FIC: come to me with remedies [1/6]
Title: come to me with remedies (part 1 of 6)
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for explicit sex, mental issues, and Fitz's mouth.
Author: lucia_tanaka (with amazing help from lullabee_lj)
Characters: the Obverse!versions of the Doctor, Fitz, and Anji. Fitz/Doctor.
Summary: A year's time in a blue house in a tiny English town. The ups and downs of the lives of a not-so-perpetual slacker, a daydream believer, and a terribly sensible trader.
Word Count: Just under 50,000. No, really.
Notes: This started as pointless porn-writing practice. It now spans four Google Documents and is about half the length of the source book. IDEFK, folks. Also, this fic practically runs on stupid references, apologies in advance. Also also, this fic probably requires knowledge of The Blue Angel's Obverse to understand.
It was winter again, the seasonal change making itself loudly known to Fitz Kreiner as he bounded up the steps to the old blue house. The chill was complimented by the natural cold of the deep night, and Fitz was reluctant to take his hands out of his coat pockets to unlock the door. But it was sure to be marginally warmer inside, so he swore under his breath, digging out his keys and fighting with the lock, his haste to get inside making his movements sloppy. "Buggering... ha, finally," he murmured, breath visible in front of him.
He hurried inside, locking up after himself. Most of the lights were off, typical of the late hour. Fitz made an effort to be quiet as he set his guitar case aside, peeled off his jacket, and unwound the scarf from around his neck. Out of the winter air, he could feel himself coming down from the evening's activities. The buzz of alcohol faded into a dreamy lull now that the prickly, cruel cold of his trek home was gone. He fancied he'd sleep well that night, throat somewhat sore from a long night of singing, fingers equally so from playing. A small roll of pound notes in his jean pocket reminding him he'd managed to be paid for something he'd often do just for the joy of performance.
Fitz hummed to himself as he toed off his boots and meandered into the house proper. He walked through the kitchen, noting a light had been left on there. On the counter was a full teacup. He frowned at it in confusion, looking around before dipping a finger into it. Cold. "Not like him to forget tea..." He dumped the tea into the sink and flicked off the light before moving on, now much more wary.
Moonlight lit the living room, shining in through the open curtains, dyeing the entire scene a dark blue. Fitz's footsteps were light as he padded across the rug.
There wasn't much chance he'd wake his landlord, he found. As he rounded on the staircase, Fitz saw his way was blocked by the Doctor, laying across the steps halfway down, limbs loose and eyes shut.
"Shit. Shit!" Fitz burst into motion, hitting the lightswitch and launching himself to the Doctor's side, kneeling by him. His hands cupped the man's neck, thumb finding the Doctor's pulse. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. He wasn't dead, that was a start. Fitz looked back downstairs and yelled, "COMPASSION! Compassion, get your arse out of bed, I need you! The Doctor, he-" Fitz stopped abruptly, remembering.
Compassion was gone. She'd left a few weeks ago, no warning, just packed her bags and went off with some engineering bloke. He'd been excited for her at the time, if sad to see her go. Now, he felt abandoned. He took a long breath, trying to keep calm. He was the only one around for the Doctor these days. He had to handle things.
Beneath him, the Doctor stirred, moaning softly. Fitz leaned over him. "Doctor? Hey, I'm here, it's Fitz, I'm right here." The Doctor mumbled something unintelligible, turning his face into Fitz's hand. "Just stay right here, I'm gonna go fetch the phone. Don't move or-or anything, all right?"
He stood swiftly, having to ignore the way the Doctor tried to feebly catch hold of his shirt as he went, jumping down the stairs and grabbing the phone off the cradle in the living room. He was already dialing the Doctor's psychiatrist when he returned to his friend's side. The Doctor's eyes were open, blurrily tracking Fitz's face.
"You're back..."
"Of course. Just had to grab the phone, calling your doctor." He brushed the messy golden brown curls out of the Doctor's face.
"You came back home," the Doctor murmured. He shook his head, eyes focusing somewhat. "Don't call. I just tripped. Medication made me dizzy."
Fitz lowered the phone from his ear. "So it wasn't another...?"
"Just hit my head." He gave Fitz a warm smile, offering some reassurance. "I couldn't get back up."
"All right. Okay." Fitz ended the call, setting the phone to the side slowly. "You want some help?"
"Yes, if you would, please." The Doctor struggled to sit up, aided by Fitz as he lifted him from the ground. It took some doing on the narrow stairs, but soon the Doctor was leaning against Fitz, clutching his shoulders tightly. He did look rather dizzy, shutting his eyes and laying his head on Fitz's chest. "I feel rather unbalanced..."
"Take your time. I've got you. You're not going anywhere." Fitz leaned against the railing, content to hold onto the Doctor as he fought off his disorientation. It gave Fitz the time to relax, banish the nightmare of finding the Doctor like that, sprawled and helpless.
"You aren't either. Are you?" The Doctor's breath was warm against Fitz's collarbone. "You always come back."
Fitz smiled softly. He knew the Doctor was upset by Compassion's departure even more than he was. He played his records louder and louder each day, complaining about the quiet. Fitz knew that Compassion hadn't contributed noise to the house, but he felt her absence just the same way. He knew they both wanted to fill the hole she left any way they could. They wanted to pretend no one left, that their lives would remain interconnected. Fitz knew the Doctor was afraid his tenants would leave him.
"You can't get rid me that easily," Fitz whispered, rubbing the Doctor's back soothingly.
Fitz called in sick at his job to stay with the Doctor, too shaken up by the near disaster of the prior evening to leave him alone all day. From there, he took it on himself to convince the Doctor to let Fitz walk them down to his doctor's office. Bundled up, they walked over the icy streets, Fitz's hand wrapped around the Doctor's arm, steadying him. He couldn't stop thinking about how pale and frail his friend looked sometimes, like one good gust could knock him over.
"I don't have an appointment," the Doctor said sullenly.
"What you're paying him, he can make room for you," Fitz replied curtly. "Tell him you almost got a concussion last night from the stuff he gave you and you can't keep taking it."
The Doctor looked down, watching their feet as they trudged along. He looked somewhat guilty, as if Fitz was blaming him. "You're exaggerating. It was just a little stumble."
"Don't give me that. How long did you wait for me to get home? What if it'd been just a little worse, and I'd gone out and gotten pissed, then where would we be?"
"You worry so much over me."
"Ta, I do," he admitted. He squeezed the Doctor's arm a little. "I'll worry less when you're off this prescription."
That seemed to be incentive enough. The argument was dropped and upon reaching the Georgian house, the Doctor disappeared into his psychiatrist's office. Fitz loitered around, lighting up a fag and tapping out a drumbeat on his thighs as he leaned against a wall. Without his charge to look after, he felt antsy.
His mind strayed to Compassion again. Fitz wondered if, wherever she was, she thought about them anymore. He wondered if she worried about the Doctor the way he did. He suspected not. If she had, how could she just leave like that? No, she'd gotten out and he tried not to think of it was a wise move. On some level, she was escaping the responsibility of dealing with the Doctor when things got bad. But really, Fitz didn't think he could follow her lead. He was getting dangerously close to his thirties and what did he have to show for it? Compassion was whip smart and younger than he was. She had potential.
Fuck, Fitz realized. I'm settling down. I'm settling down with my landlord who sometimes thinks he's an alien time-traveler who defends Earth from other aliens.
"Fitz! Are you smoking in a patient's lounge?" Fitz jumped, startled, as the Doctor approached him.
"What?" When the practice office was someone's home, what made this a lounge? Was it just the virtue of how it was used?
"You can't smoke in here. Really, Fitz, you should know better."
"Oh. Right. Sorry." He looked around dumbly, looking for an ashtray before just opening the door and throwing his cigarette out into the snow.
The Doctor watched him curiously, surprised at the lack of protest. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, I'm good. How was the, er." He snapped his fingers, collecting his thoughts. "What'd your guy say?"
"Back on an old regimen until he can find something better suited to what I need. He said he's sorry for the stress he's caused you as well." Fitz nodded mutely. "Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yeah. Just thinking about stuff. So, back home?"
The Doctor smiled. "I believe so." Before Fitz could react, he threaded his arm through Fitz's.
Fitz didn't pull away, but such casual intimacy following his minor revelation made him nervous. "What's that for then?"
"I thought you wanted to make sure I didn't fall, like before." The Doctor's face was the picture of innocence. If he had any inkling that he was invading Fitz's personal space, it didn't show on him at all. He lead Fitz out of the house and back into the winter day. "I wanted to talk to you about our home. We have a surplus of room. I was considering putting an advert in the paper..."
For the longest time, Fitz was certain no one would come calling about the spare room of the house. He only vaguely remembered when he himself walked in to his home for the first time, looking for board. That was before the Doctor's spells had gotten so frequent. Nowadays, everyone knew about the kind but unhinged man in big blue house. Fitz was sure the rumors would chase everyone away.
But that wasn't the case. Granted there had only been one caller, but Anji Kapoor didn't look like the type to be easily put off. Fitz showed her around the newly cleaned bottom floor that would be hers. She seemed keen on the large bedroom and adjacent rooms that she'd have mostly to herself. Telling her about the Doctor's brilliant cooking seemed to seal the deal as far as he could tell.
"Very spacious, considering the rent," she remarked, sitting on the bed in what would be her room, bouncing on it experimentally. "I feel like there's a catch to all this."
"The Doctor likes having people around him. Helps keep him grounded," Fitz said, dodging the issue. "It's quiet out here, but we're in walking distance of most of the important places in town, should you need."
Anji nodded along, looking intently around the room. He couldn't read her expression very well, but she seemed pleased at the prospects. "I read in the advertisement there was a garden?"
"Yeah, over here." He beckoned her along. He made an effort not to hunch up in his jumper, standing tall like he was proud of his home. And he was, he loved it, he just rarely showed it. "It's not very attractive right now with the winter and all, but we try to keep it going."
She peered out the windows at the rows of snow-dusted soil, interspersed with the occasional bit of decaying brown. "It looks like it'd be lovely in the summer."
"Yeah. Good to grab a book and just sit out there."
"I'll bet." Anji glanced sideways at him. The look on her face grew solemn and he could tell what was coming. "I think this is all perfect, but I have to ask... I've heard some things about the Doctor-"
Fitz cut her off before she could voice any of it. He spent enough time in town to have known what she'd heard. "Listen, he's... It's not something to really worry about. Everyone exaggerates about his spells. They're not common and he's perfectly harmless. The most he can do is confuse the hell out of you talking about spacey things."
"But he is a bit of an eccentric, isn't he?" Her voice was carefully lacking any judgement.
"Sure, but that's not a bad thing. He's the most interesting person you'll ever meet, and..." Fitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could be a smooth talker when he needed to be, but his words weren't coming so easily right now. Having to defend his landlord was aggravating. "Seriously, I've lived here for years and I love it. You don't need to worry about the Doctor much since I kind of watch out for him. He's not going to go mad and hurt you or anyone else. He mostly keeps to himself anyway." He was running out of steam and the anxiety made him itch for a cig. "So are you in or what?"
Anji looked back out at the garden, quiet and seemingly contemplating what Fitz had said. He folded his arms to stop his fidgeting. It seemed to him the people who showed up here had that annoying unreadable quality. He'd never figured out Compassion in particular, though Sam had been a little more open.
God, he had been here a long bloody time, hadn't he?
"I will be, yes." Anji nodded briskly. "It really is quite nice in here. I have another place to look at, but I'm not particularly hopeful about it." She finally smiled at him, soft but transforming her face into something pretty. Fitz smiled back instinctively, because what else did you do when a nice bird grinned at you. "I'll call you sometime early next week?"
"That's sounds great. If I'm not here, the Doc will be, he can set you up." Her smile faltered a little. "Honest, he's just an oddball. On my mother's grave, I promise you will like him. Everyone does once they get to know him."
