Summary: You make a Christmas wish to a pair of comets. The next day, the universe forgets you.
Except for the Doctor.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
The Doctor's eyes snap open to the decaying paint on the ceiling.
The trouble is, she doesn't remember falling asleep.
"I'm getting… the smell of snow and people," she begins, trying to orient herself. "Lots of people. I'm also getting old-house vibes… an inn? That's it, an inn! Which means this is Itrer! Good, still on the same planet we were on."
She pushes herself upright from the floor (and why was she on the floor in the first place?) and immediately calls out to you.
"You okay? Dunno how I ended up here," she says.
No answer comes.
She pulls herself to her feet in a hurry, nearly falling forward again. She expects to find you sleeping on the bed.
You're not.
She groans, feigning annoyance so she doesn't have to deal with the tinge of worry tightening in her chest.
"You have only one job!" she whines. "Don't wander off! Why is that so hard for humans to follow?"
She makes her way to the shared bathroom at the end of the hallway. Scores of people come and go, passing her by, but she registers every single face. It's a habit: to calculate danger, to gauge who might be sticking out from the rest, to protect those who are under her responsibility.
None of the faces are yours. But it's okay. She refuses to believe you're in danger (yet).
(Yet.)
Arriving at the bathroom door, she knocks rather enthusiastically, hoping you'll be the one to open it.
You don't. Instead, an older woman with grey hair and an equally grey nightgown fixes her with a stony stare.
The Doctor scrunches her nose in disappointment. "Nah, sorry. Not you either." She begins to walk away, only to make a sharp turn back to the woman, who is still standing in the doorway. "But maybe you can help me! I'm looking for someone."
The woman's eyes widen.
"I mean, this specific person?" she clarifies, gesturing vaguely at the space you usually occupy. "I'm not just browsing."
The woman blinks in what seems to be a mix of relief and annoyance, so the Doctor presses on.
"Maybe you saw me yesterday with my mate? They're always right behind me. Well, usually. Right now, they're about two pep talks away from missing person status," she finishes with what she hopes is a reassuring smile.
"I did see you yesterday," the woman says.
The Doctor's face lights up. "Oh! Brilliant! And where—"
"But you were alone," the woman finishes, cutting her off.
The Doctor frowns. "What? No, but there wasn't a moment I was alone. I don't think— no, I'm sure."
She looks at the woman again. The stranger is staring back at her now with such a mix of annoyance and confusion that it makes her skin crawl.
The Doctor manages a tight, polite smile. "Thanks for the help."
She turns on her heel, shoulders squared and hands clenched.
"One pep talk left," she sighs, before marching straight to the lobby, where she'll find her last hope of getting some answers.
Papa Smurf.
She arrives at the lobby, and sure enough, there he is. He's sweeping the floor, looking just as thoroughly unhappy as he did the day you arrived.
"Hi!" she greets him, plastering a smile on her face that is as bright as it is sharp. "Sorry to stop your sweeping, but I came to bear the good news that Gargamel isn't around. You can start lightening up!"
The man stops to look at her, his frown forming dunes across his face.
"Jokes!" she exclaims, throwing her arms out in an effort to break the ice. "Anyway, I don't suppose you remember me—"
"Yeah, I do," he grumbles, resuming his sweeping. "Last one in. Made me wait all that damn time."
The Doctor's smile tightens just a fraction.
"Tattep," he finishes.
"Yes! That's right, Tattep… couple. Me and my…" She trails off, suddenly unsure. She clears her throat. "Spouse," she finally says, with a little too much emphasis on the first 's', as if she's forcing the word out of her mouth. "You'll never believe me, but I think we've missed each other. Did you see them around the inn by any chance?"
The man stops again to stare at her with his dune-like face. "Ma'am, you're not making any sense!"
She arches her eyebrows, muttering to herself, "You're not the first to say that."
"You didn't bring in any spouse, no," he says, shaking his head. "You paid for only one room — and if I find someone here who shouldn't be!"
"No. No, it can't be. I— I remember us leaving the TARDIS, walking all the way here, getting the last room just in time!" she says, recounting the events of the previous day, mostly for her own benefit. Then she turns to him, her eyes hard with sudden seriousness. "There's no way you haven't seen them. Think again! About this height, human, nice eyes, gorgeous face. Only one part of that is important, actually."
He huffs, shaking his head once more. "I told you, ma'am. There was only you, and I'd better not find anybody else."
And with that, he turns away and leaves.
She rolls her eyes but finally — finally — admits to herself that she's in trouble. Big time.
She allows herself to linger in the lobby, watching as people come in and out of the inn, and a familiar feeling sinks its dreadful claws into her chest.
Loneliness.
She's been trying to run away from it her entire life. With you, she's never felt it, not even once. And to think she could have—
The Doctor draws in a sharp intake of breath, her hands flying to her hips out of instinct; her body is running on autopilot to kill that thought before it can go any further.
She walks out of the inn, her mind racing like an engine fuelled by desperation and confusion.
"Okay, don't panic," she says. "That's what I'd say to you. Though, yeah, right now it's mostly to myself. Can't panic, gotta think. First things first: what do we know?"
She starts pacing, gesturing with her hands as she talks. "I know that the last thing we did was watch The Lovers — wild choice of a name, if I can say so — and you asked me something. What was it?
"Ah!" she exclaims after a brief pause. "You asked about the myth. About the whispering to the comets. Which sounds really silly to me, if I'm being completely honest."
(She is not being completely honest.)
"I've been whispering tons of truths to tons of stars and I haven't seen any action. I mean, I have seen— well, you get the gist. But let's suspend our disbelief for a sec and accept that — yes — the comets actually heard whatever it is you whispered. What would it be?!"
She stays like that for a few moments, her mind racing with a dozen different theories as she tries to decipher what you could have possibly asked for. That's when her eyes fall on a scene unfolding in front of her.
It's a mother and her child. They're in the inn's lobby, near the exit, still in the Doctor's line of sight. The child is whining and sniffing, as if gearing up for a full-blown crying fit. They can't be much more than two years old by Itrerian standards, and they look exhausted, likely missing home.
(She knows these things. She used to be a dad.)
The mother suddenly kneels next to the child and whispers something that immediately makes them brighten up. She offers the child a hand, and they walk out of the inn together.
"Home," the Doctor mutters. "That's it! Maybe they wanted to go home, too."
With a new resolve — and a wounded ego, because why would you whisper that to two random comets in the sky rather than to her — she makes her way to the TARDIS.
And as she does so, she tries really hard to ignore the tickling feeling in her bones that suggests something isn't right about time.
She finds her ship right where she'd parked her the day before: at the edge of a cliff, facing the beautiful double sunrise. The sunlight casts shadows across the soft grass where the TARDIS is, providing a brief refuge from the glare above.
She remembers how this was all snow yesterday, and how much you'd complained about having to walk all the way down to the festival, something about your feet going numb because of the cold.
She stops now in front of her ship, staring down the path you'd made together, and her hearts ache within her. She should have—
"Not now, Doctor," she tells herself, abruptly cutting off her own thoughts. "One thing at a time."
As soon as she makes her entrance, the TARDIS whirs in confusion.
"Yeah, I feel it too," she says, replying to a question she wasn't asked. "Trying not to think about that now, though, thanks!"
She makes her way to the console, flipping levers and pressing buttons only she understands (mostly), and the TARDIS complains again.
She's asking the obvious question: "Where are they?"
"I… I don't know," she replies. "If I had to guess? They went home, for some reason."
The ship lets out a soft vworp.
