Belonging: Chapter Eleven
Author's Notes: I've a feeling the teaser quote is something you will probably all be thinking by the end of this chapter. Sorry. Except I'm not. *Grin*
Title: Belonging - Chapter Eleven
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters Jack, Ten
Rating: This Chapter - PG-13 for mentions of nudity (Series is rated NC-17 overall)
Spoilers: The Stolen Earth, Journey's End
Disclaimer: The BBC own it all, the little tinkers
Warnings: Nearly naked Ten | hurt/comfort
Description:
Set immediately after the events of The Stolen Earth/Journey's End.
The Torchwood team members are struggling to get back to normal after recent shattering events, when the Doctor turns up in the Torchwood Hub in the middle of the night; alone, heartbroken, guilt-ridden, and needing somewhere to belong.
"Doctor, you can't tell me that and then just leave me hanging!"
Chapter Eleven
"You want to... belong to me?" I had that familiar head-spinning sensation again.
The Doctor nodded, his smile faltering slightly.
"What does that mean? Like... you want to be... my boyfriend or something? I... I don't..."
The Doctor shook his head impatiently. "In simplified human terms, that's the basis of it I suppose, yes. But it's far more than that. Far more complicated."
"Right." I stared at him, nonplussed.
The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, and for a brief moment it snowed ash around his shoulders. The Doctor looked down at himself and pulled a face, as though he hadn't realised what a mess he looked. "I should probably take a shower..."
"Doctor, you can't tell me that and then just leave me hanging!"
The Doctor looked at me, his hands still raised by his ears. He nodded, closing his eyes tiredly. "Yes, yes… of course. I should explain. And you've waited long enough."
I stared at him for a moment, at his tired-looking, pale face and white-streaked hair, and sighed. I couldn't leave him in that state any longer. And I'd promised myself I wasn't going to be impatient with him again.
"Sorry. I'm being selfish. You're tired, and hungry and thirsty. It can wait. And yes, you need a shower. Big time." I smiled.
The Doctor nodded. He looked exhausted. He rubbed his face again, inadvertently cleaning the ash off in places so that his face looked even streakier. He looked like he didn't have the energy to stand up, never mind go and wash himself.
I hesitated. "I could... take care of you, if you like."
The Doctor nodded towards the first aid kit on the seat between us. "You already did," he said, with a small smile. "Thank you."
I shook my head. "No, I mean... oh, just come with me."
I stood and then helped the Doctor stand by grabbing him by the elbows. He leaned on me slightly as I walked with him into the inner chamber of the TARDIS, a short way along a pinky-orange corridor to a door leading into what I thought had been a bathroom last time I looked.
Either my memory had served me correctly or the TARDIS had helpfully shifted her rooms around so that I could find what I needed straight away. We entered a huge bathroom, tiled throughout in a soothing pale green, with a decent sized bath and a shower cubicle big enough for about five people. All sounds echoed slightly in the huge room, an effect that was strangely soothing.
I glanced at the Doctor. He could have had a shower, but I didn't think he was up to standing for any length of time. A nice hot soak, that's what he needed.
I sat the Doctor down on the edge of the bath, set both taps running, the hot one slightly faster than the cold. There was a small, mirrored medicine cabinet by the towel rail, and I opened it, hoping to find something to medicate the water with. Inside there was a small glass bottle filled with peculiarly coloured crystals. Sniffing them, they smelled vaguely medicinal but pleasant enough, and so I tipped a large measure into the water. There was a gentle hissing sound as they bubbled and dispersed, and turned the water a pale green that exactly matched the décor of the bathroom.
I turned back to the Doctor, who looked like the warm, steamy air was sending him to sleep. I knelt down in front of him and took off his filthy, once-white trainers, placing them neatly together by the door. He wasn't wearing socks. Then I stood up and began to unfasten his tie. The Doctor watched me, silently, throughout my ministrations, blinking drowsily at me through his long eyelashes. I placed the tie in a neat, coiled up pile on a nearby chair, and started on the Doctor's shirt buttons.
I tried to keep my breath as steady and even as I could, so as not to give the impression that what I was doing was affecting me in any way. I was, after all, just a friend platonically aiding another friend.
