Title: All the Time in the World, Or, First Dates
Characters/Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose, Martha
Genre: Fluff, Romance, Angst
Warnings: None.
Spoiler Alert: Um. Doomsday?
Summary: First dates, last dates, dates in Paris, dates on the beach. So many dates with the person you love.
Note: 4718 words. I personally love this fic. I just loved writing all these little interactions, all their little dates. Comments are love.

They sit down at the table outside, Rose holding a plate of hot chips in her hand. She looks up at him and laughs. “What?”

“Those are disgusting,” the Doctor tells her. “Soaked in five different kinds of grease, all sorts of transfatty amino acids and—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Rose says, cutting him off. She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you don’t like these. They’re amazing.” She pops one in her mouth and smiles to prove her point.

He’s still grimacing. “They look gross. And smell gross.”

“Your opinion, and a wrong one too. These are bloody amazing,” she tells him, starting to eat them quicker. “Have one,” she offers.

He shakes his head. “No way, I’m not eating that. Need to keep my figure, for starters.”

Rose snorts, and keeps on eating. The Doctor looks offended, but then smiles. “I’ll pass,” he says gently, but keeps on watching her eat.

“Rubbish date you are,” she says. “Can’t pay, and won’t even eat.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and looks at him. He’s grinning, now, elbows on the table and leaning forward. “What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he tells her, and she shrugs.

“Fine then, don’t tell me. God, you suck at conversation too,” she tells him, sticking another chip into her mouth.

He shakes his head. “Just because your tiny little human brain can’t comprehend my superior topics of conversation does not mean I ‘suck’ at it.”

“Now you’re being downright offensive, mate.”

He doesn’t respond to that one, but simply looks at her plate of fries. The disgusted look on his face starts to fade away as he takes a sniff. “They do smell…”

“Delicious? Bloody amazing? Fantastic?” Rose asks, grinning. “If you want one, you better get one now because I’m almost done and there is no way I’m paying for some for you,” she tells him. “Oh, look, there’s two more left.” She takes one and puts it in her mouth. “Now there’s one more.”

The Doctor’s lips thin and he tenses up. Rose smiles, knowing that she’s tempting him. Because really, who can resist perfect chips?

His hand slowly lifts up and Rose just knows she’s won him over. She grins at him, looking him in the eye. He smiles back to her, and in one swift move takes the last chip from the plate and eats it.

“See? Didn’t kill ya,” Rose says, smirking. He grimaces as he eats it and the swallows. “So?” she asks. “Didja like it?”

His face screws up and he makes a gagging noise. Rose narrows her eyes. “You don’t have to be that mean,” she says. “They were my chips, after all.”

She looks up at him and he looks back at her. At the same time, their smiles widen and they both start to laugh.



“Do you have to wear something that…skimpy?” he asks, thinking of the time Peri insisted on wearing a pink bikini around. It was quite annoying and they were delayed by at least fifteen minutes from all the flirting she did. But that isn’t exactly the reason why he is asking Rose that question now.

Rose hits the nail right on the spot. “Why, are you jealous or something?”

“No, of course not. It’s just embarrassing,” he says, nonchalantly.

She snorts. “What’s embarrassing is the fact that we’re at the finest beach on one of the best resort planets in the galaxy and you’re still wearing that leather jacket.”

“I didn’t feel like swimming,” he answers, shrugging and sitting down on one of the beach chairs.

“Just take off your jacket, it’ll do a world of good for everyone,” she says.

What he wants to respond with is “put on some clothes because you’re distracting me.” She’s wearing this light blue two piece, her bright blonde hair placed in a messy bun on the top of her head. His eyes keep drifting to places they shouldn’t be and every few seconds or so he has to mentally slap himself. He had the right idea when Peri did things like this—to simply ignore it. But it isn’t quite so easy with Rose around.

Think of something else, he thinks to himself. Like bananas. No, wait, not bananas. Sunscreen? Wrong. Especially when Rose starts rubbing it all over herself.

“Fine,” he says, shrugging off his heavy leather jacket. He realizes that Rose is right—he’s much less uncomfortable without his jacket on.

She shrieks a little as her feet touch the cool water and she runs back to him, giggling. “It’s so cold!”

He laughs. “Like it was going to be something else?”

She pouts. “Maybe.” She folds her arms, sighing, and then sits down on a towel next to him. “I’ve never gone to the beach with someone but my mum before, you know. And even then, we went maybe once or twice when I was growing up.” She turns to him, smiling. “Thank you.”

He smiles back. “No problem.”

There’s a pause as he stares at her and his gaze slowly drifts down.

