If you haven't read the first one, Third Time's the Charm, you should go do that and then come back to read this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or any of its characters. The title belongs to Regina Spektor who wrote a lovely song of the same name but just happens to be appropriate for this particular story.

"Fiddling, always with the fiddling and fixing and fidgeting and fooling and fussing." Rose rolled her eyes at the man under his console.

"You're being awful alliterative," the Doctor responded, looking up momentarily through the grating. He was thinking about it again; the three times he had kissed her and the three times she did not remember.

"And you're being obsessive." He patted her mainframe lovingly and continued tinkering. It was true; it seemed the Doctor was always messing around with something on the TARDIS, whenever they weren't running from danger that is. But that was how he got his thinking done, which he wouldn't tell her, of course. Rose huffed in annoyance and turned away to retreat to her bedroom, not noticing the grating covers and various tools sprawled across the floor. She tripped and fell to the ground with a scream and a thud.

"Rose!" the Doctor exclaimed. He sprang up from the floor and rushed to her side. "Are you okay?" he asked, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her head.

"Hit my head," she mumbled, propping herself up on an elbow. The Doctor brushed the hair away from her face. On her forehead he could see a bruise and a bump beginning to form. Wanting her to ice her head but not wanting to risk her falling again, he promptly scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the kitchen. Once there her gently set her down in a chair and went to the freezer for an ice pack. With ice pack in hand he dragged another chair close to Rose and brought it up to her head. The Doctor pulled his hand away as she put her own on the ice pack.

"Thanks," she said. "But really I could've walked here on my own." She smiled at him.

"Well, I just, I mean, you know," he stumbled. Rose giggled at his lack of words but quickly stopped and winced. The Doctor reached out a hand to place it on her cheek. Even in her slightly disheveled state she still was so beautiful to him. And then a thought occurred to him: a human ritual in times of injury was to kiss whatever was injured. Worth a shot, he thought. With that he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. She jumped at his touch and dropped the ice pack. Taking this as a sign of unwanted contact, he pulled away.

"Sorry, really so-" but he never finished. For Rose had put a hand on the back of his neck to bring him close and kissed him soundly on the lips. Without even giving it a second thought he deepened the kiss. When they broke for air the Doctor swiftly picked up the ice pack and handed it back to Rose.

"Now you keep icing that head of yours," he called over his shoulder as he left the kitchen. He was not going to let her see his smile of satisfaction. For a real kiss with Rose was greater than he could have imagined, and he was certain she'd remember it this time.

Let me know what you think! Opinions, thoughts, suggestions, and constructive criticisms are always helpful! Thanks!