But the more smooth, porcelain-pale flesh I revealed from beneath the grimy shirt, the more difficult I found it to remain unaffected. Unfastening the cuffs, and then sliding the material backwards down his arms, there was a moment when my mouth was inches away from one creamy-white freckled shoulder, and I had to bite back the urge to press my lips to it.
I had already rejected the Doctor's affections once, had felt so many mixed emotions about him lately. So it was a bit late now to be feeling the way I did, wasn't it? I silently admonished myself for having such little self-control.
After the Time Lord's shirt had joined the tie on the chair, I managed to focus more on the job in hand when I saw that his torso was mottled with an array of purple bruises and more small abrasions. "Hell," I muttered.
The Doctor shrugged it off. "It's okay. I heal quickly." He managed to slide off the edge of the bath and stood in front of me, slightly unsteadily.
There was a pause, until I realised with a strange tingle in the base of my spine that he was waiting for me to take off his trousers.
His eyes bore into me unwaveringly as I fumbled with the button and fly, suddenly feeling self-conscious and a little too hot and bothered in the steamy air to be comfortable.
Thank God he was wearing underwear beneath, or I might have lost it.
Plain cotton. White. I might have guessed.
When the brown suit trousers were off and had joined their soiled brethren on the chair, I straightened up to find the Doctor smiling at me in a slightly strange way. As though he'd been teasing me a little, or testing me in some way.
"I can take it from here," he said, benignly.
I cleared my throat. "If you're sure…" I didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
I leaned over to the side of him, mindful of his bare flesh so close to my hip, and tested the water with my fingertips. The bath seemed to have filled very quickly, or maybe I'd spent more time undressing the Doctor than I'd realised. It was on the hotter side of warm, but the heat would be better for his injuries, I reasoned.
"I'm gonna go and make you something to eat," I told him. "You have a nice long soak… and then we'll talk. Okay?"
He nodded and gave me a tired little smile. "Thanks, Jack."
I didn't reply, just left the room and closed the door behind me, feeling chilled in the sudden absence of warm steam. I leaned against the door for a moment, feeling light-headed.
I'd worked my way through so many emotions since I'd last been with the Doctor: elation, confusion, indignation, anger, hurt, worry, guilt, remorse, relief… and now, what did I feel?
A few feet behind me, with only a wooden door separating us, the Doctor was naked and slipping into a warm, soapy bath.
Great. Now add 'arousal' to the mix. And stir.
"What the hell are you doing to me, Doctor…?" I muttered to myself between clenched teeth.
I sighed, gathered my thoughts, and made my way back to the console room and out into the Hub.
***
I took a deep breath. I could smell jasmine. If I didn't know I was inside a dimensionally-transcendental space/time ship, I could almost swear I was sitting on a carved stone bench outdoors in a real garden, with all the associated scents and sensations.
The only thing missing was real sunshine and birds. Then again, there could be real birds living somewhere inside the TARDIS for all I knew. I didn't feel like I knew a whole lot about anything at the moment. The Doctor often made me feel that way.
While the Doctor had been soaking away the ash, blood and exhaustion, I had run back upstairs, told Ianto what had happened to the Doctor.
He was keen to find out what the story was behind the CCTV incident and the Doctor's attempted kiss, but I told him that the Doctor was in no state for long conversations until he had recovered a little and at least had eaten something.
Then Ianto watched me with a small note of amusement for a few minutes, as I rummaged in cupboards and the small fridge in the Hub, trying in vain to find something vaguely edible.
Ianto then produced, like David Copperfield revealing a tiger out of thin air, my left over pizza from earlier that evening. I'd been so worried I'd hardly even touched it at the time, and then I'd forgotten all about it.
Ianto had calmly heated up the pizza in the microwave, made a strong put of tea and told me to calm down.
I don't know what I'd do without him, sometimes.
When I'd gone back down to the Doctor, I think Ianto had finally gone to sleep in my bed. He was probably hoping I'd join him at some point before sunrise, but I didn't think I could make any promises in that regard.
