Fic: "Equilibrium" (Eight/Fitz, PG-13)
Reposted from my journal and whoniverse1000 (there are still plenty of EDA characters and pairings to claim! Go fic!).
Equilibrium
by brewsternorth
Length: about 478 words
Characters/Pairings: Eight/Fitz Kreiner
Rating: PG-13 for content, language, and implications
Spoilers: none. Doesn't even matter if you haven't read the books.
Disclaimer: I own only words.
Summary: Soggy snoggage, basically.
The world was sliding sideways and his guts were turning in strange directions.
It was just shock, Fitz told himself. Shock. He’d nearly caught his death of cold.
“Nggh,” he groaned as the circulation finally came back, painfully, to his fingers and toes. The Doctor was hugging him, rubbing at his back to get the blood flowing again, murmuring something soothing into his ear, and all Fitz could think was that his ear tickled where it was being spoken to.
And that the Doctor had very little on, even if he had slung on a dressing-gown after hauling Fitz out of the pool, rescuing the man who’d been attempting to rescue him. What had possessed the Doctor to “meditate” starkers and fast-asleep lying on the bottom of a pool of ice-cold water hidden somewhere in the TARDIS, Fitz would never know.
It wasn’t even fair that the Doctor was now warmer than he was (jammy bastard), so that Fitz ended up clinging to him as he shivered under a vast bath-towel and a butterscotch-coloured fur coat in about the Doctor’s size. God, what he wouldn’t do for a ciggie and a glass of brandy, if only he wasn’t shaking so badly. “’M sorry,” he choked, trying to force his teeth not to chatter so much.
“Oh, Fitz,” the Doctor sighed. “You’re a riddle inside a contradiction, you know that.” Before Fitz could ask him what the hell he meant by that, he was kissing Fitz - not just your usual peck on the mouth but a full-on snog.
Oh bloody hell. The rational part of Fitz’s brain was screaming that this was madness, but the rest had just gone into meltdown and was trying and failing not to whimper. It didn’t help that the hands rubbing his back had started to knead it instead, manipulating the muscles so they loosened. Okay, he was warming up fast, but you could have too much of a good thing. This was - too much. He could taste tea and thunderstorms, and something else he couldn’t place, something vaguely salty.
He wondered what he tasted like to the Doctor.
No, that was just too weird.
“Thanks for saving me,” murmured the Doctor as they broke off, smiling gently. “I should apologise. I haven’t been the easiest of people to travel with of late. Too preoccupied with my own mind.”
Fitz could only make a strangulated sound by way of reply. “Ghk.”
The Doctor seemed to understand, and patted his shoulder. “Let’s get you out of those wet things, shall we?”
Fitz groaned. The Doc might’ve found his Zen, but he was totally off balance. “Tell me,” he managed in a small voice, “tell me you didn’t say what I think you just said.”
Equilibrium
by brewsternorth
Length: about 478 words
Characters/Pairings: Eight/Fitz Kreiner
Rating: PG-13 for content, language, and implications
Spoilers: none. Doesn't even matter if you haven't read the books.
Disclaimer: I own only words.
Summary: Soggy snoggage, basically.
The world was sliding sideways and his guts were turning in strange directions.
It was just shock, Fitz told himself. Shock. He’d nearly caught his death of cold.
“Nggh,” he groaned as the circulation finally came back, painfully, to his fingers and toes. The Doctor was hugging him, rubbing at his back to get the blood flowing again, murmuring something soothing into his ear, and all Fitz could think was that his ear tickled where it was being spoken to.
And that the Doctor had very little on, even if he had slung on a dressing-gown after hauling Fitz out of the pool, rescuing the man who’d been attempting to rescue him. What had possessed the Doctor to “meditate” starkers and fast-asleep lying on the bottom of a pool of ice-cold water hidden somewhere in the TARDIS, Fitz would never know.
It wasn’t even fair that the Doctor was now warmer than he was (jammy bastard), so that Fitz ended up clinging to him as he shivered under a vast bath-towel and a butterscotch-coloured fur coat in about the Doctor’s size. God, what he wouldn’t do for a ciggie and a glass of brandy, if only he wasn’t shaking so badly. “’M sorry,” he choked, trying to force his teeth not to chatter so much.
“Oh, Fitz,” the Doctor sighed. “You’re a riddle inside a contradiction, you know that.” Before Fitz could ask him what the hell he meant by that, he was kissing Fitz - not just your usual peck on the mouth but a full-on snog.
Oh bloody hell. The rational part of Fitz’s brain was screaming that this was madness, but the rest had just gone into meltdown and was trying and failing not to whimper. It didn’t help that the hands rubbing his back had started to knead it instead, manipulating the muscles so they loosened. Okay, he was warming up fast, but you could have too much of a good thing. This was - too much. He could taste tea and thunderstorms, and something else he couldn’t place, something vaguely salty.
He wondered what he tasted like to the Doctor.
No, that was just too weird.
“Thanks for saving me,” murmured the Doctor as they broke off, smiling gently. “I should apologise. I haven’t been the easiest of people to travel with of late. Too preoccupied with my own mind.”
Fitz could only make a strangulated sound by way of reply. “Ghk.”
The Doctor seemed to understand, and patted his shoulder. “Let’s get you out of those wet things, shall we?”
Fitz groaned. The Doc might’ve found his Zen, but he was totally off balance. “Tell me,” he managed in a small voice, “tell me you didn’t say what I think you just said.”