“Oi!”

His head snaps up and Rose is glaring at him. “You’re ogling me,” she says, slightly disgusted. It hurts him a little, but instead of protesting he smiles.

“Was not,” he says cheerily, which lightens the mood. “You were staring at me.”

Rose snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah, right!”

“In your dreams.”

“In yours, maybe.”

Rose giggles at that one, reaching out and grasping his hand. “Best date ever. Sun is shining bright, temperature isn’t too hot or cold, and the company is great.” She turns to him, grinning.

He grins back at her. “Yeah,” he says. “Best date ever.”



“Can you see me now?”

He snorts. “Just because you’re holding a mask up to your face in no way means that you are invisible,” he tells her, taking his mask from the console.

Rose pouts. “I was just joking, is all.”

The Doctor smiles. “So was I.”

She shrugs it off. “I have to go get dressed, be right back,” she says, skipping out of the control room.

She comes back in a few minutes later, mask attached to her face and at first he doesn’t even recognize her. Her hair is now long, curly and black, and she’s wearing a magenta ball gown.

“Don’t just stare!” she says after a few seconds and he’s snapped out of his trance.

“Was not,” he says, grumbling. “What did you do to your hair, anyway?” he asks, hoping that she didn’t dye it.

She giggles. “Do you like it? I found a collection of wigs and they were simply amazing. I had to use one.”

He doesn’t quite know what to say. He doesn’t want to start gushing or telling her she’s beautiful, even if he really means it. He just doesn’t do that.

“You look very nice,” he tells her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Thank you,” she says. “So, are we off?”

He grins. “We are.”

They escape from the TARDIS into what seems like a fantasy world of masquerade balls and fairy princesses. Rose is at one point asked to dance by another gentleman and the Doctor promptly replies with, “I’m courting her, actually, so you can go piss off.”

Rose laughs and the Doctor tells her that he had to say that or the man would never go away. Rose doesn’t tell him that she actually thought the man was quite cute and wouldn’t have minded dancing with him.

But as the night progresses, she forgets about everyone around them, feeling his warm hand on her waist and his soft breath on her neck as their dance goes from flashy to slow.

She thinks, all I need is a tiara and I could be a princess. I have my gown, my palace, and my Prince Charming.

Those thoughts are interrupted as an evil witch proceeds to attack the guests at the ball. Rose turns the Doctor and smiles. “Time to go to work,” he says, and she laughs.



“I adore this movie,” Rose tells him, and he nods.

“Thought you would. And now you get to see it at the premiere,” the Doctor states and Rose smiles.

“Omigod, is that Ingrid Bergman? I’m seeing living history. And woah, is Bogart short,” Rose spots, talking quickly. She’s overwhelmed by seeing living history. ,

The Doctor looks over at her. They’ve linked arms, and Rose is laughing with joy. She looks beautiful in a silver gown, her hair in perfect curls. He’s still wearing his leather jacket, but he thinks that he blends in just fine. He looks over to what she’s giggling at and sees the cast of Casablanca walk up the red carpet. He knew this would be the perfect date.

“You take me to the best places,” she says, confirming what he already knew. “Oh, they’re starting to go in now. Can we go in?” she asks.

He nods, pulling out the psychic paper. “Of course.”

They get into the theater with no problems and take their seats in the middle. The theater is enormous and majestic, as if they were seeing an opera.

During the movie Rose notices that the Doctor keeps glancing over at her. “What?” she asks, and he shrugs.

“Just wanted to see if you were having a good time,” he whispers to her, and she grins.

She leans her head on his shoulder, feeling the cool leather on her cheek and she grips his hand in hers.

“The best,” she tells him, and he looks down at her, smiling.

Through the rest of the movie she makes a few quips about how alike he and Rick are, to which he replies that he is neither American or short. But then he mentions how she’s like Ilse, and she doesn’t reply to that at all. Because that the end of the movie, as Rick tells Ilse that if she doesn’t get on that plane she’ll regret it for the rest of her life, Rose wonders that if someday, maybe someday, that might happen to her and the Doctor.

Nah.

She’ll be with him forever.



“Oh my God,” she moans. “Oh my…oh, God…”

“No need to make a public spectacle out of yourself.”

She’s instantly snapped out of her pizza-induced euphoria. “This is bloody amazing,” she tells him. “So shut up.”

“Hah, I knew it would be great. Pizza from ancient Rome. Nothing better than that,” he says. “Of course, I’ll be having the roasted pheasant, but…”

“You know what this is like?” she asks, and the Doctor figures that her question is rhetorical. “This is like sex. But better.”

