It was amazing, she thought, how quickly time could pass when you were travelling outside of it. Days had fled by in a crazy haze of gas giants, alien outposts and historical interludes. The Doctor might have changed clothes, grown his hair and developed a penchant for Indian cuisine, but fundamentally he was exactly the same; he still possessed a child-like wonder at the intricacies of the universe, and a desire to share all of it with an interested party.

Of course, some things had changed. He was a little less rough around the edges, these days, a little softer spoken and often a little more concerned about what she was thinking and feeling. He was a flirt, and a tease, joking around more than he ever had before.

But he was still mad as a hatter. And there were still days when he would withdraw into himself, his thoughts a million miles away from her, even from the TARDIS, centred, she knew, on his home.

He wasn't the only person to have changed. No longer content to always follow his lead, she had started (tentatively at first) to make suggestions about where and when they should visit. Sometimes she would pilot the TARDIS, even fix things when they broke down. She still spent hours in the library, absorbed by texts detailing the curious mating rituals of Alderbarian frog-people, or the hundred and one uses for Blatworn tree-root.

Life was good, she decided. There were still nights where she cried, thinking of his callused hand against her cheek, of the look in his eyes as he'd declared he could save the world... but lose her. But they were tempered with the everyday joy of living this chaotic life, counterbalanced by the merry jester she now shared the TARDIS with.

And, she was forced to admit, he was a lot prettier, these days. She couldn't exactly pin-point the moment when she had stopped looking at him to chart the changes, and started seeing him for the first time.

She wasn't the only one to have noticed how attractive he had become. She couldn't help but notice every-time they visited Earth (normally to pick up more hair-gel, a fact she was apt to tease him mercilessly about) the effect he seemed to have on shop assistants, the way that women on the street would meet his eyes and look away, smiling faintly.

Considering it dispassionately, he wasn't traditional 'hunk' material. He was no longer emaciated, but there was still a gangling skinniness to him. He was tall, but his colouring could hardly be described as 'dark;' his hair was auburn in colour, suiting the Scottish heritage he seemed to have adopted. And yet...

...Maybe it was the slightly crazed smile, a vestige of the former Doctor. Maybe it was the laughter that twinkled in familiar blue eyes. Maybe he just exuded an aura of raw sex appeal that couldn't be explained or defined.

Maybe it was only the sadness at losing him once that made her immune to it. Sometimes she would catch herself thinking of him in a... less than platonic way, and it felt a little like betrayal, although of who she couldn't say. She daren't allow herself to draw so close to him as she had before, afraid of rejection.

So they bumbled along as they always had; saving lives, exploring, escaping from death...

Bang

He threw open the TARDIS doors and they dashed inside, hand in hand. He let go of her and raced over to the control panel, inputting co-ordinates. He turned to where she stood at his side, and with a grin she pressed the button that launched them into time and space.

"That–"

"–Was fantastic!" she finished his sentence for him and they both burst into peals of laughter. She leaned back against the control panel.

"I thought we were really in trouble for a minute there," he confessed, tugging at the sleeve of his jumper that had started to unravel. There were large, smoking holes in the material and he realised sadly that it was probably beyond repair.

She had pulled her jacket off and was examining the damage to her own clothes. "I told you not to touch 'er, but would you listen?"

"She would have died!"

"So would we if I 'adn't been 'olding the sonic screwdriver! You just can't resist playing hero." She winced, trying to look over her shoulder. "I think they got me."

"Me too. Come on." He pointed dramatically. "To the infirmary!"

She couldn't help but laugh again, in spite of the growing pain in her back, as he pulled her up from where she had collapsed against the console.

She sat down on the infirmary bed while he searched for the dermal regenerator. There were burns all across the back of his jumper. He turned around, regenerator in hand, and raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat. "You know, you're going to have to take your tee shirt off if I'm going to heal those burns on your back."

He couldn't quite keep the devilish grin off his face. Her stomach jolted, as her mouth turned up at the corners to mirror his expression.

"Right," she said, her cheeks shading slightly pink. She turned around and pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid movement. She heard him swallow before he placed a hand lightly on her back. She could feel the regenerator mending the burns, caused by fairly ineffective alien weapon fire. All the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up, and she realised she was holding her breath.

