Disclaimer: The Doctor, Rose Tyler, Martha Jones, Doctor Who, and all respective characters are the property of the British Broadcasting Company. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Yet another fic that's just been sitting on my desktop for ages, patiently twiddling its thumbs. Short and (bitter)sweet.


"Jack's...handsome, yeah?"

Rose blurts it out while he's half-buried beneath the TARDIS' innards. The Doctor shrugs, even though all she can see are his feet.

"Suppose so. Why?" He watches her eyes narrow through the holes of the metal floor grates.

"D'you really think so?" she prods. "Like enough that you'd fancy...dancin' with him?" The Doctor smirks.

"Don't dance with just anybody," he says.

"Yeah, but...would you?"

The Doctor wiggles himself out from underneath the console. Rose is biting her lower lip and playing self-consciously with the ties of her hoodie. He grins, thinking that she looks, in this moment, so very much her nineteen years. He reaches over to place both of her hands on his chest, one on either side.

"Two hearts, remember?" he says. "Got one for both of 'ya."


"Two hearts," Martha breathes reverently, placing a hand on one side of his chest and sliding it to the other. The Doctor wants to squirm away, but knows that the scientist in her finds it fascinating. And after all, that unending curiosity in the unknown is something that he can easily relate to - it's why he enjoys having her along. So he forces himself to stay relatively still while she continues poking and prodding.

"What's it feel like?" she asks. The Doctor shrugs.

"More of 'em to break."