fic: Time, Space and Love (part 1/?)
Title: Time, Space and Love (part 1/?)
Fandom: One Direction, (Doctor Who crossover)
Pairings/Characters: Harry/Louis, (Louis as the Doctor)
Summary: Strange creatures and mysterious planets are what the Doctor does best. They don't confuse him. But for someone with two hearts, it seems odd that the thing that baffles him the most is love. And it's even more confusing when it lands on top of you, literally. The Doctor thinks this may be his biggest adventure yet.
Word count: ~3100 words.
***
Galaxies unheard of to humans, planets that nobody knows exist, sights that seem impossible to some. All in a days work for the Doctor. The chain of thoughts that lead the handsome man, known as the Doctor to the lucky, or unlucky, few that have heard of him, wasn’t entirely sane. It kind of went a bit like this - That told them Daleks! Hey, that rhymes with garlic… garlic... Vampires? Twilight was a terrible film, completely absurd representation of vampires! Where do humans come up with this stuff? I haven’t visited Earth in while. I wonder what new stuff they’ve made. My guess? Nothing worth my time, but I have all the wibbly wobbly timey wimey in the universe to explore so what’s a check up really? Go on Doctor, take a break. You like fish and chips right? Actually, new face, new mouth, not likely. What the hell! - “And to Earth we go!” he chirped, pulling the lever and bouncing along to the rumbling of his beautiful blue box.
The familiar ‘whoosh-ing’ sound of the TARDIS landing signalled that he was on solid ground, or so he hoped. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stepped out of those blue doors to a surprise. The Doctor checked the clock - 19th November 2011, 00:43AM - and then searched for his location - Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. Satisfied with the results, he straightened the collar of his new bow tie, a quirk which had been passed on from his last regeneration, ruffled his hair and reached for the door handle.
One gentle push and he was bounding into a familiar atmosphere. The moonlight painting the greenery a pale silver, the night air feeling fresh and welcoming in his lungs. This was why he loved earth. It was, in fact, a beautiful planet. Sure, the humans had done their best, but in the end their greed for power and technology corrupted the natural landscape. But, he had to say, skyscrapers were pretty impressive, even if he had seen bigger.
The Doctor took a moment to examine his surroundings. Trees, grass, more trees, more grass, a fence - oh, a fence, civilisation must be close! - a cobbled path, odd looking pots full of overgrown plants, weeds, another tree, does anybody actually live in this village? He sighed heavily. “Oh, Doctor! We should get out of here! It’s so… busy!” The Doctor mocked himself in a shockingly impressive female voice. Sensing that he was probably going to bore himself all night by staring at the stars when he could just fly up and touch, he turned on his heels.
That’s when the Doctor noticed a light in his sharp peripheral vision, flickering mockingly at him. To the Doctor, this was an invitation, a sign that he should stay. After all, he was the Doctor, lights didn’t turn on for no reason when he was around. Oh, when he was around, everything happened for a reason.
His head flicked round in one swift moment, his fringe falling in front of his momentarily until he huffed it away. A house. A tiny, but still lived-in, house at the end of the cobbled path he’d eyes on earlier. How had he missed this? And then he noticed, when the light flickered off, the house became almost invisible, shrouded by the vines growing around the walls. The only thing showing knowledge of it’s existence was the square of light coming from a window of the second floor. The Doctor’s guess, faulty bulb.
Unsurprisingly, a definitely not faulty light bulb in the Doctor’s brain switched on, a smirk creeping up his lips. With a skip in his stride, he bounced his way to front door of the seemingly lone house in this quaint, but rather picturesque, village. One hand resting on his physic paper, another poised to knock on the door. Today’s job: electrician.
Knock, Knock, Knock. A hurried set of heavy steps grew louder as the owner of the house ran to the door. Clearly, the light was bothering them too, otherwise they wouldn’t be up. Either that, or they were really mad someone was bothering them. The door was suddenly wrenched open, a harried teenager standing in the doorway. The Doctor wasn’t expecting such a young, but pretty, boy to be the owner of this house. He took a moment to take in the boy’s appearance: luscious chocolate brown curls falling gracefully onto his face, piercing green eyes that were ten times more vibrant that the brightest star - okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but wow - well-built, about 5’10”, a basic white fitted tee and a baggy pair of grey joggers. He also had the fullest lips, slightly wet from where he had licked them recently.
