Rose and the Doctor lay on their backs, staring at the constellations that they would never touch again. They had barely spoken all evening after Rose informed the Doctor of what Valentine's Day was ("Oh! Like our spring festival!"); in fact, they found for the most part that they didn't need to. Holding hands in the cold starlight was enough.

"I've never admired the stars from such a distance," breathed the Doctor, as though afraid to shatter the peaceful silence. "Me, I've always been able to visit them up close and personal… never had a need to look at them like this, and so—never done this with anybody else. You're the first, Rose Tyler." He turned his head to smile at her with such honest contentment that Rose felt herself grinning back.

Squeezing his hand, she gazed back up at the stars. It was true: Rose had forgotten how amazing the stars looked from Earth, blinded by her former ability to see them from any distance she liked. Now, twinkling lightyears away, they seemed less wild and more… calm. But still beautiful.

"Shooting star!" she exclaimed quietly, pointing, and the Doctor's eyes followed it as it fell to Earth somewhere over the horizon. "Make a wish."

"What for?" The Doctor glanced at her, confused.

"Shooting stars are lucky," explained Rose disbelievingly. "What, nine hundred years wandering the universe, and you've never heard that?"

"No," responded the Doctor. Then, after a pause, "I wish—"

"Don't say it out loud!" hissed Rose, and the Doctor fell silent. I wish this night will last forever… She had plans, of course. Big plans. And here was as good a place, and now was as good a time, as anywhere and anywhen.

"Made a wish?"

"…Yeah."

"So have I." Heart pounding, Rose felt around in the dark for the Doctor's tie, seizing it with mischievous suggestiveness. The Doctor sat up quickly, as though she had electrically shocked him, and grasped her wrist gently but firmly, effectively halting her. Something in the way he did it convinced Rose he had no objections, but was merely issuing a warning:

"Are you absolutely su—"

"Yes."

"Did you bring pro—"

"Yes." Rose smiled knowingly. But we'll get to that bit later. Pulling his tie and torso forward, Rose kissed the Doctor passionately; the Doctor, after a half-stunned pause, toyed with her jacket's zipper in the starlight. This night, this wonderful, shining, unexpected night, would make everything they had lived through (and everything they ever would) worth it.

Someone with almost nine hundred years' worth of experience and someone with a naturally passionate disposition couldn't go wrong, after all. And, predictably, neither of them were disappointed.

((Ahahaha, yeah, no comment on this one. What is romance.))