Last fic for Doyle!
Title: No Ordinary Love Story, or How Fitz Kreiner Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Doctor
Author: aces
Rating: oh, PG or something
Warnings: Makes vague references to book stuff. But then, Fitz *is* a book character, so what else would you expect?
Notes: I should probably apologize for this. Especially to the female companions of the world, who really get short-changed in this fic. So I’m sorry.
Gift for: doyle_sb4, based off the “Eight/Fitz that's not heavily reliant on knowing any particular book” request. I *think* I followed through on the lack-of-canon-knowledge part. I hope I did anyway.
“No Ordinary Love Story,
or How Fitz Kreiner Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Doctor”
Fitz Kreiner had a very slight tendency to shag the Doctor’s companions. Not the Doctor himself. Or so everyone thought. Including Fitz Kreiner himself.
No one, looking at Fitz Kreiner, would have considered him a Casanova. Not even a particularly stubbly Casanova. Fitz was too tall, and too gangly, and in some shady way unclear to anyone, entirely too discreditable to be even a third cousin twice removed from Casanova. And yet women-well, mostly (alien) women on distant worlds-seemed to flock to him. Perhaps the air of disreputability held a dangerous allure, until they realized he was far more likely to do a runner than anything remotely either heroic or, actually, dangerous. On the other hand, perhaps all those alien women kept getting mixed signals. Or maybe they were only using him to get to the Doctor.
Aye, and there’s the rub, anyone would say, if they were looking between Fitz Kreiner and the Doctor. The Doctor was a little shorter in stature, and a little more filled out, and had absolutely, categorically no stubble (no, really). He also had more of an air of romantic adventurer than someone who could unfortunately turn out to be a streaker when you weren’t paying attention.
But you can’t judge a book by its cover-not even a book with a really pretty cover, with lovely illustrations of dragons and fairies and all that lovely and interesting sort of stuff-and there was more (or was that less?) to these two than met the eye.
For one thing, the Doctor did occasionally and most unfortunately sport a little stubble.
And for another, Fitz Kreiner turned out to be a fairly decent chap. On occasion, at least. And he did not, thank goodness, have a history of streaking. (Though he was occasionally found in the most embarrassing of circumstances totally, utterly naked. This was not solely his fault but often also due to those (alien) women on distant worlds.)
Sometimes when individuals came across the Doctor and Fitz, traveling together-with a rotating female, who Fitz may or may not have shagged at some point, whether it was actually her or some other-dimensional copy of her-they privately wondered what the hell these two were doing together. They were so obviously a mismatched pair, even within a long and honorable intergalactic history of mismatched pairs. Surely one of them would have deserted the other by now?
Huh.
If these people had known that Fitz had on occasion given up smoking for the Doctor, and that on at least one occasion Fitz actually tried to pretend he was the Doctor, they might have gotten an inkling about why these two worked. They might also have thought that Fitz was a tiny bit gay, but that-well, actually, that is this story, but not even Fitz Kreiner knows that yet.
In any case, these two clicked. Fitz was John Lennon to the Doctor’s Paul McCartney (or perhaps it was the other way round), the Doctor was Art Garfunkel to Fitz’s Paul Simon (okay, maybe definitely the other way round). Sometimes Fitz acted in a way that disappointed the Doctor, sometimes the Doctor did something Fitz found profoundly stupid and unnecessarily life-threatening, but they both simply tended to sigh long-sufferingly and cope as best they could with the other. And if Fitz found himself over time being a little more heroic and likely to save the day-or at least do a very good job helping to save the day-and if the Doctor near-instantaneously found in Fitz Kreiner a useful verbal counterpoint and something of a human touchstone-well, all the better for both of them.
Fitz Kreiner really never meant to shag the Doctor. He’s a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, in fact. There he was, rushing about frantically after a particularly ugly explosion-with which the Doctor had naturally saved the day, again-trying to find his friend, and there the Doctor was, lying on the ground just a little bit scorched and a tiny bit unconscious, and of course Fitz had fallen to his friend’s side, trying to hear heartsbeats, check pulses, and wonder what the hell one does when one’s Time Lord friend is dying and one doesn’t exactly know CPR for a poxy human, let alone an old geezer with two flipping hearts.
So of course when the Doctor opened his eyes and smiled rather beatifically up at Fitz, Fitz had in his relief snogged the Doctor within an inch of his still-precarious life and hadn’t that surprised them both. Well, moreso Fitz, as by that point the Doctor had fallen unconscious again.
