Chapter Text
“Peri. Peri!” the Doctor shouted from several rooms away. Peri sighed and put her face in the pillow in front of her where she was lounging on her bed, feet kicked up behind her as she read. The Doctor had a terrible tendency to yell her name whenever he wanted her for something regardless of how far apart they were in the TARDIS. This oftentimes resulted in her eardrums nearly exploding from standing barely a few feet from him or, absurdly, him getting upset at her for not hearing him from twenty rooms away. She debated ignoring him, but he was insufferable when he was annoyed and she didn’t want him to take it out on her when he inevitably came searching for her.
Resignedly, she slipped a bookmark between the pages of her book and left it lying on the bed as she went to find him. She honed in on him when he gave another shout of her name, the harshness of his tone upping a level as he neared the end of his remarkably short supply of patience. He was in a nearby bathroom, one of the more trafficked ones on the TARDIS as it was nearest the control room. He was crouched beside the cabinet below the sink, rifling through the toiletries—and the other unrelated knickknacks and gadgetry that could be found stashed away in any storage receptacle on the TARDIS.
“What do you need, Doctor?” Peri asked.
“Have you seen any makeup lying around here?” he asked, still rifling.
“Makeup?” Peri asked, perplexed. “What kind of makeup?”
The Doctor shot her one of his patented condescending glares over his patchwork shoulder. “Just makeup . Eyeshadow, lipstick, and the like. I could’ve sworn there was some stashed in this bathroom. Have you nicked it?”
“Hardly nicked it,” she replied. “No one else was using it.”
“If you take someone else’s possessions without asking, it’s theft, regardless of whether it happened to be in use at the time,” he griped.
“Why do you care? It’s not like it’s yours ,” she shot back.
He raised an incredulous eyebrow at her and replied, “It is mine, as a matter of fact, and I would appreciate its return at once.”
Peri frowned. When she’d uncovered the makeup, she’d assumed it’d belonged to one of the old friends of the Doctor’s that he often spoke of, many of whom had been women. “What use do you have for that kind of thing?”
“I wear it, obviously,” he snapped. “Or, well, I did , a long time ago. It’s been several incarnations since it’s felt right, but now I’m settling into this one, I have a hankering to try it out again.”
“ You wear makeup ?” Peri asked with laughter in her voice, as she was sure this was some strange kid on his part. The Doctor’s gaze turned even stormier than it’d been, and she lost her half-smile at the expression. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say he almost looked hurt beneath his customary indignation.
“And why not?” he said stonily.
“I… er,” she said. “You, um, just… don’t seem the type.”
“Oh, don’t I?” He got to his feet, and she could tell he was getting angry. “And that’s because of your perceptions of my gender presentation, I suppose?”
“Um, come again?” she asked.
The Doctor gestured at large to himself. “I appear to be a man in your mind, yes?” Peri nodded uncertainly, getting more lost by the second. “And you suppose men are not to wear makeup, yes?”
Peri looked down at the tiled floor, guilt welling up in her throat. Growing up, she’d been taught makeup was for girls and any boys who wore it were gay or would turn out to be so, which was an inherently bad thing. Later in her life, however, she came to terms with her own attraction to both men and women. She befriended gay men, lesbians, other bisexuals, transgender people, and drag queens left and right. After that, she knew all the things she’d been told about queer people were a lie, and yet, those teachings were still embedded in her. Here they were, clawing their way back to the surface despite the fact she thought she’d buried them long ago. “No… no, I don’t think that, Doctor.”
The Doctor paused and gave her a thoughtful frown, which slowly morphed into a small smile. “Well, well, Perpiguillium Brown, not brainwashed by the hateful rhetoric of your species?”
“I try not to be,” she replied, “but there’s still some bits of it I can’t seem to shake. I’m sorry, Doctor.”
“Peri,” the Doctor said gently, putting his fingers below her chin to tilt her head up. All traces of his earlier anger were gone from his voice and face. “You’re still trying . That’s really what matters. You must keep an open mind if you are to learn to be a better person.”
She nodded. “I’m always willing to learn.”
His smile grew into a full fledged grin, and Peri thought he looked rather proud. “That’s the first step, dear girl.”
“Um, can I ask a question?” she said tentatively.
“Of course! Asking questions is paramount to learning.”
“You said, earlier, something about you appearing to be a man. Are you… not a man?”
“Indeed, I am not,” he replied.
“A woman, then?” Peri wondered. He shook his head.
“None of the above. I do not possess a gender.”
“Oh,” she said. “Is that, like, an alien thing, or a you thing?”
The Doctor sighed and put his hands on his hips. “It is not an alien thing . It is simply a person thing . Anyone can lack a gender; humans, Time Lords, or any other species that has a concept of gender to deviate from to begin with.”
Peri nodded. “Okay. Is there something else I should call you?”
“In what sense?”
“I mean, if you’re not a man, you shouldn't really be called a ‘he,’ right?”
“Generally, I find he/him pronouns to be acceptable, though I have to admit I prefer they/them.”
“I don’t think I really know what that means,” Peri confessed sheepishly.
“Oh, that’s alright, I can explain it to you,” the Doctor assured her. “It might take some time, however.”
“Okay, well, before you go off on a tangent, how about I go get you your makeup back?” Peri said. She hoped it wasn’t too mixed in with her things so she’d be able to return it to him (?). The thought gave her an idea, and she smiled. “Or, how about you explain it to me while I do your makeup for you?” She was quite thrilled at the prospect, to be honest. It’d been awhile since she’d had someone to do that for, and to trade makeup with.
The Doctor beamed at her. “I’d be delighted, my dear.”