"All right, all right, no need for oaths." She looked around the house for another moment, biting her lip. "I think I'd like it here."
"Well, that's good." He winced at his own lameness. "'M glad. So, we'll talk later then?"
She shook his hand, very businesslike. "I hope so." Was that flirting? It'd been so long since he'd pulled for a girl, he wasn't sure. Just in case, he was extra cordial, helping her into her coat as she left.
He tried out the name when she'd gone. "Anji Kapoor." He watched he shuffle back to her car across the front yard, watched her pull away into the road. He was almost certain she'd be back. The house had a way of catching people, Fitz thought, with its mix of peculiarity and comfort. He was a prime example of that.
His job as realtor done, he tapped out a woodbine, wandering back into the house. A sojourn to his room to read the new book he'd picked out of the attic sounded perfect to him. He headed for the stairs, stopping at the bottom when he saw the Doctor sitting on them. Sitting upright, curled up on one of the upper steps. He looked fine, but Fitz's stomach plummeted into his shoes anyway. Too soon, not again. "Doctor?"
"Don't look like that, Fitz. I'm fine. I was just watching," he explained gently. From where he sat, Fitz noted, he could watch the living room, peering through the guardrails like a child waiting for a glimpse of Santa.
Fitz walked up to join him on his step, folding up his lanky body next to the Doctor. "You could have come down to say hello."
"You were doing such a nice job, I couldn't." His eyes strayed over Fitz's face searchingly. "Did you mean it?"
Fitz blew out a long stream of smoke, lazily content now that he had some nicotine in him. "Hm?"
"All those things you said about me."
Oh. Fitz blinked, trying to recall all he'd said. He didn't remember spouting off anything bad about the Doctor. "Yeah, I guess. Just told her the truth of it. She had the right to know. Why?"
The Doctor ducked his head, resting his chin on his knee. "You do take care of me, don't you." It wasn't a question, but a soft and somewhat sad statement.
"I..." He looked at his cigarette, thinking. He wondered if he shouldn't have said that, but... "Does that bother you? That I said so, I mean."
"Don't you think it should bother you, Fitz?" The Doctor bent over, leaning forward to catch Fitz's eyes. Once he had, Fitz was caught staring at him. It always felt like the Doctor had some sort of weird power over him, able to if not bend Fitz to his will at least lean him towards it. Fitz used to mind that. "Do you know..." The Doctor seemed to be turning his words over carefully in his head. His gaze was unblinkingly fixed on Fitz's own. "Sometimes I wish you would leave. I don't know why you don't. Everyone else does. Seeing as they don't come back, it must be for the best."
Fitz really desperately wanted to look away but found he couldn't. "Best for who?"
"For you. You deal with so much, Fitz, it's... you shouldn't have to put up with my episodes."
As much as he didn't want to have this conversation, Fitz thought maybe they needed to. Clearly the Doctor thought so, for once not backing off at Fitz's plain discomfort. Fitz sighed and took a moment to smoke until he calmed somewhat. "D'you meet my mum before she died?" He shook his head. Fitz could have sworn they had met once... He shrugged one shoulder, going on. "Mum, she was crazy. Proper crazy. I grew up with her since my dad was gone. And..." He looked down at his hands.
"You don't talk about her," the Doctor noted quietly.
"I know. What I mean is, I know crazy and you are not it. You just... I think you just get lost in your head sometimes, like everyone does. Your head's just a lot more interesting than everyone else's, that's all."
"Do you really think so?"
Fitz grinned, not about to say how much he really sort of liked the Doctor's crazy mind. The spells he had were scary and the thought of them kept Fitz up some nights, but the Doctor was weird and Fitz preferred weird to normalcy any day of the week. Diverting, he just put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and said, "Come on. Being so suave and charming to Anji made me hungry."
"He's in the kitchen," Anji stage whispered to Fitz when he finally rolled out of bed only a half hour before he had to be at the shop to make sure none of the flowers died from the cold until they were safely purchased and out the door. Spring could not come quickly enough.
"Okay," Fitz said evenly, sitting on the coffee table and tying his boot laces.
"He's making jewelry."
That one was new. Fitz paused, looking up at her. "He's what?" And dammit, he lost his place in the knot he was tying. He peered at it, waiting for his drowsy mind to catch up and let him know the next step.
"He found some paper craft things in the attic. He's been fiddling with them all morning. See." She rolled up her sleeve to show him. There was a tangle of brightly colored bracelets wound around her pale wrists. They looked like braided cloth, but upon closer inspection, he found it was paper, bent and formed to make some slightly gaudy but well-put together trinkets.
"Huh. That's new." He tore his gaze away. "I'm not sure fuchsia and cauliflower blue works for you though."
She blinked in surprise, like men weren't allowed to know color names more complicated than 'red' and 'yellow'. He winked at her, letting her know he'd caught her out. Eventually she'd figure out he was not a perpetually lazy musician who liked to drink too much. All right, not just a perpetually lazy et cetera, et cetera. "Later, Anji." He left her in the living room and went to find the Doctor.
"You're going to be late," the Doctor pointed out as he walked into the kitchen. His attention was wholly on his work, fingers tangled in strips of paper like confetti. With the safety scissors and the cut outs of stars and moons, all those matte hues and iridescent sparkles- the table looked like it'd been taken over by a child's art project.
"Alarm didn't go off on time."
"It did. You hit the snooze too much again."
"No one shows up before noon this time of year anyway." He leaned on the table, watching the Doctor's hands shape scraps and miscellanea into something that was a little beautiful. Even as he stood over him, observing how his hands worked, he couldn't catch the transition where the material stopped being junk and became a rainbow necklace. It was like the Doctor could morph matter with his fingers through the sheer force of his imagination. "Where'd you learn that?"
"I haven't the foggiest," the Doctor answered. "You're going to be even more late."
"Right." Fitz lingered a moment longer, taking in the way the Doctor's delicate fingers weaved together. It was hypnotic. He couldn't stay though, and headed for the coat closet to dig out his jacket. "I don't have a gig tonight, so I'll see you at dinner." He shrugged into his coat, turning towards the kitchen. The Doctor stood right in front of him, making him jump in shock. "M-make a sound, will ya?"
The Doctor smiled and took Fitz's hand, toying with his wrist for a moment before stepping back again. Left there was a curving bracelet, dark against his skin. The paper was lavender bleeding into red and back again. Fitz lifted his arm to look at it. It seemed to be one solid piece, but too snug against his skin to have fit over his hand. And the way it twisted in on itself... Fitz closed his eyes tightly for a second before looking again. Something about it puzzled him. It didn't seem possible.
"It's a Möbius strip," Fitz said quietly.
"Is that what it's called?" The Doctor retreated back to his table, slipping back into his work.
"No, see... you can't have made this. Where'd you cut it?"
"Cut it?"
"To make it bend like that."
The Doctor rested his hands on the table, glancing up disinterestedly at Fitz. "I didn't cut it." Fitz opened his mouth to protest and point out how completely impossible that was, but the Doctor chided him sternly, "Fitz, you have only twenty minutes to get to work. Off you go."
It was the average Sunday evening, a routine so constant it was as much a part of the house as the French doors or the creaky floorboards on the third floor landing. Anji sat on one of the armchairs on one side of the room, typing furiously on her laptop, dealing with shares or stocks or whatever it was that made her so fabulously on time with the rent. On the chaise lounge, Fitz sat with his guitar, playing something classic and universal, letting muscle memory pull him through the song as he mindlessly sang along. Next to him, the Doctor lay against the cushions with his eyes closed, half-asleep under a loudly colored but buttery soft blanket.
"And we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph, sail on the steel breeze," Fitz drawled. His voice was rough and tired from the long day of doing nothing. There was no urgency, no sense of time passing except from the segue from one set of lyrics and chords to the next. "Come on, you boychild, you winner and loser... Come on, you miner for truth and delusion, and shine."
The ticking of Anji's typing faded. For something that had been purely background noise to Fitz a moment ago, its absence was immediately obvious. Very softly, she asked, "Is that an appropriate song for you to play?"
Fitz blinked at her, not immediately replying. It felt like it'd been hours since he'd actually spoken instead of sung. For all he knew, it might have been. He had to remember just how it went, the whole talking thing. "What do you mean?"
Anji nodded pointedly at the Doctor's form, curled up and oblivious to the world. "Don't you think someone might find it upsetting?" Fitz snorted. "I'm serious. That's not very considerate of you, Fitz."
"He doesn't care if I play some Floyd." He grinned wickedly. "No, what really bothers him is..." He shifted his grip on the instrument, holding it more securely as he launched into the chorus of 'Please Please Me.'
As Fitz expected, the Doctor turned over, blurrily mumbling about metronomes and perhaps throwing one at Fitz's head. His feet ended up in Fitz's lap, pushing the guitar aside until Fitz had to quickly catch it before it fell. As soon as the playing stopped, the Doctor was out again. Fitz chuckled and shifted the Doctor's feet so he could hold his guitar again.
"He doesn't like the Beatles?" Anji asked incredulously. She wasn't much for music, but she sounded appropriately appalled. Fitz liked her all the more for recognizing Beatles hate for the heinous crime it was.
"No, only that song for whatever reason. Keeps saying my rhythm's off and demanding I play something else." It was like an in-joke that Fitz had forgotten the source of, not sure why he always used it to annoy the Doctor, but inexplicably certain that one song had a history with them.
"So what does he like then?" Anji shut her laptop and set it aside, looking at Fitz expectantly. As if he hadn't been playing for the two of them for god only knew how long already.
But Fitz could never resist an audience. He had Anji's full attention and when he checked, he saw the Doctor wasn't asleep again, but watching him from behind half-lids. "I think I may know something."
The eternal winter was finally giving way to spring, over a month late but still welcomed with open arms. The windows were open, airing out the stuffiness of the house, and the barely functioning heater was at long last taking a break. It felt like they were all coming out of hibernation.
Fitz dressed in his rattiest jeans and a The Who shirt that had worn and washed so many times, the band logo barely stood out against the soft cotton. He probably shouldn't wear his favorite clothes for gardening, but the Doctor said not to put on anything nice and these definitely weren't what he could call nice. Comfortable like his own skin, but not nice.
Fitz found the Doctor digging tools out of one of the closets. Some days, Fitz felt like raiding his landlord's room just to see if he even owned a tee shirt. The Doctor was noticeably dressed down, but for him that was still corduroys and a clean, white long sleeved shirt. How he didn't cook in the sudden warmth of the season, Fitz had no idea.
There was something else though.
"Oh god, take that off," Fitz groaned, looking around to see if Anji had seen him yet. "You look completely daft."
The Doctor pursed his lips severely at Fitz. "But it'll keep the sun out of my eyes."
"You look ridiculous. Please?" There were times when just saying 'please' would convince the Doctor to do almost anything, rewarding Fitz's rare bouts of politesse.
"No." The Doctor held his head up high and marched down the hall to the living room and garden patio. "Come on, Fitz."
Fitz rubbed his eyes, sighing as long-sufferingly as he could muster. "Stubborn git."
"Fitz." Anji was staring at the Doctor's back as he made his way among the slowly reviving plants and flowers in the back yard. "Is he wearing a bonnet?"
"Yes. Yes, he is." He put a hand on her shoulder, looking deep into her chocolate eyes. "Do me a favor, Anji, please tell him how silly it looks every chance you get. My masculinity cannot handle this."
Anji tilted her head, peering at the Doctor for a moment. "I don't know. On him, it almost works."
"I don't like you anymore," Fitz said loudly, stomping outside.