“Can I help you?” The boy breathed out, clearly worn out but polite enough to not slam the door. The Doctor painted a helpful smile on his face, tugged at his braces and rocked on his heels. Not wanting to waste the boys time any further by standing idly on the doorstep, he took a sneaky peek over the boy’s shoulder and proceeded to answer the question.
“No. But I can help you…” He raised a hand when the boy started to protest with a look a confusion, “It appears you have a faulty bulb - useless things bulbs, aren’t they? - And it also appears it has been flickering, could be a power cut but that’s too easy… Sorry, talking to myself again! Anyway, I can take a look. After all, I’m an electrician!” the Doctor pulled out his physic paper, which now read as a business card of an electrician.
“Um, thanks - really, I appreciate it - but, I don’t remember calling an electrician? I mean it has been flickering, but that’s not the weird part… I, er - don’t call me crazy, okay? - but I took the bulb out…” The boy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, probably preparing himself for a scrutinizing look that clearly read as ‘you’re mental’. But the look he predicted never came. Instead, he was met with an impossibly wide smile and piercing blue eyes that held a mischievous glint.
“Interesting…” The Doctor pondered the source of the free standing orb of electricity, raising a thoughtful finger to his chin and tapping rapidly. For a few moments, it looked as though he would be standing there all night, frozen in his thinking position, but then a wave of realization re-animated him. “Why didn’t I notice that before!” He shouted suddenly, startling the boy inside. He was now pacing in front of the door, muttering complete gibberish and running his nimble hands through his hair.
The boy watched the ‘electrician’ with amusement. He looked at the odd attire of the man in front of him - well, he wasn’t really a man, far too young, about 20 by the looks of him. Red braces, a simple white shirt, beige chinos, a pair of white Converse, and a navy blazer with rolled up sleeves. Oh, and of course, the bright red bow tie sitting below his neck. “Hey? Do you, um, wanna come in-”
The Doctor froze suddenly and quickly finished the sentence proudly, “Doctor. I’m The Doctor.” He stood up tall, raised his chin to the sky, and pulled on the lapel of his blazer.
The boy opened his mouth to say his name but stopped, his mouth half open, with a confused look on his face. “Hang on, I thought you were an electrician…? And I’m Harry. Harry Styles…” he asked curiously.
“I’m whatever you want me to be!” The Doctor winked cheekily, probably too naïve to realise that it sounded a lot dirtier than intended, “And nice to meet you Harry, Harry Styles!” he added jokingly, extending an arm to shake the hand of a bewildered Harry.
“Well, er, Doctor,” he emphasised the last word, “If you really are an electrician, could you fix my light? Wow, I never thought I’d let a stranger into my house at one in the morning because of a dodgy light…” he added the last sentence as an after thought for himself. The Doctor simply smirked and strode past Harry in a swift movement, skipping off to the origin of the flickering light.
Bright white flashes shone from the master bedroom, illuminating the entire corridor fantastically like white fireworks. Circular patterns danced around the surrounding walls. This wasn’t a faulty bulb. This was a sign. A message. For the Doctor.
The twisting circles spun gracefully on the pale blue of Harry’s bedroom walls. Working at a rapid pace, the Doctor studied the designs, his mind translating the beautiful display into words meant for him. In a hushed tone, mainly talking to himself, he repeated the message, “Doctor. You saw but didn’t see. You heard but didn’t listen. It’s him, Doctor.” He furrowed his eyebrows in thought, pondering the meaning of the words. “Him? Who’s him- who is he? And why is it him? God! Can’t people just leave me a voice mail?” He turned to the boy stood watching him babble on about things he was clueless about. Harry ducked his head in embarrassment - he’d been staring. His cheeks flushed red momentarily, but he shook it off.
The curly haired boy couldn’t help it. The odd stranger he’d let into his house at almost three in the morning was - for lack of a better way of phrasing it - attractive. His ocean blue eyes were so inviting, and the slight shadow of stubble on his perfect jawline was such a turn on. And that hair, god - that sweeping fringe and those feathery flicks. Harry never labelled himself as gay though, he just accepted the fact he found both genders attractive. He’d dated girls and boys, he just went with how he felt about a person at the time, regardless of their sex.
