#but if he makes tenrose again i’m actually going to throw up

[phyrexian-lesbian]

“no character has done this since rose”

yeah i fucking wonder why.

[regenderate-fic]

Back Home Anew

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Donna Noble, Wilfred Mott Rating: General Series: Eight Nights of DoctorRose (link goes to ao3 page) Word Count: 2,708 Other Tags: Hanukkah, Holidays, Post-Episode AU: Journey's End, Rose Stays

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Summary: Reunited with Rose, the Doctor promises to come to dinner with Donna-- and then accidentally launches the TARDIS six months into the future.

NOTES: i said this was going to be a short little thing just so we had SOMETHING for night four and then it turned into the longest fic in the series. god. also writing tenrose makes me miss my girlfriend oh my GOD i need help. or possibly gay kissing 🤔😳

anyway the au here is that tentoo doesn't exist and donna is fine and rose is still in this universe. you all can substitute the events of your favorite journey's end au fic as explanation for how that happened. also i stole delia's jewish donna headcanons

“Will you stay for dinner?” Donna asked, looking from the Doctor to Rose. “Grandad’ll be thrilled.”

The Doctor looked at Rose, standing next to him, her hand so very warm in his. “Rose?”

“Er— yeah, of course.” Rose nodded. “I’d love to.”

“Right.” The Doctor took a breath. “We just ought to— calibrate the TARDIS— she’s had quite the shock, you know. We’ll just pop her a minute into the future, and then we’ll be right out.”

“I’m holding you to that, spaceman,” Donna said. “One minute.”

“One minute,” the Doctor repeated. He squeezed Rose’s hand and led her back to the TARDIS, pushing the door open so they could step through together. The second they were back inside, everything felt quiet: the last day or so had gone so quickly, everything happening at once, a crowd in the TARDIS, a world-ending threat, and now it was just the Doctor, back in the TARDIS with Rose. 

He turned to Rose. For a moment, they just stared at each other: he took her in, the face he’d thought he’d never see again, her searching eyes, her blonde hair. And then he couldn’t hold back any longer. He reached for her, pulled her close to him, wrapped her up in the tightest hug he could manage, and her arms around his waist felt unimaginably right. He didn’t know how he’d gone without Rose for nine hundred years— didn’t know, either, how he’d survived the last two-ish in her absence. Even though he’d only had her back for a few hours, it was impossible to imagine ever being without her again. This is dangerous, some part of his mind reminded him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“We don’t actually have to go to Donna’s dinner,” he murmured. “If you’re not up for it.”

“No,” Rose said into his chest, “we said we’d go. Can’t back out now.” 

“Right,” the Doctor said. “Then I suppose I’d better get on with the calibration.” If he was being honest, the TARDIS calibration could have waited— the TARDIS had been damaged, but not so badly that it needed immediate attention. But he hadn’t gotten the chance to really check in with Rose, and he’d needed the excuse to spend even a few seconds alone in the TARDIS with her, just to make sure she was really there, and okay, and with him. 

Rose released her hold on the Doctor’s waist, and the Doctor wasted no time in taking her hand before stepping over to the console. She came with him, her head resting against his arm, and he looked down at her with a little smile. 

“You all right?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Rose said. She looked up at him, and her smile hit him right between the hearts. He felt his own smile turning into a goofy grin, and she grinned back, and for a second he got lost in his own happiness, looking at her. 

She squeezed his hand. 

“Calibration?” she prompted.

“Calibration,” he repeated. He forced himself to let go of her so he could start the process, running halfway around the console and back, hitting buttons and throwing switches and running back to Rose as the TARDIS started up its sound. He found her watching him, still smiling, and he stared back. “What?”

“Missed this, is all.” She leaned her head against his arm again, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in. 

“You ready?” he asked.

“‘Course.” 

Together, they walked to the TARDIS doors and stepped out. Immediately, the Doctor got a sinking feeling in his chest: it was cold, colder than it had been a few minutes ago, and when he looked around he could see twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the lamposts.

Before he could say anything, though, Donna came running out of her house, red hair half-hidden by a knit hat, already yelling, “One minute? Is that what you call one minute? You go in there and say you’re going to pop a minute in the future, and now it’s the fourth night of Hanukkah!”

The Doctor lifted his free hand to scratch the hair at the back of his neck. “Hanukkah? You never said you were Jewish.”

Donna stared. “That’s the takeaway here?”

“Well—” The Doctor looked at Rose, but Rose was laughing, grabbing at his jacket to keep herself from doubling over. 

“You still can’t drive,” she wheezed.

“Oh, you mean he was like this with you, too?” Donna looked at the Doctor. “And she came back for you?”

“First time we met,” Rose said, “he told me he’d brought me back twelve hours later. Turned out it was a year.” She burst into laughter again. “And I stayed with him anyway!”

“D’you know,” Donna said, “he used to talk about you, like, all the time, and I’d sit there wondering, who in the universe would stay with him?” She looked Rose up and down. “But you seem all right. Even if you do have terrible taste in men.”