"Now, don't get jealous," she chuckles. "They didn't just take a lift, this is way more cosmic than that." Before her friend can ask again, she waves a hand in the air. "Wish I could tell you all about it, but I have a hunch and I've got to chase it. Sorry."
Her hand rests against the take-off lever for a few seconds, during which the Doctor's hearts twist at the possibility of being wrong, yet beat faster at the thought of seeing you again, at home.
"Wish me luck!" she exclaims, pulling the lever down. The ship whirs in response, taking off.
Not a few minutes later — all of which felt like two eternities and a half for the Time Lord at the wheel — the ship lands.
She checks the monitor. "Earth. 2025. Christmas Eve. Usual parking spot." She smiles up at the TARDIS. "Moment of truth, then. Here we go."
The lights dim softly around her — the ship's way of telling her to go.
Her usual parking spot is a small park a few blocks from your house. You don't like your parents knowing much about your travels — you don't want to explain the alien part of the story — so you prefer to walk home when you do get back.
She obliges, as she usually does when it's you.
Besides, her experience with human parents tells her she should probably trust your instincts. This means she very rarely meets your parents, and when she does, they're usually on their way out or you're already leaving. The brief interactions she's had with both of them, however, led her to dub them Nice Mum (she cooks well and complimented her eyes once, that was really nice!) and Terrible Dad (sometimes she forgets he exists in your life).
She recounts all of this on her way to your house. The building and the neighbourhood around it are just as she remembers.
"Which is good, right?" she mutters to herself, standing in front of your front door. "They're probably here. Probably sleeping. Or eating. Most likely eating. Could be watching the telly, too. I'll just—" she makes a frantic movement with her arms "—walk in, ask them what's up, bring them back to the TARDIS. Then, time will be okay again."
She sighs, watching her breath mist against the cold air. "And I'll be okay again, too."
Before she can dwell on what that means, she pulls her sonic from her pocket and opens your front door.
She doesn't linger on any of the rooms, hurrying upstairs to where your bedroom is. She had hoped to find you in peaceful slumber, zzzing away all the joint pains from walking too much alongside her. At the very least, she thought she'd find your room empty, but exactly as you'd left it.
But — instead of your little trinkets, clothes, and personal things — all she finds is an empty room.
A dusty, web-filled, empty room.
"Okay," she says, her tone as light as she can still manage. "Bad news. Bad news on top of previous bad news."
Just then, two voices echo outside the closed door — a man's and a woman's, apparently complaining about the 'someone's steps they've just heard'.
But the Doctor recognises the owners of those voices before they even open the door.
Your parents.
Nice Mum and Terrible Dad open the door, still bickering amongst themselves, before completely freezing when they lay eyes on her.
She, however, beams at them. "Ah! It's you two. You know what? You have no idea how actually happy I am to see you — even you, Terrible Dad. You're a sight for blind eyes. Or is it sore eyes? Some type of eyes — anyway, I'm distracting myself."
They stare at her, dumbfounded, before Terrible Dad's brain apparently gears up and he furrows his brow.
"Who are you?" he asks, his voice thick with apprehension. "How did you get in here?"
The Doctor nearly stomps her foot at the universe, like a child throwing a tantrum when they don't get what they want.
"Oh, this is getting so much worse! So, you lot, you don't recognise me?"
They look at each other, their confusion giving way to the beginning stages of fear.
"No, no, no, it's okay," she tries to reassure them, but it comes out sounding more panicked than she intended. "I'm your child's mate. Best mate. This room," she waves her arms around, taking a few steps toward them, "this room is theirs. They sleep — or, I mean, they should be sleeping here."
"Ma'am, is this some kind of joke?" Terrible Dad asks, stepping in front of Nice Mum. "There's no one living in this room."
The Doctor knows what that means, but she doesn't accept it. "No. Listen to me, you've got a child."
Nice Mum steps away from your father, wearing a painful expression. But the Doctor pushes through.
"I know, cause I'm their best mate. We travel together, though they wouldn't really want me telling you guys that."
Nice Mum's discomfort tips over into full-blown sadness, and she starts to cry.
Terrible Dad grumbles, his face souring as he turns back to the Doctor. "Bloody hell. Your fault, woman! Look what you've done."
"What?" she asks, her voice dropping, gone all soft and kind. It genuinely pains her to see Nice Mum like this. She takes a small, cautious step closer. "What is it? Has something happened? Has something happened to your child?"
The crying turns into a jagged sob, and Terrible Dad tutts, shaking his head. "Everyone knows we can't have children. Never could."
The Doctor feels her hearts twist — a proper, physical wring that makes her frown in pain. "No. Not this. Not like this. I— you were my last hope."
"I don't know why I'm even telling you this, why I'm still talking to you," he suddenly declares. He's moving into the final stage of a cycle the Doctor knows only too well: first comes confusion, then fear, and finally? Anger.
"I'm calling the police!" he shouts, stomping away from the room and leaving the Doctor standing in the middle of a life that doesn't exist anymore.
"See? That's why I never liked him," she mutters, mostly to herself, before turning back to your mother. Nice Mum still looks shaken by everything that's just happened.
The Doctor walks up to her and carefully places her hands on her shoulders. She looks directly into her eyes, speaking with as much certainty as she can muster: "Don't worry. You do have a child. They are so loved, and so missed. I'm the Doctor, and I promise I'll get them back to you. Somehow."
Then, before she can stop herself, she adds a tiny bit more: "I need it just as much as you."
Your mother actually seems a lot more receptive than the Doctor expected. She doesn't scream or run, just gives her a small, confused smile.
Good, the Doctor thinks. She's back at the first stage of the cycle.
In the distance, she catches Terrible Dad's voice on the phone, actually calling the police about an intruder.
Which, in this case, is her.
Without the TARDIS to hide in, a quick exit is the order of the day. Her eyes roam over the empty room, looking for — and finding — a window just large enough to fit through.
She lets go of Nice Mum's arms, giving her a smile that's half-grimace, half-wince, as she backs away towards the glass. "Gotta dash now, though, sorry! Multiple somethings going on, and getting arrested now would be a bit of a nuisance. Can't wait to eat your cheese lasagna when this is all sorted, though. I'm really craving a cheese lasagna right now."
That's bought her enough time to reach the window. Your mother hasn't made a move to stop her or shout for help, so the Doctor pulls it open and gives her one last, hopeful look.
"See ya on the other side!"
And with that, the Doctor takes a leap to freedom, falling away from your home and into the cold day.
She lands with a flourish and looks up at the window just in time to see your father spotting her. So, she runs. She runs without even being sure why, hoping that if she goes fast enough — if she tries hard enough — then maybe she'll just… run into you.
Her thoughts are cut short when she slams right into a woman, knocking the breath from her chest.
The both of them scramble backwards, muttering apologies at the same time. The woman looks young, in her early twenties. Her eyes are blue, and her hair is a blonde colour quite close to the Doctor's own. A slit in the girl's eyebrow catches the Doctor's attention. She's a rather distinctive-looking individual.
"Oh my God! Sorry," the girl says, laughing awkwardly. "I'm so sorry. I hope you didn't get hurt. I don't know what happened there, but I just— I guess I got distracted by the—" She stops and laughs again. "Nevermind. Are you okay?"
The Doctor, who had been listening up to this point, tries to give the young woman a smile. It comes off as more of a wince again.
"I'm fine! No worries, I— no, actually, I'm not fine!" she suddenly exclaims.
