Snack Time in the Kitchen (Open, Multiple Threads Welcome)

[incorrigibledoc]

The Doctor couldn't find the preserves.

When compared to the more pressing issues of an inescapable pocket dimension, missing time senses and a veritable cabaret of tense and edgy guests to navigate, missing preserves might not have seemed like anything important.  However, since the Doctor had grown fed up with the rich food at the buffet and

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[mcgill_pride]

After breakfast, Wilson went back to his room. And then abruptly left it. He aimlessly wandered for a while and considered going to the library. It wasn't exactly lunch time yet when he noticed how hungry he was. Wilson missed cooking his own food and suddenly wished he was in a kitchen. Not so much to satisfy his want for eating as to satisfy a need for familiarity.

So, after a bit of looking, he found it. A peek through the doorway and he realized that whatever need for familiarity he had would not be satisfied by this kitchen. It was far too grand. However, spotting the Doctor made that thought fly from his mind.

"Doctor!" he exclaimed without hesitation, stepping foward and placing his hands on his hips. "I'm not stalking you, I promise."

[incorrigibledoc]

The Doctor was tidying up. He hadn't made all that much of a mess, and the Hotel staff would likely clean it up with their silent brand of efficiency, but it was the principle of the thing. A small rebellion. The Doctor would not be cowed into complacency by silent and attentive drones; he was a centuries-old Time Lord who had saved several universes multiple times, and he could do his own washing up, thank you very much!

He was startled from his internal blustering by a familiar voice and he turned with a smile, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder as he did so. "Never crossed my mind!" he laughed. "Even in a place this size, paths are bound to cross. Besides, you make too much noise for a decent stalker; I heard your footsteps in the hallway!" He winked cheerily. "I was just about to put the kettle on, care to join me?"

[mcgill_pride]

"Tea. Thank god," Wilson said with a sigh. He dropped his hands and gestured to the kettle before walking further into the kitchen toward the counter. "I'm rather sick of coffee at this point. More of a tea person, personally." Wilson smiled.

"Obviously, you must be too." God, it was good to see the Doctor. He felt better, but it was still like he'd been holding his breath ever since seeing Cuddy. He walked closer to the Doctor and leaned backward against the counter with one hand, flattening his tie with the other. "It's...good to see you, Doctor."

[incorrigibledoc]

"Yes, one of my acquired tastes," the Doctor agreed as he filled the teakettle with water from the tap. "I've found that there's nothing quite like a nice, hot cuppa after a long day's saving the universe. Well, after a long day's anything, really."

As he set the kettle on the burner, something in Wilson's tone gave him pause. "Has it been a long day?" he asked unobtrusively, polishing an invisible smudge on the counter top with a washrag.

[mcgill_pride]

"The day's seem to stretch perpetually, anymore. A strong Earl Grey makes them survivable sometimes." He smiled, his eyes drifting in thought. Wilson didn't usually drink tea with anyone but himself. Sharing a cup with the Doctor symbolized the two's entire relationship thus far: lack of projection. It was odd for Wilson, but dreadfully wonderful at the same time. He was grateful to the man at his side for many things. Unfortunately, Wilson knew his company wasn't much repayment - not during the onslaught he was experiencing anyway.

Wilson stilled his hand on his tie; his fidgeting reminded him that he was wearing one and - he was glad to be reminded of it. He cleared his throat quietly and crossed his arms over his chest, turning to look at his friend.

"I'm alright," he said, honestly. "Ran into an old friend today. The situation makes occasions like that...complicated."

[incorrigibledoc]

The Doctor made a noncommittal noise. "It probably has something to do with the pocket dimension's situation outside the time stream. It's hard to keep track of time because, in a linear sense, it doesn't exist." He busied his hands with the tea towel to keep from rubbing at his shoulders; the reminder of the Hotel's timeless nature only sharpened the subliminal ache of his severed time senses.

Pushing the bleak thoughts and pain to a corner of his mind, the Doctor tried for a reassuring smile. "Which old friend would this be? House, Alice or Cuddy?" He wagered Alice or Cuddy; from what he'd heard of the diagnostician, Wilson was not likely to be so calm after an encounter.

[mcgill_pride]

"Alice isn't an old friend," Wilson noted with a smile. "Made the news even more--" he raised both his hands and made a shocked face "--coming from a stranger and all." He recrossed his arms and smiled at the Doctor, unable to suffocate under the memory while in his presence. "And Cuddy."

After a moment's pause, Wilson turned around to face the counter and opened one of the cabinets. Plates. Lots of plates. He closed it quietly and opened another in search of cups. "It wasn't horrible," he said, finding bowls that time. "Seeing her was great. Just really tense." Wilson chuckled. "Ah." Found the tea cups. He placed them on the counter near the stove and rested against the counter once more, shoving his hands in his pockets this time.

"But, really, enough of my...stuff." He chuckled again. Wilson narrowed his eyes minimally and studied the Doctor's profile. "Tell me, Doctor, how are you?" Never in his life, or at least not that he could recall, had Wilson asked that question without first calibrating how to do so. The question came

[incorrigibledoc]

The Doctor jerked his head up at the question. It had been unprepared for it. It had been prepared to offer counsel, to guide and succor, so when the question was offered, it threw the Time Lord off kilter. "Oh, I'm... fine. I'm just fine! Been trying to do some research..."

