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Hallan is getting frustrated. Eris can tell, it’s easy. The commander tries to hide all his emotions under a commanding tone and confident posture. Except it’s much harder to have a confident posture when you can barely stand by yourself and can’t walk without help.
It’s true, Hallan is taking a long time to get better. He’s making progress, but it’s slow. Although Eris supposes that centuries asleep will do that to your muscles, even in cryo. Hallan’s been remarkably good about the whole thing, especially since they started kissing.
When that first happened, it surprised Eris. He didn’t think Hallan was the type to get distracted by things like that. Now, it’s a welcome part of his day. The kissing, the touching, the little noises Hallan makes when he’s not focused on being stiff and proper all the time, the little noises he makes against Eris’s mouth when they kiss. It’s all become part of Eris’s new normal.
All the same, it’s clear that Hallan wants to be able to do more, to stand and walk and be back to normal. And Eris isn’t sure what to do to help that along. He helps Hallan walk to wherever he needs to go, but it’s not the same. Hallan wants independence.
One day, Eris is helping Hallan up and walking him out to their sitting room, just off the console room. Without thinking, he reaches up, stands up on the tips of his toes, and plants a kiss on Hallan’s cheek. It’s a thoughtless act of affection, something Eris did all the time with Knyla. It’s normal.
But Hallan reacts oddly. He goes still, his hand finds his cheek, touches the spot where Eris’s lips just were, opens his mouth slightly. He swallows once, twice. His eyes are wide. It’s not an angry surprise, but he’s clearly surprised.
Normally, Eris would help Hallan sit down in one of the armchairs, maybe sit on top of him and kiss him for awhile. The thought does occur to him. But this time, he takes his free arm and wraps Hallan’s free arm around his waist.
“What are you doing?” Hallan manages to ask. His cheeks are actually pink, Eris realizes. All from a little kiss on the cheek.
“Come on,” Eris says, half mumbling. He’s still holding Hallan up, but now Hallan is half embracing him, their bodies against each other. Eris can feel the hitch in Hallan’s breathing, and he leans his head against Hallan’s shoulder. It’s an unusual feeling for Eris to feel small, but he decides that he doesn’t mind it so much. Not with Hallan, at least.
“What are you—we—doing?” Hallan asks again. His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back from doing...doing something, and Eris closes his eyes, his arms around Hallan’s frame, coming to rest somewhere in the middle of his back. One of Hallan’s arms is around Eris’s shoulders, the other wrapped around him, holding him close.
“If we keep this up,” Eris finally says, eyes still shut, face still half in Hallan’s shoulder, “we might be dancing.”
Hallan stiffens almost imperceptibly. Eris wouldn’t have even noticed, except he’s currently standing with his body pressed up against Hallan’s. The commander can’t hide anything from Eris in this position. “Dancing?” Hallan says skeptically. “Why would we dance?”
Eris sighs. Of course Hallan wouldn’t like dancing. That’s so very him. Always the proper Time Lord, always concerned about etiquette and decorum, even within the privacy of their own TARDIS. It’s a shock he’s even let Eris hold him like this, so close together they can feel each other’s heartsbeats.
“Because,” Eris replies finally, lifting his head off of Hallan’s shoulder and tilting it back to look at him better, “dancing is fun. It brings people closer together. It’s sweet…” He sways back and forth, forcing Hallan to sway with him. The commander looks confused. Not quite as confused as he was by the kiss on the cheek, but a sort of confused-and-annoyed expression that Eris is usually used to seeing on Sub-Coordinator Narvin’s face. That’s almost hurtful. His voice dies out.
Hallan rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what they’re teaching on Gallifrey these days, but dancing is never something we did back then.” He sounds scornful, but also wistful. Like he wishes it had been, and now he’s making up for it by making fun of it. Or maybe Eris is just wishing really hard that that’s the case.
“They don’t teach dancing on Gallifrey,” Eris says. The corners of his mouth crinkle into a smile at the idea.
“Oh?” Hallan asks. He looks down at Eris. “Then where did you learn it?”
Eris shrugs. He’d unfrozen Hallan so he didn’t have to think about Knyla, and here he is now, thinking about her. She technically never even existed, he shouldn’t be upset over this. “I...learned from an alien,” he finally says. He looks down, away from Hallan.
