Mister Tyler needs a Doctor- RL

[out_of_my_time]

On his bed, Sam Tyler shivered; he felt like he was burning up with fever, but the sweat that dotted his forehead and stained the collar of his vest was cold and clammy.  He hiked the blanket up further around his shoulders, hunching over the incongruous silver laptop that sat before him.  Typing was an effort, with the way his fingers shook, and

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[out_of_my_time]

Finally, Sam allowed his eyes to close, shutting out the unnerving way in which the room was moving and focusing solely on the feel of the Doctor's fingers on his temples, and his consciousness in Sam's mind. He drew a deep breath and tried to force himself to relax, nodding faintly as the Doctor spoke.

The feeling of pushing intensified for a moment, and Sam's jaw clenched, until very suddenly, whatever the Doctor was pushing against seemed to give, and Sam blinked.

The Doctor was smiling at him, and Sam shook his head, dispelling any shreds of dizziness which still clung to him. '... Yeah, actually,' he grinned a bit crookedly, and then cleared his throat. 'Yeah.'

He swiped a hand over his forehead, grimacing at the cold, fever-sweat there. But it was better. The room was no longer stretching weirdly, the bed no longer morphing under him, and though his headache remained as a faint buzz in the back of his skull, it was no longer the unbearable pounding of before. His grin dazzled.

'Thanks, Doctor. That's... that's brilliant, thank you.'

[timey_wimey]

The Doctor's smile became a full on 100-watt grin as he took his hands away from Sam's temples at last.

"Well, it was the least I could do," he said, unusually modestly.

[out_of_my_time]

Sam's grin went a bit crooked at that, and he looked away from the Doctor, down at his bed, chuckling faintly. Now that he felt rather less likely to die of an overdose at any moment, it had struck him with rather resounding firmness that it was the Doctor sitting next to him on his bed.

He shook his head, just a little, smirking. This was brilliant.

[timey_wimey]

The Doctor's expression turned curious, though the grin still lingered around the corners of his mouth. "What are you smiling for?" he asked amusedly.

[out_of_my_time]

Sam caught the corner of his grin in between his teeth, regarding the Doctor from under his eyelids. It felt more than a little ridiculous, even entertaining the idea of saying it aloud, but he suddenly felt so ridiculously pleased-- the combination of the sudden absence of mind-altering drugs in his system and the realisation of who precisely was sitting next him-- that there was nothing else for it.

He gave the Doctor a little grin, bordering on the bashful. 'Well. 'S you, innit? The Doctor. Here in me flat with me; it's--' Sam let his head fall back on his neck, his eyes closing for just a moment. 'It's mental.'

[timey_wimey]

At this, the Doctor raised his eyebrows, still grinning. Sometimes he forgot that Sam had grown up actually watching his adventures on TV.

"Don't you go getting all fanboy on me, Sam Tyler," he teased. "I might have to get a restraining order."

[out_of_my_time]

Sam laughed outright. It felt good; he didn't laugh enough here. Didn't laugh enough, well, much of anywhere, really, but his current circumstances didn't precisely help.

'Oh, you don't need to worry,' he smirked. 'I think I'm capable of controlling myself.'

Though, a wry little voice in his head piped up, I've no idea how well I'd manage if it was the Fifth Doctor.

Sam silenced that voice quickly,