They're dancing, him and her. Full of sways and twists and while he makes mistakes, she can see that his words earlier weren't lying. He did-does- have moves, even though their buried under the rust of disuse and some part of her mind wishes that it was shyness from dancing with her instead. He had barely allowed himself enough time, it seemed, to get their ship moving before he whirled around on her, took her in his arms and moved.
No more resonating concrete, threats of children and adults with gasmasks fused to their face and no more Jack to distract them and keep him from moving his feet and keep her from experiencing that the world did not, in fact, implode if the Doctor danced.
And then he's calling out over her shoulder and she takes a peek, enchanted by the sight she see's, the Captain from earlier, sitting inside the ship of his own that would become his death. Or, it would have, if the Doctor hadn't piloted them inside to save him, never once bringing up his plans and never once stopping in their movements. She means to thank him but she stops herself before the words can come for, while he's no longer the battle raged man who she'd first met not that long back, he's still a little closed off and while it was always fun to make him embarrassed, now was not the time.
Not when he was holding her so close that she could feel a steady thump from his chest against her own, her hand grasping his in a way that's so familiar yet so new as his other rested on the small of her back in some semblance of the embraces they so often partook in. Only much, much more.
She doesn't realize that she's tuned out until her Doctor attempts to spin her, pinning her arm behind her back in a move that belongs more to an adolescent boy just learning the moves rather than a nine decade old alien and she pulls away, laughter in her eyes and in her heart and in her throat as she chastises him ever so lightly before turning to the Captain who seems to fill out the missing section of their little troupe already and she doesn't mind in the slightest.
She's sure that he'd like a dance as well, and she says as much, but before her strange captain with the alien ship during the Nazi bombing of London, it's her Doctor who agrees with her, and cracks a joke about just who the captain would like that dance with, and oh, he looks so adorable, dancing alone like that that she doesn't give the captain time to make a decision before she jumps at her Doctor, and they launch into another dance seamlessly as they both realize that he can, in fact dace.
And the world didn't implode or explode.
There were no red, blaring lights.
No rumbling of the TARDIS in the slightest of ways.
The Doctor and Rose Tyler dance.
And all is right in the universe for once, if only for a few moments.