Luckily, Fitz didn't have much attention to spare to the Doctor's spring fashions. He was hardly the brawn of the household, but compared to Anji and the Doctor, he did have the labor-intensive job, so the Doctor set him to cleaning out the flower beds, digging out old dirt and pouring new, fresh mulch in its place. Within a half hour, he was wishing he had a hat of his own-- not a bonnet, mind. Sweat and sunlight made him squint through his tough work. He'd heard people say working made them feel alive and happy. Those people were either insane or stupid, Fitz decided, and when Anji brought them out some tall glasses of lemonade, he almost snogged her in relief.
"Looks good, Fitz," she said appreciatively.
"Ta," he saluted her with his glass, leaning on his garden hoe and enjoying his lemonade. He watched her wander back to the porch, where her laptop sat waiting for her. On the way, the Doctor caught her, bending his head to whisper something to her. His smile was warm and sweet, and apparently infectious, as soon Anji was smiling the same way. She laughed as the Doctor tucked a cluster of wildflowers into her hair, just behind her ear. She was flushing pink as she reteated to her seat.
Fitz walked over and collapsed loudly onto the ground next to his friend. "Pretty flowers for the pretty girl?"
"Hm, something like that," the Doctor murmured. "Can you pick up more carnations for me? I don't think last year's survived."
"Yeah, I'll bring 'em home tomorrow." Fitz sipped his drink, just watching the man methodically work through his beloved plants, assessing the winter's damage.
It was easing from morning to afternoon slowly, the temperature rising as the hours ticked on. Fitz's work was mostly done, and thus he ended up just laying down on the ground, feeling the first sprigs of grass tickling his ears. He could take a nap like that, though he'd probably pay for it later. He could get up and go find sunscreen first, but that would require effort and Fitz wasn't quite up for that yet.
Sometime later, the Doctor leaned over him, bemusedly smiling. "Asleep?"
"No. Just zen'ed out." He paused, looking up at the Doctor before laughing softly. "I just can't take you seriously wearing that thing."
"What? Oh, the bonnet... I see." Without any more fuss, he untied the silk ribbon around his neck and pulled the hat loose. His hand swept through his hair, taming the somewhat unruly curls back to what settled for normal with him. "Now you can take me seriously, correct?"
Fitz grinned. "Yeah, sure. As much as I take anything seriously."
"There is that." The Doctor agreed, smiling still curving his lips. His gaze was disquieting, just the weight of it making Fitz's face flush as Anji's had.
"What're you looking at?"
"You, of course," the Doctor said. If Fitz didn't know any better, he'd think the Doctor was toying with him, seeing how long he could stand being examined so closely. But the Doctor's fascination with everything up to and including Fitz was thoughtless and simplistic, whether Fitz found it disconcerting or not.
"Am I that interesting?" Fitz asked jokingly, hoping to deflect the attention.
With complete honesty, the Doctor answered, "Yes."
Fitz swallowed loudly, turning his head against the earth to glance away. Anji had apparently gone inside. He wished she hadn't. Things were too private between the two of them without her presence, like an unknowing chaperone. Not that Fitz knew what he was so nervous about. Or if he did, he wasn't admitting it to anyone, including himself.
Before that train of thought could run him over, the Doctor derailed it with a light touch against his shoulder, drawing his gaze back. "Why does that bother you?"
"It doesn't." Fitz bristled, just a shade defensive.
"If you insist." The Doctor brushed the hair out of Fitz's eyes. For all Fitz could guess, the man was counting the freckles in his irises or something. What could he find so engrossing?
The Doctor said something then so startling, Fitz was certain he'd imagined it. The heat was getting to him or Anji had spiked the drinks. Something was making his hearing go wobbly, surely.
"Come again," Fitz asked faintly, sure he'd misheard.
Unconcerned and utterly demure, the Doctor repeated himself: "I think I'd like to kiss you."
He could have said, 'nice weather we're having' with the exact same tone and no one would bat an eye. How he remained so bloody casual while Fitz's breath was catching in his chest was anyone's guess. If he had the air for it, he would've made an embarrassing squeaky noise when the Doctor's fingers trailed down the side of his cheek, his nails catching lightly on the days-old stubble on Fitz's chin.
Eventually, Fitz managed to say, "Are you going to?"
"Hm." He tilted his head, considering carefully. "No, I don't believe so. I don't think it'd be very nice at the moment. You need a shave, for one." The Doctor patted Fitz's chest consolingly before pushing himself up to his feet and standing. As though nothing had happened, he strolled back to the house, calling back, "Don't lay out here too long. You'll burn in the sun."
Fitz sat up slowly, staring numbly at the man's back, waiting for the heavens to open up and let him know what the hell that was all about.
He reached up and rubbed the rough beginnings of a beard on his face, trying very hard not to think.
Another week, another long trudge home at some godawful hour in the morning. Fitz slouched deeply, his guitar on his back and a fag between his lips, nearly burned to the filter. He would toss it and set another one alight, but he was so tired, it was hard enough just to put one foot in front of the other. His progress owed more to inertia than anything.
By the time he arrived at home sweet home, all the lights in the house were off. He'd missed everyone again. Days like this, he resented Anji's cushy job. Sure, it was probably hard work and required more book learning than Fitz had the patience for, but she always had enough money to splurge on her little coffee mocha drinks week after week. How often had Fitz been late on the rent? Not that the Doctor ever said anything, and Fitz wasn't even sure he noticed when his addition to the till came a few days past the first. But Fitz noticed and it bothered him all the same. When had he stopped being an irresponsible young adult and started being... No, no, he was too tired to have a early on-set mid-life crisis.
He tossed his stuff haphazardly down on the kitchen table, resolving to clean up after a few hours of sleep. He rubbed his face tiredly, meandering toward the staircase.
He decided then he was getting a little tired of these sudden shocks in the living room.
Anji was sitting on the chaise lounge, still awake. She was mussed from bed, dressed in her jim-jams. Laying beside her, his head on her lap, was the Doctor. He looked similarly ragged despite appearing to be in a deep sleep. Her fingers were splayed over his head, stroking the frizzy hair like one would pet a cat. Her gaze was low, watching him with a faraway, estranged expression.
Fitz's heart sank, already steeling himself for the worst. "Anji?"
She stiffened, looking up at him sharply. "Oh. You're home. How was your gig?" Her voice was whisper-soft in the dark. He stepped quietly over to sit on the coffee table in front of her, lowering his voice as well.
"What happened?"
"I... I don't know." She glanced back down at the man snoozing in her lap. "I guess it was one of his spells."
Fuck, Fitz thought, his face burning with shame. He'd never taken her aside and told her about the Doctor's episodes. In the beginning, it was to avoid scaring her out of the house. Eventually, it didn't feel important. It'd been months since the Doctor had taken a sabbatical from reality. "Are you all right?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm... good. I'm fine." She offered a wan smile. "I was just taken a little off guard."
"What happened?"
"He was tending to the garden and suddenly went... weird." Her nose crinkled as she recounted, like she wasn't sure herself what happened. "He said the wasps were being controlled by this device, a biometric thing. They were going to take over the world if we didn't stop them." Suddenly, she giggled, then immediately looked contrite. "It shouldn't be funny, really. But he was so earnest about it and kept apologizing to me about letting the big head wasp kidnap me."
"How'd you get him to calm down? Usually I have to chase him down before he goes searching for his spaceship." Therein lied Fitz's biggest worry about the Doctor's episodes. If Fitz didn't catch up to him in time, he could walk forever looking for that police box that didn't exist outside his head, and then he'd be lost. More than half of Fitz's nightmares went along those lines, that mental path well tread.
"I pointed out I obviously hadn't been kidnapped and he seemed confused for a while. He stopped running around after that and I got him to take some of his pills." She rested her hand on his head gently. "He was out a little later. I think he tired himself out."
"Yeah, he does that..." Fitz let out a slow, shaking breath, leaning forward on his knees and putting his face in his hands. Anji was so calm about the incident, but Fitz felt himself shaking, adrenaline combating his exhaustion and making him nauseated. He'd been out. If Anji hadn't been there, if she hadn't kept such a level head...
"Hey." Anji's hand squeezed his shoulder. "It's all right. He's right here, he's fine."
"I-I know. I know. It's just..." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, willing himself to chill the hell out. He'd die of shame if he went to pieces in front of Anji now. Blinking hard and recovering, he nodded to her. "Thank you. I'm sorry I never... you know."
"Well, I won't, you know, hold it against you," she said, imitating his candor. He chuckled hoarsely. "I have to get some sleep. You think you can finish up here?" Her expression was somber, the question candid. If he asked, he knew she'd keep watching over the Doctor for him while he went to his room and freaked out for a little while. He really, really loved her right then.
"No, I got him. We'll be fine." She nodded and beckoned him over. Carefully, they swapped places, Anji slipping away as Fitz clamored into her seat, the Doctor's head heavy and warm on his thigh. The man barely stirred through the exchange, in fact starting to snore softly by the time Fitz was settled.
"You need something to drink or anything? A blanket?" Fitz shook his head mutely, gaze down, watching over the Doctor's slumber. "Okay. Goodnight, Fitz." He felt her kiss his cheek before backing off. She snickered, whispering as she walked past him, "You really do need a shave."
Fitz at long last managed a grin, a little strained but genuine. "Goodnight, Anji."
So he did eventually shave off the beard he'd been working on. Not for Anji, mind, because she didn't like him that way so he wasn't trying to please anyone but himself. If anyone asked, he'd just say the beard felt weird on his face after almost thirty years of not having one.
But no one did ask. His boss wouldn't notice if he walked into work in a geisha's outfit. Anji just looked on approvingly before yelling at her boss on her mobile. And the Doctor...
Fitz was fairly sure the Doctor hadn't noticed. Which was fine, obviously, because as previously stated he hadn't done it for him. But given the Incident in the garden, Fitz had thought the Doctor would have said something or just showed some sign of noticing. Had the Doctor taken his growing out the stubble as an invitation to piss off? Fitz hoped not, then remembered he shouldn't have any opinion one way or the other.
All right, so he did have an opinion on the matter of kissing the Doctor and what's more the memory of the Incident in the garden-- when he mentally capitalized it like that, it sounded a bit scandalous-- wouldn't leave him alone. At the most inopportune moments, as he rang up people's purchases, when he was pouring out tea, while washing his hair, there was a little voice in the back of his head reminding him the Doctor wanted to kiss him. As a self-styled expert in crazy, Fitz found it very worrying. He wondered if insanity were contagious or hereditary. Either way, he was doomed.
He felt out of his depth. Fitz didn't generally like blokes and when he did, it wasn't like what he felt for the Doctor. Girls were for dating and making plans with, guys were for inebriated one-nighters and subsequent denial, and the Doctor was for everything else. They didn't date because they saw each other all the damn time. They didn't need to make plans because they already lived together and knew who would make dinner and whose turn it was to do the laundry. Fitz drank enough for the both of them; the Doctor mostly abstained from alcohol for reasons he didn't like to say aloud but Fitz could hazard a guess at.
That left the denial, which was fitting, with Fitz laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the Doctor and hypothetical kisses. Things were easier when Sam was around, her crush on the Doctor blindingly obvious and fun to laugh at. Then again, it wasn't obvious to the Doctor himself. Her mooning over him had been funny and Sam had been just self-aware enough to be able to laugh at herself. Of course Fitz had to go and sort of accidentally on purpose slept with her twin sister and things got weird. Weirder. Whatever.
But Sam couldn't hold her liquor like Fitz could and he knew for a fact that the Doctor had never told her he'd like to kiss her. Bless Sam and her drunken ramblings. So where did that leave him?
On his bed, staring at ceiling, melancholic and introspective. Right. He was a well-read guitarist who treated birds as nice as you please and here he was, alone at night with his inner monologue running amuck.
And the worst of it was he wasn't sure if that wasn't his own fault. He was hardly shackled to the Doctor. He didn't have to do any of the things he was doing. Yet here he was.