He doesn’t say anything to that and desperately tries not to feel awkward. Someone talking about sex should not make him feel awkward. He’s been there, done that. But when Rose talks about it, it’s a completely different matter.

He straightens out his brown suit jacket and watches Rose eat. Rose doesn’t seem to notice that they’re at an enormous party, filled with all assortments of food and people. She seems to concentrate on her true Italian pizza.

He starts to get hungry as he’s waiting to be served, and he looks over to Rose: she still has a piece left.

“Oi, gimme that,” he says, and grabs her last piece of pizza. Rose looks deeply offended as he takes a rather large bite out of her food.

His eyes widen as his taste buds explode. “Oh…that is…”

“Orgasmic?” Rose smirks. “Fucking amazing? Like a great shag?” He knows she’s trying to make him feel uncomfortable, but when he looks up at her and sees that she’s biting on her lip playfully he gets that she’s just teasing him.

“You can have the rest,” he tells her, his mouth full.

“Ew, not with your slobber all over it,” she says pushing the pizza away. “Nasty.”

He shrugs. “Your loss.”

Rose spends the rest of the night making awkward sex jokes, but the Doctor eventually gets used to it—to the point that he himself makes one or two. By the end of the night both are completely smashed on Roman wine and filled to the brim with Italian pizza.

The blissfully stumble back to the TARDIS, giggling the entire way.

“That was an amazing dinner date,” Rose says as they reach the TARDIS. “Let’s do it again sometime,” she says, grinning wildly at him.

“Let’s,” he agrees, and Rose squeezes his hand. He suddenly jerks and she slaps him on the butt, giggling like a maniac while she does so. “Let’s not do that again, shall we?” he tells her, and she pouts.

“Too bad,” she whines, and then starts to get drowsy. He manages to pick her up and carry her all the way back to her room, tucking her into bed and sitting next to her, rubbing her hand.



Rose rolls her eyes and kicks a can on the sidewalk. “You took me to the slums of a pleasure planet. What kind of pleasure planet has slums?” she asks, and looks around. “Lousy date this is.”

“Oh, come on, it isn’t that bad. It’s perfectly fascinating, actually.”

Rose grumbles something, but smiles shyly when she sees the Doctor grinning at her. “Oh, all right,” she says. “Fine, but you better take me to something cool.”

“Cool it is, then,” he says. “By the way, what do you mean by ‘cool’?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know perfectly well what I mean. Something awesome, something I wouldn’t be able to see anywhere else.”

His eyes light up as he grabs her hand and starts to walk in the other direction. “I have the perfect idea!”

It’s easily a ten minute walk before they get there. The outside of the building is flashing in neon and Rose wonders if the Doctor has taken her to a strip club of sorts. She blushes at the thought of him ever going to see a stripper.

He doesn’t let go of her hand as he leads her inside.

It turns out that it isn’t a strip club, but Rose’s jaw still drops, disbelieving. She brings her hands to her forehead. “I can’t believe you took me to the slums,” she groans. “I can’t believe it…”

The Doctor, who was previously immensely excited, looks confused. “Why? Banana bowling is perfectly ‘cool’.”

Rose shakes her head. He definitely doesn’t get it.

But after a while she lightens up and decides to take what she can get. Because a date is a date, and right now, she’ll take as many as she can possibly have with him.



They’re holding hands, walking down the cobblestone pathway that’s the sidewalk of nineteen-twenties Paris. She’s wearing a silk slip, a boa wrapped around her arms, her hair done up in a black headband. The Doctor smiles. The flapper look suits her so well.

The jazz music playing is blasting from the nightclubs all around. Rose looks stunned, a look that also suits her well, the Doctor thinks.

“So, where to?” he asks, and she grins, her eyes wide with amazement.

“Moulin Rouge? Or maybe a smoky nightclub with cool jazz,” she tells him.

His eyes light up. “I have the most perfect idea. Come on!” He grabs her hand and they start walking along the row of nightclubs.

It isn’t long before they get to a particularly large one, the Blue Angel. It’s smoky, just like she imagined it would be, and she can hear the cool, pure jazz music floating from inside the club.

“Can we go in?” she asks eagerly, and he nods.

“Of course.”

She runs to the door as the Doctor flashes the psychic paper to the man standing outside. Rose is amazed by what on the inside—it’s like a jungle of culture, the jazz music lending spirit to the club as if it were a living, breathing animal. Her breath is taken away by the sheer atmosphere of it all.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” the Doctor tells her and they sit at a table right in front of the stage. He pulls out her chair for her before she sits down and she smiles. He’s acting like such a gentleman.