“You mean you’re like Andred?” Hallan says. The disbelief is so obvious in his tone that Eris doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s incredulous. Eris has no clue who Andred is, but obviously he did something with aliens. Hallan lets out a gruff laugh. “Just my luck,” he mutters. “First person I’ve really loved, and he’s an alienf—”
Eris kisses him before he can finish his sentence, just so he’ll shut up. “Come on,” he finally says, breaking apart. Hallan keeps his head down, his lips almost against Eris’s. “You’ve never even tried dancing. I can teach you.”
“Yes, and that will work so well right now,” Hallan replies. “I meet all of the physical requirements to learn how to dance.” He pauses. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.”
“Maybe,” says Eris, his mind racing, “if you dance, maybe it will help you start getting stronger on your legs.”
“Really?” Hallan sounds skeptical. When Eris risks a glance at him, his eyebrows are raised, and he still looks confused. It’s funny, because Hallan doesn’t usually look confused.
Eris grins slightly. “Yeah,” he says. “It’ll help strengthen the muscles in your legs and then that will help you start walking.” He has no idea if any of what he just said is true, but he’s decided he’ll make Hallan dance one way or another. Teach him to enjoy a few things that aren’t proper and Time Lord-y. Although, now that he thinks about it, Hallan is already obviously enjoying kissing and being physically close. He’s already behaving less like a Time Lord and more like a normal person.
“I’m not dancing,” Hallan says flatly.
“Oh,” Eris replies, heart sinking. “If you insist, I suppose.”
“At least, not until I can walk properly,” Hallan adds.
“What?”
“How would I be able to learn how to dance if I can’t even support myself?” Hallan says. “Once I can walk, I promise, you can teach me how to dance. But this is only because you like it so much.”
Eris is already hugging Hallan, but if he hadn’t been, he would have done so at this moment. Instead, he kisses him once, quickly, on the cheek, then helps him over to a chair.
“I can sit down by myself, thank you,” Hallan says pointedly, and detaches himself from Eris. He has gotten stronger recently, Eris knows. He’s able to stand up and sit down by himself, and stand unsupported for several microspans. Eris just keeps forgetting. He’s gotten into the habit of helping Hallan with everything, so now that the commander is getting better, it feels odd. It’s good, just…odd.
—————
A few days later, Hallan begins walking. They’re small, shuffling steps, those of an old man, but both men are exultant. It’s a sure sign he’s getting better, that the centuries of extended cryo didn’t do any lasting damage. Pretty soon, he’ll be back to normal, and...and…
And then he won’t need Eris anymore.
Eris realizes this one morning as Hallan walks down the corridors of the TARDIS to their sitting room. He’s still walking in those slow, shuffling steps, but they’re getting stronger every day, more defined, less shuffle. More like a walk, and less like an old person with a walker. He only needs Eris’s help occasionally now, in those odd moments when he loses balance or gets tired. He’s becoming more and more independent, and Eris is certain it’s only a matter of time before the commander is fully recovered. And when he’s fully recovered, he’ll want to leave, probably.
Oh, he hasn’t said anything about wanting to leave, but Eris has seen Hallan’s behavior. He’s bored of the TARDIS, of this daily routine, of seeing the same things every day. Eris is worried that soon, Hallan will tire of him. He’s torn between happiness at Hallan’s recovery, and increasing worry at the thought that Hallan will leave.
One day, Hallan turns to Eris as he walks down the hall. “I think,” he says, in a tone that says I’m going to regret this, “it’s time for you to teach me how to dance.”
“What?” Eris asks.
“You were going to teach me how to dance once I could walk,” Hallan says. “I promised you.” He pauses, then dubiously adds, “Unless you were joking. Because we don’t have to do this…”
“No, we’re doing this,” Eris decides, laughing. “If you’re serious, I’m serious.”
Apparently, the TARDIS is just as eager for Eris and Hallan to learn how to dance. When Eris goes hunting for a decent space in which to teach Hallan, he finds a ballroom. It’s vast, with dark-panelled wood flooring, high ceilings, chandeliers, and some sort of large musical instrument resides in the corner. It all looks suitably impressive. Eris will have to remember to thank the TARDIS later.