"Oh no," the girl says, covering her mouth with her hand. "I am so—"
"I had this mate I was travelling with, yeah?" the Doctor presses on, her words tumbling out of her mouth. "And then poof. They're gone! I can't find them anywhere! One minute they're right there, next minute… nothing. Not even a footprint!"
The girl laughs again, but it sounds more nervous this time. "Gone? Like— gone because they're ghosting you, or… gone-gone? Disappeared?"
The Doctor doesn't even stop to wonder why a stranger would ask such a specific question. It just fuels her to keep talking. There's something about the young woman that makes her feel at ease.
"Gone-gone-gone," she replies. "Actually gone. And I know I'm going to sound like a lunatic saying this, but I'm the only one who remembers them! Not even their parents—" she points down the street "—remember having them. And I just—"
She stops and starts pacing, screwing her eyes shut until they wrinkle, as if that's going to make her brain work harder. "I feel like I'm missing something. A detail. A tiny, little, massive detail! There's something seriously wrong with time. It feels suspended, frozen. Something is distorting time around my friend specifically."
"Oh!" The girl snaps her fingers, smiling. "Like an alternate timeline!"
"Exactly!"
"Were you there with them when they disappeared?" she asks.
"No. I mean, I think I was, but…" The Doctor lets out a heavy sigh. "When I woke up, they were already gone."
"What if it had something to do with you, then?" the girl asks, just as energetic as the Doctor herself. "Cause that happened to me once, and—" she laughs again "—I don't remember much? But it did involve me doing something I shouldn't have done, and then having to do all these things to find a way to fix it. It happened another time too, but…"
She puffs out a breath of air, looking up at the sky with a sad smile. "I mean… what if that's what happened to you?"
That makes the Doctor pause.
She stays completely still. A thought is right on the tip of her metaphorical tongue, tickling her brain, but it won't quite show itself. She tries to grasp for it, thinking out loud.
"The last time we were together was with the wish-granting comets," she mutters, a sad smile touching her face. "I— I wanted them to see it. Told them all about the myth. Then they whispered something to the comets. But what?" She snaps back into full Doctor mode, her voice sharpening. "And why? Why whisper to a ball of space-ice? Why not just tell me instead?"
The girl gives her an amused, knowing smile.
"What?" the Doctor asks, feeling properly thrown.
"I mean, if them being gone has something to do with you… then what if they whispered something about you?" the girl asks, her voice careful. "Something they thought they couldn't tell you."
That thought tickles the Time Lord's brain again.
"Maybe they wanted you to see something…" the girl continues. "Or… do something? Say something?"
The Doctor gasps. The thought has finally shown itself properly.
"Oh, you are brilliant!" she exclaims, gesturing excitedly. "Can't believe I didn't think of that earlier. I think there's too much going on, my brain's too crowded. Ever since they left, I guess I've just been feeling so—"
"Dormant?" the girl finishes, smiling. "Yeah, I get that. It's like being the only one who remembers… It wears you down."
"Yeah," the Doctor nods, feeling rather bashful about admitting it. "But now I know what to do, and it's all thanks to you. Thank you, you've really helped."
The girl lets out a laugh, one of the sweetest sounds the Doctor's ever heard. "Yeah, course, yeah! Go on then, go find them!"
The Doctor does — and neither of them realises they didn't even stop to ask each other's name.
For the sake of the future, maybe that was for the best.
If the police were indeed looking for a blonde, five-foot-five invader, they'd find her running like the wind, her coat flapping like a wing behind her as she searched for one thing: her TARDIS.
The Doctor bursts inside the ship, tosses her coat over a handrail, and immediately flies to the console.
She types in the coordinates, and the TARDIS lets out a complaining groan.
"You've got to trust me on this one," she says, frantically darting from one side to the other, yanking levers and hitting buttons as if her life depends on it. "I'm so dumb, can you believe how dumb I am? I just had a talk with— ugh, I didn't even ask her name! But I spoke with someone, and I know what's happened now. Which is why I need you to take me there."
The ship makes another puzzled vworp.
"Yeah. You guessed it. We're going back to Itrer."
She slams down the take-off lever, and the ship whirs into life.
If there's one rule about time travel the Doctor actually respects, it's this: never — and she can't stress this enough, never — cross your own timeline. That, and not messing with the fabric of time.
Currently, she's doing both.
Well, messing with the fabric of time wasn't exactly her choice. None of this would've happened if you'd just whispered your whisper to her instead.
But yeah, she's crossing her own timeline now. And she's not sorry.
Parking the TARDIS outside the inn is a struggle. The old girl is actively — and very aggressively — resisting the landing. Temporal feedback loop and all that. Very bad for the paintwork.
She's landed at the exact moment of the day before you disappeared (has it really only been one day since then? Who can tell anymore?). Inside the TARDIS, she's just an observer, watching time pass until it happens.
Until the Lovers show up.
Her controls are decidedly messed up because of the interference, but she can still make out her own figure arriving at the inn at the same time she had with you.
Only this time, she's alone.
The Doctor watches herself walk up to the innkeeper and head inside the building in total disbelief. She looks like she's running on autopilot. Just a shadow of herself.
"Dormant," she mutters. "Bet I don't even know why I'm heading there in the first place."
And, with a sinking realisation, she asks out loud, "Is that what I look like when I'm not with you?"
She tries not to think about what that means — even though, right now, she has to. If she wants to bring you back, she needs to remember how to let her hearts beat without trying to choke them dead.
She waits, watching time crawl by, not daring to leave the TARDIS. She can't risk making things worse, not now. She's mapped out a plan. She knows what she has to do.
When the Lovers finally appear in the sky, the Doctor closes her eyes and takes a long, steadying breath.
And she thinks of you.
She remembers your curious eyes, your bright smile, the way you seem to light up whenever you're together.
She remembers your questions, your confusion, and the way you look when you're completely exhausted — usually because of her.
She remembers how you look at her when she's brilliant, like she's the only star in the galaxy.
She remembers the weight of your gaze when she's less than ideal, the disappointment clouding your eyes.
And she misses all of it.
"I'm sorry," she says at last. "I'm sorry I was so stubborn, so blind, that I didn't admit how much you meant to me until you were literally gone. I'm sorry I caused this, and I'm sorry you're not here."
The Doctor opens her eyes and looks at the comets on the scanner, a bitter laugh catching in her throat.
"The truth is, I wanted to say it. I meant to. That was always the intention, through everything I ever did with you.
"But I thought — I hoped — that my intentions would be enough. That you'd see me through this daft old face of mine." She smiles again. "And you did. Of course you did. You were so clever, and so much braver than me. Now you're not here and I— I'm lost.
"Two celestial beings nicked my momentum — still can't quite believe they're actually listening — and they forced me to see it: this reality, this timeline, this universe, without you… isn't the same at all.
"I'm the Doctor. I've watched universes die and be born, I've saved more worlds than I can count from complete destruction, but right now? I don't want to waste my time in a universe you're not in."
She closes her eyes again and whispers the closest she'll ever get to the real truth beating in her hearts.
"I miss you. And I… I need you."
Suddenly, the floor lurches and yanks her out from under her own feet. The TARDIS shudders, violently, as if something is trying to knock her onto her side. Sparks spit from the console, smoke blooming across the room and clawing at the Doctor's throat.
The ship takes flight on her own, centre column hammering up and down in a frantic blur. The Doctor staggers, manages two steps, then the next jolt hurls her back to the floor. For once, she doesn't say a word as the control room becomes a spinning mess of amber, blue, and yellow; shards of console casing skitter past, her mechanic tools clattering in every direction.
And then, cutting through the chaos, comes the sound of reckoning and fate.
