It was quiet.
Quiet times didn’t happen all that frequently on the TARDIS. Tati had finally been able to finish a novel she had been working on for a while (always being deterred from finishing it by either falling asleep or an adventure occurring) and had wandered back to the main room to find something else to read.
To her surprise, she found the Doctor lounging on one end of the threadbare blue couch that was oftentimes used as her own napping post. He was reading a paperback of some sort, sunken deeply into the armrest. She chose to not disturb him and merely wandered over to the bookcase to return the one she had taken from it.
Tati scanned the spines of the books that surrounded the spot she had filled. They were standard pieces of literature, but to her, they were pieces of wonder. She had seen books before, of course, but growing up, had very little time to actually read them. And now, here was an immense library of them, right at her fingertips. She closed her and eyes and grabbed a book at random – Pride and Prejudice, it turned out – and turned on her heel, ready to go back to her spot in the other room.
She caught sight of the Doctor and the book in her hands suddenly felt heavy. It was somewhat recently, she had realized, of perhaps how she felt about him…how she really felt about him. Except to her, it was all so confusing. Was he really just her friend, her buddy, her pal? She loved pretty much everything about their adventure, even the frequent brushes with death. But more so than that, she loved being with him, having that other person to be with, to work off of, to share the experience.
But then unfamiliar feelings began to arise. He would grab her hand and she wouldn’t want him to let go. His smile suddenly meant a lot more. She was even taking note of his looks and appearances, and finding herself – there was no other way to put it – somewhat physically attracted to him. And it was so odd to feel this way, a way she had never felt before but at the same time felt she was long overdue for.
Her stomach felt odd, as if it ached, but wasn’t hungry nor full. Tati really didn’t know how she felt about the man…the Time Lord…the Doctor. And if she didn’t know, then he certainly didn’t. He barely seemed to show true, genuine emotions himself. It was so frustrating at times, not knowing if he was being honest or just wearing a mask.
With a sigh, Tati decided to make her way not to the next room, but over to the couch, leaping over the back and landing in her spot. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and glanced over at her, a fleck of annoyance in his eyes.
“You finished the first Sherlock Holmes?” he instead asked with a tired smile. It seemed about time for him to pull one of his rare sleeping sessions.
“Yeah, decided to give this a try, whatever it may be.” Tati hefted the book up, the Doctor nodding approvingly.
“Another classic of literature.” He turned his gaze back to his own book – Murder on the Orient Express – before mumbling out, “Dunno if you’d like it, it’s kind of girly.”
Tati just chuckled and cracked open the spine, taking in a small whiff of the old but well preserved pages. Part of her own excitement from reading was indulging her senses for each book. They all produced unique sounds, gave off varying aromas, had different textures to their pages, were covered in drastically different artwork, and even gave off a taste of antiquity to the air. They truly were lovely.
Like this the two remained for an hour, at least, before the pickpocket slowly peeled her eyes over to the Doctor. He was half-dozing, still reading but rather zoned-out from the world around him.
It was almost like instinct. In fact, it had to be instinct; being pulled from the corners of her mind, as she quietly closed the book and sat it beside her on the sofa. Slowly, she shifted her way to be close to the Doctor, inching towards him ever so slightly.
Casually, Tati leaned her head on his shoulder. It was warm, as expected, but firm, a bit yielding due to the fabric of his jacket. His eyes glanced at her, but his head didn’t move, and he again said nothing as he turned the page of the book.
It was impossible. How could he not know? How could he not even react? Well – okay, the second was explainable simply by the fact that he was the Doctor. He was always rational, always calm, and never let on to how he felt. Well…that wasn’t true either. He showed emotions, but never, it seemed, to anything…personal. He only wanted to be concerned with the world around him, and would chalk up his own troubles to nothing in comparison.
At least, this was what Tati could figure out. It was probably entirely wrong.
Without even thinking, she relaxed further into his shoulder, conforming to his arm and letting his radiating heat relax her. His own aura of calmness was rather infectious, seeping into her and cooling her nerves. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply but silently. It was peaceful.
But then the instinct seemed to kick in again. It was like a charge that burned in her chest and spread through her system, her eyes shooting open at the thoughts and feelings that were pouring into her head. They were still so confusing and somewhat…disturbing.
That was how it went?
She wanted to do what?
With…him?
And yet at the same time, amidst the barrage of thoughts and the pandemonium of her head, there was a voice in her that said…that said it was alright, that none of this was wrong, and that it was really…her growing up.