“I can’t help it,” Rose sighed. “He had me at blowing up my job.” 

Donna laughed. “Well, can’t help that it’s been six months, but d’you still want to come for dinner? Only, Grandad and I were just about to light the menorah.”

“We’d love to,” the Doctor said. He glanced at Rose. “Right? We’d love to?”

“We’d love to,” Rose repeated with a nod.

The Doctor and Rose followed Donna into the house. Immediately, Wilf’s voice met his ears, calling, “Donna, was it him?”

“Yeah,” Donna called back. “Him and Rose. You remember Rose?”

Wilf came into the hallway. “Rose! You found him!”

“Yeah.” Rose smiled. “Good to see you again.”

“You too, love. Are you staying for the candle lighting?”

“They are,” Donna said. 

“Oh, good!” Wilf smiled. “I’ve been learning to make latkes, you know. And we’ve got those pastries— Donna, what were they called again?”

“Sufganiyot,” Donna filled in. 

“Right,” Wilf said. “Those. I’ve eaten three already today.”

“He’s eating us out of house and home,” Donna said. “Come on, you two. Menorah’s this way.” She ushered the Doctor and Rose into the living room. “Grandad, do you have the matches?”

“Give me a second,” Wilf replied from the hallway. 

“We’re still getting used to this,” Donna explained. “Haven’t really celebrated Hanukkah since I was a kid. My dad’s thing, you know?”

“Ah,” the Doctor said. “Your mother’s not—”

Donna shook her head. “She’ll light candles with us if she’s not out,” she said. “‘Course, she’s started going out more and more on Friday nights, but—” She shrugged. “Grandad’s a good sport, though, isn’t he?” 

Just then, Wilf came back into the room, holding a box of matches. “Put them in the kitchen yesterday. Don’t know why, considering.”

“Well, we’ve got them now.” Donna took the box in one hand. “Everyone ready?”

“Just to check,” the Doctor said. “This is just candle-lighting, yes? Bit of prayer?”

“What does it matter?” Donna asked.

The Doctor shrugged. “Got to know what I’m supposed to be ready for, don’t I?”

Rose nudged him. “Being rude.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I like her,” Donna said. She nodded to the window, where a simple gold menorah sat on the sill. “C’mon.” 

The Doctor, Rose, and Wilf followed her to the window. They took their places around the menorah. 

“Don’t suppose you know the blessings already,” Donna said to the Doctor.

“Er— they might be in here somewhere. But people tend to use different tunes, don’t they?” It had been a while since the Doctor had attended any religious event, really, if you didn’t count all the times he’d almost died on Christmas. 

“Well, I didn’t remember the tunes my dad used,” Donna said, “so I’ve stolen them from the synagogue.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. Either you’ll work it out or you won’t. Not my problem either way.”

The Doctor snorted. “That’s one way to think about it.”

Rose laughed.

Wilf, it turned out, was the one to carry the prayers: Donna sang, and Rose and the Doctor knew a few words each, but Wilf’s deep and enthusiastic voice seemed to fill the room. After a blessing, Donna lit the shamash and used it to light the four candles to mark the fourth night, and the Doctor drew Rose closer to him as Donna and Wilf started singing again, all four of them swaying in front of the menorah.

“All right!” Wilf exclaimed, once they were done. “Let’s eat!”

It had been a long time since the Doctor had sat around a table with a family, celebrating a holiday. If pressed, he would probably say the last time was immediately after his regeneration, eating Christmas dinner with Rose and Jackie and Mickey, pulling a red crown out of a Christmas cracker and putting it on his head— this reminded him of that, except he and Rose had gotten older, and he had newer friends, too, to celebrate with. The biggest family on Earth, Sarah Jane had said. Maybe it was true. 

Once they’d eaten, they moved back into the living room, where the candles still flickered on the windowsill. Wilf and Donna each took an armchair, and the Doctor and Rose took up much less of the sofa than they technically could have, Rose leaning against the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“You all right?” the Doctor asked her, keeping his voice low. “You’ve been quiet.”

“Just tired,” Rose said. 

“We can go,” the Doctor said. “If you like.”

“No.” Rose nuzzled closer into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. “This is nice.”

“Suppose we could’ve made it a ‘welcome back to the universe’ party,” Donna said. “If we’d had any warning at all, that is.”

“I said sorry!” the Doctor exclaimed.

Donna shook her head. “He never changes.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Sorry,” Rose said. “Next time I’m making him let me pilot.”

“You don’t even know how,” the Doctor scoffed.

“Oh, yeah?” Rose lifted her head to look at him. “In the last two years, I helped Torchwood figure out how to jump across universes. You give me long enough, I’ll figure out how to take your TARDIS wherever I want to go.” She let her head fall back to his shoulder with a contented hum. “Besides, she likes me.”