Now I was sitting on one end of the curiously comfortable stone bench between two ivy-covered columns, watching the Doctor who was sitting on the other end. He looked a hell of a lot better than he had a couple of hours earlier. He was wearing a blue towelling dressing gown and, I suspected, not a whole lot else. He was enthusiastically working his way through his final piece of pizza. It was probably dry and congealed by now, but he didn't seem to mind.
I could have got the TARDIS food machine to make something for the Doctor to eat, but everything that came out of that thing tasted like plastic vaguely pretending to be whatever foodstuff you had requested. No wonder while I was travelling with the Doctor we had usually chosen to survive on the local cuisine. I had eaten some really strange stuff in my time.
In fact, come to think of it, it seemed like I had spent most of my adult life surviving on junk food. It's a good thing I have a fast metabolism.
I watched the Doctor intently as he ate, hardly daring to believe that he was back, and safe, and that I hadn't lost him and his friendship forever. His skin looked soft and just-washed pink, and his hair was fluffy, as though he'd towel-dried it rather vigorously and then forgotten to brush it afterwards. I fought back the urge to smooth it down with my fingers.
He reminded me of a freshly-scrubbed child, drowsy from the warm soapy water, eating his supper before being tucked in and read a bedtime story.
Only it was me sitting there kicking my heels, anxiously waiting to be told a story. Or an explanation for what the hell was going on, at any rate.
The only thing spoiling the, I will admit, rather adorable image was the angry red abrasion on the Doctor's forehead, although it looked like it was already beginning to heal. I couldn't comment on the other wounds on his body, and I certainly didn't think I had the right to demand he strip off his dressing gown so I could check him over.
"That cut looks better already," I said.
The Doctor swallowed his final mouthful of pizza. "Yep," he said, a little thickly, and began to lick grease and tomato sauce off his fingers, one by one.
"Time Lords heal quickly anyway" he continued, "but that stuff you put in my bath helped. Crystals I once cooked up in the lab, derived from a special balm made by the Sisterhood of Karn. Amazing healing properties."
"Martha could do with some of that for the Torchwood first aid kit," I said.
"Hmm. Probably not. Prolonged use of the stuff stops you from aging."
"You must use it all the time, then. No wonder you always look so handsome and youthful."
The Doctor frowned. "No, I age slowly because I'm a Time Lord…" he said, and then realised I was teasing him, and afforded me a little smile.
I handed him a mug of strong, sweet tea and he drank it down thirstily.
"You should definitely give me the recipe though," I said mischievously. "I'll make a fortune on the beauty market."
"Wealth is terribly overrated," said the Doctor, between sips.
"I've done worse things for money," I said, with a small wistful smile.
"Hmm. I remember. Reformed character though, aren’t you?"
"Of course I am."
The Doctor smiled. "Course you are. I know that, of all people."
"And all because of you. You made me better. See? Another of your admirable deeds."
The Doctor pulled a face.
I took another deep breath. I felt better than I had in days. We seem to have slipped back into our normal easy conversation without much effort.
I'd made sure the Doctor was cleaned up, fed and watered and now I felt I was within my rights to be a little impatient.
"Talking of making people better… there's a conversation we were meant to be having. As in you explain, I listen."
"Hmm." The Doctor put the empty mug down on the ground beside his bare feet.
I swallowed. "Before you start, I just wanted you to know that I'm glad…" I looked at the Doctor earnestly. "I'm glad you're okay. And I'm glad you came back. I missed you… I was worried about you."
The Doctor nodded, looking pensive. "I thought you might still be mad at me."
"I was at first, but then I spoke to Ianto about it, and he told me that maybe I was seeing things in… well, the wrong light."
"You told Ianto everything?" The Doctor looked a little uncomfortable.
I nodded. "I needed someone to talk to, Doctor. And he's the only one I can talk to, really. Especially when it comes to anything involving you. Besides, he's very… perceptive. And rational, and practical and… well, he's amazing. He makes me see things in a different light."
"So now you're not mad at me anymore?" He looked a little hopeful now.
I laughed softly. "It's not that simple, Doctor. You have to admit, what you did, especially the part about watching me and Ianto… well… it's just…" I sighed, not knowing how to phrase it. "Most humans would find that intrusive and inappropriate. And it took me by surprise. I didn't know how to react, and so my temper got the better of me. You can see why, can't you?"
