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It's Always Darkest...	By : hanakocinnamon Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 2633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dr. Who, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-It's Always Darkest...
- 1
...Before the dawn. Or so they tell me. At any rate, this is a bit of fluff I wrote to get through a rather long block. Add your favorite Doctor, your favorite companion, or hell, yourself, I don't judge, stir, and enjoy. Or not. It's entirely up to you.
[Disclaimer] I don't own Doctor Who, sadly, although I have loved it since I was six years old and Four was on TV. If I did own DW,
I would have Ten and Five chained to my bed on alternate Thursdays. [/Disclaimer]

      She'd forgone her usual evening bout of chess tutoring in favor of going to bed early with an enormous headache. Not that she had *chosen* the headache over the chess bout, or rout, whichever term was more accurate for her nightly massive defeat, but she was tired and fed up and the headache *would* not stop, and so she'd stomped off and gone to bed the moment the Tardis doors had shut.

      It'd been one of those days all around; although by some amazing coincidence they'd reached the location that the Doctor had intended, they were off in the time scale by several months, reaching the planet during their summer instead of their winter, and the Doctor being the Doctor, insisted on their making the grand tour anyway. She'd been complaining about the heat, about the brightness of the trio of suns, the way the light reflected off the endless fields of crystalline plants and made her sunblind- actually, she had been chagrined to realize, she had been complaining about more or less *everything, * which was not at all her usual style. And so, when they'd reached the welcome coolth of the control room, she'd muttered a quiet "Sorry" to him and headed off to her room with her thumb and forefinger clamped to the bridge of her nose. One cool shower later and sleep was not long in coming, albeit a light, unpleasant sort of sleep, marked with vaguely stressful dreams.

      The sudden appearance of him, fully clothed, in her bed, during that period of time colloquially known as 'the middle of the night' was unusual enough in itself; he'd never so much as put his foot over the threshold of her room before, and to wake in confusion and find him here, sprawled partially over the empty edge and partially over her, was enough to cause her to assume she was dreaming. But after a moment or two it was clear that she was definitely awake, and he was definitely there, looking at her with the same delighted intensity he displayed when he had found the answer to a particularly difficult mechanical problem.

      "I know what you need."

      "Do you?" she asked muzzily, half asleep and wholly mystified.

      "Absolutely."

      He moved slightly and tangled them further; she was rather startled to find several specific areas of her anatomy in contact with several specific areas of his, all of which she had never considered in the least likely to make acquaintance. Not that she was any way against the concept, and in fact had put rather a lot of concentrated thought into the idea at intervals, mostly in the dark and after hours, but with him being, well, *him*, she had considered it extremely improbable that those nighttime flights of fancy would ever actually happen. Traveling with the Doctor tended to teach one very quickly that the universe moved in mysterious ways, but up to now she hadn't considered that it might be *this* mysterious.

      There was nothing mysterious, however, about what his left hand was doing, and her eyes widened and she made a soft sound. He grinned more, if that were possible, and moved again until their foreheads touched. His breath smelled sweet, as if someone had been feeding him sugarcubes.

      "Are you awake now?"

      "Assuming this isn't the most vivid dream of my life, yes."

      "Good. And it's not."

      He kissed her then, surprisingly gently, in a series of light touches, and she had to agree that she was most probably not asleep; this was the point in her dreams where she usually awoke frustrated and alone, but currently he was remaining very solid and extremely corporeal against her lips, and under her hands, which had moved to his temples more or less without her noticing. His hair managed to be both shaggy and soft at the same time, and she wondered idly how he managed it. Probably some sort of really good conditioner only available in a far-off galaxy, she decided, and then, perhaps noticing the faint flicker of inattention, he deepened the kiss, and she didn't think about very much at all for a good long time after that.

      When he pulled carefully away she made another sound, this one fairly disappointed in nature, and he chuckled. He rolled to his knees and sat up in a graceful fashion that would have been either more or less disturbing if it wasn't happening on her bed in the middle of the night, and tugged a bit at her shoulder until she figured out what he wanted and sat up alongside him.

      She habitually slept in an oversized t-shirt, and very little else, of which he seemed approving of as it took only a brief moment to remove. In fact, "brief" was probably an exaggeration; the shirt and the very little else disappeared almost as if by magic.

      "You've done that before, " she said inanely, and cringed internally at the look he gave her. His appearance, like so many things about him, was deceiving, and she had known him more than long enough to be aware of that. Despite giving the air of being about her own age, he was in the neighborhood of ten centuries old, and it would be very silly to assume he'd be in the least bit inexperienced in any conceivable fashion.