Cards on the table, Fitz Kreiner, he thought to himself in the sort of tone he'd hoped was stern and intimidating. What is it that you really want?
Just then, the Doctor slammed open his bedroom door and shouted, "Fitz, Fitz, Fitz, wake up, there's a meteor storm! Oh, come and see!"
Fitz sighed and sat up, watching the Doctor rush downstairs, calling Anji's name as well. Paradigm altering epiphanies would have to wait.
The Doctor slammed shut the front door as he peeled off his jacket, muttering darkly under his breath. His cheeks were splashed with contrite pink, his eyes downcast. His hair was wet from the rain even though Fitz had tried to get him to take an umbrella when he left. Overall, he looked like his trip had gone phenomenally sour.
Fitz put on the kettle before fetching some towels from the linen closet. "I told you it was gonna rain."
"You never could resist a good 'I told you so'," the Doctor snapped. Fitz grimaced and tossed a towel over his friend's head, pushing the other into his hands. Without a word, the Doctor pulled off his shirt and wrapped the towel around himself, silently letting Fitz dry his hair with quick, brusque movements. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Yeah, I know," Fitz muttered, lifting the terrycloth to see the Doctor's face. "D'you want to tell me about it?"
The Doctor frowned. "Not really. Just my mother being her old self, asking me questions I don't want to answer."
"That's what they're there for, mums. That and doing that thing where they lick their thumb and rub grit off your face right when you're about to hit it off with some girl." Fitz smiled fondly at the memory. His mother had been a bit out of her gourd most of the time, but in her lucid periods, she'd done her solid best for him, even after his father had gone. "Until you hit twenty-five, anyway. Then it's all 'why haven't you found a nice girl, don't you think it's time for grandkids, Fitzie?'"
The Doctor slowly smiled. "Did she really call you that?"
"Don't get any ideas, Doctor." Fitz tossed the towel back into his face.
"Perish the thought." His laugh was bright, the stress of his day falling away slightly. "So it isn't just my mother that... asks after women." He stumbled over the words, flustered. The towel was pushed back into Fitz's hands as the Doctor went to the closet, pulling one of the spare robes off the hook on the door.
Fitz turned his back, making a show of checking on the kettle. Amazing how they could have a conversation about the universal truths of life and mothers, and at the same time the Doctor reminded him how odd he could be, changing clothes with little compunction or modesty. "No, that's everyone," he went on, ignoring his bashfulness. Thank god Anji was out.
Then again, the Doctor's utter lack of physical shyness didn't seem to extend to Anji, or to anyone beside Fitz really. It might have stemmed from years ago when the Doctor's episodes were most frequent and Fitz had seen him at his best and worst. After one of your tenants gives you a tackle to stop you from doing a runner, mumbling incoherently about alien pepperpots and rifts in space-time, a little communal nudity was hardly an issue. Or so Fitz imagined the Doctor thought. Fitz still had to pretend very hard his landlord wasn't stripping off his wet clothes just out of sight. He could hear the sound of soaked fabrics hitting the ground.
"I almost feel bad for always dodging the question now."
Fitz belatedly remembered they'd been talking. "Hey, maybe one day you won't have to." It was suddenly very quiet behind him. He almost turned around, but caught himself before accidentally getting an eyeful. "I mean, you're hardly old or unattractive or anything. You could find the right girl. Hell, I bet you'd find one before I would."
It was very quiet now. His own breathing sounded deafening to him. Fitz couldn't stand it and hazarded a glance behind him.
The Doctor's sky blue eyes looked overcast, his mouth ever so slightly downturn. His hands were wound into the belt of his robe, but his grip was white-knuckled and desperate. Fitz was willing to bet anyone else in the world would miss just how disconsolate he'd become, but to Fitz it was in every line and angle of his body. Just looking at the Doctor made him feel like a coward.
I take it back. It was a joke. I was distracted by the fact you just got naked not three metres away from me. I get it now. I'll do anything for you, just don't look at me like that. Fitz was filled with the right things to say, but couldn't form the words. He didn't dare risk making things worse. That there could be something worse than the Doctor looking at him like that was terrifying.
The Doctor turned away and made for the stairs. "I won't be needing any tea, Fitz. I think I'll go have a bit of a lie down. It's been a long day."
"Doctor, wait!" Fitz took one step towards him, choking on those right words as they all fought to get out at once. The Doctor stared balefully at him, giving nothing away. Say something, you idiot, Fitz thought frantically. Unconsciously echoing the Doctor, he managed, "I didn't mean that."
A bit of sunlight breaking through the clouds, the Doctor's frown faded. He didn't say anything in reply, just fixing Fitz with his habitually intense stare. For once, Fitz made himself not look away. The Doctor always seemed to find the answers he wanted from Fitz in his eyes. Right now, Fitz was all for that. Anything to prevent him opening his stupid mouth again.
The Doctor nodded once to Fitz and went upstairs.
Fitz let out the breath he'd been holding and leaned on the counter. His pressed his palms against the granite, willing his hands to stop shaking.
He'd been scared he'd misstepped and ruined whatever it was between them. But when Fitz saw the Doctor next, the invisible red string binding them hadn't snapped; it'd tightened, and Fitz felt it in his chest, like a leash being pulled taut. They were drifting, but definitely not apart.
The Doctor was long since awake when Anji and Fitz finally made their way out of their respective bedrooms Saturday morning. Fitz was still in his pajama trousers but had remembered to throw a shirt on to avoid offending Anji's delicate sensibilities. She, in turn, was fully dressed, but looked worse off than Fitz with her hair still unbrushed and eyes almost shut. The fact she couldn't stop yawning as well didn't help.
"Knock it off, you're gonna make me yawn too." Fitz slumped down in his chair at the kitchen table.
"They aren't contagious, that's..." she paused to yawn, "that's an urban legend."
"Doesn't mean it's untrue."
"No, actually, that's exactly what that means." She rolled her eyes heavily at him before turning in her seat to face the Doctor. "Doctor, tell Fitz he doesn't know what he's talking about."
"While there is no scientific explanation to explain the way yawning affects those around you, it's a matter of record that when you yawn, it does tend to make other people do the same," the Doctor replied dutifully.
Fitz beamed. "Ha, so we're both right."
The Doctor turned around and blinked at the two of them, holding a notepad in his hands. "Well, no. You're both wrong, really. Have you seen my pen?"
"It's behind your ear." Fitz pointed vaguely. "No, the other one."
"Oh, thank you." He clicked the ballpoint a few times as he darted around the room, peering into cabinets and jotting little notes down. "By the way, Anji, I made you one of those mochas you like so much."
Anji's face lit up, her drowsiness gone in an instant. "You did? That's nice of you. I could definitely use one this morning." Fitz tried to hide his knowing smile behind his hand, but Anji caught it. "What?"
"There's a catch," Fitz stage whispered to her.
The Doctor spun on his heel and bapped Fitz on the head with his notebook. "There is not a catch."
"He makes me Darjeeling tea and lemon scones when he wants me to do it."
"I make you that breakfast all the time. It has nothing to do with what you're referring to."
Fitz tipped his head back and grinned up at the Doctor. "And yet you know exactly what I'm talking about." The Doctor huffed and went over to the pantry, abandoning the conversation.
Anji had found the thermos of her chocolate and coffee concoction and watched the exchange hesitantly. She took a slow sip of her drink with a pleased hum at the taste. "What's the catch then?"
Fitz grinned at her. Knowing she listened to him before the Doctor on this was a small victory, but he'd take what he could get. He leaned forward and grabbed an old tin off the center of the table, pulling it into his lap. With some effort, he popped the rusted top off and took out a wad of pound notes. "Monthly grocery trip. Compassion and I used to alternate who had to do it. Your turn now." He licked his thumb and started counting out some money. "How bad are we, Doc?"
"Oh, not too bad, but I am on page two," came a muffled reply from inside the pantry. Fitz nodded and plucked out a few more notes.
Anji glanced apprehensively between the two. "I'm not sure I follow. Why is this a big deal? Fitz, you pick up things from the shop almost every day."
"If he's making a list, that means we're running out of everything. You've seen how he cooks, massive bloody meals we never finish. Fancies himself a master chef." Fitz handed Anji the money, tucking the rest away. "You'll have to take the car and go to the next town over. The shop here won't have half that stuff."
"Why they won't let me special order things is beyond my comprehension," the Doctor said sullenly, reappearing. He ripped two pages out of his pad and folded them up carefully. "I think I've got everything." He handed the list over to Anji, smiling gently. "You'll do fine. If anything happens, you can call Fitz. He'll help you." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, you'll need the car keys. I believe I left them..." He darted out of the room.
"Doctor, they're right..." Fitz pointed to the keychain on the counter, but he was already gone. "Oh, nevermind."
Anji leaned on the table, dropping her voice to ask Fitz softly, "Is this really that big of a deal?"
"He's giving you a wad of cash and a list of things he thinks he absolutely needs. Sending you out for groceries is his way of saying he trusts you. Congrats, Miss Kapoor, you're officially part of the family." He patted her hand. "My sincerest condolences."
"Oh." Anji read over the list. "When you put it like that, it's a little flattering, I suppose."
"I dare you to say that again in four hours." Fitz stood up and guided her to the door. He couldn't resist mentioning a few tips, like how the car's seatbelt sometimes got stuck in the clasp, how the Doctor would read her a riot act if she bought anything made by Nestle, and how his ones looked like sevens in that stylish cursive writing. Perhaps he built it up too much, as she looked more than a tad nervous as she clutched the keys in her hand and slipped out the door. But hey, it was one day Fitz wasn't going to spend pushing a trolley around squeezing blood oranges and hunting fresh spices.
He went back into the kitchen and found the Doctor making tea. "Darjeeling sound good to you, Fitz?"
Fitz laughed and pulled his chair out and over to the Doctor, sitting in it backwards with his arms slung over the back. The Doctor set up teacups for them both and began cutting up some fruit with a paring knife. "You're just upset I know all your tricks."
"Oh, do you now?" The Doctor smiled indulgently, eyes genial and lingering on Fitz's face.
Fitz poked the Doctor's side with an accusing finger. "You're manipulative. You think you're some master of subtly getting people to do what you want. But I know when you're playing me. I let you win."
The Doctor leaned over, closer to Fitz, and murmured, "Ah, but by that logic, I still win. I've manipulated you to the point you'll concede to my wishes even when you should know better. Isn't that right?" When Fitz opened his mouth to argue, the Doctor pressed a slice of pear past his lips. It was juicy and sweet on his tongue and momentarily quelled his retort. The Doctor's thumb stayed pressed against his lips as he watched Fitz chew, one eyebrow arched inquisitively.
Fitz swallowed, tilting his head back and licking his lips. "Chicken and the egg."
"A causality dilemma? Perhaps." He popped a bit of fruit into his mouth as he considered it. "The result is the same."
"Yeah, what's that?"
The Doctor set the pear aside on the counter along with the knife with purpose, making Fitz sit up anxiously. He didn't get far. One of the Doctor's hands curved over his wrist while the other touched his face with sticky fingers. Fitz let his head be tipped back and felt the Doctor kiss him chastely. It was barely more than a pressure against his mouth and, closing his eyes, Fitz thought he might imagining it. But he could feel the tickling of the Doctor's curls against his skin, his exhalations against his cheek, and even the coolness of his lips. Too many vivid details for one of Fitz's dreams.
As far as he could tell, it lasted both hours and yet just an instant. Too soon, the Doctor released Fitz and neatly straightened up. He wordlessly tended to the tea as though nothing had occurred, but he was smiling.
Fitz rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched him, letting the heavy silence wrap around them.
next chapter
Rating/Warnings: NC-17 for explicit sex, mental issues, and Fitz's mouth.