The Doctor considered, as though thinking about his actions for the first time. "What I did... watching you on the security camera, that was wrong of me. Humans have a right to privacy, especially when it comes to... well, intimacy. That's right, isn't it?"
"Yeah. But it wasn't just that... I just never thought you would do something like that."
The Doctor nodded sagely, as though he'd just worked it out. "You thought that when I was watching you and Ianto have sex, I was gaining some sort of carnal pleasure from it."
I cleared my throat. Somehow hearing the Doctor talk like that was like hearing an elderly aunt say a really bad swear word.
"Well… that would be pretty much anybody's natural assumption, yeah."
"Well, that would be the natural assumption if I were human," the Doctor said mildly.
I could feel myself blushing. "Yeah… Ianto kind of picked up on that, too. I… well, sometimes I forget. That you're not human, I mean."
The Doctor nodded kindly. "The thing is," he said carefully, "when it comes to Time Lords and sex… it's not that simple. Well, nothing ever is with Time Lords. Complicated, pretentious sort of race, we are."
The Doctor clasped his hands primly on top of his lap. I followed the movement, and then tried to ignore the fact that the hem of his dressing gown stopped at just below the knees, and his legs were bare.
"I should probably explain everything," he said.
I nodded eagerly. The Doctor was about to tell me the Time Lord version of the Birds and the Bees.
This was going to be very interesting.
To be continued
<< Chapter One
<< Chapter Two
<< Chapter Three
<< Chapter Four
<< Chapter Five
<< Chapter Six
<< Chapter Seven
<< Chapter Eight
<< Chapter Nine
<< Chapter Ten
>> Chapter Twelve
>> Chapter Thirteen
>> Chapter Fourteen
>> Chapter Fifteen
>> Chapter Sixteen
>> Chapter Seventeen
>> Chapter Eighteen
>> Chapter Nineteen
>> Chapter Twenty
>> Chapter Twenty One
>> Chapter Twenty Two
>> Chapter Twenty Three
>> Chapter Twenty Four
>> Chapter Twenty Five
>> Chapter Twenty Six
>> Chapter Twenty Seven
>> Chapter Twenty Eight
Title: Belonging - Chapter Eleven
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters Jack, Ten
Rating: This Chapter - PG-13 for mentions of nudity (Series is rated NC-17 overall)
Spoilers: The Stolen Earth, Journey's End
Disclaimer: The BBC own it all, the little tinkers
Warnings: Nearly naked Ten | hurt/comfort
Description:
Set immediately after the events of The Stolen Earth/Journey's End.
The Torchwood team members are struggling to get back to normal after recent shattering events, when the Doctor turns up in the Torchwood Hub in the middle of the night; alone, heartbroken, guilt-ridden, and needing somewhere to belong.
"Doctor, you can't tell me that and then just leave me hanging!"
Chapter Eleven
"You want to... belong to me?" I had that familiar head-spinning sensation again.
The Doctor nodded, his smile faltering slightly.
"What does that mean? Like... you want to be... my boyfriend or something? I... I don't..."
The Doctor shook his head impatiently. "In simplified human terms, that's the basis of it I suppose, yes. But it's far more than that. Far more complicated."
"Right." I stared at him, nonplussed.
The Doctor ran his fingers through his hair, and for a brief moment it snowed ash around his shoulders. The Doctor looked down at himself and pulled a face, as though he hadn't realised what a mess he looked. "I should probably take a shower..."
"Doctor, you can't tell me that and then just leave me hanging!"
The Doctor looked at me, his hands still raised by his ears. He nodded, closing his eyes tiredly. "Yes, yes… of course. I should explain. And you've waited long enough."
I stared at him for a moment, at his tired-looking, pale face and white-streaked hair, and sighed. I couldn't leave him in that state any longer. And I'd promised myself I wasn't going to be impatient with him again.
"Sorry. I'm being selfish. You're tired, and hungry and thirsty. It can wait. And yes, you need a shower. Big time." I smiled.
The Doctor nodded. He looked exhausted. He rubbed his face again, inadvertently cleaning the ash off in places so that his face looked even streakier. He looked like he didn't have the energy to stand up, never mind go and wash himself.