When he shows the ballroom to Hallan, the commander looks suitably impressed. “You certainly wouldn’t see something like this on Gallifrey,” he says. For once, it doesn’t sound like an insult. “I had no idea that other cultures were capable of something like this…”
It’s obvious that Hallan hasn’t seen much of alien culture. Maybe he has some experience with the Monans or Nekkistani, but neither civilization cares much for dancing. Eris once asked about Hallan’s offworld experience. Hallan turned bright red and refused to say anything.
“You need to learn to not say things like that,” Eris says. “One of these days, we might land and see some alien world, and then you might get punched.”
Hallan snorts. “I’m a member of the Chancellery Guard—”
“—Now defunct,” Eris cuts in.
Hallan shoots him a dirty look. “As I was saying, I’m a member of the Chancellery Guard. I know how to fight. I hardly think aliens could pose a problem.”
“I dunno,” Eris says. “Some alien cultures are incredibly good at fighting. Did you ever meet Agent Leela?”
“Agent Leela?” Hallan exclaims. “Did everyone join the CIA while I was in cryo? She isn’t even Gallifreyan!”
Eris raises his eyebrows. “Since when did you have to be Gallifreyan to join the CIA?” he asks. “We had Agent Ace as well, but she disappeared.”
“Did Narvin think she was betraying Gallifrey?” Hallan asks. “He always was paranoid.” He pauses. “Not without reason, I suppose,” he adds slowly. “Given how the whole Torvald situation played out…”
“The what?” Eris asks, then thinks better of it. “Never mind,” he says. “We’re here to dance, so that’s what we’ll do.”
Hallan groans and rolls his eyes, but he stomps out to the center of the ballroom without any actual complaints. He also doesn’t have any complaints when Eris shows him where to put his hands. It’s only once they start actually dancing that he starts up.
Eris is teaching him a dance he learned while on Ysalus with Knyla. It’s a slow dance and very easy. And, according to Knyla, a dance only allowed to be performed when two people are courting. Eris hasn’t done the steps in a long time, but it’s like operating a time ring: once you learn, you never forget how. The familiarity reminds him of Knyla. It’s strange doing this with someone else, with someone physically bigger than him. He remembers first learning it, Knyla laughing and saying Listen, you don’t know this dance, so I’ll lead. That way you won’t look like a fool. Her easy smile, her curly hair, never pulled back because it gave her headaches, flying into his face when she moved her head.
He suddenly pushes away from Hallan. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t think I can do this.”
To his surprise, Hallan holds onto his hands. “If I can do it, so can you,” he replies. He grips Eris’s hands in his, rubbing his thumbs in circles on the sides of Eris’s hands. It’s a surprising gesture, and so sweet that it makes Eris pause.
But he drops his hands anyway. “This is different,” he finally says. “I’m sorry.” And he leaves the ballroom, Hallan standing there with open mouth and hurt eyes.
Eris retreats to his bedroom. He and Hallan haven’t started sharing one. Not yet, at least. Eris doesn’t think either of them is ready for that quite yet. After that scene in the ballroom, he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be ready for that. He likes Hallan, he really does. His brown hair, which is desperately in need of a trim, flops down just past his eyebrows and he has to constantly push it out of the way, and the way he kisses Eris leaves him feeling weak inside, and his voice… Eris could listen to that man speak for years and not get bored of listening. But despite all that, despite the kisses and the smiles and the voice and the fact that Hallan has been bringing him hot chocolate from the food machine every morning now that he’s able to walk, DESPITE all that, Eris isn’t sure that he’s over Knyla.
He knows he should be. Technically, it’s impossible for Knyla to have ever meant anything to Eris. But because Eris is a Time Lord, he remembers her. Remembers everything. Everything. The dancing. The kisses. Playing with Knyla’s crazy, curly hair. Kissing her cheek. The way she would rest her head on his chest and sigh, like all the troubles in the world had just been lifted from her. All of that existed, even though, according to all the laws of the universe, Knyla couldn’t have done any of it.
And now, now there are these feelings about Hallan. This commander, this beautiful, uptight Time Lord with the most soothing voice Eris has ever heard, he’s making Eris question everything. When Eris unfroze Hallan, he didn’t realize what he was getting into. These feelings are too difficult. It was fine at first. Now it feels like an insult to Knyla. Everything he’s been feeling about Hallan has gotten more fierce, more intense, more passionate, more more.