The cloister bell.
"No!" she yells, hands clinging to the railing until her knuckles turn white. "What are you doing? This is my only chance of getting them back, not the time for you to throw a fit!"
The bell tolls again, louder, the vibration rattling right through her bones.
And the doors swing wide.
The Doctor's eyes widen as her predicament finally dawns on her. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. Not again, not this time!"
The TARDIS pays her no mind. Whatever's driving her is still a fog in the Doctor's head as the ship keeps bucking, throwing her weight toward the open doors.
"Why are you doing this?!" she pleads. "What did I do? I was only—" She stops. "Oh. Wait a minute."
Her hand burns, and she knows she won't be able to hold on much longer. Below, the abyss yawns, gravity calling her name. But she hangs on, because the pieces are finally starting to click into place.
"Of course! When they whispered, the comets froze in the sky for a tiny second before everything blacked out. That was time—" She hauls in a breath, swapping hands on the railing to keep her grip. "Time doing its thing, changing in real time." A grin flashes across her face. "So now, when I whispered to the comets, time is trying to change this timeline and I… I'm the anomaly."
Still reeling from the realisation, she risks a glance at the drop beneath her. "I can't hold on much longer! And maybe…"
She prays to the stars that her theory is right.
And she lets go.
The Doctor's eyes snap open to the decaying paint on the ceiling.
The trouble is, she doesn't remember falling asleep.
The room is dark, the place is quiet, and time feels… right?
She doesn't immediately register why that surprises her. What she does register is the you-shaped human curled up right next to her.
It makes sense, she thinks at first — the room is freezing and you—
She lurches upright with a gasp, memories flooding back all at once: waking up with you gone, chasing you, letting go.
Which means the you-shaped human is you!
"Doctor?" comes your sleepy voice at her side, your hand slipping to rest against her arm as she moves. "Are you okay?"
What she feels in this moment is pure bliss; happiness and relief surge through her veins until she feels almost electrified.
She whispers your name with the brightest grin. "It's you."
You blink a few times, brow furrowing, before sitting up. "Yeah, of course it's me."
Instinctively, her hand comes up to cup your cheek, as if she's afraid you'll vanish like an illusion.
When you don't, a shaky chuckle escapes her. "It's actually you. It worked."
Your gaze drops to her hand, still warm against your skin. "Don't do this," you mutter. "No cheek-touching, unless you're going to kiss me."
Just as instinctively, the Doctor feels the urge to pull back. Drop her hand, roll away, be a source of heat and nothing else.
But now she remembers the void you left in her life. She remembers how much it hurt not having you, and how much she needs you.
Wasn't that what she whispered to the Lovers anyway?
So she doesn't withdraw her hand. Instead, her thumb traces slow circles over your soft skin.
You swallow hard, and suddenly the air between you feels that much heavier.
You say her name, tentative. "Did something happen?"
At that, she grins, something sad and amused all at once. "Ah, mate. You have no idea."
She brings her other hand up to cradle your face. "Just had this dream," she starts, voice calm but urgent, never letting a sentence breathe for long, "about this woman — brilliant stuff, really — who had everything she wanted except the one person she needed most. Not because that person wasn't brilliant, because they were, but because the woman fumbled it so, so badly that the person she liked ended up gone."
She pauses to check your reaction. She recognises that look — the one you get when you're pretty sure she's a bit mad, but you're also starting to follow.
So she goes on. "That dream made me think, you know. Some things only happen once in hundreds and hundreds of years. And when they do, you can't let them go to waste. And I—"
Can't let my love go to waste, she wants to say. But the words won't come.
You nod, encouraging.
"This is all very new to me," she admits.
You chuckle softly. "Don't force words out. I know you, Doctor, they're not gonna come."
"No?" the Doctor asks.
You shake your head. "Just… think of the first thing that crosses your mind. What is it?"
She tilts her chin up, eyebrows arching just slightly. It's never really crossed her mind that it could be this simple — that you'd understand her so quickly, that she could just… do it.
Because right now, the first thing that crosses her mind is just how beautiful you are.
Your cheeks are slightly flushed — whether from her warmth or her proximity, she'll take either — and your skin is hot under her touch. Your eyes dart across her face, trying to read her, glowing with anticipation.
And your lips… They've always been so tempting. It's just the first time she admits it to herself.
And that's why — feeling just as terrified as she was when she took the leap out of the TARDIS — she does the first thing that comes to mind and closes the tiny space between your faces.
And your lips meet.
It's not as graceful as she was aiming for. The bed creaks beneath her, and she has no idea if she's being too soft or too much.
But your mouth fits hers perfectly, and you suck in a sharp breath before kissing her back. You stay like that for a few seconds — seconds the Doctor experiences as years and years of her lives, each one more perfect than the last.
And then, you break apart.
At first, you take another deep breath in, then out. You look surprised and a little shocked, and she studies your every expression as if you were a mystery she needs to become an expert on.
She hopes you enjoyed it just as much as she did.
She hopes you want another one just as much as she does.
As if in answer to her hopes and wishes, your face breaks into a smile — and so does hers. She has no time to quip about how relieved she is to have apparently done it right before you lean in again, cupping her face between your cold hands.
You capture her lips with your own, guiding her into a kiss as beautiful as time itself.
And when your tongues meet, that surge of electricity races through her veins like rays of sunshine. She has you here, in her arms, and the dormant landscape her life became without you feels impossibly far away.
Summary: She starts explaining that there’s no actual truth-whispering involved, that they’re just two comets that, for some reason or another, became gravitationally locked. But truth be told, you’re barely paying her any mind. She might be telling you none of that is important, but the same person who took you to a private box, then a private table, then a private bedroom, is the same person who orchestrated everything so that you'd be here to see them.
To see the Lovers.
She's saying with her actions and with her face something else altogether.
Author's note: yes this is a christmas story yes it's february no i didn't ask (affectionate)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Christmas: on Earth, it is a time of celebration and joy, a time when people gather to look back on the year spent with those they love and look forward to what the future will bring.
It's a beautiful holiday. In theory.
In practice… well, let's start with the fact that you're not even on Earth. You aren't surrounded by celebrations, smiles, and a mountain of food, either. Instead, you're running through crowded streets, bumping into hurried, cranky aliens (who think you're the alien — and they're right!), and trying to keep your eyes open as the cold wind of a snowstorm whips against your face.
Still, you know it's Christmas because you're following her: the Doctor. The one who put you in this mess to begin with.
The one you love.
Of course, she doesn't know that.
"This one!" she suddenly exclaims, pointing at the door of one of the endless motels lining the street. "I'm sure this one has a vacancy. I can feel it! Me brain's tingling."
You fix her with a pointed look, not buying her "tingly intuition" for a second.
"You've said that before," you yell, nearly screaming to make your voice heard over the roar of the crowd and the wind. "Nine times!"
"Okay! Tenth time's the charm!" She throws her arms out, her expression a mix of defensiveness and smugness that only she could pull off.
She knocks emphatically on the door as you take your place next to her, your hands tugging at your drawstrings as you try to warm your ears the best you can.
You wish you could talk more about this planet, but to do that, you would either need to be able to pronounce its name or have the time to actually stop and appreciate it. The busy, cobblestone streets are covered in people and snow, a sight almost reminiscent of home — until you look up. The sky is graced with two suns and five moons, all of them visible at once.
The people are just people, though smaller than your average human. Smaller than the Doctor, for sure.
The door swings open, and an angry-looking man regards the two of you with such intensity that you think he might swing at you if given the chance. He is wearing a light-blue jumpsuit which, paired with his white beard, makes him look like a disgruntled Smurf.