“That she does.” The Doctor let his fingers trace up and down the leather at Rose’s shoulder. He must’ve been giving her some kind of sappy look, but he only realized when Donna started making exaggerated gagging sounds from her chair. 

He shot her a look.

“You try spending two years thinking someone you care about is stuck forever in another universe,” he said. “See how you behave.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Whatever, spaceman.”

“How do you two even know each other?” Rose asked, and the Doctor realized suddenly just how much he had to catch Rose up on. It filled him with excitement, somehow, the idea that he could talk to her now— the idea that he could tell Rose about every time he’d done or seen something and thought, I need to tell Rose about this. 

“Just after we said goodbye,” the Doctor said. “Remember that? Burning up a sun?”

Rose pressed even closer to him. “I try not to think about it.”

“So do I,” the Doctor agreed. “But that was when Donna showed up in my TARDIS. In her wedding dress. Turned out her fiance was filling her with Huon particles to help a giant spider make her into a key.”

Rose hummed. “You’ll explain what all that means when I’m more awake, yeah?”

“‘Course.” The Doctor smiled. “Point is, we got each other out of trouble, and then I asked her to travel with me, and she said no, and I bounced around with Martha for a bit—”

“He was borderline mean to Martha, from what she told me,” Donna interjected. “All hung up on you—”

The Doctor winced. “I’ve had finer moments, it’s true.” 

“I liked Martha,” Rose said. “Seemed nice.”

“She’s very nice,” Donna said, directly to the Doctor. 

“The point is,” the Doctor said, “Donna and I found each other again, traveled together for a bit, and here we are now. Happy Hanukkah.”

“And I’m sure I’ll get more of that story later, too,” Rose added. 

“I’m an open book,” the Doctor promised.

They talked a while longer— Donna updated the Doctor on what she’d done in the last six months, which seemed to involve a decent amount of work with UNIT and a worrying amount of contact with Martha, Sarah Jane, and Captain Jack, and she and the Doctor both told Rose about a few of their adventures. It was halfway through talking about Pompeii that the Doctor looked down and realized Rose had fallen asleep against his shoulder, her breath coming out in soft puffs against his jacket.

“Think maybe we’d better go,” he said softly.

“All right, then,” Donna said. “Take some of the sufganiyot with you, will you? There’s no way we’ll eat them all on our own.”

“No way you will, maybe,” Wilf protested.

“Take them anyway,” Donna said. 

“You’re not coming with us?” the Doctor asked.

“Nah.” Donna winked. “Have your honeymoon. Come back for me when you’re ready.”

The Doctor let out a laugh. “Thanks.” He nudged Rose. “Rose?”

Rose’s head lifted. “Mm?” She fell back against him immediately, and he prodded her harder.

“Rose.” He moved his arm from her shoulders to her waist, trying to keep her upright. “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”

Rose jumped, then looked around wildly. “Wh— Doctor?”

“Shh,” he murmured. “I’m here. Let’s get back to the TARDIS, all right?”

“Okay,” Rose whispered, her body relaxing. She let the Doctor pull her to her feet, still leaning against him as they moved into the hall. It was like she fit into him, her body taking up his negative space. He’d forgotten what it could feel like, having her here. He took the box of pastries Donna handed to him and hugged her goodbye, and then he and Rose walked slowly back to the TARDIS, Rose stumbling over her own feet.

“When’s the last time you slept?” the Doctor asked.

“Dunno,” Rose replied. “Three minutes ago?”

The Doctor laughed. “Before that.” 

“Oh.” Rose paused. “Not sure.”

“Well, you’ll be glad to know your room is still waiting for you.” The Doctor pushed the TARDIS doors open. “TARDIS didn’t touch it.”

Rose waved a hand at the console. “Thanks.” There was a gurgle from overhead, and the Doctor smiled. 

“C’mon.” 

They found Rose’s room quickly. The Doctor hesitated at the door, still not sure whether Rose would want him to come in— he’d slept in here with her a few times, and a few more times stayed awake while she slept, but those had all been special circumstances: particularly hard days, instances of illness or injury, moments of emotional need. And it had been a few years: maybe something had changed, between them. Maybe things were different now, or they’d need time to get back where they once were, or—

“Don’t be stupid, Doctor,” Rose said, tugging at his arm. “I want you to stay.” 

“All right, then.” The Doctor stepped into the room, looking around. It looked just the same as it always had, with the messy bed and clothes strewn about, the pictures tacked up on the wall, the vanity at one end and wardrobe at the other. Rose stepped away from him just long enough to peel off her jacket and kick off her shoes, and he did the same, sitting gingerly at the end of the bed until Rose came back to him, sitting at the head of the bed and tugging at his arm until he joined her. She wasted no time in curling up against his chest, her arms around him, and he carefully wrapped his own arms around her waist.

“Stay with me,” she repeated, her words already slurring with sleep.

On instinct, he bent his head down to press a kiss to her hair, marveling at her softness, her presence. “Forever,” he promised, and he meant it with every cell in his body. He never wanted to let her go.