I hesitated. "I could... take care of you, if you like."
The Doctor nodded towards the first aid kit on the seat between us. "You already did," he said, with a small smile. "Thank you."
I shook my head. "No, I mean... oh, just come with me."
I stood and then helped the Doctor stand by grabbing him by the elbows. He leaned on me slightly as I walked with him into the inner chamber of the TARDIS, a short way along a pinky-orange corridor to a door leading into what I thought had been a bathroom last time I looked.
Either my memory had served me correctly or the TARDIS had helpfully shifted her rooms around so that I could find what I needed straight away. We entered a huge bathroom, tiled throughout in a soothing pale green, with a decent sized bath and a shower cubicle big enough for about five people. All sounds echoed slightly in the huge room, an effect that was strangely soothing.
I glanced at the Doctor. He could have had a shower, but I didn't think he was up to standing for any length of time. A nice hot soak, that's what he needed.
I sat the Doctor down on the edge of the bath, set both taps running, the hot one slightly faster than the cold. There was a small, mirrored medicine cabinet by the towel rail, and I opened it, hoping to find something to medicate the water with. Inside there was a small glass bottle filled with peculiarly coloured crystals. Sniffing them, they smelled vaguely medicinal but pleasant enough, and so I tipped a large measure into the water. There was a gentle hissing sound as they bubbled and dispersed, and turned the water a pale green that exactly matched the décor of the bathroom.
I turned back to the Doctor, who looked like the warm, steamy air was sending him to sleep. I knelt down in front of him and took off his filthy, once-white trainers, placing them neatly together by the door. He wasn't wearing socks. Then I stood up and began to unfasten his tie. The Doctor watched me, silently, throughout my ministrations, blinking drowsily at me through his long eyelashes. I placed the tie in a neat, coiled up pile on a nearby chair, and started on the Doctor's shirt buttons.
I tried to keep my breath as steady and even as I could, so as not to give the impression that what I was doing was affecting me in any way. I was, after all, just a friend platonically aiding another friend.
But the more smooth, porcelain-pale flesh I revealed from beneath the grimy shirt, the more difficult I found it to remain unaffected. Unfastening the cuffs, and then sliding the material backwards down his arms, there was a moment when my mouth was inches away from one creamy-white freckled shoulder, and I had to bite back the urge to press my lips to it.
I had already rejected the Doctor's affections once, had felt so many mixed emotions about him lately. So it was a bit late now to be feeling the way I did, wasn't it? I silently admonished myself for having such little self-control.
After the Time Lord's shirt had joined the tie on the chair, I managed to focus more on the job in hand when I saw that his torso was mottled with an array of purple bruises and more small abrasions. "Hell," I muttered.
The Doctor shrugged it off. "It's okay. I heal quickly." He managed to slide off the edge of the bath and stood in front of me, slightly unsteadily.
There was a pause, until I realised with a strange tingle in the base of my spine that he was waiting for me to take off his trousers.
His eyes bore into me unwaveringly as I fumbled with the button and fly, suddenly feeling self-conscious and a little too hot and bothered in the steamy air to be comfortable.
Thank God he was wearing underwear beneath, or I might have lost it.
Plain cotton. White. I might have guessed.
When the brown suit trousers were off and had joined their soiled brethren on the chair, I straightened up to find the Doctor smiling at me in a slightly strange way. As though he'd been teasing me a little, or testing me in some way.
"I can take it from here," he said, benignly.
I cleared my throat. "If you're sure…" I didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
I leaned over to the side of him, mindful of his bare flesh so close to my hip, and tested the water with my fingertips. The bath seemed to have filled very quickly, or maybe I'd spent more time undressing the Doctor than I'd realised. It was on the hotter side of warm, but the heat would be better for his injuries, I reasoned.
"I'm gonna go and make you something to eat," I told him. "You have a nice long soak… and then we'll talk. Okay?"
He nodded and gave me a tired little smile. "Thanks, Jack."
I didn't reply, just left the room and closed the door behind me, feeling chilled in the sudden absence of warm steam. I leaned against the door for a moment, feeling light-headed.