      Which of course, applying logic, then implied that he was *extremely* experienced in *every* conceivable fashion. The promise of that was enough to make her return his grin, despite her nervousness at being naked, which was heightened a bit considering that he was still dressed. She knew he liked to have the upper hand, but this was ridiculous.

      "Is it your turn now?"

      He chuckled. "Humans. You're always so impatient."

      "Yeah, well, we only get one go at life at a time, so we have to hurry up and get to the good stuff."

      "Ah. Fair enough."

      He looked a bit sad for a moment, and she gave herself a mental smack. His life was hard enough as it was without having to remind him of all the short-lived human friends he'd left behind. Especially when he was just about to be extremely nice to one of them.

      "Sorry."

      "It's all right." His cheerfulness had wilted a bit at the edges, so she grabbed him with both hands and kissed him as thoroughly as she knew how until they had to come up for air and he was grinning again. He slid his coat off and dropped it to the floor as she started in on the buttons of his shirt. Unable to manage the same quick-removal technique he'd used on her, she contented herself with nuzzling each new inch of flesh as it was exposed, until the shirt was undone fully and he was shrugging it off and throwing it in the direction of the jacket.

      He got off the bed to remove his trousers, while she watched in an appreciative sprawl, head propped on one hand. The view was aesthetically appealing in the extreme, she decided, and his rather adorable printed boxers- where exactly did one find boxers with question marks on them, anyway?- were tented appealingly in the front with the appropriate amounts of mystery and promise.

      "So, since you have two hearts and all, are there any other doubles I should know about?"

      "No, standard package, I'm afraid. Most bipeds are built more or less on the same lines."

      The boxers were gone now, and she whistled. "Whoa, nothing standard about *that* package."

      He chuckled and got back into bed, and started something that began with another of those drowning-deep kisses, had a middle portion made up of hands and mouth that were everywhere all at once, and ended with them connected and thrashing and making enough noise to wake up the rest of the Tardis and send them scrambling for battle stations, if there had been anyone in it to wake up and any battle stations to go to if they had. And everything she'd imagined from those late night solo sessions were nothing when compared to the real thing, absolutely nothing, de nada, de zero, because she'd never really stopped to consider the weight of a thousand years of experience, not that, given her limited lifespan, she would be in any position to even imagine what that meant until she was right in the middle of it. While he wasn't a mind reader, he was about as close as anyone had a right to expect in any one lifetime, and the sheer enthusiasm to prove that in all that time, he had certainly never gotten *bored* with this kind of thing. And she'd definitely never imagined he'd *still* be making smart remarks, much less in a voice that's rough-edged with need and makes her twitch in deep places. Still, one smart remark demands another, and it escalates and so does everything else until they're both trying to get the last word by virtue of rendering the other incapable of speech. He has quite a few tricks up his sleeve, but then again so does she, and even if the playing field's not exactly level she's enough of a fast learner to bring them to a draw. By then no one's paying attention to who's winning anymore, and when the end comes, one crash after another, it's one of those epic oh-my-God-it's-full-of-stars moments, that, if common enough among the general public, would end all war, conflict, and disagreement in the universe, mainly because everyone would be too godsdamned tired and happy to bother getting angry with their neighbors.

      When her head was clear enough to think again, she ran her fingers along his back gently, rather worried that she'd left permanent marks, but he only chuckled deep in his throat with more than his usual amount of smugness, and turned over and told her not to worry. She cuddled up close against him in the semi-darkness, head on his chest, listening to the double-drum of his hearts slow to a normal rhythm as he stroked her hair.

      With her ear on his ribs she felt as much as heard his voice, but he spoke softly. "So, it's settled, then."

      "What is?"

      "We're going to your home in the morning. We need a vacation, and you definitely need some time with your man. You might ask him to join us up for a while, if he's not doing anything important. I get tired of having you moping about the corridors all the time. A break is exactly what you need."

      "Wait, " she reached up and tapped his nose with her forefinger, "*That's* what you meant?"

      "Of course."

      "Well, what the hell do you call what we just did?"

      "Oh, that?" He grinned at her, in that self-satisfied way that always left her unable to decide whether to hug him or punch him in the face, "That was just something I'd been meaning to do for ages."

      She had several choice replies to that, but by the time she'd chosen one he was already fast asleep.
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It's Always Darkest...