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It’d been the most harrowing session of running they’d endured since being left in the alternative universe, he figured. Poor Rose had barely managed to keep up as they’d flown through the underbrush as fast as they could away from the enraged, sharply clawed ambassador from Traxi. Somehow (he still wasn't quite sure how) he'd managed to offend the dignitary despite having promised Torchwood he had a fantastic history with its species in his Universe. How different could they be, really, he'd reasoned. Apparently plenty different.
The Doctor sighed. Why did she put up with him? Some days he just wasn’t sure. Hence the candles. And the bath. And the rose petals. Maybe he should... naw. Not yet. What if she threw it right back at him?
She wouldn’t, you twat, a Northern voice piped up in the back of his mind. This is our Rose we’re talking about here. Now grab a pair and man up.
Driving his hand deep into one of his newly ‘bigger-on-the-inside’ pockets, he wrapped his fingers around the tiny box. Maybe it was the right time. If she wasn’t feeling the same as he was, right now would probably be when she’d not be afraid to say it. Despite what his more confident Northern voice was telling him, he needed to be sure. He needed to be positive that she really wanted to be with him, even knowing his penchant for impressive mistakes. Even knowing he could be reckless and didn’t follow rules well. Even now that she knew more of his history than he’d ever shared with anyone else.
Yeah. This was the right time.
A soft knock rapped on the bathroom door. “Doctor?”
Taking a fortifying breath, he cleared his throat and clasped the boxed treasure a bit tighter in his hand. “Come in.”