“I just have to go do…something,” he says. “Order drinks for us.” He quickly leaves. Rose rolls her eyes—it’s so typical of him to skip out on things like this.

A glass or two of wine later, Rose has struck up a conversation with a very comely French waiter. The waiter knows some English, so he compliments her on her beauty. She blushes, thanking him.

She sighs, wondering if the Doctor will ever come back. It will really suck if he just leaves her in early twentieth century France. She doubts he’d do it, but all the same, that’s what it feels like at the moment.

She’s ready to get up and walk out, waiting for the Doctor outside. It’s not that she dislikes the club—it’s just that when she pictured herself at one of those smoky jazz clubs she always imagined that the Doctor would be next to her.

Just as she’s about to leave, she hears someone talking to the microphone. It doesn’t stop her, but when she hears her name called out she turns around.

She sees on stage the Doctor, talking into the microphone, illuminated by blue light and surrounded by the jazz band. “I’d like to dedicate the song to a fantastic woman,” he says, and winks at her.

The jazz band starts to play and her heart beats faster as she wonders if he’ll really do it. It turns out he does.

The moment the melody starts on the saxophone, he starts to sing. She knows she’s blushing crimson, which must make her look very purple in this light. She can’t believe he’s singing, of all things, in front of all these people. For her.

She starts to laugh disbelievingly, sitting back down and looking up at the Doctor.

A few minutes later the song draws to a close and Rose can’t do anything but look up at her Doctor, who thanks the audience once the song ends and walks off the stage. There’s applause, but Rose can’t seem to hear it. All she focuses on is finding the Doctor.

Finally she catches a glimpse of him, walking toward her, a ridiculous grin on his face. She runs toward him and stops right before she runs into him.

“I can’t believe…oh my God, I can’t believe you did that,” she laughs.

“Did you like it?” he asks, and she nods frantically.

“Adored it,” she says. “And I was only a little embarrassed.”

He grins at her, taking her in his arms and hugging her tightly. She hugs back, and as they pull away she plants a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you. That was amazing. I loved it. So much. I love you so much, that was just…” she trails off. Both realize that she’s just said ‘I love you,” but in their brief awkwardness they write it off as a slip of the tongue.

The rest of the night is a colorful blur as they hit the other clubs, but none pleases Rose so much as the Blue Angel, where her Doctor got up on stage and serenaded her.

She still can’t believe it. She’d describe it as the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to her, but in truth, it was the best date of her life.



The Chinese countryside, 400 BC, he tells her. She looks around, eyes wide.

It’s quiet, so quiet, but so amazingly beautiful. At first it unnerves Rose. Even in the dead of space she’s used to something making a noise, even if it’s the man that’s standing beside her now.

Remembering he’s there, she turns her head to smile at him, and sees that he’s already looking at her. “What?” she asks, worried that she’s disrupting the perfect silence.

“Nothing,” he says, smiling.

“What?” she persists, folding her arms. “Do I have something on my face?”

For a moment his face grows serious and it looks like he’s going to say something, but then he relaxes and shakes his head, pulling at his ear. “Nothing. There’s nothing on your face.”

She decides to drop it. If he doesn’t want to tell her, he doesn’t have to.

It isn’t long before their hands are joined and they’re standing unbelievably close to each other. But their paces match, so it’s no matter.

She can feel the wind kiss her neck gently and she can hear the rustling of the grass. She turns to the man next to her, and suddenly stopping whispers, “It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s not looking at the countryside around her. He’s staring straight at her, straight into her eyes, and she can feel chills running through her.

The spell is broken after a few seconds when he turns away and starts to run, dragging her with him. “Come on, it’ll be dark soon and there’s nothing better than stargazing in the Chinese countryside!”

She giggles as he pulls her along, squeezing his hand tightly, never wanting to let go.



“And…that one there?” she asks, pointing up. Her head is dug into his neck, their legs tangled up as they lay down on his jacket, watching the stars.

“Betelgeuse,” he answers, and she laughs.

“Funny name for a star,” she says, and he laughs along with her. She rolls over on to her side, looking at him. He does the same, and now they’re inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes. They don’t notice the universe of stars around them, or the soft chirping of crickets right next to where they’re laying.

He reaches out and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. She smiles.

His expression has suddenly gotten very serious, and it worries her. He starts to speak: “Rose,” he says, “I…I want you to know…” He stops, as if he were choking on the words.

She already knows what he wants to say, but wishes he would actually say it. “What?” she asks, and he takes one of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. He brings her hand up to his lips and softy kisses it, an act that shocks her. He loves hugging and hand holding, but he’s never been this intimate.

