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The Doctor’s hands are soft and sure as they move along Nebula’s neck, tweaking wires until—nothing. The pain that had been sparking down her arm for weeks, gone.
“Sorted,” the Doctor says brightly. “That bit, anyway.”
Nebula twists, bringing the Doctor into view. “What else is there?” She has no other injuries.
“Oh, all kinds of things.” The Doctor considers Nebula for a long moment, then nods, as if to herself. “For instance…”
That’s all the warning Nebula gets before their lips brush and a new kind of shock bolts down her spine, startling.
(This spark is not unpleasant.)