(It should be noted here that no matter how many alien women on distant worlds flock to Fitz, relationships like that almost invariably end very, very badly. Usually for both parties involved. And there was that one unfortunate threesome, but Fitz refuses ever to discuss it, even with himself.)
Now, Fitz had found his female companion by this point, and they had between them managed to drag the Doctor back to the TARDIS, and while she went off to make tea, Fitz tried to get the Doctor cleaned up. As this included taking most of the Doctor’s (singed) clothes off and taking a (wet) washcloth to the Doctor’s skin, Fitz was a little rattled by it all at the end of it. Therefore after tucking the Doctor up in bed and seeing his female friend come back with the tea-which, once she got it there, made them both wonder if she was going to give it to the Doctor intravenously or something-he made good use of the chance to bugger off.
(Fitz Kreiner excels at doing a runner. This bears repeating.)
Many, many hours later, the Doctor marched into Fitz Kreiner’s bedroom, where Fitz was in a totally unoriginal way lurking and disconsolately plucking at the strings on his guitar. The Doctor was only wearing the sheet Fitz had wrapped him in many, many hours before. Fitz blinked and decided to look anywhere but at his friend.
This was when the Doctor started talking, demanding to know if Fitz were alright, demanding to know what had happened while he was in one of his ‘healing trances,’ repeating what had happened on the planet as if some television audience were just tuning in for the ‘to be continued’ part of the episode, and, oh yes, had Fitz kissed him after the explosion?
It was Fitz’s turn-finally-to stammer, and blush, and look shiftily about the room anywhere but at the Doctor and his sheet, and wish the Doctor would go back to talking to himself while pretending to be talking to Fitz.
And then the Doctor sat down on Fitz’s bed, and stared at him for a good long while, and then gave him a great big hug, and then there was a graceful and discreet blackout.
(There wasn’t, actually, but Fitz Kreiner’s dignity has been bruised often enough, and some images of the Doctor are better preserved for an individual’s imagination.)
Fitz Kreiner had a very slight tendency to shag the Doctor’s companions. Not the Doctor himself. Or so everyone thought. Including Fitz Kreiner himself.
Lately, Fitz Kreiner has taken to whistling “Feelin’ Groovy” a lot.
Author: aces
Rating: oh, PG or something
Warnings: Makes vague references to book stuff. But then, Fitz *is* a book character, so what else would you expect?
Notes: I should probably apologize for this. Especially to the female companions of the world, who really get short-changed in this fic. So I’m sorry.
Gift for: doyle_sb4, based off the “Eight/Fitz that's not heavily reliant on knowing any particular book” request. I *think* I followed through on the lack-of-canon-knowledge part. I hope I did anyway.
“No Ordinary Love Story,
or How Fitz Kreiner Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Doctor”
Fitz Kreiner had a very slight tendency to shag the Doctor’s companions. Not the Doctor himself. Or so everyone thought. Including Fitz Kreiner himself.
No one, looking at Fitz Kreiner, would have considered him a Casanova. Not even a particularly stubbly Casanova. Fitz was too tall, and too gangly, and in some shady way unclear to anyone, entirely too discreditable to be even a third cousin twice removed from Casanova. And yet women-well, mostly (alien) women on distant worlds-seemed to flock to him. Perhaps the air of disreputability held a dangerous allure, until they realized he was far more likely to do a runner than anything remotely either heroic or, actually, dangerous. On the other hand, perhaps all those alien women kept getting mixed signals. Or maybe they were only using him to get to the Doctor.
Aye, and there’s the rub, anyone would say, if they were looking between Fitz Kreiner and the Doctor. The Doctor was a little shorter in stature, and a little more filled out, and had absolutely, categorically no stubble (no, really). He also had more of an air of romantic adventurer than someone who could unfortunately turn out to be a streaker when you weren’t paying attention.
But you can’t judge a book by its cover-not even a book with a really pretty cover, with lovely illustrations of dragons and fairies and all that lovely and interesting sort of stuff-and there was more (or was that less?) to these two than met the eye.
For one thing, the Doctor did occasionally and most unfortunately sport a little stubble.
And for another, Fitz Kreiner turned out to be a fairly decent chap. On occasion, at least. And he did not, thank goodness, have a history of streaking. (Though he was occasionally found in the most embarrassing of circumstances totally, utterly naked. This was not solely his fault but often also due to those (alien) women on distant worlds.)