The Doctor just shrugged off the boy’s obvious embarrassment and went to speak, but then he noticed something. He finally saw it. It was so obvious now, why had he not seen this before? Right there, etched into the otherwise flawless skin of Harry’s wrist, was a tiny scar. But it wasn’t an oops-I-smashed-a-glass scar, it was circular, the same type of shape as the ones on the wall. It looked as though it had been there for years, fading slightly but never quite leaving. The pattern translated into one simple phrase - The Doctor’s.
“The… Doctor’s?” he muttered uncertainly to himself. “That’s… not… possible. You’re not mine!” he was now addressing Harry, hysteria and denial laced within his tone. “How could you be mine? You’re a person - a human being! - you’re not property for god’s sake!” He began to laugh hysterically. Harry took a step back, his face crumpling into a worried expression. Harry didn’t have a clue what the Doctor was talking about, it sounded like gibberish or the ramblings of a mental patient.
Pacing around the bedroom, glancing at Harry occasionally, the Doctor struggled to compute these thoughts. Suddenly, he stopped dead in the middle of his pacing, swivelling around slowly to face Harry. If this was a movie, Harry thought, he would have found the Doctor’s movements quite comical - but this wasn’t a movie. “Hold up,” the Doctor spoke quickly to the boy, “How did you get that scar?” Oh, Harry thought, that’s what he was rambling about.
Harry let out a breath of relief that he wasn’t going to be accused of staring or something worse, and started to answer the question with confidence, “Well, you see, I was - um… well I was…” He frowned in confusion, why couldn’t he remember? It was as though somebody had literally put a wall inside his mind and locked away that memory. “I, um, can’t seem to… remember.”
His look of anticipation quickly changed to one of concern, “I was afraid of that…” the Doctor said in a morbid tone. “Okay, plan B! Considering you can’t remember, I’ll have to find out for myself!” He reached out for the boys arm and yanked him forward. The gesture was so fast that Harry went crashing into the Doctor, the force of the sudden impact sending them both flying onto the bed. The Doctor lay flat out on his back, his hand still connected to Harry’s wrist in the tangled heap. Harry was laid on top of him, their bodies moulding together perfectly, but that didn’t reduce the awkwardness of where Harry’s other hand was. In a weak attempt to save himself from head-butting the man, he had outstretched his free arm, only causing it to collide with the Doctor’s inner thy. It was a close miss to a body part higher up, but still not a complete save from crimson cheeks.
Their faces just inches apart, Harry could feel the man’s breath beneath his lips. He could feel himself flushing from the neck to the tip of his nose. A curl fell down from his mop of hair and brushed the Doctor’s cheek lightly. The Doctor, however, didn’t seemed to be at all embarrassed by the awkwardness of the current situation. Staring into the green orbs of the younger boy above him, he painted a smirk on his pink lips. “Having fun up there, Curly?” Harry ducked his head to the side in response, but he had to admit to himself, he kind of liked his new nickname.
“S-sorry….” Harry stammered out. “I’ll, uh, get off now…” He raised his body off the man, planting his feet on the floor, but he could only get his body halfway up as the Doctor still had a firm grip on his wrist. Eyes lit up in shock, Harry looked back down at the Doctor.
“Now, shall we take a look at this scar?” the Doctor said in a perfect imitation of a real Doctor - well, medical one at least. The smirk on his lips grew bigger as he reached into his inside pocket. He pulled out a long, hard object. It was silver, with metallic patterns down the sides, it looked like a torch but thinner. The tip was translucent green glass, it looked like a complicated device and Harry was fairly sure he’d never understand it.
The Doctor pointed the strange object at Harry’s wrist, and with the click of a button it began to glow green and a faint buzzing emitted from it. In a short few seconds, the buzzing and glow ceased, and the Doctor raised the device to his face, making him go cross-eyed. “Interesting…” he muttered to himself, fascinated by the results of the scan.
The Doctor coughed, then looked up from the device to meet Harry’s confused face. “Oh, er, this-” he pointed to the item he was holding, “-is a sonic screwdriver. Yes, I know, what’s a sonic screwdriver right? It doesn’t matter, details, not important. Moving on…” He chuckled lightly when Harry closed his half open mouth, seemingly too confused to even question him. “This scar. It isn’t normal, but you already know that, don’t you Harry?” He winked at the younger boy, who seemed to shuffle nervously at this gesture. The Doctor really knew how to strum on someone’s heartstrings.