Author: lucia_tanaka (with amazing help from lullabee_lj)
Characters: the Obverse!versions of the Doctor, Fitz, and Anji. Fitz/Doctor.
Summary: A year's time in a blue house in a tiny English town. The ups and downs of the lives of a not-so-perpetual slacker, a daydream believer, and a terribly sensible trader.
Word Count: Just under 50,000. No, really.
Notes: This started as pointless porn-writing practice. It now spans four Google Documents and is about half the length of the source book. IDEFK, folks. Also, this fic practically runs on stupid references, apologies in advance. Also also, this fic probably requires knowledge of The Blue Angel's Obverse to understand.
It was winter again, the seasonal change making itself loudly known to Fitz Kreiner as he bounded up the steps to the old blue house. The chill was complimented by the natural cold of the deep night, and Fitz was reluctant to take his hands out of his coat pockets to unlock the door. But it was sure to be marginally warmer inside, so he swore under his breath, digging out his keys and fighting with the lock, his haste to get inside making his movements sloppy. "Buggering... ha, finally," he murmured, breath visible in front of him.
He hurried inside, locking up after himself. Most of the lights were off, typical of the late hour. Fitz made an effort to be quiet as he set his guitar case aside, peeled off his jacket, and unwound the scarf from around his neck. Out of the winter air, he could feel himself coming down from the evening's activities. The buzz of alcohol faded into a dreamy lull now that the prickly, cruel cold of his trek home was gone. He fancied he'd sleep well that night, throat somewhat sore from a long night of singing, fingers equally so from playing. A small roll of pound notes in his jean pocket reminding him he'd managed to be paid for something he'd often do just for the joy of performance.
Fitz hummed to himself as he toed off his boots and meandered into the house proper. He walked through the kitchen, noting a light had been left on there. On the counter was a full teacup. He frowned at it in confusion, looking around before dipping a finger into it. Cold. "Not like him to forget tea..." He dumped the tea into the sink and flicked off the light before moving on, now much more wary.
Moonlight lit the living room, shining in through the open curtains, dyeing the entire scene a dark blue. Fitz's footsteps were light as he padded across the rug.
There wasn't much chance he'd wake his landlord, he found. As he rounded on the staircase, Fitz saw his way was blocked by the Doctor, laying across the steps halfway down, limbs loose and eyes shut.
"Shit. Shit!" Fitz burst into motion, hitting the lightswitch and launching himself to the Doctor's side, kneeling by him. His hands cupped the man's neck, thumb finding the Doctor's pulse. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. He wasn't dead, that was a start. Fitz looked back downstairs and yelled, "COMPASSION! Compassion, get your arse out of bed, I need you! The Doctor, he-" Fitz stopped abruptly, remembering.
Compassion was gone. She'd left a few weeks ago, no warning, just packed her bags and went off with some engineering bloke. He'd been excited for her at the time, if sad to see her go. Now, he felt abandoned. He took a long breath, trying to keep calm. He was the only one around for the Doctor these days. He had to handle things.
Beneath him, the Doctor stirred, moaning softly. Fitz leaned over him. "Doctor? Hey, I'm here, it's Fitz, I'm right here." The Doctor mumbled something unintelligible, turning his face into Fitz's hand. "Just stay right here, I'm gonna go fetch the phone. Don't move or-or anything, all right?"
He stood swiftly, having to ignore the way the Doctor tried to feebly catch hold of his shirt as he went, jumping down the stairs and grabbing the phone off the cradle in the living room. He was already dialing the Doctor's psychiatrist when he returned to his friend's side. The Doctor's eyes were open, blurrily tracking Fitz's face.
"You're back..."
"Of course. Just had to grab the phone, calling your doctor." He brushed the messy golden brown curls out of the Doctor's face.
"You came back home," the Doctor murmured. He shook his head, eyes focusing somewhat. "Don't call. I just tripped. Medication made me dizzy."
Fitz lowered the phone from his ear. "So it wasn't another...?"
"Just hit my head." He gave Fitz a warm smile, offering some reassurance. "I couldn't get back up."
"All right. Okay." Fitz ended the call, setting the phone to the side slowly. "You want some help?"
"Yes, if you would, please." The Doctor struggled to sit up, aided by Fitz as he lifted him from the ground. It took some doing on the narrow stairs, but soon the Doctor was leaning against Fitz, clutching his shoulders tightly. He did look rather dizzy, shutting his eyes and laying his head on Fitz's chest. "I feel rather unbalanced..."
"Take your time. I've got you. You're not going anywhere." Fitz leaned against the railing, content to hold onto the Doctor as he fought off his disorientation. It gave Fitz the time to relax, banish the nightmare of finding the Doctor like that, sprawled and helpless.
"You aren't either. Are you?" The Doctor's breath was warm against Fitz's collarbone. "You always come back."
Fitz smiled softly. He knew the Doctor was upset by Compassion's departure even more than he was. He played his records louder and louder each day, complaining about the quiet. Fitz knew that Compassion hadn't contributed noise to the house, but he felt her absence just the same way. He knew they both wanted to fill the hole she left any way they could. They wanted to pretend no one left, that their lives would remain interconnected. Fitz knew the Doctor was afraid his tenants would leave him.
"You can't get rid me that easily," Fitz whispered, rubbing the Doctor's back soothingly.
Fitz called in sick at his job to stay with the Doctor, too shaken up by the near disaster of the prior evening to leave him alone all day. From there, he took it on himself to convince the Doctor to let Fitz walk them down to his doctor's office. Bundled up, they walked over the icy streets, Fitz's hand wrapped around the Doctor's arm, steadying him. He couldn't stop thinking about how pale and frail his friend looked sometimes, like one good gust could knock him over.
"I don't have an appointment," the Doctor said sullenly.
"What you're paying him, he can make room for you," Fitz replied curtly. "Tell him you almost got a concussion last night from the stuff he gave you and you can't keep taking it."
The Doctor looked down, watching their feet as they trudged along. He looked somewhat guilty, as if Fitz was blaming him. "You're exaggerating. It was just a little stumble."
"Don't give me that. How long did you wait for me to get home? What if it'd been just a little worse, and I'd gone out and gotten pissed, then where would we be?"
"You worry so much over me."
"Ta, I do," he admitted. He squeezed the Doctor's arm a little. "I'll worry less when you're off this prescription."
That seemed to be incentive enough. The argument was dropped and upon reaching the Georgian house, the Doctor disappeared into his psychiatrist's office. Fitz loitered around, lighting up a fag and tapping out a drumbeat on his thighs as he leaned against a wall. Without his charge to look after, he felt antsy.
His mind strayed to Compassion again. Fitz wondered if, wherever she was, she thought about them anymore. He wondered if she worried about the Doctor the way he did. He suspected not. If she had, how could she just leave like that? No, she'd gotten out and he tried not to think of it was a wise move. On some level, she was escaping the responsibility of dealing with the Doctor when things got bad. But really, Fitz didn't think he could follow her lead. He was getting dangerously close to his thirties and what did he have to show for it? Compassion was whip smart and younger than he was. She had potential.
Fuck, Fitz realized. I'm settling down. I'm settling down with my landlord who sometimes thinks he's an alien time-traveler who defends Earth from other aliens.
"Fitz! Are you smoking in a patient's lounge?" Fitz jumped, startled, as the Doctor approached him.
"What?" When the practice office was someone's home, what made this a lounge? Was it just the virtue of how it was used?
"You can't smoke in here. Really, Fitz, you should know better."
"Oh. Right. Sorry." He looked around dumbly, looking for an ashtray before just opening the door and throwing his cigarette out into the snow.
The Doctor watched him curiously, surprised at the lack of protest. "Are you all right?"
"Fine, I'm good. How was the, er." He snapped his fingers, collecting his thoughts. "What'd your guy say?"
"Back on an old regimen until he can find something better suited to what I need. He said he's sorry for the stress he's caused you as well." Fitz nodded mutely. "Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yeah. Just thinking about stuff. So, back home?"
The Doctor smiled. "I believe so." Before Fitz could react, he threaded his arm through Fitz's.
Fitz didn't pull away, but such casual intimacy following his minor revelation made him nervous. "What's that for then?"
"I thought you wanted to make sure I didn't fall, like before." The Doctor's face was the picture of innocence. If he had any inkling that he was invading Fitz's personal space, it didn't show on him at all. He lead Fitz out of the house and back into the winter day. "I wanted to talk to you about our home. We have a surplus of room. I was considering putting an advert in the paper..."
For the longest time, Fitz was certain no one would come calling about the spare room of the house. He only vaguely remembered when he himself walked in to his home for the first time, looking for board. That was before the Doctor's spells had gotten so frequent. Nowadays, everyone knew about the kind but unhinged man in big blue house. Fitz was sure the rumors would chase everyone away.
But that wasn't the case. Granted there had only been one caller, but Anji Kapoor didn't look like the type to be easily put off. Fitz showed her around the newly cleaned bottom floor that would be hers. She seemed keen on the large bedroom and adjacent rooms that she'd have mostly to herself. Telling her about the Doctor's brilliant cooking seemed to seal the deal as far as he could tell.
"Very spacious, considering the rent," she remarked, sitting on the bed in what would be her room, bouncing on it experimentally. "I feel like there's a catch to all this."
"The Doctor likes having people around him. Helps keep him grounded," Fitz said, dodging the issue. "It's quiet out here, but we're in walking distance of most of the important places in town, should you need."
Anji nodded along, looking intently around the room. He couldn't read her expression very well, but she seemed pleased at the prospects. "I read in the advertisement there was a garden?"
"Yeah, over here." He beckoned her along. He made an effort not to hunch up in his jumper, standing tall like he was proud of his home. And he was, he loved it, he just rarely showed it. "It's not very attractive right now with the winter and all, but we try to keep it going."
She peered out the windows at the rows of snow-dusted soil, interspersed with the occasional bit of decaying brown. "It looks like it'd be lovely in the summer."
"Yeah. Good to grab a book and just sit out there."
"I'll bet." Anji glanced sideways at him. The look on her face grew solemn and he could tell what was coming. "I think this is all perfect, but I have to ask... I've heard some things about the Doctor-"
Fitz cut her off before she could voice any of it. He spent enough time in town to have known what she'd heard. "Listen, he's... It's not something to really worry about. Everyone exaggerates about his spells. They're not common and he's perfectly harmless. The most he can do is confuse the hell out of you talking about spacey things."
"But he is a bit of an eccentric, isn't he?" Her voice was carefully lacking any judgement.
"Sure, but that's not a bad thing. He's the most interesting person you'll ever meet, and..." Fitz sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could be a smooth talker when he needed to be, but his words weren't coming so easily right now. Having to defend his landlord was aggravating. "Seriously, I've lived here for years and I love it. You don't need to worry about the Doctor much since I kind of watch out for him. He's not going to go mad and hurt you or anyone else. He mostly keeps to himself anyway." He was running out of steam and the anxiety made him itch for a cig. "So are you in or what?"
Anji looked back out at the garden, quiet and seemingly contemplating what Fitz had said. He folded his arms to stop his fidgeting. It seemed to him the people who showed up here had that annoying unreadable quality. He'd never figured out Compassion in particular, though Sam had been a little more open.
God, he had been here a long bloody time, hadn't he?
"I will be, yes." Anji nodded briskly. "It really is quite nice in here. I have another place to look at, but I'm not particularly hopeful about it." She finally smiled at him, soft but transforming her face into something pretty. Fitz smiled back instinctively, because what else did you do when a nice bird grinned at you. "I'll call you sometime early next week?"
"That's sounds great. If I'm not here, the Doc will be, he can set you up." Her smile faltered a little. "Honest, he's just an oddball. On my mother's grave, I promise you will like him. Everyone does once they get to know him."