The man scowls. "You the Tattep couple?"
The Doctor's grin falters for a fraction of a second before she doubles down, grinning even wider and bending slightly at the knees. "That's us! How'd you reckon?"
He grumbles at her, "I was closing up already. You nearly missed me, I'm telling you!"
"Right," she says, scrunching her nose before lacing her arm through yours. "Bit of a pickle getting here. Sorry about that."
You're convinced the man wants to roll his eyes, but by some miracle, he doesn't. Instead, he simply walks away from the door, leaving it open, which you take as a sign to follow.
You try to focus on that — following him — and not on the fact that he thinks you're a couple, or on the sensation of her arm linked with yours. Completely unaware of your internal struggle, her hair windswept and her eyes full of light, the Doctor tugs at you and tilts her head.
"Once more unto the breach, then!"
She mercifully lets go of your arm and walks inside. You follow her.
The inn — at least, you assume it's an inn — is a chaotic swarm of people. The common area is packed with chattering locals, and the corridor he leads you through isn't much better. It's as if there are an infinite number of rooms, and every single one is occupied. Finally, at the very end of the hallway, you reach a vacant room.
Yours.
The man tosses a pair of keys at you before making his exit. You thank the heavens he didn't catch her muttered, "Well, thanks for that, at least."
Fitting the key into the lock, you pause and turn to her. "I think we just left two people outside in the snow, didn't we?"
She wrinkles her nose again in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. "You heard Papa Smurf. He was closing up! They'd be stuck outside anyway, it would be a wasted room!"
Without bothering to wait for you to turn the key, she pulls the sonic from her inner pocket and opens the door with a buzz, hurrying inside like a kid on her way to a playground.
The playground, however, turns out to be slightly disappointing, if the way she halts near the threshold is any indication.
"I won't lie," she begins. "I was expecting more."
She isn't wrong. The room is small — so small you're convinced two people couldn't possibly walk around the bed at the same time. The window is tiny, square, and rusty. The paint on the walls is fading.
And there is only one bed.
"Maybe we should go back to the TARDIS instead," you suggest, trying to hide your desperation behind a layer of feigned disinterest.
"Under this snow?" she asks, the question more rhetorical than anything as her eyes roam the room. "You're not gonna make it, I'm afraid."
"Great, I love being the liability," you mutter under your breath.
"It's not my fault you're human," she replies, not missing a beat.
Suddenly, she sits down on the bed with a plop. She bounces a few more times as if testing the springs. It creaks loudly with her movements, which apparently amuses her.
"Doesn't look like much, but I like it. Seven out of ten." Her eyes settle on you quizzically. "Trying to grow roots, are ya?"
You let out a slightly disconcerted chuckle, taking the chance to turn your back to her to close the door, avoiding her eyes in the process.
It's not like you haven't sat close to each other before. But it's usually on the TARDIS floor helping with repairs, or on some planet's battered ground as you try to escape a murderous alien.
Not on a bed. In a small room. With the door closed.
"I can't sit there," you finally say. "My coat is soggy because of the snow — snow we wouldn't have had to walk through if someone hadn't parked the TARDIS so far away from the festival."
"Oi! I thought you liked the festival!"
You did. The festival was a display of colours and lights — similar to the Northern Lights on Earth but tenfold stronger — along with a dance performance by a local species with small, fluorescent wings. They looked like fairies.
One thing you still don't understand, though, is why you stayed in a private box with her, where it was just the two of you.
"And the food!" she adds triumphantly, as if she knows you liked that part even more than the rest.
And to be honest, you did. What you still don't understand, however, is why you were at a private table, just like the rest of the couples there.
It seems like a pattern, now that you think about it.
After a brief moment of silence, you sigh. "I did. And I still think your parking job needs work."
She vents an indignant sort of sound before pulling something out of one of her many pockets.
"Here, use this," she says, handing you something that looks like a laundry bag. "Some cat nuns gave me that a few centuries ago, never got around to using it. It's got a built-in drying function."
You take it from her, biting back a stubborn smile that insists on breaking your composure for a reason you're not quite familiar with. You place your coat inside the bag and set it on the floor.
Now, you have no choice but to sit down next to her.
Aside from the bed creaking as you try to find a comfortable spot, the act of actually finding said position proves even more annoying. The Doctor has a very characteristic way of sitting — one you're trying really hard not to refer to as manspreading — but that is exactly what she's doing, leaving you very little space to sit without brushing your thigh against her knee.
The alien in question remains blissfully ignorant, her eyes inspecting every inch of the room.
Your own eyes are drawn to her figure. Her back is slightly slouched, her elbows resting against her thighs to propel her forward. Her hair is wavy from the roots — a consequence of the snow — and with the way it reflects the yellow light from above, she almost looks like an angel. The tip of her nose is a bit red, tinged by the cold outside, and yet she emanates warmth, like your own customised, living heating pad.
Suddenly, she turns to you, and her eyes land exactly on yours, locking you in place.
You should look away, you know that. You should avert your gaze, but you can't. You don't want to. Not when her eyes look so golden, so kind. Not when her skin looks so soft and her lips so inviting. Not when you know you're escalating this further than you ever should.
But in your defence, she hasn't looked away either. Her eyes, which are usually as dynamic as the rest of her, dart specifically around your face. Her brow is slightly creased — it wouldn't be her if it weren't — but her eyebrows are just a little arched, as if she's debating something within her mind.
You should look away. She should look away. And yet, neither of you has.
Deep, deep down, a flame ignites inside you, giving you the courage to ask: "Doctor… is there something you want to tell me?"
"Yeah," she says, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "We might have a heating problem."
She gets up from the bed, and you fall back onto it with a dry, incredulous laugh.
"These walls are really thin," she says, pressing her ear against the wall facing the bed. "If you're not feeling cold now, thank the sheer number of people Papa Smurf has stuffed in here. Well, and me, of course."
You lift your head slightly, looking at her quizzically.
She doesn't even blink when she says, matter-of-factly, "I'm very hot."
You, however, blink. A few times.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"I mean it," she says, one hand on her hip, the other busying itself with a loose strand of hair. She adds, somewhat proudly, "I have far fewer cold-nociceptors, and let me tell ya: it really makes a difference when it comes down to it."
"I'm going to pretend I understood what that meant," you say. "Anyway, the festival is over. Why are there so many people still here?"
"They're not here for the festival," she replies, her head nearly glued to the tiny window as she struggles to see outside.
"Why, then?"
"For the same reason we are!" she finishes, giving you one of her bright grins, one of those that manage to look incredibly excited and incredibly awkward all at once.
It's your favourite grin, by the way.
"I thought we were here because of the festival," you say, sitting up. "What are we here for, then?"
"Ah, you'll see!" She grins wider, throwing her arms out. "We're nearly there. Just—" she pauses to walk with some difficulty back to the window, looks up at the sky, then back at you "—a few more hours."
You squint playfully at her. "What is it?"
"So, round of I Spy?" she asks, her squared, toothy smile returning.
You groan, falling back onto the bed.
"Come on!" she calls. "Pass the time. I'll start!"
You indulge her — as you usually do — by playing this round, then another, and then another, until you've lost count of how many things you've spied and how many more things she can make up in a room so small, just to sound clever.
Throughout the game, something else happens, too. Maybe it's because she's right and the walls are thin; maybe it's because the room is so small anyway. Maybe it's just that you're lucky she's worried about you. Either way, over the course of the rounds, she starts sitting closer. Then closer. Then closer still.