There’s a knock at the door, and a moment later, Hallan opens it. “Are you alright?” he asks. His voice is soft, concerned. It’s a tone of voice Eris never thought he’d hear from Hallan.
Eris smiles slightly and shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the dancing.”
Hallan walks in and over to Eris, standing awkwardly before him, hands clasped behind his back. He looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t know how.
“You can sit down,” Eris says, still dull. He wants Hallan to hold him close, but Knyla is still on his mind, and what he really wants is Knyla, her fingers tracing along his face, the back of his neck, as he kisses her.
“Thank you,” Hallan says, and sits down on the bed next to Eris. He leaves exactly four inches of space between them and folds his hands in his lap. He’s the picture of Time Lord self-restraint.
They sit there in silence. Eris is torn between maintaining the silence or telling Hallan everything. He can see the merits in both. With the latter, he can start working through his grief over Knyla, and possibly become emotionally closer to Hallan, allowing their (still new) relationship to grow; with the former, he can avoid any awkward and/or embarrassing conversations about feelings.
To his surprise, Hallan is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Did you know,” he says tentatively, as if he’s just worked up the courage to speak, “that I used to be afraid of kissing you?”
Eris isn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Hallan, but it certainly wasn’t this. Hallan doesn’t talk about these things. He’s one of those perfect Time Lords that Eris was told to act like when he was in the Academy. Displaying only the acceptable range of emotions, not talking about personal matters, impersonal. “You—what?”
Hallan nods. He still looks awkward. Eris remembers how difficult it was to talk about feelings with Knyla. He eventually got used to it, but it was mortifying. He can’t imagine how Hallan is feeling right now. “I was certain you were using me for something,” he responds.
“Hang on,” says Eris. “You were the one who initiated the kissing the first two times! Why would I be using you?”
“You’re the one who got me out of cryo,” Hallan says, shrugging. “I still don’t know why, but I’ve gotten past thinking you want to use me for some clandestine CIA mission.” He pauses, clearly thinking about something, then adds, “But it was the kissing that had me scared.”
“Why?” Eris asks. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a conversation get this personal, not with a Time Lord, at least.
Hallan grimaces. “A long time ago—in terms of history, at least, it wasn’t all that long for me—I ended up in a...compromising position with an alien. While working. The president...walked in on me...being...indiscreet with the alien.”
This is news. Eris can’t imagine Hallan ever behaving indiscreetly. Well, alright, he can, since he’s been the recipient of the indiscreet behavior, but from the way Hallan acts, Eris had assumed this is all a first for the commander.
Hallan coughs. He’s obviously uncomfortable. “What I mean to say is, the alien...she was using me. To get out of her contract. I compromised her security rating. It was all totally deliberate.”
Ouch. Eris really can’t relate to this. At least he was certain that Knyla loved him back. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks.
“Whenever I kissed you, I remembered Melyan,” Hallan says. “She’s long gone, probably dead for centuries. But it wasn’t that long ago for me, thanks to the cryo. I remembered Melyan, and I had trouble keeping you separate from her.”
“Thanks,” Eris interjects sarcastically.
“That’s not what I meant,” Hallan says. “I mean...I couldn’t stop thinking about the other...circumstances surrounding Melyan. And then I couldn’t enjoy kissing you, because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What I’m really getting at is…” He pauses. “I think you must be going through something similar. With dancing. You don’t have to teach me. I certainly wouldn’t mind that,” he adds, under his breath.
“You’re right, actually,” Eris says, surprised.
“Oh, thanks,” says Hallan. “I appreciate your confidence.”
Eris grins, sheepish. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” The smile fades from his face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Knyla,” he says quietly. “She’s the one who taught me how to dance. And now…”
“You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to,” Hallan says.
“Thanks.” Eris manages a shaky smile. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about her.” Not yet, at least. But he will. Someday.
He moves closer to Hallan, closing the four-inch gap between them, and Hallan puts an arm around him, pulling him to his chest. They sit like that for a long time.
Maybe Eris will teach Hallan to dance tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. There’s no rush.They’re Time Lords, after all. They’ll be okay, in the end. More than okay. They’ll be happy.