The Doctor released Harry’s wrist, and sat up straighter, facing the younger boy. “Sit, sit!” He ushered Harry next to him on the bed, patting the space next to him. “Alright Curly,” he ruffled the boy’s curls affectionately, “That scar of yours, it didn’t come about accidentally. It’s a brand, well, more like a mark of ownership. You see, there’s these aliens - don’t even protest, because aliens are real, and you should remember that - but well, these aliens, me and them, not on good terms. It might have something to do with me blowing up their boss for a dare, but peer pressure! It’s evil! - anyway this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
Harry’s eyes widened in shock and he blinked repeatedly, “W-what? M-me? W-why?” He stuttered on every word, shock taking over his limbs. How could a faulty light bulb, a strange man on his doorstep and he scar he couldn’t remember getting have anything to do with him. Well, other than the fact it was happening to him, but this was like he was important, and he was far from that.
Harry Styles was an average teenager. Although, most 17 year old boys don’t live on their own in the middle of the countryside, but Harry liked the quiet. He liked the tranquillity of being alone. Sure, it got lonely, and he used to be a social butterfly so he sometimes missed that. But those days were gone. He’d changed a lot over the past year. When he was 16 he lived with his family, he had a lot of friends, and as a hormonal teenage boy, he slept around. A lot. In his social circle, he’d picked up a bit of a reputation for being a slut. But the days of drinking until he was numb, getting high until the low hit him like a truck, pouncing on anything with two legs and opposable thumbs were behind him. After getting kicked out of college for choosing partying over his education, he decided he needed change.
It was then that he decided to move deeper into the country, away from the distractions. He cut off all connections with his old friends, but he wasn’t really close to them anyway, they were just good to get drunk with. Harry was concentrating on rehabilitating himself, getting a job to keep him going and working on his novel. His novel was getting along well - it was just another story about girl meets boy. But hey, it was a start. Everything was getting better, he’d sobered up, he hadn’t had sex in months, and of course he missed it, but he felt much better about himself. And then a mad man showed up at his door claiming aliens were real and that Harry was at the centre of all this - all because of a faulty bulb, which turned out to be extremely paranormal and disturbing.
Either Harry was dreaming, or he was really screwed.
end of part 1.
Fandom: One Direction, (Doctor Who crossover)
Pairings/Characters: Harry/Louis, (Louis as the Doctor)
Summary: Strange creatures and mysterious planets are what the Doctor does best. They don't confuse him. But for someone with two hearts, it seems odd that the thing that baffles him the most is love. And it's even more confusing when it lands on top of you, literally. The Doctor thinks this may be his biggest adventure yet.
Word count: ~3100 words.
***
Galaxies unheard of to humans, planets that nobody knows exist, sights that seem impossible to some. All in a days work for the Doctor. The chain of thoughts that lead the handsome man, known as the Doctor to the lucky, or unlucky, few that have heard of him, wasn’t entirely sane. It kind of went a bit like this - That told them Daleks! Hey, that rhymes with garlic… garlic... Vampires? Twilight was a terrible film, completely absurd representation of vampires! Where do humans come up with this stuff? I haven’t visited Earth in while. I wonder what new stuff they’ve made. My guess? Nothing worth my time, but I have all the wibbly wobbly timey wimey in the universe to explore so what’s a check up really? Go on Doctor, take a break. You like fish and chips right? Actually, new face, new mouth, not likely. What the hell! - “And to Earth we go!” he chirped, pulling the lever and bouncing along to the rumbling of his beautiful blue box.
The familiar ‘whoosh-ing’ sound of the TARDIS landing signalled that he was on solid ground, or so he hoped. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s stepped out of those blue doors to a surprise. The Doctor checked the clock - 19th November 2011, 00:43AM - and then searched for his location - Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. Satisfied with the results, he straightened the collar of his new bow tie, a quirk which had been passed on from his last regeneration, ruffled his hair and reached for the door handle.
One gentle push and he was bounding into a familiar atmosphere. The moonlight painting the greenery a pale silver, the night air feeling fresh and welcoming in his lungs. This was why he loved earth. It was, in fact, a beautiful planet. Sure, the humans had done their best, but in the end their greed for power and technology corrupted the natural landscape. But, he had to say, skyscrapers were pretty impressive, even if he had seen bigger.