Until, of course, you're sitting side by side on the bed.
You can't do much about it because she's right, there is a warmth emanating from her that is keeping you warm. But if you move, you inevitably intrude on her space, and when she moves (and, God, how much she moves), she definitely invades yours.
When you turn to the side, you can breathe her scent in. When she looks at you, you can see all the shapes the light reflects in her eyes.
And, honestly, you kind of want to die.
Instead, and without really noticing, you fall asleep.
You wake to a very excited, very hyper, and very loud voice in your ear, saying something about it being about to happen.
It's only when you open your eyes that you notice you've fallen asleep — though that isn't the shocking part. Rather, it's where you fell asleep.
Your head is resting against her chest, her arm tucked somewhere behind your back.
You don't have time to feel as mortified as you'd like. She gets up from the bed, pushing you aside with an awkward gentleness, before hurrying to the small window.
"Ah! It's here!" she exclaims, waving you closer. "Come on. You're gonna miss it!"
You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain what little composure you have left. You make your way to where the Doctor is, squeezing your head next to hers so you can see what she's seeing.
At first, you see nothing. Then, two dots of light catch your attention. They are orbiting each other — so closely that it looks as though they're dancing — moving to and fro but always circling one another. They leave a trail of air and light in their wake, transforming the planet's sky into something akin to a painting.
"Told ya!" she says. "They're the reason everyone and their dog is here."
"Doctor…" you say, almost at a loss for words. "They're beautiful. What are they?"
"They're two comets that, every few hundred years, appear in the sky on this side of the galaxy," she explains, her voice tickling your ear. "They're always together, orbiting one another, keeping each other in their own space. Dancing, really. That's what it looks like."
You smile at the stellar pair. Beyond the dancing, their little back-and-forth routine reminds you of her and yourself — always circling, invading each other's spaces, never truly apart.
"And that's why the locals call them The Lovers," she adds, a tiny piece of information that nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.
But she goes on. "According to their legend, if you whisper a truth of love to the comets, the universe will ensure it's heard."
You swallow hard. The comets and their beautiful dance are no longer the focus of your gaze, which lands on any random spot it can find in the distance.
And then, you look at her.
Her eyes are glowing bright, tracking the Lovers as they move back and forth. Her entire face looks relaxed, light, happy. You can't even remember the last time you saw her look this childlike. You might even say there's a thread of something else behind her eyes, a glimpse of… hope? Melancholy? Or perhaps a strange mix of the two.
You don't know what to do with that.
She starts explaining that there's no actual truth-whispering involved, that they're just two comets that, for some reason or another, became gravitationally locked. But truth be told, you're barely paying her any mind. She might be telling you none of that is important, but the same person who took you to a private box, then a private table, then a private bedroom, is the same person who orchestrated everything so that you'd be here to see them.
To see the Lovers.
She's saying with her actions and with her face something else altogether.
If you're taking the hint — and you think, at this point, they're not so much hints as they are highlighted footsteps — why doesn't she just tell you the truth?
When she finishes speaking, your eyes fall back on the pair, now starting to make their way back toward the distant horizons.
"Just a whisper, right?" you ask her.
"Yeah!" she confirms. "So they say— wait, were you listening to anything I just said?"
You close your eyes.
And you whisper to yourself: "I wish she would tell me the truth."
When you open your eyes, the comets are frozen in the sky.
Summary: She starts explaining that there’s no actual truth-whispering involved, that they’re just two comets that, for some reason or another, became gravitationally locked. But truth be told, you’re barely paying her any mind. She might be telling you none of that is important, but the same person who took you to a private box, then a private table, then a private bedroom, is the same person who orchestrated everything so that you'd be here to see them.
To see the Lovers.
She's saying with her actions and with her face something else altogether.
Author's note: yes this is a christmas story yes it's february no i didn't ask (affectionate)
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2
Christmas: on Earth, it is a time of celebration and joy, a time when people gather to look back on the year spent with those they love and look forward to what the future will bring.
It's a beautiful holiday. In theory.
In practice… well, let's start with the fact that you're not even on Earth. You aren't surrounded by celebrations, smiles, and a mountain of food, either. Instead, you're running through crowded streets, bumping into hurried, cranky aliens (who think you're the alien — and they're right!), and trying to keep your eyes open as the cold wind of a snowstorm whips against your face.
Still, you know it's Christmas because you're following her: the Doctor. The one who put you in this mess to begin with.
The one you love.
Of course, she doesn't know that.
"This one!" she suddenly exclaims, pointing at the door of one of the endless motels lining the street. "I'm sure this one has a vacancy. I can feel it! Me brain's tingling."
You fix her with a pointed look, not buying her "tingly intuition" for a second.
"You've said that before," you yell, nearly screaming to make your voice heard over the roar of the crowd and the wind. "Nine times!"
"Okay! Tenth time's the charm!" She throws her arms out, her expression a mix of defensiveness and smugness that only she could pull off.
She knocks emphatically on the door as you take your place next to her, your hands tugging at your drawstrings as you try to warm your ears the best you can.
You wish you could talk more about this planet, but to do that, you would either need to be able to pronounce its name or have the time to actually stop and appreciate it. The busy, cobblestone streets are covered in people and snow, a sight almost reminiscent of home — until you look up. The sky is graced with two suns and five moons, all of them visible at once.
The people are just people, though smaller than your average human. Smaller than the Doctor, for sure.
The door swings open, and an angry-looking man regards the two of you with such intensity that you think he might swing at you if given the chance. He is wearing a light-blue jumpsuit which, paired with his white beard, makes him look like a disgruntled Smurf.
The man scowls. "You the Tattep couple?"
The Doctor's grin falters for a fraction of a second before she doubles down, grinning even wider and bending slightly at the knees. "That's us! How'd you reckon?"
He grumbles at her, "I was closing up already. You nearly missed me, I'm telling you!"
"Right," she says, scrunching her nose before lacing her arm through yours. "Bit of a pickle getting here. Sorry about that."
You're convinced the man wants to roll his eyes, but by some miracle, he doesn't. Instead, he simply walks away from the door, leaving it open, which you take as a sign to follow.
You try to focus on that — following him — and not on the fact that he thinks you're a couple, or on the sensation of her arm linked with yours. Completely unaware of your internal struggle, her hair windswept and her eyes full of light, the Doctor tugs at you and tilts her head.
"Once more unto the breach, then!"
She mercifully lets go of your arm and walks inside. You follow her.
The inn — at least, you assume it's an inn — is a chaotic swarm of people. The common area is packed with chattering locals, and the corridor he leads you through isn't much better. It's as if there are an infinite number of rooms, and every single one is occupied. Finally, at the very end of the hallway, you reach a vacant room.
Yours.
The man tosses a pair of keys at you before making his exit. You thank the heavens he didn't catch her muttered, "Well, thanks for that, at least."
Fitting the key into the lock, you pause and turn to her. "I think we just left two people outside in the snow, didn't we?"
She wrinkles her nose again in a blink-and-you-miss-it moment. "You heard Papa Smurf. He was closing up! They'd be stuck outside anyway, it would be a wasted room!"
Without bothering to wait for you to turn the key, she pulls the sonic from her inner pocket and opens the door with a buzz, hurrying inside like a kid on her way to a playground.
The playground, however, turns out to be slightly disappointing, if the way she halts near the threshold is any indication.
"I won't lie," she begins. "I was expecting more."
She isn't wrong. The room is small — so small you're convinced two people couldn't possibly walk around the bed at the same time. The window is tiny, square, and rusty. The paint on the walls is fading.
