Author's Note: Contains spoilers for Doctor Who Season 3's Utopia, The Sound of Drums and Last of The Time Lords

xxx

Definitions, Doctor Who, Jack/Martha, PG

She knows from the dull thump of heavy shoes that it isn't the Doctor who has stepped out onto the balcony to join her.

"So. I'm guessing that you were the one kissing me? Because somehow I can't see the Doctor or his evil twin taking time out of their busy schedules to save little old me." Jack pauses, and then continues to himself when she doesn't react. "Then again, he didn't actually know he was evil back then, so maybe it was him. Which wouldn't have been so bad after he had regenerated, but before? Well, white hair doesn't really do it for me."

Martha can't help but smile at that, and she turns to him with an inquiring tilt of the head. "How could you possibly find the man that almost destroyed the entire planet – and tortured both you and the Doctor for an entire year – even remotely attractive?"

"You did see him, right?" he retorts with a grin.

She shakes her head and laughs quietly to herself before turning her attention back to the street below them. They stand in silence for a few moments, both watching the traffic crawl beneath them, weaved by the occasional impatient motorbike.

His voice cuts through as she watches an overcrowded bus disappear around the corner to their left. "I'm hoping that you at least got to enjoy the kiss, seeing as I wasn't actually conscious at the time."

"I wasn't kissing you," she replies as if talking to a child. "I was administering CPR, since I thought you were dying. I am a doctor, after all; it's what I was trained to do."

He snickers. "They train you to kiss people? Clearly, I'm in the wrong profession."

"It was not a kiss."

He continues as if she hasn't spoken. "Because if you wanted to touch these lips, all you had to do was ask. I mean, you're a good-looking girl, I'm an extremely good-looking guy -"

"It was not a kiss!" she almost yells as she turns to him. His wide grin, endearing only moments ago, now infuriates her. "This is a kiss."

She grabs the lapels of his long coat and yanks him to her. Her mind only just registers the widening of his eyes before she shuts her own and crushes her lips against his. Satisfied that his inaction means that she has taken him surprise, she eases the pressure and begins to pull back. But then his arms wrap around her, hands clutching the small of her back, and his mouth follows hers until they meet again. This time his lips part and his tongue flickers against her, begging to be let in. When his fingers move lower to caress her rear, she responds with a gasp, and grants him his wish. He tastes her, slowly, sweetly, tenderly. And not at all how she had expected him to.

It seems to last an eternity, but when they part she feels like it was over far too soon.

"You're right." His voice is barely above a whisper as he watches her through hooded eyes. "Now that was a kiss." His touch is surprisingly soft as he reaches up to run his thumb across her cheek. "You take care of yourself when I'm gone, Martha Jones."

Martha knows that he isn't just talking about her physical well-being. She may not know much about this man, but she's seen enough to know that they are much more alike than they are different. She nods lightly and replies just as quietly, "I will."