.

But then he remembered the way her hand felt in his. Remembered the way she smiled at him, the way she shouted when she disagreed with him, the way she teased him like he was just a normal, average bloke instead of the last Lord of Time. And he remembered the way she had responded when he had kissed her.

The Doctor leaned back, letting his head fall back against the chair as his eyes drifted shut. He had never had a kiss like that. As he had once euphemistically said to Rose, he'd been intimate before. Had even fallen for someone once or twice, not that those relationships had ended well. But nothing could approach what he felt for her. And he had poured all of that into kissing her, and he had felt all that emotion be returned by her.

It wasn't lack of feeling that was the problem. It was too much feeling. Rose had seemed fine until her mother reminded them that they weren't the only two people left on Earth. Then, her face had flamed red and she had drawn back from him. Perhaps it was just embarrassment, pure and simple? Something that with a little time, she'd be able to talk to him, let him explain just how much he wanted her with him?

He felt his lips quirk, thinking of the present that waited under the tree for her. He hadn't realized his gift would become literal as well as metaphorical.

When he had seen the clock in Harrods, something about it fit. Like a bell chiming within him, he knew that it was the right gift for Rose--or at least the right gift for right now. It was an elegant mantel clock, a pale yellowy-cream in color, with a sturdy base and delicate stenciling in rose pink on the face. He had wanted to give her something fine and precious, an antique that would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. And he wanted her to realize that she deserved so much out of the universe: time and space, the earliest days and the farthest planets. Anything her heart desired, she should get.

If he could, he'd give her time itself.

He smiled, wondering what the other Time Lords would think of him--or, for that matter, what his past incarnations would think. He knew some of them would be shocked and some would be curious. He even had a suspicion that a few would be cheering him on, full of sympathy and support. But it didn't matter: none of them were here now. It was just him and Rose, and he would make this work. He knew that this was right, a closer relationship between them. The man who had never stayed after the initial fight was settling in for a pitched campaign. No prize in any war, any battle, had ever been so valuable as this one: Rose Tyler's heart.

"Getting ridiculously soppy and . . . human in your old age, man," he muttered to himself softly. He shook his head and stood up, girding himself to head into the kitchen, to face her. This would be one of the most difficult things he'd ever done, to find a way to give her what she needed. But after all, he was brilliant. If loads of men across the universe could figure out a way to win the woman they . . . well, cared for, he could certainly do the same.

The Doctor nodded to himself, then strolled into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. "Smells good, Jackie."

He saw Rose jump at the sound of his voice, but she didn't move from where she stood, drinking a cup of tea and staring out the window. Jackie turned, giving him a long, measuring look before speaking. "Nothing much--the pie, a salad, and a sticky toffee for pudding. Before you lot turned up, I had thought to go to Cousin Mo's. But she's probably already completely pissed and singing the wrong words to Christmas carols. And let me tell you, with her voice she's not going to be winning Pop Idol anytime soon."

He chuckled, then took a step forward. "Anything I can do to help?"

"Nah, just sit yourself down," she said, bustling about and scooping up his abandoned mug. She nodded towards Rose. "Why don't you sit down, love, and start eating?"

He forced himself to focus on Jackie, how she dumped out his stone-cold tea, rinsed the mug, and then refilled it from what he assumed was a fresh pot. She brought the mug and a spoon over to him, setting it in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose sit down on his left, and he couldn't help a quick glance at her. Like magnets their gazes locked before she dropped her eyes.

All he wanted was to grab her hand, to lean over and kiss her cheek, to tell her that she could take all the time she needed. But her eyes had been so . . . well, they were brimming over with emotion, stormy seas within the brown depths. It was like she was searching for something to hold on to, hanging on by her fingernails. And any attempt to comfort her would make her slip and fall out of his grasp.

Under the table, he clenched his hands together. She just needed time, he told himself. A few hours by herself, alone with her thoughts, and she'd be ready to talk, and he could show her just how much she meant to him. They just had to get through dinner first.

He stole another glance at her, thinking about how much he wanted to put a smile on her face, as Jackie set the shepherd's pie on the table.

***

Rose didn't think she'd ever been so uncomfortable during a meal. That time on Crespallian, when the Doctor hadn't told her that red was only worn by prostitutes and he'd insulted the Right Honorable Whomever, seemed like a picnic compared to this dinner.

She mechanically ate her salad and pie, answering the questions her mother asked her. The Doctor didn't say a word to her; shot an occasional look in her direction, but didn't even make small talk with her. Instead, he told Jackie about some of the places they'd visited, about the people they met. At first, his voice was just a string of vowels and consonants, rising and falling in tone, punctuated by her mum's sharp words. But even Jackie seemed to fall under his spell, and soon the Doctor was describing one of the last places they'd visited, the planet Brexlack.

"Not a word I'd use often, but it truly is magical. This pale pink grass stretches as far as the eye can see, and the sky is the color of lemon drops. Should clash horribly, but it doesn't. The trees are tall and their branches droop down towards the ground, and there's flowers with the most heavenly scent." The Doctor paused. "It's actually all a bit girly. Wouldn't you agree, Rose?"

So caught up in the memories he was describing, Rose didn't notice that he had spoken to her until she realized that both her mother and him were staring at her. "What? Oh, yes--I mean, yeah, funny place."

The Doctor nodded. "Had a bit of a disagreement with the natives--fortunately, was able to get out of it, although the costs were quite high." He sighed unhappily, as if mourning a great loss. And Rose felt a giggle bubble up inside her, until she let it out. She turned towards her mum.

"He had to trade his tie for our freedom. Oh, the way he moaned, how it was his favorite tie and he'd never be able to replace it . . ."

