i. New York City, August 1945

"One thing you lot do right, parties," the Doctor says, leaning over the main console to steer the TARDIS to a landing with a slight bump. He looks up and grins at her, steps forward to take her hand in his larger one and pull her towards the door. "And this moment is one of the greatest celebrations in human history."

He steps out of the TARDIS before her and stops abruptly, voice trailing off. She edges out from the door behind him and peers across the deserted square. Across the street a couple of businessmen are in huddled conference near an empty newspaper stand. Confetti drifts lazily across the street, piling softly in the gutters in crepe swirls of scarlet and orange.

"Looks like it was," Rose replies, watching a sailor in uniform stumble blearily from a nearby building The Doctor glares down at her, that familiar expression of his that just dares her to say something, anything, right now so that he can explain that he's never wrong, obviously.

She laughs then, tilting her head up to grin at him, stretches to give him a quick kiss that lands on the corner of his mouth.

"Guess we'll just have to make our own party, then," she says, ignoring his dumbstruck expression, and tugs him after her.

ii. Atlantic City, July 1920

"I feel so posh," Rose says, twirling to display tanned legs and a swirl of beaded chiffon. She stumbles slightly in her heels and clutches her ice cream harder, stopping to take a quick swipe at it with her tongue.

The Doctor watches, amused, from his slumped rest against the brightly painted front of a photographer's shop. Rose lifts the hand holding her ice cream and does a quick shuffle and dip of her feet, sliding towards him, grinning. He can see a drop of ice cream caught on her lower lip and the lipgloss that is slowly melting in the summer heat and something horribly alive swells between his hearts.

She shrieks when he catches her and swings her up into his arms, legs kicking as he swings her around. Her ice cream is flung out of her hand, landing on her dress front and dripping down onto the red carnation pinned to his breast.

"The rental place is going to kill us," she cries, voice carrying out towards the pier and the gleaming ocean; he grins wilder, presses his face into the curve of her neck.

"We'll bring them anther new dress. Three new dresses. However many they want." He replies, and lifts his head to look at her across their not-quite-touching noses.

"Besides, I quite like the ice cream like this. S' sweet like you," he says with a quirk of his eyebrows, earning himself a quick roll of the eyes and swat on a shoulder.

"Dork," she says, but kisses him anyway.

iii. Bristol, October 2009

"I'm boooored." He whines.

She looks up from her mobile, watching as he circles once more around the lamppost in a shuffle of feet and stops in front of the SUV. "Harper'll be here in half an hour." She replies, stretching her legs out on the hood and leaning back on her palms. "You should just be glad Sato's with him or it'd be another hour."

"She kept her name, then. "

Rose laughs. "Would you want everyone to know you willingly married Harper?"

"True," the Doctor muses, and leans forward to scratch his neck. The motion causes one of his feet to slide off the lamppost base and he pitches forward, landing with his hands splayed on either side of Rose's torso, his face almost touching her chest.

"Are you alright?"

"Oh you know, still getting used to muscle memory from two different bodies," he replies airily, mumbling the words into the fabric of her T-shirt.

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?"

"…Might have." He looks up at her, not even bothering to look sheepish. Instead he stretches to nip at the exposed skin below her collarbone. She shivers, suddenly flushed in the cool air and wiggles beneath him.

"This is completely unprofessional," she sighs.

"Mmmm, professionalism doesn't seem to go far with Torchwood anyway," he returns, hands working their way under her shirt.

Harper finds a shirtless Rose and disheveled Doctor twenty minutes later. Three days later a new Torchwood memo goes out banning any unprofessional fraternization.

Worth it anyway, they figure, and decide to be sneakier.

iv. London, August 2012

The crowd around them hums in anticipation, waiting for the opening ceremonies to begin. A bead of sweat trails down Rose's spine and she huffs, suddenly craving a drink.

"I'm parched. Want somethin'?" She calls up to the Doctor, who turns to look down at her.

"I can go get us something," he offers, eyeing her with concern.

"Just help me up and I'll be fine," she replies, stretching out a hand to his. He complies and pulls her up, earning a fond kiss. She stretches, back protesting and looks down at her swollen abdomen, grimacing.

After trudging across half the park she makes it to a concession stand sheltered under a tree, stepping into the queue behind a slender girl with flaming hair and a bloke in tweed.

The baby kicks and she places a palm against her stomach, humming as she halfheartedly listens to the conversations around her.

"-how you're not dying in that, Doctor, is beyond me." The redhead says and Rose stills, watching as the bloke turns to reply and she catches a glimpse of his profile.

"Superior alien physiology." He steps forward with the queue and Rose follows, watching amazed as the girl orders two drinks and hands one off to him.

Say somethin', she thinks, frozen in place, starts to step towards him, and then he's turning and looking right at her.

And, oh, he has beautiful green eyes this time round, she notices, and launches herself at him. His skin under her mouth is familiar and strange at once, and she leans backwards, grinning, while the redhead watches in confusion.

"Rose Tyler," the Doctor says. "Do you make it a habit of snogging random blokes or am I just special?"

v. London, January 2046

"Bloody exhausted, I am," Satyam groans, clutching his bag of takeaway and sighing dramatically, shoulders slumped. "Thought you said we were going to relax today."

His companion shrugs, large hands upturned in a who me? gesture. "That's the point of holidays, innit? Maximum flexibility. We could stay out all night if we wanted."

Satyam laughs. "Whatever, mate. I'm going back. Leftovers'll be in the fridge whenever you get back."

"Cheers."

He watches as Satyam continues down the street and then turns, disappearing into an alleyway beside an off-license. The man turns and shoves his hands in his pockets, begins walking toward the closest city park.

The sun has finally set by the time he reaches the park, the night sky blazing orange from the city lights. He passes a young family out for a walk, two teenagers arguing about a broken hoverboard ("Battery casing's shot," he calls, earning himself a surprised stare).

Finds an empty bench near an elderly coupled leaning into one another on another bench. They're covered in a blue blanket; he watches as the woman takes the man's hand and gently pulls it onto her lap and nestles her head in the curve of his shoulder. The man turns and gives her a kiss beneath her graying hair, lifts his free hand to point at the overcast sky.

She grins then, a wild thing full of hope and life, and the man shifts on his bench, standing up, suddenly aching with the need to move, to escape, to run.

"Right, then," the Doctor says, and turns back towards the waiting TARDIS.