The Doctor took a moment to examine his surroundings. Trees, grass, more trees, more grass, a fence - oh, a fence, civilisation must be close! - a cobbled path, odd looking pots full of overgrown plants, weeds, another tree, does anybody actually live in this village? He sighed heavily. “Oh, Doctor! We should get out of here! It’s so… busy!” The Doctor mocked himself in a shockingly impressive female voice. Sensing that he was probably going to bore himself all night by staring at the stars when he could just fly up and touch, he turned on his heels.
That’s when the Doctor noticed a light in his sharp peripheral vision, flickering mockingly at him. To the Doctor, this was an invitation, a sign that he should stay. After all, he was the Doctor, lights didn’t turn on for no reason when he was around. Oh, when he was around, everything happened for a reason.
His head flicked round in one swift moment, his fringe falling in front of his momentarily until he huffed it away. A house. A tiny, but still lived-in, house at the end of the cobbled path he’d eyes on earlier. How had he missed this? And then he noticed, when the light flickered off, the house became almost invisible, shrouded by the vines growing around the walls. The only thing showing knowledge of it’s existence was the square of light coming from a window of the second floor. The Doctor’s guess, faulty bulb.
Unsurprisingly, a definitely not faulty light bulb in the Doctor’s brain switched on, a smirk creeping up his lips. With a skip in his stride, he bounced his way to front door of the seemingly lone house in this quaint, but rather picturesque, village. One hand resting on his physic paper, another poised to knock on the door. Today’s job: electrician.
Knock, Knock, Knock. A hurried set of heavy steps grew louder as the owner of the house ran to the door. Clearly, the light was bothering them too, otherwise they wouldn’t be up. Either that, or they were really mad someone was bothering them. The door was suddenly wrenched open, a harried teenager standing in the doorway. The Doctor wasn’t expecting such a young, but pretty, boy to be the owner of this house. He took a moment to take in the boy’s appearance: luscious chocolate brown curls falling gracefully onto his face, piercing green eyes that were ten times more vibrant that the brightest star - okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but wow - well-built, about 5’10”, a basic white fitted tee and a baggy pair of grey joggers. He also had the fullest lips, slightly wet from where he had licked them recently.
“Can I help you?” The boy breathed out, clearly worn out but polite enough to not slam the door. The Doctor painted a helpful smile on his face, tugged at his braces and rocked on his heels. Not wanting to waste the boys time any further by standing idly on the doorstep, he took a sneaky peek over the boy’s shoulder and proceeded to answer the question.
“No. But I can help you…” He raised a hand when the boy started to protest with a look a confusion, “It appears you have a faulty bulb - useless things bulbs, aren’t they? - And it also appears it has been flickering, could be a power cut but that’s too easy… Sorry, talking to myself again! Anyway, I can take a look. After all, I’m an electrician!” the Doctor pulled out his physic paper, which now read as a business card of an electrician.
“Um, thanks - really, I appreciate it - but, I don’t remember calling an electrician? I mean it has been flickering, but that’s not the weird part… I, er - don’t call me crazy, okay? - but I took the bulb out…” The boy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, probably preparing himself for a scrutinizing look that clearly read as ‘you’re mental’. But the look he predicted never came. Instead, he was met with an impossibly wide smile and piercing blue eyes that held a mischievous glint.
“Interesting…” The Doctor pondered the source of the free standing orb of electricity, raising a thoughtful finger to his chin and tapping rapidly. For a few moments, it looked as though he would be standing there all night, frozen in his thinking position, but then a wave of realization re-animated him. “Why didn’t I notice that before!” He shouted suddenly, startling the boy inside. He was now pacing in front of the door, muttering complete gibberish and running his nimble hands through his hair.
The boy watched the ‘electrician’ with amusement. He looked at the odd attire of the man in front of him - well, he wasn’t really a man, far too young, about 20 by the looks of him. Red braces, a simple white shirt, beige chinos, a pair of white Converse, and a navy blazer with rolled up sleeves. Oh, and of course, the bright red bow tie sitting below his neck. “Hey? Do you, um, wanna come in-”
The Doctor froze suddenly and quickly finished the sentence proudly, “Doctor. I’m The Doctor.” He stood up tall, raised his chin to the sky, and pulled on the lapel of his blazer.
The boy opened his mouth to say his name but stopped, his mouth half open, with a confused look on his face. “Hang on, I thought you were an electrician…? And I’m Harry. Harry Styles…” he asked curiously.
