The Doctor is restless, and has been since they re-entered the Vortex after sending Cassandra to die (he hopes he'll never come into contact with her again; it's unlikely, given what he and Rose have seen happen to Chip, but he's seen enough in his time to never assume that anything is gone for good) – so restless that he's spent most of the last week fixing things in the TARDIS that weren't actually broken to start with. Anything, anything at all, to keep his mind busy and focussed on something other than Rose. Why? Since his regeneration (and especially since the Cassandra episode) he's noticed a burning urge to touch Rose constantly, for any and no reason, just to have the physical contact with her; his utter obsession with her is mushrooming out of his control into a completely intolerable need.

He gets the feeling that if something doesn't happen soon to sort out the tension between himself and Rose he might just end up spontaneously combusting into his Eleventh self, and that would really put the kibosh on anything happening. She has barely accepted that he is still her blue-eyed Doctor; he would do anything for her not to have to go through that trauma again any time soon. Quite apart from that, it's pretty certain that she would probably literally kill him again if he did; he is quite attached to his body this time 'round.

He knows that if how he's feeling about her is this obvious to him then it is almost certain to be at least as obvious to her; the last thing he wants to do is scare her off by coming on too strong. It isn't as if "clueless human" is a title that's easily foisted on her, after all - unlike certain others he can think of. (It's completely unsurprising when he finds Mickey Smith's name topping the list of several names that spring immediately to mind.)

Rassilon, you need to get a grip on yourself, not to mention stop being jealous of somebody who is absolutely no threat to anything between you and Rose. It isn't as if she hasn't chosen you, repeatedly, when given the option. Time spent worrying about Mickey is, frankly, time wasted that could be better spent with Rose.

He has also noticed that he's having a lot of trouble dragging (and keeping) his eyes off her; he'd happily spend all day looking at and talking to her, which in itself is something out-of-the-ordinary for him. Today he's caught himself sneaking looks at her every five minutes or so; thankfully, as far as he can see from this side of the TARDIS, she's still oblivious though. For the minute, at least, he cannot quite decide whether this upsets him.

"Rose."

He whispers her name so quietly that she finds herself having to strain her ears in order to hear, but it's not so much what he is saying as the expression on his face that has her completely captivated. It is painfully obvious to her that he is refusing to touch her in any way for some unknown reasons of his own, which she can't argue with because she doesn't know what they are. What she can argue against (and indeed she is considering doing so) is the fact that it's blatantly obvious that he desperately, desperately wants to.

She takes a step towards him, and then another, until she's as close to him as she can possibly be without either of them touching the other before she looks at him again. Opening her mouth to speak - intending to say something, ask what was going on, anything really if it gets him to talk to her - the words die unspoken as she gets a proper glimpse of the expression in his eyes for the first time.

His eyes suddenly seem huge; his pupils dilated so much that they seem to have subsumed his irises completely. She has never seen him looking like this before, especially not at her; if she didn't know better (and she's not entirely sure she doesn't), she would say he was looking distinctly turned-on. There's something of the wolf about him. The thought seems to come from the æther but as soon as she is aware of it the wry thought immediately follows that the description is a distinctly apt one. That thought is the last coherent one to register itself in her brain before her eyes lock with his and the two of them drown in each others' gaze; it's more than either can manage to tear their eyes away as the tension between them, already potent, ratchets itself up further.

Rose is first to break, unable to stand the tension between them one moment longer; her hand snakes up to cup The Doctor's cheek before disappearing up into his hair. The Doctor's eyes never leave hers but she sees them widen slightly in surprise at the contact before he lets them flutter closed; he at last concedes defeat, admitting to himself that his wanting this has finally, finally exceeded his willingness or ability to ignore it.

He leans in to her touch, simultaneously craving the sensation and being repelled by it - frightened about where his feelings for this woman could take him should he give them free reign. This all takes a matter of mere seconds and is done even before he realises he's doing it; the next thing he is fully aware of doing is closing the last, tiny, amount of space between them by the simple method of winding one arm around Rose's waist and pulling her flush against him. Having her so close to him that her body heat warms him makes part of his mind – the part that still thinks that this is a Very Bad Idea - start panicking. He's saved from making an utter pig's ear of the occasion by over-ruling it with the part of his mind that's thoroughly enjoying the feelings generated by Rose being so close to him that only layers of fabric separate his skin from hers. He wastes no further time on the thought that this mayn't be one of his wiser moves as his instincts begin to take over.

"Doct-"

Rose tries to speak, tries to make an attempt to verbalise the torrent of feeling she's now experiencing and in so doing ground herself and make the whole situation feel much less surreal, but The Doctor uses his other hand (the one that isn't holding her tightly against him and making her feel fantastic) to raise a finger to her lips.

"Shh. Don't."

He'd considered trying to deal with this in his usual nonchalant manner but some primeval instinct had told him that this would not do. So his tone is low and seductive - just that little bit husky - and he sees the effect of it as it sends shivers up her spine. She still cannot manage to tear her eyes from his.

"Rose?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

His voice remains low but is shot through with the raw tenderness she has recently noticed tends to appear in his tone towards her whenever they are alone. She makes a whimpering noise in the back of her throat, not quite coherent enough to form words. His lips turn up slightly at the corners as he takes it as an answer, and continues speaking - and that tenderness filters through his tone even more strongly than before, this time partnered with an urgency which she doesn't, immediately at least, understand.

"Cassandra said you think this new body's 'foxy'. So - is that true?"