I'd worked my way through so many emotions since I'd last been with the Doctor: elation, confusion, indignation, anger, hurt, worry, guilt, remorse, relief… and now, what did I feel?
A few feet behind me, with only a wooden door separating us, the Doctor was naked and slipping into a warm, soapy bath.
Great. Now add 'arousal' to the mix. And stir.
"What the hell are you doing to me, Doctor…?" I muttered to myself between clenched teeth.
I sighed, gathered my thoughts, and made my way back to the console room and out into the Hub.
***
I took a deep breath. I could smell jasmine. If I didn't know I was inside a dimensionally-transcendental space/time ship, I could almost swear I was sitting on a carved stone bench outdoors in a real garden, with all the associated scents and sensations.
The only thing missing was real sunshine and birds. Then again, there could be real birds living somewhere inside the TARDIS for all I knew. I didn't feel like I knew a whole lot about anything at the moment. The Doctor often made me feel that way.
While the Doctor had been soaking away the ash, blood and exhaustion, I had run back upstairs, told Ianto what had happened to the Doctor.
He was keen to find out what the story was behind the CCTV incident and the Doctor's attempted kiss, but I told him that the Doctor was in no state for long conversations until he had recovered a little and at least had eaten something.
Then Ianto watched me with a small note of amusement for a few minutes, as I rummaged in cupboards and the small fridge in the Hub, trying in vain to find something vaguely edible.
Ianto then produced, like David Copperfield revealing a tiger out of thin air, my left over pizza from earlier that evening. I'd been so worried I'd hardly even touched it at the time, and then I'd forgotten all about it.
Ianto had calmly heated up the pizza in the microwave, made a strong put of tea and told me to calm down.
I don't know what I'd do without him, sometimes.
When I'd gone back down to the Doctor, I think Ianto had finally gone to sleep in my bed. He was probably hoping I'd join him at some point before sunrise, but I didn't think I could make any promises in that regard.
Now I was sitting on one end of the curiously comfortable stone bench between two ivy-covered columns, watching the Doctor who was sitting on the other end. He looked a hell of a lot better than he had a couple of hours earlier. He was wearing a blue towelling dressing gown and, I suspected, not a whole lot else. He was enthusiastically working his way through his final piece of pizza. It was probably dry and congealed by now, but he didn't seem to mind.
I could have got the TARDIS food machine to make something for the Doctor to eat, but everything that came out of that thing tasted like plastic vaguely pretending to be whatever foodstuff you had requested. No wonder while I was travelling with the Doctor we had usually chosen to survive on the local cuisine. I had eaten some really strange stuff in my time.
In fact, come to think of it, it seemed like I had spent most of my adult life surviving on junk food. It's a good thing I have a fast metabolism.
I watched the Doctor intently as he ate, hardly daring to believe that he was back, and safe, and that I hadn't lost him and his friendship forever. His skin looked soft and just-washed pink, and his hair was fluffy, as though he'd towel-dried it rather vigorously and then forgotten to brush it afterwards. I fought back the urge to smooth it down with my fingers.
He reminded me of a freshly-scrubbed child, drowsy from the warm soapy water, eating his supper before being tucked in and read a bedtime story.
Only it was me sitting there kicking my heels, anxiously waiting to be told a story. Or an explanation for what the hell was going on, at any rate.
The only thing spoiling the, I will admit, rather adorable image was the angry red abrasion on the Doctor's forehead, although it looked like it was already beginning to heal. I couldn't comment on the other wounds on his body, and I certainly didn't think I had the right to demand he strip off his dressing gown so I could check him over.
"That cut looks better already," I said.
The Doctor swallowed his final mouthful of pizza. "Yep," he said, a little thickly, and began to lick grease and tomato sauce off his fingers, one by one.
"Time Lords heal quickly anyway" he continued, "but that stuff you put in my bath helped. Crystals I once cooked up in the lab, derived from a special balm made by the Sisterhood of Karn. Amazing healing properties."
"Martha could do with some of that for the Torchwood first aid kit," I said.
"Hmm. Probably not. Prolonged use of the stuff stops you from aging."
"You must use it all the time, then. No wonder you always look so handsome and youthful."
The Doctor frowned. "No, I age slowly because I'm a Time Lord…" he said, and then realised I was teasing him, and afforded me a little smile.