“I’m whatever you want me to be!” The Doctor winked cheekily, probably too naïve to realise that it sounded a lot dirtier than intended, “And nice to meet you Harry, Harry Styles!” he added jokingly, extending an arm to shake the hand of a bewildered Harry.
“Well, er, Doctor,” he emphasised the last word, “If you really are an electrician, could you fix my light? Wow, I never thought I’d let a stranger into my house at one in the morning because of a dodgy light…” he added the last sentence as an after thought for himself. The Doctor simply smirked and strode past Harry in a swift movement, skipping off to the origin of the flickering light.
Bright white flashes shone from the master bedroom, illuminating the entire corridor fantastically like white fireworks. Circular patterns danced around the surrounding walls. This wasn’t a faulty bulb. This was a sign. A message. For the Doctor.
The twisting circles spun gracefully on the pale blue of Harry’s bedroom walls. Working at a rapid pace, the Doctor studied the designs, his mind translating the beautiful display into words meant for him. In a hushed tone, mainly talking to himself, he repeated the message, “Doctor. You saw but didn’t see. You heard but didn’t listen. It’s him, Doctor.” He furrowed his eyebrows in thought, pondering the meaning of the words. “Him? Who’s him- who is he? And why is it him? God! Can’t people just leave me a voice mail?” He turned to the boy stood watching him babble on about things he was clueless about. Harry ducked his head in embarrassment - he’d been staring. His cheeks flushed red momentarily, but he shook it off.
The curly haired boy couldn’t help it. The odd stranger he’d let into his house at almost three in the morning was - for lack of a better way of phrasing it - attractive. His ocean blue eyes were so inviting, and the slight shadow of stubble on his perfect jawline was such a turn on. And that hair, god - that sweeping fringe and those feathery flicks. Harry never labelled himself as gay though, he just accepted the fact he found both genders attractive. He’d dated girls and boys, he just went with how he felt about a person at the time, regardless of their sex.
The Doctor just shrugged off the boy’s obvious embarrassment and went to speak, but then he noticed something. He finally saw it. It was so obvious now, why had he not seen this before? Right there, etched into the otherwise flawless skin of Harry’s wrist, was a tiny scar. But it wasn’t an oops-I-smashed-a-glass scar, it was circular, the same type of shape as the ones on the wall. It looked as though it had been there for years, fading slightly but never quite leaving. The pattern translated into one simple phrase - The Doctor’s.
“The… Doctor’s?” he muttered uncertainly to himself. “That’s… not… possible. You’re not mine!” he was now addressing Harry, hysteria and denial laced within his tone. “How could you be mine? You’re a person - a human being! - you’re not property for god’s sake!” He began to laugh hysterically. Harry took a step back, his face crumpling into a worried expression. Harry didn’t have a clue what the Doctor was talking about, it sounded like gibberish or the ramblings of a mental patient.
Pacing around the bedroom, glancing at Harry occasionally, the Doctor struggled to compute these thoughts. Suddenly, he stopped dead in the middle of his pacing, swivelling around slowly to face Harry. If this was a movie, Harry thought, he would have found the Doctor’s movements quite comical - but this wasn’t a movie. “Hold up,” the Doctor spoke quickly to the boy, “How did you get that scar?” Oh, Harry thought, that’s what he was rambling about.
Harry let out a breath of relief that he wasn’t going to be accused of staring or something worse, and started to answer the question with confidence, “Well, you see, I was - um… well I was…” He frowned in confusion, why couldn’t he remember? It was as though somebody had literally put a wall inside his mind and locked away that memory. “I, um, can’t seem to… remember.”
His look of anticipation quickly changed to one of concern, “I was afraid of that…” the Doctor said in a morbid tone. “Okay, plan B! Considering you can’t remember, I’ll have to find out for myself!” He reached out for the boys arm and yanked him forward. The gesture was so fast that Harry went crashing into the Doctor, the force of the sudden impact sending them both flying onto the bed. The Doctor lay flat out on his back, his hand still connected to Harry’s wrist in the tangled heap. Harry was laid on top of him, their bodies moulding together perfectly, but that didn’t reduce the awkwardness of where Harry’s other hand was. In a weak attempt to save himself from head-butting the man, he had outstretched his free arm, only causing it to collide with the Doctor’s inner thy. It was a close miss to a body part higher up, but still not a complete save from crimson cheeks.
