Disclaimer: Doctor Who isn't mine. If it was things would be quite different. The BBC owns all and I bow before them.

Written for doctorroseprompts and their drabble prompt: resist.


Walking down a busy street in London, memories of the Doctor filled Rose's senses: touch, hearing, smell, each one of them the very concept of home.

The feel of his hand clasped firmly in hers. No matter the regeneration, it'd always been the perfect fit for her own, and it's how their lives together began.

Then there is the sound of his voice as he caresses her name. Nobody else ever said her name that way. Whether it was Northern or Estuary, it would always make her feel warm and happy.

But it is the sense of smell that is the most intense. It shouldn't be a surprise, she mused. Rose recalled the one time he told her that it was the one most tied with memory. And remember she definitely does.

Her first Doctor smelled of leather with a hint of grease and she could just visualize him hard at work under the TARDIS grating. It wasn't just that though. There was some other almost indescribable element of time and space that lingered on his skin. It was almost earthy, except it wasn't. It was the 'universe,' and she adored it.

Then her Doctor changed his face and with it, his scent changed. Leather was replaced by hair gel and aftershave but the others elements remained. Neither was better than the other, just different. Leather or hair gel and aftershave, it didn't matter. Both were so completely him, the man she loved.

Now, as her third Doctor, her forever Doctor walked hand in had with her, she grinned to herself. They had bags full of purchases after a full day at the shops for the start of his life in Pete's World. They'd bought pin striped suits, jeans, jumpers, two jackets (one leather and another so similar to his Janis Joplin coat), as well as toiletries like hair gel (the aftershave was switched out for a cologne she found particularly delectable) and Rose knew this new, new, (slightly) new Doctor would have his own unique place in her sensory memories, but was just as impossible to resist as ever.