I handed him a mug of strong, sweet tea and he drank it down thirstily.
"You should definitely give me the recipe though," I said mischievously. "I'll make a fortune on the beauty market."
"Wealth is terribly overrated," said the Doctor, between sips.
"I've done worse things for money," I said, with a small wistful smile.
"Hmm. I remember. Reformed character though, aren’t you?"
"Of course I am."
The Doctor smiled. "Course you are. I know that, of all people."
"And all because of you. You made me better. See? Another of your admirable deeds."
The Doctor pulled a face.
I took another deep breath. I felt better than I had in days. We seem to have slipped back into our normal easy conversation without much effort.
I'd made sure the Doctor was cleaned up, fed and watered and now I felt I was within my rights to be a little impatient.
"Talking of making people better… there's a conversation we were meant to be having. As in you explain, I listen."
"Hmm." The Doctor put the empty mug down on the ground beside his bare feet.
I swallowed. "Before you start, I just wanted you to know that I'm glad…" I looked at the Doctor earnestly. "I'm glad you're okay. And I'm glad you came back. I missed you… I was worried about you."
The Doctor nodded, looking pensive. "I thought you might still be mad at me."
"I was at first, but then I spoke to Ianto about it, and he told me that maybe I was seeing things in… well, the wrong light."
"You told Ianto everything?" The Doctor looked a little uncomfortable.
I nodded. "I needed someone to talk to, Doctor. And he's the only one I can talk to, really. Especially when it comes to anything involving you. Besides, he's very… perceptive. And rational, and practical and… well, he's amazing. He makes me see things in a different light."
"So now you're not mad at me anymore?" He looked a little hopeful now.
I laughed softly. "It's not that simple, Doctor. You have to admit, what you did, especially the part about watching me and Ianto… well… it's just…" I sighed, not knowing how to phrase it. "Most humans would find that intrusive and inappropriate. And it took me by surprise. I didn't know how to react, and so my temper got the better of me. You can see why, can't you?"
The Doctor considered, as though thinking about his actions for the first time. "What I did... watching you on the security camera, that was wrong of me. Humans have a right to privacy, especially when it comes to... well, intimacy. That's right, isn't it?"
"Yeah. But it wasn't just that... I just never thought you would do something like that."
The Doctor nodded sagely, as though he'd just worked it out. "You thought that when I was watching you and Ianto have sex, I was gaining some sort of carnal pleasure from it."
I cleared my throat. Somehow hearing the Doctor talk like that was like hearing an elderly aunt say a really bad swear word.
"Well… that would be pretty much anybody's natural assumption, yeah."
"Well, that would be the natural assumption if I were human," the Doctor said mildly.
I could feel myself blushing. "Yeah… Ianto kind of picked up on that, too. I… well, sometimes I forget. That you're not human, I mean."
The Doctor nodded kindly. "The thing is," he said carefully, "when it comes to Time Lords and sex… it's not that simple. Well, nothing ever is with Time Lords. Complicated, pretentious sort of race, we are."
The Doctor clasped his hands primly on top of his lap. I followed the movement, and then tried to ignore the fact that the hem of his dressing gown stopped at just below the knees, and his legs were bare.
"I should probably explain everything," he said.
I nodded eagerly. The Doctor was about to tell me the Time Lord version of the Birds and the Bees.
This was going to be very interesting.
To be continued
<< Chapter One
<< Chapter Two
<< Chapter Three
<< Chapter Four
<< Chapter Five
<< Chapter Six
<< Chapter Seven
<< Chapter Eight
<< Chapter Nine
<< Chapter Ten
>> Chapter Twelve
>> Chapter Thirteen
>> Chapter Fourteen
>> Chapter Fifteen
>> Chapter Sixteen
>> Chapter Seventeen
>> Chapter Eighteen
>> Chapter Nineteen
>> Chapter Twenty
>> Chapter Twenty One
>> Chapter Twenty Two
>> Chapter Twenty Three
>> Chapter Twenty Four
>> Chapter Twenty Five
>> Chapter Twenty Six
>> Chapter Twenty Seven
>> Chapter Twenty Eight