Their faces just inches apart, Harry could feel the man’s breath beneath his lips. He could feel himself flushing from the neck to the tip of his nose. A curl fell down from his mop of hair and brushed the Doctor’s cheek lightly. The Doctor, however, didn’t seemed to be at all embarrassed by the awkwardness of the current situation. Staring into the green orbs of the younger boy above him, he painted a smirk on his pink lips. “Having fun up there, Curly?” Harry ducked his head to the side in response, but he had to admit to himself, he kind of liked his new nickname.
“S-sorry….” Harry stammered out. “I’ll, uh, get off now…” He raised his body off the man, planting his feet on the floor, but he could only get his body halfway up as the Doctor still had a firm grip on his wrist. Eyes lit up in shock, Harry looked back down at the Doctor.
“Now, shall we take a look at this scar?” the Doctor said in a perfect imitation of a real Doctor - well, medical one at least. The smirk on his lips grew bigger as he reached into his inside pocket. He pulled out a long, hard object. It was silver, with metallic patterns down the sides, it looked like a torch but thinner. The tip was translucent green glass, it looked like a complicated device and Harry was fairly sure he’d never understand it.
The Doctor pointed the strange object at Harry’s wrist, and with the click of a button it began to glow green and a faint buzzing emitted from it. In a short few seconds, the buzzing and glow ceased, and the Doctor raised the device to his face, making him go cross-eyed. “Interesting…” he muttered to himself, fascinated by the results of the scan.
The Doctor coughed, then looked up from the device to meet Harry’s confused face. “Oh, er, this-” he pointed to the item he was holding, “-is a sonic screwdriver. Yes, I know, what’s a sonic screwdriver right? It doesn’t matter, details, not important. Moving on…” He chuckled lightly when Harry closed his half open mouth, seemingly too confused to even question him. “This scar. It isn’t normal, but you already know that, don’t you Harry?” He winked at the younger boy, who seemed to shuffle nervously at this gesture. The Doctor really knew how to strum on someone’s heartstrings.
The Doctor released Harry’s wrist, and sat up straighter, facing the younger boy. “Sit, sit!” He ushered Harry next to him on the bed, patting the space next to him. “Alright Curly,” he ruffled the boy’s curls affectionately, “That scar of yours, it didn’t come about accidentally. It’s a brand, well, more like a mark of ownership. You see, there’s these aliens - don’t even protest, because aliens are real, and you should remember that - but well, these aliens, me and them, not on good terms. It might have something to do with me blowing up their boss for a dare, but peer pressure! It’s evil! - anyway this isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
Harry’s eyes widened in shock and he blinked repeatedly, “W-what? M-me? W-why?” He stuttered on every word, shock taking over his limbs. How could a faulty light bulb, a strange man on his doorstep and he scar he couldn’t remember getting have anything to do with him. Well, other than the fact it was happening to him, but this was like he was important, and he was far from that.
Harry Styles was an average teenager. Although, most 17 year old boys don’t live on their own in the middle of the countryside, but Harry liked the quiet. He liked the tranquillity of being alone. Sure, it got lonely, and he used to be a social butterfly so he sometimes missed that. But those days were gone. He’d changed a lot over the past year. When he was 16 he lived with his family, he had a lot of friends, and as a hormonal teenage boy, he slept around. A lot. In his social circle, he’d picked up a bit of a reputation for being a slut. But the days of drinking until he was numb, getting high until the low hit him like a truck, pouncing on anything with two legs and opposable thumbs were behind him. After getting kicked out of college for choosing partying over his education, he decided he needed change.
It was then that he decided to move deeper into the country, away from the distractions. He cut off all connections with his old friends, but he wasn’t really close to them anyway, they were just good to get drunk with. Harry was concentrating on rehabilitating himself, getting a job to keep him going and working on his novel. His novel was getting along well - it was just another story about girl meets boy. But hey, it was a start. Everything was getting better, he’d sobered up, he hadn’t had sex in months, and of course he missed it, but he felt much better about himself. And then a mad man showed up at his door claiming aliens were real and that Harry was at the centre of all this - all because of a faulty bulb, which turned out to be extremely paranormal and disturbing.
Either Harry was dreaming, or he was really screwed.
end of part 1.