And there is only one bed.
"Maybe we should go back to the TARDIS instead," you suggest, trying to hide your desperation behind a layer of feigned disinterest.
"Under this snow?" she asks, the question more rhetorical than anything as her eyes roam the room. "You're not gonna make it, I'm afraid."
"Great, I love being the liability," you mutter under your breath.
"It's not my fault you're human," she replies, not missing a beat.
Suddenly, she sits down on the bed with a plop. She bounces a few more times as if testing the springs. It creaks loudly with her movements, which apparently amuses her.
"Doesn't look like much, but I like it. Seven out of ten." Her eyes settle on you quizzically. "Trying to grow roots, are ya?"
You let out a slightly disconcerted chuckle, taking the chance to turn your back to her to close the door, avoiding her eyes in the process.
It's not like you haven't sat close to each other before. But it's usually on the TARDIS floor helping with repairs, or on some planet's battered ground as you try to escape a murderous alien.
Not on a bed. In a small room. With the door closed.
"I can't sit there," you finally say. "My coat is soggy because of the snow — snow we wouldn't have had to walk through if someone hadn't parked the TARDIS so far away from the festival."
"Oi! I thought you liked the festival!"
You did. The festival was a display of colours and lights — similar to the Northern Lights on Earth but tenfold stronger — along with a dance performance by a local species with small, fluorescent wings. They looked like fairies.
One thing you still don't understand, though, is why you stayed in a private box with her, where it was just the two of you.
"And the food!" she adds triumphantly, as if she knows you liked that part even more than the rest.
And to be honest, you did. What you still don't understand, however, is why you were at a private table, just like the rest of the couples there.
It seems like a pattern, now that you think about it.
After a brief moment of silence, you sigh. "I did. And I still think your parking job needs work."
She vents an indignant sort of sound before pulling something out of one of her many pockets.
"Here, use this," she says, handing you something that looks like a laundry bag. "Some cat nuns gave me that a few centuries ago, never got around to using it. It's got a built-in drying function."
You take it from her, biting back a stubborn smile that insists on breaking your composure for a reason you're not quite familiar with. You place your coat inside the bag and set it on the floor.
Now, you have no choice but to sit down next to her.
Aside from the bed creaking as you try to find a comfortable spot, the act of actually finding said position proves even more annoying. The Doctor has a very characteristic way of sitting — one you're trying really hard not to refer to as manspreading — but that is exactly what she's doing, leaving you very little space to sit without brushing your thigh against her knee.
The alien in question remains blissfully ignorant, her eyes inspecting every inch of the room.
Your own eyes are drawn to her figure. Her back is slightly slouched, her elbows resting against her thighs to propel her forward. Her hair is wavy from the roots — a consequence of the snow — and with the way it reflects the yellow light from above, she almost looks like an angel. The tip of her nose is a bit red, tinged by the cold outside, and yet she emanates warmth, like your own customised, living heating pad.
Suddenly, she turns to you, and her eyes land exactly on yours, locking you in place.
You should look away, you know that. You should avert your gaze, but you can't. You don't want to. Not when her eyes look so golden, so kind. Not when her skin looks so soft and her lips so inviting. Not when you know you're escalating this further than you ever should.
But in your defence, she hasn't looked away either. Her eyes, which are usually as dynamic as the rest of her, dart specifically around your face. Her brow is slightly creased — it wouldn't be her if it weren't — but her eyebrows are just a little arched, as if she's debating something within her mind.
You should look away. She should look away. And yet, neither of you has.
Deep, deep down, a flame ignites inside you, giving you the courage to ask: "Doctor… is there something you want to tell me?"
"Yeah," she says, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "We might have a heating problem."
She gets up from the bed, and you fall back onto it with a dry, incredulous laugh.
"These walls are really thin," she says, pressing her ear against the wall facing the bed. "If you're not feeling cold now, thank the sheer number of people Papa Smurf has stuffed in here. Well, and me, of course."
You lift your head slightly, looking at her quizzically.
She doesn't even blink when she says, matter-of-factly, "I'm very hot."
You, however, blink. A few times.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"I mean it," she says, one hand on her hip, the other busying itself with a loose strand of hair. She adds, somewhat proudly, "I have far fewer cold-nociceptors, and let me tell ya: it really makes a difference when it comes down to it."
"I'm going to pretend I understood what that meant," you say. "Anyway, the festival is over. Why are there so many people still here?"
"They're not here for the festival," she replies, her head nearly glued to the tiny window as she struggles to see outside.
"Why, then?"
"For the same reason we are!" she finishes, giving you one of her bright grins, one of those that manage to look incredibly excited and incredibly awkward all at once.
It's your favourite grin, by the way.
"I thought we were here because of the festival," you say, sitting up. "What are we here for, then?"
"Ah, you'll see!" She grins wider, throwing her arms out. "We're nearly there. Just—" she pauses to walk with some difficulty back to the window, looks up at the sky, then back at you "—a few more hours."
You squint playfully at her. "What is it?"
"So, round of I Spy?" she asks, her squared, toothy smile returning.
You groan, falling back onto the bed.
"Come on!" she calls. "Pass the time. I'll start!"
You indulge her — as you usually do — by playing this round, then another, and then another, until you've lost count of how many things you've spied and how many more things she can make up in a room so small, just to sound clever.
Throughout the game, something else happens, too. Maybe it's because she's right and the walls are thin; maybe it's because the room is so small anyway. Maybe it's just that you're lucky she's worried about you. Either way, over the course of the rounds, she starts sitting closer. Then closer. Then closer still.
Until, of course, you're sitting side by side on the bed.
You can't do much about it because she's right, there is a warmth emanating from her that is keeping you warm. But if you move, you inevitably intrude on her space, and when she moves (and, God, how much she moves), she definitely invades yours.
When you turn to the side, you can breathe her scent in. When she looks at you, you can see all the shapes the light reflects in her eyes.
And, honestly, you kind of want to die.
Instead, and without really noticing, you fall asleep.
You wake to a very excited, very hyper, and very loud voice in your ear, saying something about it being about to happen.
It's only when you open your eyes that you notice you've fallen asleep — though that isn't the shocking part. Rather, it's where you fell asleep.
Your head is resting against her chest, her arm tucked somewhere behind your back.
You don't have time to feel as mortified as you'd like. She gets up from the bed, pushing you aside with an awkward gentleness, before hurrying to the small window.
"Ah! It's here!" she exclaims, waving you closer. "Come on. You're gonna miss it!"
You let out a deep sigh, trying to regain what little composure you have left. You make your way to where the Doctor is, squeezing your head next to hers so you can see what she's seeing.
At first, you see nothing. Then, two dots of light catch your attention. They are orbiting each other — so closely that it looks as though they're dancing — moving to and fro but always circling one another. They leave a trail of air and light in their wake, transforming the planet's sky into something akin to a painting.
"Told ya!" she says. "They're the reason everyone and their dog is here."
"Doctor…" you say, almost at a loss for words. "They're beautiful. What are they?"
"They're two comets that, every few hundred years, appear in the sky on this side of the galaxy," she explains, her voice tickling your ear. "They're always together, orbiting one another, keeping each other in their own space. Dancing, really. That's what it looks like."
You smile at the stellar pair. Beyond the dancing, their little back-and-forth routine reminds you of her and yourself — always circling, invading each other's spaces, never truly apart.
"And that's why the locals call them The Lovers," she adds, a tiny piece of information that nearly knocks the air out of your lungs.