"All right, all right, no need for oaths." She looked around the house for another moment, biting her lip. "I think I'd like it here."
"Well, that's good." He winced at his own lameness. "'M glad. So, we'll talk later then?"
She shook his hand, very businesslike. "I hope so." Was that flirting? It'd been so long since he'd pulled for a girl, he wasn't sure. Just in case, he was extra cordial, helping her into her coat as she left.
He tried out the name when she'd gone. "Anji Kapoor." He watched he shuffle back to her car across the front yard, watched her pull away into the road. He was almost certain she'd be back. The house had a way of catching people, Fitz thought, with its mix of peculiarity and comfort. He was a prime example of that.
His job as realtor done, he tapped out a woodbine, wandering back into the house. A sojourn to his room to read the new book he'd picked out of the attic sounded perfect to him. He headed for the stairs, stopping at the bottom when he saw the Doctor sitting on them. Sitting upright, curled up on one of the upper steps. He looked fine, but Fitz's stomach plummeted into his shoes anyway. Too soon, not again. "Doctor?"
"Don't look like that, Fitz. I'm fine. I was just watching," he explained gently. From where he sat, Fitz noted, he could watch the living room, peering through the guardrails like a child waiting for a glimpse of Santa.
Fitz walked up to join him on his step, folding up his lanky body next to the Doctor. "You could have come down to say hello."
"You were doing such a nice job, I couldn't." His eyes strayed over Fitz's face searchingly. "Did you mean it?"
Fitz blew out a long stream of smoke, lazily content now that he had some nicotine in him. "Hm?"
"All those things you said about me."
Oh. Fitz blinked, trying to recall all he'd said. He didn't remember spouting off anything bad about the Doctor. "Yeah, I guess. Just told her the truth of it. She had the right to know. Why?"
The Doctor ducked his head, resting his chin on his knee. "You do take care of me, don't you." It wasn't a question, but a soft and somewhat sad statement.
"I..." He looked at his cigarette, thinking. He wondered if he shouldn't have said that, but... "Does that bother you? That I said so, I mean."
"Don't you think it should bother you, Fitz?" The Doctor bent over, leaning forward to catch Fitz's eyes. Once he had, Fitz was caught staring at him. It always felt like the Doctor had some sort of weird power over him, able to if not bend Fitz to his will at least lean him towards it. Fitz used to mind that. "Do you know..." The Doctor seemed to be turning his words over carefully in his head. His gaze was unblinkingly fixed on Fitz's own. "Sometimes I wish you would leave. I don't know why you don't. Everyone else does. Seeing as they don't come back, it must be for the best."
Fitz really desperately wanted to look away but found he couldn't. "Best for who?"
"For you. You deal with so much, Fitz, it's... you shouldn't have to put up with my episodes."
As much as he didn't want to have this conversation, Fitz thought maybe they needed to. Clearly the Doctor thought so, for once not backing off at Fitz's plain discomfort. Fitz sighed and took a moment to smoke until he calmed somewhat. "D'you meet my mum before she died?" He shook his head. Fitz could have sworn they had met once... He shrugged one shoulder, going on. "Mum, she was crazy. Proper crazy. I grew up with her since my dad was gone. And..." He looked down at his hands.
"You don't talk about her," the Doctor noted quietly.
"I know. What I mean is, I know crazy and you are not it. You just... I think you just get lost in your head sometimes, like everyone does. Your head's just a lot more interesting than everyone else's, that's all."
"Do you really think so?"
Fitz grinned, not about to say how much he really sort of liked the Doctor's crazy mind. The spells he had were scary and the thought of them kept Fitz up some nights, but the Doctor was weird and Fitz preferred weird to normalcy any day of the week. Diverting, he just put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder and said, "Come on. Being so suave and charming to Anji made me hungry."
"He's in the kitchen," Anji stage whispered to Fitz when he finally rolled out of bed only a half hour before he had to be at the shop to make sure none of the flowers died from the cold until they were safely purchased and out the door. Spring could not come quickly enough.
"Okay," Fitz said evenly, sitting on the coffee table and tying his boot laces.
"He's making jewelry."
That one was new. Fitz paused, looking up at her. "He's what?" And dammit, he lost his place in the knot he was tying. He peered at it, waiting for his drowsy mind to catch up and let him know the next step.
"He found some paper craft things in the attic. He's been fiddling with them all morning. See." She rolled up her sleeve to show him. There was a tangle of brightly colored bracelets wound around her pale wrists. They looked like braided cloth, but upon closer inspection, he found it was paper, bent and formed to make some slightly gaudy but well-put together trinkets.
"Huh. That's new." He tore his gaze away. "I'm not sure fuchsia and cauliflower blue works for you though."
She blinked in surprise, like men weren't allowed to know color names more complicated than 'red' and 'yellow'. He winked at her, letting her know he'd caught her out. Eventually she'd figure out he was not a perpetually lazy musician who liked to drink too much. All right, not just a perpetually lazy et cetera, et cetera. "Later, Anji." He left her in the living room and went to find the Doctor.
"You're going to be late," the Doctor pointed out as he walked into the kitchen. His attention was wholly on his work, fingers tangled in strips of paper like confetti. With the safety scissors and the cut outs of stars and moons, all those matte hues and iridescent sparkles- the table looked like it'd been taken over by a child's art project.
"Alarm didn't go off on time."
"It did. You hit the snooze too much again."
"No one shows up before noon this time of year anyway." He leaned on the table, watching the Doctor's hands shape scraps and miscellanea into something that was a little beautiful. Even as he stood over him, observing how his hands worked, he couldn't catch the transition where the material stopped being junk and became a rainbow necklace. It was like the Doctor could morph matter with his fingers through the sheer force of his imagination. "Where'd you learn that?"
"I haven't the foggiest," the Doctor answered. "You're going to be even more late."
"Right." Fitz lingered a moment longer, taking in the way the Doctor's delicate fingers weaved together. It was hypnotic. He couldn't stay though, and headed for the coat closet to dig out his jacket. "I don't have a gig tonight, so I'll see you at dinner." He shrugged into his coat, turning towards the kitchen. The Doctor stood right in front of him, making him jump in shock. "M-make a sound, will ya?"
The Doctor smiled and took Fitz's hand, toying with his wrist for a moment before stepping back again. Left there was a curving bracelet, dark against his skin. The paper was lavender bleeding into red and back again. Fitz lifted his arm to look at it. It seemed to be one solid piece, but too snug against his skin to have fit over his hand. And the way it twisted in on itself... Fitz closed his eyes tightly for a second before looking again. Something about it puzzled him. It didn't seem possible.
"It's a Möbius strip," Fitz said quietly.
"Is that what it's called?" The Doctor retreated back to his table, slipping back into his work.
"No, see... you can't have made this. Where'd you cut it?"
"Cut it?"
"To make it bend like that."
The Doctor rested his hands on the table, glancing up disinterestedly at Fitz. "I didn't cut it." Fitz opened his mouth to protest and point out how completely impossible that was, but the Doctor chided him sternly, "Fitz, you have only twenty minutes to get to work. Off you go."
It was the average Sunday evening, a routine so constant it was as much a part of the house as the French doors or the creaky floorboards on the third floor landing. Anji sat on one of the armchairs on one side of the room, typing furiously on her laptop, dealing with shares or stocks or whatever it was that made her so fabulously on time with the rent. On the chaise lounge, Fitz sat with his guitar, playing something classic and universal, letting muscle memory pull him through the song as he mindlessly sang along. Next to him, the Doctor lay against the cushions with his eyes closed, half-asleep under a loudly colored but buttery soft blanket.
"And we'll bask in the shadow of yesterday's triumph, sail on the steel breeze," Fitz drawled. His voice was rough and tired from the long day of doing nothing. There was no urgency, no sense of time passing except from the segue from one set of lyrics and chords to the next. "Come on, you boychild, you winner and loser... Come on, you miner for truth and delusion, and shine."
The ticking of Anji's typing faded. For something that had been purely background noise to Fitz a moment ago, its absence was immediately obvious. Very softly, she asked, "Is that an appropriate song for you to play?"
Fitz blinked at her, not immediately replying. It felt like it'd been hours since he'd actually spoken instead of sung. For all he knew, it might have been. He had to remember just how it went, the whole talking thing. "What do you mean?"
Anji nodded pointedly at the Doctor's form, curled up and oblivious to the world. "Don't you think someone might find it upsetting?" Fitz snorted. "I'm serious. That's not very considerate of you, Fitz."
"He doesn't care if I play some Floyd." He grinned wickedly. "No, what really bothers him is..." He shifted his grip on the instrument, holding it more securely as he launched into the chorus of 'Please Please Me.'
As Fitz expected, the Doctor turned over, blurrily mumbling about metronomes and perhaps throwing one at Fitz's head. His feet ended up in Fitz's lap, pushing the guitar aside until Fitz had to quickly catch it before it fell. As soon as the playing stopped, the Doctor was out again. Fitz chuckled and shifted the Doctor's feet so he could hold his guitar again.
"He doesn't like the Beatles?" Anji asked incredulously. She wasn't much for music, but she sounded appropriately appalled. Fitz liked her all the more for recognizing Beatles hate for the heinous crime it was.
"No, only that song for whatever reason. Keeps saying my rhythm's off and demanding I play something else." It was like an in-joke that Fitz had forgotten the source of, not sure why he always used it to annoy the Doctor, but inexplicably certain that one song had a history with them.
"So what does he like then?" Anji shut her laptop and set it aside, looking at Fitz expectantly. As if he hadn't been playing for the two of them for god only knew how long already.
But Fitz could never resist an audience. He had Anji's full attention and when he checked, he saw the Doctor wasn't asleep again, but watching him from behind half-lids. "I think I may know something."
The eternal winter was finally giving way to spring, over a month late but still welcomed with open arms. The windows were open, airing out the stuffiness of the house, and the barely functioning heater was at long last taking a break. It felt like they were all coming out of hibernation.
Fitz dressed in his rattiest jeans and a The Who shirt that had worn and washed so many times, the band logo barely stood out against the soft cotton. He probably shouldn't wear his favorite clothes for gardening, but the Doctor said not to put on anything nice and these definitely weren't what he could call nice. Comfortable like his own skin, but not nice.
Fitz found the Doctor digging tools out of one of the closets. Some days, Fitz felt like raiding his landlord's room just to see if he even owned a tee shirt. The Doctor was noticeably dressed down, but for him that was still corduroys and a clean, white long sleeved shirt. How he didn't cook in the sudden warmth of the season, Fitz had no idea.
There was something else though.
"Oh god, take that off," Fitz groaned, looking around to see if Anji had seen him yet. "You look completely daft."
The Doctor pursed his lips severely at Fitz. "But it'll keep the sun out of my eyes."
"You look ridiculous. Please?" There were times when just saying 'please' would convince the Doctor to do almost anything, rewarding Fitz's rare bouts of politesse.
"No." The Doctor held his head up high and marched down the hall to the living room and garden patio. "Come on, Fitz."
Fitz rubbed his eyes, sighing as long-sufferingly as he could muster. "Stubborn git."
"Fitz." Anji was staring at the Doctor's back as he made his way among the slowly reviving plants and flowers in the back yard. "Is he wearing a bonnet?"
"Yes. Yes, he is." He put a hand on her shoulder, looking deep into her chocolate eyes. "Do me a favor, Anji, please tell him how silly it looks every chance you get. My masculinity cannot handle this."
Anji tilted her head, peering at the Doctor for a moment. "I don't know. On him, it almost works."
"I don't like you anymore," Fitz said loudly, stomping outside.