She moved. Tati lifted her head from his shoulder and brought her legs up to the cushions, shifting her position to rest on her knees. Slowly, she elevated herself until she stood roughly a head taller than him before letting out a breath.
And then he looked at her.
“What are you do…ing…”
Tati leaned over his shoulder, but the Doctor quickly contorted his posture to parallel hers, dropping his book to the floor in the process. He stared at her, jaw slack, eyes wide, and yet without fear.
“Tah…” he managed to say before his syllables jerked to a halt. With one hand she groped his lower back, with the other she grazed his jawline, her fingers framing his ear and neck, slipping under his hair whilst her thumb stroked his cheek. He continued to stare, wanting to lean back and further away than he could, but stopped by the armrest of the couch.
“I just…” she said softly but intently, her eyes studying his features. Her chest pressed against his, he felt her heart thump rapidly, matching the beats of his own. He rarely let panic get to him, but this…this was just so odd.
He was so distracted by her gaze – which was a bit of a frightening thing to be stared down by, the unnatural yellow of her eyes rather spooky – that when he felt a pain against his thigh it was a welcome distraction. She had unfolded her legs and now sat with one behind her and one swung over his, her belts pressing hard into his leg.
What was she doing?
Okay, it wasn’t like he didn’t know what she was doing. It was just…it seemed so out of place for her to do this. There were little to no facets in her personality that made it seem like she would do this sort of thing – it just really wasn’t her.
“Tati…” the Doctor was finally able to speak, though his tone was a bit more breathy than he had intended. “Please…just tell me what you’re doing.”
“I just want to see your face,” she answered before closing her eyes, leaning further down, and just barely grazing her lips against his own slackened mouth before she nuzzled his cheek. “You have the scent of a book, Doc,” she whispered. “You even taste like one.”
Suddenly, she slumped in her pose. Her hand fell from his jaw, her leg withdrew from his thigh, and her torso lifted from his. As if it had never happened, Tati retreated to the opposite end of the couch, curling up into the corner and appearing to be in a state of quiet but raging denial and embarrassment.
He was finally able to breathe again. Had that really just happened? He closed his mouth but nearly leapt in surprise when he found his lips to be a bit moister than he remembered. She really had done that, huh.
The poor girl.
The Doctor picked up his fallen book and swung his legs onto the cushions, deciding that since he was already like that, he might as well be reclining. His toes wiggled around in their brightly-decorated confinements before he extended his leg and poked Tati’s knee.
It took her a few seconds to respond, and when she did, she just looked at him, her face beet red. He returned the gaze, his expression unreadable, before smiling gently and patting the small space next to him.
“Come over here. I think it’d be a bit more comfortable.”
She raised her eyebrows before something ticked in her brain, causing her to furrow them in anger. “You’re just making fun of me.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied, head tilted in annoyance. “Come here.”
“Fine…”
She crawled over to the spot, hesitating before wedging herself into the space between him and the back cushion, stumbling in the confines and collapsing onto his chest, the top of her hair brushing against his face.
“Oof – urmph – sorry –”
“No, that’s fine,” he assured her, tossing the book to his left hand and holding on to her shoulder with his right. “Really. It’s better this way anyhow.”
“Wha’?”
“You need to sleep,” he said, thumbing open the book and resuming where he had left off. “Dunno if you know this, but people are awfully comfortable to sleep on.”
“They are,” she replied, “Though I’m not certain about how comfortable it is to have one on you…”
“It works in the same way,” he answered. “Doesn’t hurt when the person is lighter than you. Kind of like a blanket, though one that makes noise and has better insulation properties.”
Tati blinked before nodding stiffly, awkwardly snuggling into his chest. He seemed so frank and matter-of-fact about the situation, as if it didn’t bother him at all. Maybe that was a good thing. If it didn’t bother him, she would try her hardest to do the same.
The Doctor turned a page in his book, releasing his grip from her shoulder and instead resting his hand on her back. She wormed her left arm out from underneath her, sliding it under his and clutching the bit of sleeve near his shoulder. There. Now she was comfortable.
Tati’s breathing soon became timed to the beating of his twin hearts until she eventually drifted off to sleep. The Doctor continued reading for a few minutes before reaching the end of the chapter, closing the book and setting it back on the floor. He glanced down at the pickpocket, who was still holding onto him, slumped across his chest, snoozing away. With a chuckle and a sigh, he combed his fingers through his bangs before rolling his shoulders and setting his head back, closing his eyes.
People really were quite comfortable to sleep with.