She looked over at him, a smile on her face, and felt her heart skip a beat. Without realizing it, they had fallen right back into their normal behavior. But what wasn't normal was the way he was looking at her. Like she was delightful and amazing and all-together perfect. He sat with his head propped up on his fist, staring at her, and then gave her a small smile.

"A tie? What was it made out of, gold silk or something?" Jackie asked, her voice questioning.

The Doctor answered her, although he kept his gaze locked on Rose. "The Brexlackians had never seen a tie before. They were quite taken with it as a novelty item. And I'm still looking for a tie that's its equal. Sadly, I've yet to find it."

Rose felt another giggle at how depressed he sounded. Because she knew he was just having them on. There was a small twinkle, hidden way down deep in his eyes, that told her that he knew he was acting silly.

It was at moments like this that she felt like she knew him better than she knew herself. Which really should be impossible, shouldn't it? He was centuries old, with so many lifetimes of experiences and adventures, and she was just a normal human. She'd seen so much since she had started travelling with him, yet those two years were a blink of an eye for him.

But thoughts like that didn't matter, when they were together. When he looked at her, or she held his hand.

She dropped her eyes to her plate, wondering if perhaps things weren't as bad as she thought they were. After all, he was still here, wasn't he? He hadn't used this as an excuse to run back to the TARDIS, or to sit through dinner like a bump on a log. For God's sake, he was entertaining her mother while she dealt with her inner turmoil.

She glanced back up at him, taking in his animated expression as he talked to her mum about the Christmas specials he was looking forward to. He must have sensed her eyes on him, because he looked over at her and smiled briefly before returning to his conversation.

While they ate their pudding, she kept sneaking looks at him, and even managed to take part in the discussion they were having. Her mum raised an eyebrow at her and nodded toward the Doctor, but she wasn't able to do much more than nod. Fortunately, the Doctor was so pleased with the toffee pudding that he was somewhat oblivious to the silent conversation.

Jackie leaned back a few moments after finishing. "Well, nice little dinner, have to say. And since I did the cooking, I know who's doing the dishes."

Rose nodded, rising and starting to collect plates. To her utter surprise, the Doctor got up too and carried his plate and mug over to the sink. "Wash or dry, Rose?" he called over his shoulder.

"Umm . . . wash," she said, fumbling for an answer and picking the option that she actually hated. Jackie stared at her, mouth hanging open, but Rose ignored her and kept collecting plates and silverware. She carried them over to the sink, filling it with water and dish soap, before pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.

She could hear Jackie helping the Doctor put away the leftovers, and then he piled the various dishes next to the sink, on her left. He stood to her right, holding a dish towel and waiting for her to hand him the first clean plate.

"Well, I'll just . . . leave you two to it," Jackie said, sounding as shocked as Rose felt. She'd never thought she'd see the Doctor doing something as normal, as domestic, as the dishes.

She must have just been staring off into space, because he gave her a small nudge with her elbow. "Won't be able to dry the dishes unless you wash them, Rose," he said, his voice warm and slightly teasing.

She started, then quickly dumped the remaining dishes into the sink. Grabbing the sponge, she started scrubbing, glad she had something to take the tension out on.

Soon, they had developed a smooth rhythym, and she felt herself starting to relax. "You know, you could have knocked me over with a feather at the thought of you helping with the dishes."

"Well, takes two, doesn't it?" he said, sounding like he was referring to more than just the dishes.

"There's lots of things that are better with two," she commented softly, looking up at him.

He smiled at her. "Yeah."

For a few moments, the kitchen was silent except for the slosh of water and the snap of the dishcloth. Then, as she handed him the last casserole dish, she looked at him and blurted out, "Did you really want to kiss me?"

He focused on wiping the dish and then set it in the dish drainer before turning to look at her. "Yeah," he said simply. He tilted his head, looking at her. "Did you really want to kiss me?" he asked in return.

She bit her lip, and nodded. "Yeah. I just . . . it was so much."

"I know. Me, too," he said, his body shifting infitestimally closer to her. "I . . . I . . ." He shook his head, dropping his head as he twisted the dishtowel in his hands.

Rose pulled the stopper out of the sink, watching the water swirl down the drain. She pulled off the rubber gloves, her hands looking wrinkly and pruny from the moisture inside the gloves. "I think we need to . . . that is, I'd like us both to sleep on this." His eyes locked onto her face, and she felt a blush rise up in her cheeks. "Not together, of course!"

He shook his head slowly. "Of course not, wasn't thinking that at all," he said, his expression so utterly serious, as if he was trying to not get the giggles, that she couldn't hold back her own laughter. He frowned, and then his lips quirked, and he started laughing too--huge gales of laughter, the two of them clutching each other in order to stay upright.

Slowly, they managed to regain control, and Rose realized that somehow, they had wound up in each other's arms. Could it be that if she just stopped thinking so much about this, they'd work things out?

She smiled up at him, her earlier fears and worries starting to evaporate. They had kissed, yes. But they were still laughing and talking and touching, just like the best friends they were. And if they could build upon that and become more . . . well, she was in favor of that.

"Not quite what I was expecting for Christmas Eve," she said, looking up at him and enjoying the feel of his arm around her.

"Me, neither," he said. "But if you're okay with . . . that is, things are--" He stopped and sighed, as if he couldn't figure out what to say.

She reached up and tugged on his tie, fixing its slightly askew position. "How about we just focus on enjoying Christmas with our best friend, and then we'll see what happens?" she asked, letting her hand rest against his chest, in between his hearts.

He nodded quickly. "All right. So, d'you think we've missed A Charlie Brown Christmas?"

And with a laugh, Rose pulled away and went into the lounge, knowing that the Doctor was following her and listing all the ways that A Charlie Brown Christmas was the finest Christmas event of all time.

End, Part 3

Go to Part 4