Luckily, Fitz didn't have much attention to spare to the Doctor's spring fashions. He was hardly the brawn of the household, but compared to Anji and the Doctor, he did have the labor-intensive job, so the Doctor set him to cleaning out the flower beds, digging out old dirt and pouring new, fresh mulch in its place. Within a half hour, he was wishing he had a hat of his own-- not a bonnet, mind. Sweat and sunlight made him squint through his tough work. He'd heard people say working made them feel alive and happy. Those people were either insane or stupid, Fitz decided, and when Anji brought them out some tall glasses of lemonade, he almost snogged her in relief.
"Looks good, Fitz," she said appreciatively.
"Ta," he saluted her with his glass, leaning on his garden hoe and enjoying his lemonade. He watched her wander back to the porch, where her laptop sat waiting for her. On the way, the Doctor caught her, bending his head to whisper something to her. His smile was warm and sweet, and apparently infectious, as soon Anji was smiling the same way. She laughed as the Doctor tucked a cluster of wildflowers into her hair, just behind her ear. She was flushing pink as she reteated to her seat.
Fitz walked over and collapsed loudly onto the ground next to his friend. "Pretty flowers for the pretty girl?"
"Hm, something like that," the Doctor murmured. "Can you pick up more carnations for me? I don't think last year's survived."
"Yeah, I'll bring 'em home tomorrow." Fitz sipped his drink, just watching the man methodically work through his beloved plants, assessing the winter's damage.
It was easing from morning to afternoon slowly, the temperature rising as the hours ticked on. Fitz's work was mostly done, and thus he ended up just laying down on the ground, feeling the first sprigs of grass tickling his ears. He could take a nap like that, though he'd probably pay for it later. He could get up and go find sunscreen first, but that would require effort and Fitz wasn't quite up for that yet.
Sometime later, the Doctor leaned over him, bemusedly smiling. "Asleep?"
"No. Just zen'ed out." He paused, looking up at the Doctor before laughing softly. "I just can't take you seriously wearing that thing."
"What? Oh, the bonnet... I see." Without any more fuss, he untied the silk ribbon around his neck and pulled the hat loose. His hand swept through his hair, taming the somewhat unruly curls back to what settled for normal with him. "Now you can take me seriously, correct?"
Fitz grinned. "Yeah, sure. As much as I take anything seriously."
"There is that." The Doctor agreed, smiling still curving his lips. His gaze was disquieting, just the weight of it making Fitz's face flush as Anji's had.
"What're you looking at?"
"You, of course," the Doctor said. If Fitz didn't know any better, he'd think the Doctor was toying with him, seeing how long he could stand being examined so closely. But the Doctor's fascination with everything up to and including Fitz was thoughtless and simplistic, whether Fitz found it disconcerting or not.
"Am I that interesting?" Fitz asked jokingly, hoping to deflect the attention.
With complete honesty, the Doctor answered, "Yes."
Fitz swallowed loudly, turning his head against the earth to glance away. Anji had apparently gone inside. He wished she hadn't. Things were too private between the two of them without her presence, like an unknowing chaperone. Not that Fitz knew what he was so nervous about. Or if he did, he wasn't admitting it to anyone, including himself.
Before that train of thought could run him over, the Doctor derailed it with a light touch against his shoulder, drawing his gaze back. "Why does that bother you?"
"It doesn't." Fitz bristled, just a shade defensive.
"If you insist." The Doctor brushed the hair out of Fitz's eyes. For all Fitz could guess, the man was counting the freckles in his irises or something. What could he find so engrossing?
The Doctor said something then so startling, Fitz was certain he'd imagined it. The heat was getting to him or Anji had spiked the drinks. Something was making his hearing go wobbly, surely.
"Come again," Fitz asked faintly, sure he'd misheard.
Unconcerned and utterly demure, the Doctor repeated himself: "I think I'd like to kiss you."
He could have said, 'nice weather we're having' with the exact same tone and no one would bat an eye. How he remained so bloody casual while Fitz's breath was catching in his chest was anyone's guess. If he had the air for it, he would've made an embarrassing squeaky noise when the Doctor's fingers trailed down the side of his cheek, his nails catching lightly on the days-old stubble on Fitz's chin.
Eventually, Fitz managed to say, "Are you going to?"
"Hm." He tilted his head, considering carefully. "No, I don't believe so. I don't think it'd be very nice at the moment. You need a shave, for one." The Doctor patted Fitz's chest consolingly before pushing himself up to his feet and standing. As though nothing had happened, he strolled back to the house, calling back, "Don't lay out here too long. You'll burn in the sun."
Fitz sat up slowly, staring numbly at the man's back, waiting for the heavens to open up and let him know what the hell that was all about.
He reached up and rubbed the rough beginnings of a beard on his face, trying very hard not to think.
Another week, another long trudge home at some godawful hour in the morning. Fitz slouched deeply, his guitar on his back and a fag between his lips, nearly burned to the filter. He would toss it and set another one alight, but he was so tired, it was hard enough just to put one foot in front of the other. His progress owed more to inertia than anything.
By the time he arrived at home sweet home, all the lights in the house were off. He'd missed everyone again. Days like this, he resented Anji's cushy job. Sure, it was probably hard work and required more book learning than Fitz had the patience for, but she always had enough money to splurge on her little coffee mocha drinks week after week. How often had Fitz been late on the rent? Not that the Doctor ever said anything, and Fitz wasn't even sure he noticed when his addition to the till came a few days past the first. But Fitz noticed and it bothered him all the same. When had he stopped being an irresponsible young adult and started being... No, no, he was too tired to have a early on-set mid-life crisis.
He tossed his stuff haphazardly down on the kitchen table, resolving to clean up after a few hours of sleep. He rubbed his face tiredly, meandering toward the staircase.
He decided then he was getting a little tired of these sudden shocks in the living room.
Anji was sitting on the chaise lounge, still awake. She was mussed from bed, dressed in her jim-jams. Laying beside her, his head on her lap, was the Doctor. He looked similarly ragged despite appearing to be in a deep sleep. Her fingers were splayed over his head, stroking the frizzy hair like one would pet a cat. Her gaze was low, watching him with a faraway, estranged expression.
Fitz's heart sank, already steeling himself for the worst. "Anji?"
She stiffened, looking up at him sharply. "Oh. You're home. How was your gig?" Her voice was whisper-soft in the dark. He stepped quietly over to sit on the coffee table in front of her, lowering his voice as well.
"What happened?"
"I... I don't know." She glanced back down at the man snoozing in her lap. "I guess it was one of his spells."
Fuck, Fitz thought, his face burning with shame. He'd never taken her aside and told her about the Doctor's episodes. In the beginning, it was to avoid scaring her out of the house. Eventually, it didn't feel important. It'd been months since the Doctor had taken a sabbatical from reality. "Are you all right?"
"Me? Yeah, I'm... good. I'm fine." She offered a wan smile. "I was just taken a little off guard."
"What happened?"
"He was tending to the garden and suddenly went... weird." Her nose crinkled as she recounted, like she wasn't sure herself what happened. "He said the wasps were being controlled by this device, a biometric thing. They were going to take over the world if we didn't stop them." Suddenly, she giggled, then immediately looked contrite. "It shouldn't be funny, really. But he was so earnest about it and kept apologizing to me about letting the big head wasp kidnap me."
"How'd you get him to calm down? Usually I have to chase him down before he goes searching for his spaceship." Therein lied Fitz's biggest worry about the Doctor's episodes. If Fitz didn't catch up to him in time, he could walk forever looking for that police box that didn't exist outside his head, and then he'd be lost. More than half of Fitz's nightmares went along those lines, that mental path well tread.
"I pointed out I obviously hadn't been kidnapped and he seemed confused for a while. He stopped running around after that and I got him to take some of his pills." She rested her hand on his head gently. "He was out a little later. I think he tired himself out."
"Yeah, he does that..." Fitz let out a slow, shaking breath, leaning forward on his knees and putting his face in his hands. Anji was so calm about the incident, but Fitz felt himself shaking, adrenaline combating his exhaustion and making him nauseated. He'd been out. If Anji hadn't been there, if she hadn't kept such a level head...
"Hey." Anji's hand squeezed his shoulder. "It's all right. He's right here, he's fine."
"I-I know. I know. It's just..." He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, willing himself to chill the hell out. He'd die of shame if he went to pieces in front of Anji now. Blinking hard and recovering, he nodded to her. "Thank you. I'm sorry I never... you know."
"Well, I won't, you know, hold it against you," she said, imitating his candor. He chuckled hoarsely. "I have to get some sleep. You think you can finish up here?" Her expression was somber, the question candid. If he asked, he knew she'd keep watching over the Doctor for him while he went to his room and freaked out for a little while. He really, really loved her right then.
"No, I got him. We'll be fine." She nodded and beckoned him over. Carefully, they swapped places, Anji slipping away as Fitz clamored into her seat, the Doctor's head heavy and warm on his thigh. The man barely stirred through the exchange, in fact starting to snore softly by the time Fitz was settled.
"You need something to drink or anything? A blanket?" Fitz shook his head mutely, gaze down, watching over the Doctor's slumber. "Okay. Goodnight, Fitz." He felt her kiss his cheek before backing off. She snickered, whispering as she walked past him, "You really do need a shave."
Fitz at long last managed a grin, a little strained but genuine. "Goodnight, Anji."
So he did eventually shave off the beard he'd been working on. Not for Anji, mind, because she didn't like him that way so he wasn't trying to please anyone but himself. If anyone asked, he'd just say the beard felt weird on his face after almost thirty years of not having one.
But no one did ask. His boss wouldn't notice if he walked into work in a geisha's outfit. Anji just looked on approvingly before yelling at her boss on her mobile. And the Doctor...
Fitz was fairly sure the Doctor hadn't noticed. Which was fine, obviously, because as previously stated he hadn't done it for him. But given the Incident in the garden, Fitz had thought the Doctor would have said something or just showed some sign of noticing. Had the Doctor taken his growing out the stubble as an invitation to piss off? Fitz hoped not, then remembered he shouldn't have any opinion one way or the other.
All right, so he did have an opinion on the matter of kissing the Doctor and what's more the memory of the Incident in the garden-- when he mentally capitalized it like that, it sounded a bit scandalous-- wouldn't leave him alone. At the most inopportune moments, as he rang up people's purchases, when he was pouring out tea, while washing his hair, there was a little voice in the back of his head reminding him the Doctor wanted to kiss him. As a self-styled expert in crazy, Fitz found it very worrying. He wondered if insanity were contagious or hereditary. Either way, he was doomed.
He felt out of his depth. Fitz didn't generally like blokes and when he did, it wasn't like what he felt for the Doctor. Girls were for dating and making plans with, guys were for inebriated one-nighters and subsequent denial, and the Doctor was for everything else. They didn't date because they saw each other all the damn time. They didn't need to make plans because they already lived together and knew who would make dinner and whose turn it was to do the laundry. Fitz drank enough for the both of them; the Doctor mostly abstained from alcohol for reasons he didn't like to say aloud but Fitz could hazard a guess at.
That left the denial, which was fitting, with Fitz laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the Doctor and hypothetical kisses. Things were easier when Sam was around, her crush on the Doctor blindingly obvious and fun to laugh at. Then again, it wasn't obvious to the Doctor himself. Her mooning over him had been funny and Sam had been just self-aware enough to be able to laugh at herself. Of course Fitz had to go and sort of accidentally on purpose slept with her twin sister and things got weird. Weirder. Whatever.
But Sam couldn't hold her liquor like Fitz could and he knew for a fact that the Doctor had never told her he'd like to kiss her. Bless Sam and her drunken ramblings. So where did that leave him?
On his bed, staring at ceiling, melancholic and introspective. Right. He was a well-read guitarist who treated birds as nice as you please and here he was, alone at night with his inner monologue running amuck.