But she doesn’t pull away, because for the first time in her life she feels content and loved. Because although he’s still choking on those words, she knows that they’re there, and she feels the same way.

“I want you to know,” he continues, composing himself, still holding tightly on to her hand. “I want you to know that you mean so much to me, Rose. I can’t even say,” he says, and Rose knows he means it. She wonders why, but then decides to let it go.

She smiles at him and leans in closer. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this close to another person like this without it involving some sort of sexual act. Slowly she softly kisses his cheek and then leans back. He’s smiling at her as he wraps his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer. She’s almost leaning on top of him and is breathing heavily, feeling her heart pound against her chest. She stares into his eyes, her free hand spread against his chest, feeling his two hearts pounding as hard as hers.

Quickly she leans down and brushes her lips over his. The kiss isn’t passionate, but it’s there, tender and sweet.

They’re still holding hands, his other arm holding her tightly by the waist, kissing like young lovers.

Soon after they’re back to their starting position: Rose’s head is burrowed deep into his neck, although this time she’s nuzzling it. There is no awkwardness between them, only a deep sense of belonging.

It’s a few more minutes before Rose points to another star and asks what it is. The Doctor replies adding a quip about how the resort planet they visited once before orbits that star.

“That was a nice date,” she says. “Much better than our first,” she giggles.

He looks at her smiling. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Mind you, I still won’t eat those artery-clogging beasts,” he tells her. She laughs, and tightens her grasp on his hand.

“Please,” she begs. “Just try ‘em one more time. I bet you’ll like them.”

He groans and looks back up to the stars. A few seconds later he turns back to her, rolling his eyes. “Oh, alright. Tomorrow you and I will go find some edible chips.”

“It’s a date then,” Rose says, grinning. He grins back at her. They look back up at the stars, silent.

Rose exhales and then says, “Let’s go back to my mum’s tomorrow too, okay?”

The Doctor looks at her and nods. “Okay, then,” he tells her. “Your mum’s it is.”

“You’re the best.”

“Yep.”

They continue with their stargazing, holding hands, letting time pass them by because to them, they have all the time in the world.



“So, where to next?” Martha asks, excited She’s grinning, holding tightly onto the console.

The Doctor nods, a small smile crossing his features as he points to the door. Martha runs to it, quickly flinging it open and stepping out.

It isn’t long before the Doctor hears a disappointed “Hey!” coming from the outside. He follows Martha’s voice and steps outside next to her.

They’re back in London, the city bustling around them as if neither had ever been there or ever left.

Martha is pouting, folding her arms. “You promised that I wasn’t just a passenger,” she tells him.

“We’re just stopping for a break. Sometimes it’s nice to go back home,” he says, sighing deeply. Martha smiles sadly at him and then reaches out for his hand, grasping it and squeezing it gently.

“Anyway, where to? National Portrait Gallery? British Museum?” he asks, and Martha rolls her eyes.

“I live here, Doctor. I don’t need to play tourist,” she says. He shrugs.

“So what do you want to do then?” he asks, and it’s her turn to shrug.

“Dunno,” she says, looking around. They start walking and the Doctor eventually lets go of Martha’s hand.

Martha suddenly stops and it takes the Doctor a few seconds to realize that she’s no longer next to him. He turns around. “What?” he asks, and Martha is looking around, her brow furrowed. “What?” he repeats, this time more urgent.

Martha sniffs. “D’you smell that?” she asks, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Smell what?”

“That…there’s really good chips nearby, I can just smell it,” she says, grinning. “Let’s go.” She grabs his hand before he can say anything and drags him to the source of the smell.

His hearts seem to stop as they approach the tiny little shop, two red tables outside of it. He immediately lets go of Martha’s hand, and she doesn’t seem to notice: she’s busy following her nose.

As if on instinct, the Doctor sits down at the table, right where he sat three years earlier. And for a second, a simple, split second, he thinks he can see long blonde locks and wide lips. He can see a maroon jumper and dimples and a hand darting swiftly for a plate of chips. He can feel the last chip on his tongue and he can hear her laugh as he grimaces.

“First date,” he whispers.

“What was that?”

He looks up and sees Martha sitting down across from him, pushing the happy, blonde girl from existence. For a moment he wants to yell or scream or cry, but it passes just as quickly as it came. He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Martha raises an eyebrow and then shrugs, taking a chip and eating it.

The Doctor doesn’t say anything for a while and when Martha offers him the last chip he politely rejects her offer. He’s always hated the taste of chips.

As they get up to leave, he can hear it again—that laugh, that giggling laugh, so full of life and so very human.