Where's all this come from?

"All done," he said, voice slightly strained. Her stomach turned over again as she realised she wasn't the only one feeling the sudden crackle of electric tension.

She put her shirt back on before turning around. "Your turn then," she replied, her own eyebrows quirking as she took the regenerator from his hand.

He'd been hit more times than she had, front and back. She winced sympathetically as he pulled off his jumper, placing her hand lightly against his cool skin as he had done when fixing her wounds.

He could smell her shampoo as she bent over his bare chest. Think unsexy thoughts... think unsexy thoughts...

She'd moved round to his back, the fact she was now out of his sight not helping in the slightest as her fingers moved with infinite care across his skin. "You've got burns on your legs, too," she said, her voice carefully measured.

He swore very loudly in the confines of his own head. "Right," he replied, dragging the word out.

Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts.

He fumbled with the buckle of his belt, torn between embarrassment and arousal at their situation. She tugged his trousers down and he found her was biting his lip.

Thinkunsexythoughtsthinkunsexythoughtsthinkunsex–

Her hand was on the back of his thigh, as she worked to fix a burn he hadn't even realised he'd received. His train of conscious thought derailed.

"Done," she said softly.

"Uh," he managed, before enough of his brain returned to allow him to hastily yank up his trousers. She put the regenerator down on the side carefully as he sorrowfully surveyed the remains of his jumper, unable to meet her eyes.

She was torn between staying and leaving, her heart still beating far to quickly, part of her arguing that this was wrong, that she didn't feel this way about the Doctor, as the other half of her argued that she'd always felt this way about the Doctor, and the muscular definition of his new form was an added bonus.

She bit her lip, staring at her hands as she clasped and unclasped them nervously. She risked a glance up. He was still topless, playing with the remains of his jumper, his expression troubled.

Leave. Don't push it. D'you want to end up back on the estate, with nothing more exciting to look forward to than what's on the telly?

She took a step forward and he looked up, blue eyes locked on hazel. For a moment, the old Doctor was looking back at her.

I could save the world but lose you. His expression was identical.

She took another step, and suddenly he had crossed the distance between them, his hands resting on her elbows. Same eyes, same smell, she thought. Some things don't change.

He kissed her. It wasn't a chaste brush of her lips; it was a passionate assault on her mouth by his, his tongue curling around her own as his grip on her tightened, holding her close. Her fingers moved across his bare skin as her hands slid across his back, coming to rest with her fingertips just curling over the top of his shoulders. He was tipping her backward slightly, his several extra inches of height making her almost overbalance as she stood on tip-toe whilst he embraced her.

He broke away. "Rose..." His mouth was still so close to her own that his lips brushed hers as he spoke her name. She kissed him, before he pulled away again. "Rose... we can't do this..."

"You're the one that started kissing me," she pointed out.

He moaned softly, the sound making her breath hitch in her throat. "Oh, Rose. I'm so sorry."

"It wasn't that bad."

He made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. "Rose, you mean more to me than any other being I've ever encountered."

Her mouth was as dry as paper. "Then why do I get the feeling the next word out of your mouth is going to be 'but?'"

"I've never felt this way about anyone before. Nothing that's lasted like this through a regeneration. You're... you're like the TARDIS to me. It doesn't matter what else has changed, you still feel... right."

She laughed. "You really know how to flatter a girl, Doctor. You wanna be careful though. That sounded a bit domestic."

He kissed her again. "Shut up."

"Make me."

She screamed as he swept her up into his arms, carrying her out of the infirmary, down the corridor and into his room. He deposited her on his bed.

Her heart was hammering again. "This what you want?" she asked, seeing the troubled look in his eyes.

He nodded. "If it's what you want."

"God, yeah. Just checkin' though. Promise you won't chuck me out after?" she asked, a note of pleading in her voice.

A hurt look spread across his features. "I'd never do that to you, Rose. How can you think—?"

"—Because... there's something about this that you feel isn't right. If it's the choice between you or exploring the universe, I know which one I'd choose."

He grinned. "Exploring?"

"Everytime."

"You don't have to choose."

"Good." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.