And the worst of it was he wasn't sure if that wasn't his own fault. He was hardly shackled to the Doctor. He didn't have to do any of the things he was doing. Yet here he was.
Cards on the table, Fitz Kreiner, he thought to himself in the sort of tone he'd hoped was stern and intimidating. What is it that you really want?
Just then, the Doctor slammed open his bedroom door and shouted, "Fitz, Fitz, Fitz, wake up, there's a meteor storm! Oh, come and see!"
Fitz sighed and sat up, watching the Doctor rush downstairs, calling Anji's name as well. Paradigm altering epiphanies would have to wait.
The Doctor slammed shut the front door as he peeled off his jacket, muttering darkly under his breath. His cheeks were splashed with contrite pink, his eyes downcast. His hair was wet from the rain even though Fitz had tried to get him to take an umbrella when he left. Overall, he looked like his trip had gone phenomenally sour.
Fitz put on the kettle before fetching some towels from the linen closet. "I told you it was gonna rain."
"You never could resist a good 'I told you so'," the Doctor snapped. Fitz grimaced and tossed a towel over his friend's head, pushing the other into his hands. Without a word, the Doctor pulled off his shirt and wrapped the towel around himself, silently letting Fitz dry his hair with quick, brusque movements. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Yeah, I know," Fitz muttered, lifting the terrycloth to see the Doctor's face. "D'you want to tell me about it?"
The Doctor frowned. "Not really. Just my mother being her old self, asking me questions I don't want to answer."
"That's what they're there for, mums. That and doing that thing where they lick their thumb and rub grit off your face right when you're about to hit it off with some girl." Fitz smiled fondly at the memory. His mother had been a bit out of her gourd most of the time, but in her lucid periods, she'd done her solid best for him, even after his father had gone. "Until you hit twenty-five, anyway. Then it's all 'why haven't you found a nice girl, don't you think it's time for grandkids, Fitzie?'"
The Doctor slowly smiled. "Did she really call you that?"
"Don't get any ideas, Doctor." Fitz tossed the towel back into his face.
"Perish the thought." His laugh was bright, the stress of his day falling away slightly. "So it isn't just my mother that... asks after women." He stumbled over the words, flustered. The towel was pushed back into Fitz's hands as the Doctor went to the closet, pulling one of the spare robes off the hook on the door.
Fitz turned his back, making a show of checking on the kettle. Amazing how they could have a conversation about the universal truths of life and mothers, and at the same time the Doctor reminded him how odd he could be, changing clothes with little compunction or modesty. "No, that's everyone," he went on, ignoring his bashfulness. Thank god Anji was out.
Then again, the Doctor's utter lack of physical shyness didn't seem to extend to Anji, or to anyone beside Fitz really. It might have stemmed from years ago when the Doctor's episodes were most frequent and Fitz had seen him at his best and worst. After one of your tenants gives you a tackle to stop you from doing a runner, mumbling incoherently about alien pepperpots and rifts in space-time, a little communal nudity was hardly an issue. Or so Fitz imagined the Doctor thought. Fitz still had to pretend very hard his landlord wasn't stripping off his wet clothes just out of sight. He could hear the sound of soaked fabrics hitting the ground.
"I almost feel bad for always dodging the question now."
Fitz belatedly remembered they'd been talking. "Hey, maybe one day you won't have to." It was suddenly very quiet behind him. He almost turned around, but caught himself before accidentally getting an eyeful. "I mean, you're hardly old or unattractive or anything. You could find the right girl. Hell, I bet you'd find one before I would."
It was very quiet now. His own breathing sounded deafening to him. Fitz couldn't stand it and hazarded a glance behind him.
The Doctor's sky blue eyes looked overcast, his mouth ever so slightly downturn. His hands were wound into the belt of his robe, but his grip was white-knuckled and desperate. Fitz was willing to bet anyone else in the world would miss just how disconsolate he'd become, but to Fitz it was in every line and angle of his body. Just looking at the Doctor made him feel like a coward.
I take it back. It was a joke. I was distracted by the fact you just got naked not three metres away from me. I get it now. I'll do anything for you, just don't look at me like that. Fitz was filled with the right things to say, but couldn't form the words. He didn't dare risk making things worse. That there could be something worse than the Doctor looking at him like that was terrifying.
The Doctor turned away and made for the stairs. "I won't be needing any tea, Fitz. I think I'll go have a bit of a lie down. It's been a long day."
"Doctor, wait!" Fitz took one step towards him, choking on those right words as they all fought to get out at once. The Doctor stared balefully at him, giving nothing away. Say something, you idiot, Fitz thought frantically. Unconsciously echoing the Doctor, he managed, "I didn't mean that."
A bit of sunlight breaking through the clouds, the Doctor's frown faded. He didn't say anything in reply, just fixing Fitz with his habitually intense stare. For once, Fitz made himself not look away. The Doctor always seemed to find the answers he wanted from Fitz in his eyes. Right now, Fitz was all for that. Anything to prevent him opening his stupid mouth again.
The Doctor nodded once to Fitz and went upstairs.
Fitz let out the breath he'd been holding and leaned on the counter. His pressed his palms against the granite, willing his hands to stop shaking.
He'd been scared he'd misstepped and ruined whatever it was between them. But when Fitz saw the Doctor next, the invisible red string binding them hadn't snapped; it'd tightened, and Fitz felt it in his chest, like a leash being pulled taut. They were drifting, but definitely not apart.
The Doctor was long since awake when Anji and Fitz finally made their way out of their respective bedrooms Saturday morning. Fitz was still in his pajama trousers but had remembered to throw a shirt on to avoid offending Anji's delicate sensibilities. She, in turn, was fully dressed, but looked worse off than Fitz with her hair still unbrushed and eyes almost shut. The fact she couldn't stop yawning as well didn't help.
"Knock it off, you're gonna make me yawn too." Fitz slumped down in his chair at the kitchen table.
"They aren't contagious, that's..." she paused to yawn, "that's an urban legend."
"Doesn't mean it's untrue."
"No, actually, that's exactly what that means." She rolled her eyes heavily at him before turning in her seat to face the Doctor. "Doctor, tell Fitz he doesn't know what he's talking about."
"While there is no scientific explanation to explain the way yawning affects those around you, it's a matter of record that when you yawn, it does tend to make other people do the same," the Doctor replied dutifully.
Fitz beamed. "Ha, so we're both right."
The Doctor turned around and blinked at the two of them, holding a notepad in his hands. "Well, no. You're both wrong, really. Have you seen my pen?"
"It's behind your ear." Fitz pointed vaguely. "No, the other one."
"Oh, thank you." He clicked the ballpoint a few times as he darted around the room, peering into cabinets and jotting little notes down. "By the way, Anji, I made you one of those mochas you like so much."
Anji's face lit up, her drowsiness gone in an instant. "You did? That's nice of you. I could definitely use one this morning." Fitz tried to hide his knowing smile behind his hand, but Anji caught it. "What?"
"There's a catch," Fitz stage whispered to her.
The Doctor spun on his heel and bapped Fitz on the head with his notebook. "There is not a catch."
"He makes me Darjeeling tea and lemon scones when he wants me to do it."
"I make you that breakfast all the time. It has nothing to do with what you're referring to."
Fitz tipped his head back and grinned up at the Doctor. "And yet you know exactly what I'm talking about." The Doctor huffed and went over to the pantry, abandoning the conversation.
Anji had found the thermos of her chocolate and coffee concoction and watched the exchange hesitantly. She took a slow sip of her drink with a pleased hum at the taste. "What's the catch then?"
Fitz grinned at her. Knowing she listened to him before the Doctor on this was a small victory, but he'd take what he could get. He leaned forward and grabbed an old tin off the center of the table, pulling it into his lap. With some effort, he popped the rusted top off and took out a wad of pound notes. "Monthly grocery trip. Compassion and I used to alternate who had to do it. Your turn now." He licked his thumb and started counting out some money. "How bad are we, Doc?"
"Oh, not too bad, but I am on page two," came a muffled reply from inside the pantry. Fitz nodded and plucked out a few more notes.
Anji glanced apprehensively between the two. "I'm not sure I follow. Why is this a big deal? Fitz, you pick up things from the shop almost every day."
"If he's making a list, that means we're running out of everything. You've seen how he cooks, massive bloody meals we never finish. Fancies himself a master chef." Fitz handed Anji the money, tucking the rest away. "You'll have to take the car and go to the next town over. The shop here won't have half that stuff."
"Why they won't let me special order things is beyond my comprehension," the Doctor said sullenly, reappearing. He ripped two pages out of his pad and folded them up carefully. "I think I've got everything." He handed the list over to Anji, smiling gently. "You'll do fine. If anything happens, you can call Fitz. He'll help you." He snapped his fingers. "Oh, you'll need the car keys. I believe I left them..." He darted out of the room.
"Doctor, they're right..." Fitz pointed to the keychain on the counter, but he was already gone. "Oh, nevermind."
Anji leaned on the table, dropping her voice to ask Fitz softly, "Is this really that big of a deal?"
"He's giving you a wad of cash and a list of things he thinks he absolutely needs. Sending you out for groceries is his way of saying he trusts you. Congrats, Miss Kapoor, you're officially part of the family." He patted her hand. "My sincerest condolences."
"Oh." Anji read over the list. "When you put it like that, it's a little flattering, I suppose."
"I dare you to say that again in four hours." Fitz stood up and guided her to the door. He couldn't resist mentioning a few tips, like how the car's seatbelt sometimes got stuck in the clasp, how the Doctor would read her a riot act if she bought anything made by Nestle, and how his ones looked like sevens in that stylish cursive writing. Perhaps he built it up too much, as she looked more than a tad nervous as she clutched the keys in her hand and slipped out the door. But hey, it was one day Fitz wasn't going to spend pushing a trolley around squeezing blood oranges and hunting fresh spices.
He went back into the kitchen and found the Doctor making tea. "Darjeeling sound good to you, Fitz?"
Fitz laughed and pulled his chair out and over to the Doctor, sitting in it backwards with his arms slung over the back. The Doctor set up teacups for them both and began cutting up some fruit with a paring knife. "You're just upset I know all your tricks."
"Oh, do you now?" The Doctor smiled indulgently, eyes genial and lingering on Fitz's face.
Fitz poked the Doctor's side with an accusing finger. "You're manipulative. You think you're some master of subtly getting people to do what you want. But I know when you're playing me. I let you win."
The Doctor leaned over, closer to Fitz, and murmured, "Ah, but by that logic, I still win. I've manipulated you to the point you'll concede to my wishes even when you should know better. Isn't that right?" When Fitz opened his mouth to argue, the Doctor pressed a slice of pear past his lips. It was juicy and sweet on his tongue and momentarily quelled his retort. The Doctor's thumb stayed pressed against his lips as he watched Fitz chew, one eyebrow arched inquisitively.
Fitz swallowed, tilting his head back and licking his lips. "Chicken and the egg."
"A causality dilemma? Perhaps." He popped a bit of fruit into his mouth as he considered it. "The result is the same."
"Yeah, what's that?"
The Doctor set the pear aside on the counter along with the knife with purpose, making Fitz sit up anxiously. He didn't get far. One of the Doctor's hands curved over his wrist while the other touched his face with sticky fingers. Fitz let his head be tipped back and felt the Doctor kiss him chastely. It was barely more than a pressure against his mouth and, closing his eyes, Fitz thought he might imagining it. But he could feel the tickling of the Doctor's curls against his skin, his exhalations against his cheek, and even the coolness of his lips. Too many vivid details for one of Fitz's dreams.
As far as he could tell, it lasted both hours and yet just an instant. Too soon, the Doctor released Fitz and neatly straightened up. He wordlessly tended to the tea as though nothing had occurred, but he was smiling.
Fitz rested his chin over his crossed arms and watched him, letting the heavy silence wrap around them.
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