See, look! Getting back into the writing groove slowly but surely. This was written while under the influence of alcohol and, as always, all mistakes are mine

The first time it happened, they swore it was an accident, blamed it on the whiskey and the tequila and hypervodka whatever the hell else they'd drunk the night before. They didn't regret waking up together, naked bodies twined around each other with a familiarity born of long association (even if that association had been carefully platonic until that moment).

The only regret, shared by both and voiced by neither, was that they couldn't remember the details. She could remember the feel of his tongue rasping across her nipple and hands sliding across her slick body. He could remember the way that slipping into her felt like home and that her face when she fell apart beneath him was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Other than that, it was just blurred glimpses of bare skin and fleeting memories of sensations.

They promised that it wouldn't change anything. They were still Rose Tyler and the Doctor, best friends, just as it should be.

—-

The second time it happened they were stone-cold sober. They fell together after thinking that they'd lost each other to an impossible planet and the impossible secrets that it held.

The morning after they still said it was just a one-off, that it didn't mean anything. They weren't going to risk their friendship by adding a potentially volatile romantic or sexual component.

That didn't keep either of them from wishing that they were willing to take that chance and reap the potential rewards. Didn't prevent either of them from reliving this second encounter in stunning technicolor in the privacy of their respective bedrooms. Frequently.

They kept on though, best friends through it all. It didn't matter that they both craved more. There were reasons, good reasons, to keep it simple, to keep it platonic.

Both Rose and the Doctor were starting to doubt those reasons though.

—-

The third time they didn't even try to justify it. A quick peck of a kiss, almost thoughtless in it's execution, led to snog which led to them losing clothes rapidly and heading to the nearest bedroom. It hadn't been Rose's intention to start something with that chaste kiss but she certainly wasn't going to complain.

As they lay next to each other, panting and sated, neither of them said a word. They knew that this was going to be part of their relationship now, whether they acknowledged it or not, acknowledged the emotions flying between them or not. It was a natural progression they argued, not going to ruin anything.

That's the night they started sharing a bed officially. It was Rose and the Doctor, together in every sense of the word, just as it should be

—-

A few months after their aborted goodbye on the windy beach bearing a name she'd scattered across time and space and universes in an effort to save him, Rose sat in her room staring at her hand.

He'd once told her that it took only twenty-seven days for the human body to completely replenish its skin cells.

It had been so much longer than that.

All the time they'd spent touching, hands entwined and then later bodies connecting fully, and none of the cells currently making up the entity known as Rose Tyler had ever been touched by the Doctor.

She almost distrusted the phantom feel of his hand in hers or a finger running down her body like he used to do. These particular cells had never felt the sensation, how could she still remember the sensation exactly?

And if he was right in saying that it was impossible to cross universes again, then none of her cells would ever be touched by him again.

It was unfathomable and Rose wasn't going to stand for it. She was going to get back to the Doctor. She'd promised forever with her words and her kisses and her body and she damn well was going to keep her promise if she could.