For oncoming_storms: "Did you miss me?"
Humans have a thing for romance. It’s in their biology, that longing for intimacy, that desperate need to feel a romantic connection to another person. It’s an obsession wired into their very being. They have and always will be fixated with it, and have a need to express it, whether through Shakespeare’s sonnets or the Beatles telling them it’s all they need. To a human to be alone is to be without love.
And that’s where the complications begin.
He does not crave romance. He does not feel intense desires for physical intimacy, nor does he naturally feel he needs it. It’s not something that’s rooted in him, or in Time Lords in general. Humans in their desire for a partner will occasionally turn to him for affection, and he can often return it, but not in way they are typically hoping for.
How many times has he stood talking in the console room only to find there is no one to hear him? How many times has he cursed the silence? He often finds himself swearing he can hear someone, half expecting Martha, or Rose, or Ace, or anyone to come through the door and ask where they’re going next. When he answers, he waits for a response and once again gets nothing.
Then she shows up.
“You look older,” she says, and he grins.
“Thanks,”
It’s a simple exchange, four words in total, but it’s an exchange. It’s conversation. It’s something he hasn’t shared with anyone since the Titanic, and to him is far, far more meaningful than anything romantic or physical.
“You’re going to come with me?”
She nods, he doesn’t answer. There’s a peril that distracts them, which is good. He’s not sure how to respond.
She’s brilliant. She may not know it, may not seem it on first impression, but she is. She’s absolutely, positively brilliant, and he knows it. He’s always known it. Despite their somewhat questionable feelings towards each other when they first met, once the crisis started and she spoke up, he knew.
You can stop now.
She’s not brilliant in the same way Martha or Rose was. Everyone has their own form of brilliance, Donna being no exception. But like Martha and Rose, she’s human. She’s a human being, a typical human being, one with, he assumed, typical desires, interests, urges and feelings. The obsession with romance is as drilled into her biology as it is with any other human being.
What happens if he complicates that obsession?
In typical Donna fashion, she’s ready for anything. Hot weather, cold weather, no weather, planet of the hats, she’s got it covered. He wants it to be ok, wants to be able to bring everything inside, take her and anything she might bring along with him through time and space. He wants to show her everything, wants to have a laugh. He wants…
“I just want a mate,” he finally says. She misunderstands him, the results somewhat worrying and somewhat amusing at the same time.
“You’re not mating with me, sunshine!” she says, appalled. He clears it up, frantically explaining himself until she understands.
“Well, just as well,” she says, “cos I'm not having any of that nonsense, you're just a great streak of nothing, you know, alien nothing...”
Alien nothing. Streak of nothing. Perfect.
They grin at each other, the fact that she’s going with him finally sinking in. He wants companionship, a friend to keep him company, someone he can talk to and share a few adventures with and nothing more. Despite her species, despite her biology and her culture, despite Shakespeare and the Beatles, she wants nothing more either.
He brings in her massive amount of bags and boxes as she goes to return her car keys. He’s always said he doesn’t do domestics, but there’s something oddly pleasant at the sight of the luggage littering the console room. It’s a lived in look, a look with a human touch to it, of semi-controlled chaos. It wasn’t one he’d choose on his own.
She comes back, and they’re off. One quick stop and a wave later, they’re finally off. Two mates through space. Partners in crime.
Muse: The Doctor (Ten)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 696