He gestured vaguely at the open (and chocolate-stained) volume when he was saved by the whistling of the teakettle. Unthinking, he reached out to take it off the heat, only realizing too late that the handle wasn't insulated. Yelping and dropping the kettle, he hastily grabbed the tea towel and grabbed the burning handle again, moving the boiling water to a safe distance before shaking his injured hand and wincing. "Serves me right," he muttered to himself, "for thinking I'm still on the TARDIS. All the comforts of home..."

[mcgill_pride]

"Can't imagine how incredibly horrible being trapped here is for you," Wilson said, tipping his head to survey the Doctor even more closely. His response was to be expected, and Wilson wasn't going to press, but even from the tiny amount that the Doctor had relayed to him it was clear that his friend was a traveller. He could see the sadness, too. Wilson was good at it

[incorrigibledoc]

The words stopped the Doctor in his tracks, more so than the hand on his wrist. He knew all of the things Wilson told him, he knew them rationally. But for some reason, hearing them aloud let him believe it a little more, a little stronger.

When he noticed the hand on his wrist, he wanted to pull away, insist that it was fine, he just needed some cold water, it would be gone in a few hours anyway. He didn't need someone to fuss; he'd suffered much worse than this, and took care of himself alone for decades straight. Despite all this rationale, he allowed Wilson to turn his hand and inspect his palm like a gypsy, reading the bright red splotches against the pale skin.

"Well, Doctor?" he teased gently. "Will I ever play the tambourine again?"

[mcgill_pride]

Wilson snorted, raising his eyebrows as his eyes flickered up to the Doctor's gaze while his face was pointed down. "Some day, very very far from now, you just might." He squinted one eye shut and tilted his head. "Maybe. No promises." Wilson relaxed his face and looked back down at the Doctor's hand. After falling silent, he leaned a bit closer and drew a serious, studying look. It wasn't anything bad. The flushed streaks across his palm might blister, at the worst. Somehow Wilson found a way to doubt that ever so slightly, noting the same cold radiating from the back of the Doctor's hand.

Without paying any attention, Wilson straightened a bit and let his thumb stroke down the side of the Doctor's finger. The other hand still held his wrist, and abruptly slid free after another second. He looked up at the Doctor again and smiled before pointing the faucet on the other side of the stove.

"Water will...you know, I'm sure," Wilson said, his smile becoming sheepish. A hand rose and scratched the back of his head a bit awkwardly. Of

[incorrigibledoc]

The Doctor flashed a smile at him. "Doctor's orders," he said, turning on the cold tap. He really was shameless, teasing the other man so, but he couldn't help himself. It was heartwarming that he was so keen to help; he loved that about humans. Unnecessary, but keen nevertheless.

"Since I seem to be occupied," he continued, watching the water flow over his hand, "perhaps you could do the honors?" The Doctor inclined his head toward the teakettle. "Mind the handle, though."

[mcgill_pride]

"Oh, yeah," said Wilson with a nod. He turned on his heel to face the counter again and deftly scooped up the towel. Being rather skilled in the kitchen, Wilson knew his way around a stove well enough. No more than a few moments later and both cups were filled with water without a drop spilled

[incorrigibledoc]

"It could be a coincidence," the Doctor insisted, but his hearts weren't in it. He wouldn't be alive if he'd believed in coincidence, and there had been other bits of evidence to suggest that the Hotel was watching attentively. But the alternative, that they were being watched by unknown entities, troubled him more than he'd admit.

Putting the thought from his mind, he turned off the tap and shook the water off his hand. "Yes, please, two lumps. And sugar," he added, taking a seat at the kitchen table, patting his hand dry and inspecting the burns. He was pleased with the results; they were fading already, more pink than red.

[mcgill_pride]

Wilson nodded as if he understood, turned back to the cups as the Docor took his seat, and then squinted curiously. To be safe, he decided the Doctor meant that he would indeed like milk, thanks. So Wilson poured two short amounts into his cup and did the same for his own. He glanced around the counter for a sugar jar and found one sitting a few inches from where he was standing. That had not been there twenty seconds ago. Had it?

"How's it look?" he asked as he circled behind his friend to the table with their tea. Wilson set the cups down and settled in the chair next to the Doctor's, crossing his legs and leaning back a bit before sipping his tea. "Ooh. Mmph." He swallowed and brought a hand to his mouth. "Don't burn your tongue too. Hot."

[incorrigibledoc]

Heeding sound advice, the Doctor blew on the drink gingerly before sipping at it. He sighed in contentment. "Wonderful, perfectly lovely. Dr. Wilson, you have my thanks." He sipped again, relishing the simple satisfaction of afternoon tea with good company.

"I'm rather glad that I pried myself out of the library, now. I seem to find myself in there most days, falling into a rut. Although..." With a stretch, he fetched the copy of String Theory and the Fourth Dimension from the counter and laid it on the table, dark chocolate smudges in clear view. "I don't think that the books are all too happy with the detour