But she goes on. "According to their legend, if you whisper a truth of love to the comets, the universe will ensure it's heard."
You swallow hard. The comets and their beautiful dance are no longer the focus of your gaze, which lands on any random spot it can find in the distance.
And then, you look at her.
Her eyes are glowing bright, tracking the Lovers as they move back and forth. Her entire face looks relaxed, light, happy. You can't even remember the last time you saw her look this childlike. You might even say there's a thread of something else behind her eyes, a glimpse of… hope? Melancholy? Or perhaps a strange mix of the two.
You don't know what to do with that.
She starts explaining that there's no actual truth-whispering involved, that they're just two comets that, for some reason or another, became gravitationally locked. But truth be told, you're barely paying her any mind. She might be telling you none of that is important, but the same person who took you to a private box, then a private table, then a private bedroom, is the same person who orchestrated everything so that you'd be here to see them.
To see the Lovers.
She's saying with her actions and with her face something else altogether.
If you're taking the hint — and you think, at this point, they're not so much hints as they are highlighted footsteps — why doesn't she just tell you the truth?
When she finishes speaking, your eyes fall back on the pair, now starting to make their way back toward the distant horizons.
"Just a whisper, right?" you ask her.
"Yeah!" she confirms. "So they say— wait, were you listening to anything I just said?"
You close your eyes.
And you whisper to yourself: "I wish she would tell me the truth."
When you open your eyes, the comets are frozen in the sky.
tag people/new moots you want to get to know better!
Thanks for tagging me, Emmy! 🫶 ( @f1tf )
Reading: I finished People To Follow by Olivia Worley (⭐️⭐️/5) like two days ago. It honestly wasn't that great... but it was entertaining enough so it gets a little bit of a pass.
Last Series: I'm in the middle of watching so many series it's ridiculous but the last series I watched in full was His & Hers (⭐️⭐️/5) on Netflix. Pretty mid (imho) but I liked the final twist. Truly didn't think the story had it in her by that point but she surprised me. It only took them 6 full episodes to get there but they got there so kudos for that one, I guess.
Last Movie: I haven't watched a movie in so long I don't even remember what was the last movie I watched lol 😅.
Last Song: Who We Are by Hozier 🫶
Sweet or Salty: It depends. I have been craving salty lately but I have also been craving chocolate glazed donuts. So I'm gonna say both. First sweet, then salty. Is that healthy? Probably not. But who cares?
Tea or Coffee: Again, it depends. But so far I have drank like six coffees this weekend alone (much to the concern of my brother 😅) so I'm gonna say coffee this time.
Working On: Fandom wise? Not much, really. Just enjoying the content atm. Personal? I started working on a new writing project this weekend (hence the coffee) so currently working on that.
Tagging some people that I have noticed around and would like to get to know: @piiledrivers @morgangillorybrainrotted @thewickedbohemian @blackmascara @gingerpeachtea @rebelcaptain4life @goodmorningtomyblorbos @jerzwriter & @theroseapothecary no pressure tho!
Reading: simplified physics for grade 12 😁🔫
Last show: HEATED RIVALRY MY LOVE
Last movie: zootopia 2
Last Song: nauseous by conan gray
Sweet or salty: always salty!!
Tea or Coffee: COFFEEE!!!!!
Projects: still procrastinating my rosekiller scream au
npt: @annisconfused @vanitatum-vanitass @ablazeds @edensolace @strawberry-and-dreams @0upster @sophi-spilled (tagging so randomly that even i'm confused)
Reading: Nothing at the moment but one YouTuber who I watch named Gab Smolders, does horror book reviews (as well as long run gameplay videos) so I’d like to get my hands on some of the ones that she recommends.
Last show: Currently rewatching Taskmaster series 12 as well as catching up on A Discovery Of Witches. (I’m somewhere on series 2 at the moment.)
Last movie: Bill 2015, it’s one of my top favourite films.
Last song : Gold Dust Woman by Fleetwood Mac.
Sweet or salty : Normally salty but I also like the combination of both such as sea salt on chocolate.
Tea or coffee: Normally tea, I’m very fond of honey and lemon and herbal teas but I also enjoy an iced coffee every now and then.
Projects: Hoping to do some more sketches in my sketchbook soon.
Reading: I just finished reading Piranesi by Susanna Clarke and LOVED it, now onto Normal People by Sally Rooney which isn't my usual vibe but it's intrigued me
Last show: Like many other humans in the world, I just finished watching Stranger Things Season 5 - unsure of what I'll watch next
Last movie: Oh man, I actually can't remember, it's been a while
Last song : Ontario by Novo Amor & Lowswimmer
Sweet or salty : Saltyyyy all the wayyy. Really into salt and vinegar chippies atm
Tea or coffee: Coffee with oat milk and no sugar <3
Projects: I'm FINALLY FINALLY writing my Doctor Who parallel universe fantasy au, I've given whittaker!master a wyvern and I'm excited and normal about that. Outside of fics I'm currently hand sewing a quilt with designs inspired by my favourite music albums :) it's taking forever but it's funnn
(Feel free to do this if you wanna but no pressure!): @onecarelessowner @cosmocrowstomorrow @fabulouspotatosister
Reading: it's been a while since I've read it but I'm currently trying to finish The Count of Monte Cristo, one of my favourite stories in the entire world
Last show: I'm watching Marvel's Agent Carter Season 2, approaching the finale 😢 might rewatch Frauds after that for the 262363rd time
Last movie: X-Men Apocalypse
Last song: Low by Coldplay (X&Y my beloved)
Sweet or salty: salty, unless we're talking diet coke 🫣
Tea or coffee: tea cause I don't drink coffee. camomile tea 😋
Projects: I'm currently working on a Christmas themed fic with 13, but super excited to go back to my other 62727473 doctor who AUs, ig: teacher's pet chapter 12, the mummy au, sherlock holmes au, midnight rewrite with 13, and another original fic called Mirror, Mirror on the Wall *phew* do I have the time to do all that? nope! am I trying anyway? absolutely
feel free to try these as well @ussdiscowhale @clueless-cameron
#jodie gave us one hell of a facial journey here like oh my god #you can see the way she’s looking up at the TARDIS because she’s never had to do a reset for her before she’s terrified what it might do #getting that one look to properly drink in her ship before she pulls the lever and then whatever happens happens #and then also there’s a different sort of fear. an underlying one. because the mere mention of death must remind her of what Time told her. #that she’s going to die soon. and ever moment like this. every moment where she’s doing something potentially dangerous. she’s suddenly #lingering on whether this is the last potentially dangerous thing she does. #will this be it? will this be how it ends? #like how she stares down the dalek and says it there as well. not like this. please not like this. #there’s no right way for her to go but she wants it to be on her own terms. #and the little bare of her teeth. the humourless smile. the decision then and there that of course this isn’t that moment. she’s gonna get #everyone out and there’s a beach waiting on the other side. #there’s so many little close calls in this episode that normally would never feel that deadly. because it’s the doctor. she gets out. #but now the audience and the doctor share the same terrible knowledge. #and because of that we have that same wariness the doctor does #and honestly that really adds to the experience. it’s a really good mix of engaging writing and excellent acting choices. #yet again jodie absolutely nailed it. (tags via ovenproofowl)
i just want to give yasmin khan a hug. poor girl literally brought the love of her life back from forced regeneration against all odds only to immediately and permanently lose her again not even half an hour later.
all bc thirteen couldn’t keep her damned trap shut for TWO SECONDS
gummygunk
prguitarman
yousharknotpass
pixelskylines
tangentwithtanner