Sometimes when individuals came across the Doctor and Fitz, traveling together-with a rotating female, who Fitz may or may not have shagged at some point, whether it was actually her or some other-dimensional copy of her-they privately wondered what the hell these two were doing together. They were so obviously a mismatched pair, even within a long and honorable intergalactic history of mismatched pairs. Surely one of them would have deserted the other by now?
Huh.
If these people had known that Fitz had on occasion given up smoking for the Doctor, and that on at least one occasion Fitz actually tried to pretend he was the Doctor, they might have gotten an inkling about why these two worked. They might also have thought that Fitz was a tiny bit gay, but that-well, actually, that is this story, but not even Fitz Kreiner knows that yet.
In any case, these two clicked. Fitz was John Lennon to the Doctor’s Paul McCartney (or perhaps it was the other way round), the Doctor was Art Garfunkel to Fitz’s Paul Simon (okay, maybe definitely the other way round). Sometimes Fitz acted in a way that disappointed the Doctor, sometimes the Doctor did something Fitz found profoundly stupid and unnecessarily life-threatening, but they both simply tended to sigh long-sufferingly and cope as best they could with the other. And if Fitz found himself over time being a little more heroic and likely to save the day-or at least do a very good job helping to save the day-and if the Doctor near-instantaneously found in Fitz Kreiner a useful verbal counterpoint and something of a human touchstone-well, all the better for both of them.
Fitz Kreiner really never meant to shag the Doctor. He’s a bit embarrassed by the whole thing, in fact. There he was, rushing about frantically after a particularly ugly explosion-with which the Doctor had naturally saved the day, again-trying to find his friend, and there the Doctor was, lying on the ground just a little bit scorched and a tiny bit unconscious, and of course Fitz had fallen to his friend’s side, trying to hear heartsbeats, check pulses, and wonder what the hell one does when one’s Time Lord friend is dying and one doesn’t exactly know CPR for a poxy human, let alone an old geezer with two flipping hearts.
So of course when the Doctor opened his eyes and smiled rather beatifically up at Fitz, Fitz had in his relief snogged the Doctor within an inch of his still-precarious life and hadn’t that surprised them both. Well, moreso Fitz, as by that point the Doctor had fallen unconscious again.
(It should be noted here that no matter how many alien women on distant worlds flock to Fitz, relationships like that almost invariably end very, very badly. Usually for both parties involved. And there was that one unfortunate threesome, but Fitz refuses ever to discuss it, even with himself.)
Now, Fitz had found his female companion by this point, and they had between them managed to drag the Doctor back to the TARDIS, and while she went off to make tea, Fitz tried to get the Doctor cleaned up. As this included taking most of the Doctor’s (singed) clothes off and taking a (wet) washcloth to the Doctor’s skin, Fitz was a little rattled by it all at the end of it. Therefore after tucking the Doctor up in bed and seeing his female friend come back with the tea-which, once she got it there, made them both wonder if she was going to give it to the Doctor intravenously or something-he made good use of the chance to bugger off.
(Fitz Kreiner excels at doing a runner. This bears repeating.)
Many, many hours later, the Doctor marched into Fitz Kreiner’s bedroom, where Fitz was in a totally unoriginal way lurking and disconsolately plucking at the strings on his guitar. The Doctor was only wearing the sheet Fitz had wrapped him in many, many hours before. Fitz blinked and decided to look anywhere but at his friend.
This was when the Doctor started talking, demanding to know if Fitz were alright, demanding to know what had happened while he was in one of his ‘healing trances,’ repeating what had happened on the planet as if some television audience were just tuning in for the ‘to be continued’ part of the episode, and, oh yes, had Fitz kissed him after the explosion?
It was Fitz’s turn-finally-to stammer, and blush, and look shiftily about the room anywhere but at the Doctor and his sheet, and wish the Doctor would go back to talking to himself while pretending to be talking to Fitz.
And then the Doctor sat down on Fitz’s bed, and stared at him for a good long while, and then gave him a great big hug, and then there was a graceful and discreet blackout.
(There wasn’t, actually, but Fitz Kreiner’s dignity has been bruised often enough, and some images of the Doctor are better preserved for an individual’s imagination.)
Fitz Kreiner had a very slight tendency to shag the Doctor’s companions. Not the Doctor himself. Or so everyone thought. Including Fitz Kreiner himself.
Lately, Fitz Kreiner has taken to whistling “Feelin’ Groovy” a lot.