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1.
Lying face down in the dirt, with the taste of smoke in his mouth, Jamie couldn’t for the life of him piece together how he’d come to be there. He remembered the ground underfoot shaking and Ben shouting at him to get down and a great roaring noise – but after that there was a blank, a dark patch in his memories.
He raised his bleary eyes and saw the last dregs of smoke whisping up beyond the dirt ridge. It could only have been moments, he realised. His ears were still ringing from the noise.
Beside him, Ben was climbing to his feet, groaning and shaking his head. “Bleedin’ ‘ell,” he said. “That was close.” He offered Jamie his hand. Jamie ignored him and got to his feet.
Dusting himself off, he looked up at the clear purple sky. It felt like hours since the explosion. Things were so peaceful now, it was hard to believe it was the same day, let alone the same hour.
There was a shout behind them. Jamie swung around. They were standing in a wide bowl-shaped crater, its bottom broken by dips and ridges of hardened earth. Upon the rim, silhouetted against the sky, was a familiar figure, waving his hand in the air and bouncing up and down.
Just as Jamie shaded his eyes against the sun, Polly came up beside the Doctor and waved to them with both arms. Ben waved back and shouted something the Doctor and Polly surely couldn’t make out, but they shouted back anyway and started down the crater.
The Doctor scurried downwards, half running half sliding to the base of the crater, where he skidded the last few feet. Clapping his hands together in delight, a silly grin plastered all over his face, he dashed over to them. “Oh,” he was saying, “oh, goodness, you’re alright – we’ve been so terribly worried – oh.”
He pawed at Ben, clapping him lightly on the arm, before turning to Jamie, taking him by the shoulders – and kissing him on the lips.
It was only for a moment, more of a peck than a kiss, but still Jamie stood in mute shock as the Doctor ran his hands down his chest, adjusting his jacket. Then Jamie broke down into startled giggles. He ran the back of his hand across his mouth, ostensibly to wipe it clean, but really because he wanted badly to touch his lips.
The Doctor turned to beam at Polly, pattering down the scree behind him. “There you are, Polly.”
She was far more cautious than the Doctor. She picked her across the uneven ground towards them in her less-than-practical shoes. “We saw the crash,” she said, her tone almost mournful. “We thought –” She came up beside Ben and put a hand on his shoulder, wiping away the dust.
“We’re fine, Pol,” he said, shrugging her off.
“Well,” said the Doctor, clapping his hands together. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” He pottered off across the base of the crater, clambering up the ridge on his hands and knees.
Ben watched him go and said, “how come I don’t get a kiss, then?”
“He must like Jamie better than you,” said Polly gravely.
That set Jamie off again. Off he went, giggling away like they weren’t lost on an alien planet and he didn’t still have the stench of smoke in his nostrils.
“Will you stop gigglin’?” said Ben.
Jamie sobered. “I’m no’ gigglin’,” he said. “I’m just startled.”
Polly said, “if you say so.”
2.
On the screen, the inky darkness of space was broken by a technicolour explosion. The Asteron was breaking up into harmless, glittering fragments, and all around the control room people were letting out their breath – and breaking into jubilation.
Like a very clever rock, the Doctor said, flying around space, smashing planets to bits and drinking up heat. There was something grimly exciting about seeing something that big die so spectacularly.
All at once, it hit Jamie that he wasn’t going to die, and nor were any of the other people in the room, or indeed in the whole colony. The shadow of death had been lifted. They’d done it. A daft grin spread over his face and without really meaning to he was joining in the cheering.
The Doctor bounded over to him and touched his shoulder. Jamie turned to face him, flushed with excitement, and the Doctor grabbed his face and kissed him.
There was no way he could pretend to himself that it was a friendly kiss, for he was sure kisses between friends weren’t meant to make your heart quicken or your stomach turn over, nor were they meant to go on quite this long, and they definitely weren’t – ah – meant to involve quite so much tongue.
The Doctor drew back and beamed at him. He batted softly at Jamie’s face – and wandered off into the crowd to accept hearty congratulations from the governor. Jamie watched him go, dazed, his lips tingling, his stomach filled with butterflies.
Ben ambled up beside him. “Did ‘e just stick ‘is tongue down yer throat?”
“Aye,” said Jamie. He wet his lips. His insides were all fizzy. He felt like he wanted to laugh. He also felt a bit sick.
“If I were you I’d’ve decked ‘im,” said Ben.
Jamie shrugged. “Aye, well…” The Doctor flashed him a winning smile and he lost his train of thought. He settled for, “erm.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “I need a drink.”
3.
Space, Jamie thought, was a very odd place. Beneath his fingertips was three inches of glasses, and then – nothing. A gaping, hungry void that, if the glass were to break, would suck them all in, tear them to shreds in its eagerness to eat them up. Three inches away from his fingers was nothing but dust and the distant icy stars.
And yet here he was, in a warm room with a carpet underfoot, where gentle music played and people wandered back and forth, talking and laughing and drinking and celebrating Christmas.
Or they said it was Christmas, but he wasn’t sure how they could know what day it was when the earth and its seasons were an unthinkable distance away. The Doctor had pointed to a faint smudge through the window and told him that was the sun. Thinking about it made his head hurt.
With a resigned sigh, Jamie downed the last inch or so of his champagne, still a touch dazzled by the way it sparkled. As he tilted his head back, he caught a flash of green and white on the ceiling. Puzzled, he looked up.
The window was set into one of a row of alcoves flanked by pillars. Projected into the window was a pattern of falling snowflakes, partially obscuring the view of the stars. He’d been hiding in his wee nook long enough to find the beginning and end of the looping snowflakes, but somehow he had missed the sprig of mistletoe fixed to the arch.
He stared up at it, confounded at seeing mistletoe on a space station where all the plants were precision-grown in tanks. Upon closer inspection, he saw it was made of plastic, a tell-tale frill around the edges of the leaves. Really, that only raised more questions.
“Enjoying yourself?” said the Doctor, popping up beside him in that way he had of seeming to rise out of the ground.
“Oh, aye.” Jamie nodded up at the mistletoe. “What’s that doin’ there?”
“It’s mistletoe,” said the Doctor mildly.
“I can see that,” said Jamie. “But what’s it doin’ here?”
“I rather think it’s traditional,” said the Doctor. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
Jamie glowered at the mistletoe. “It’s no’ even real.”
“Well, it’s the principle of the thing.” The Doctor sniffed and composed himself, as if he were deeply hurt by Jamie’s not liking the damn plastic plant. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
“How’s it fun?” said Jamie.
“Oh, ah,” said the Doctor. “Oh yes, I suppose it would be after your time. It has a very particular, ah, tradition attached to it.”
“What’s that, then?” said Jamie.
“Hmm.” The Doctor rubbed his ear. “I think it might be easier if I just showed you.”
“Oh, aye?”
“You see, it’s this.” The Doctor took a hold of the front of Jamie’s smart jacked and pulled him in to kiss.
Jamie was so startled he almost forgot to close his eyes – and with what he felt was a heroic effort, he managed not to drop his champagne flute. The Doctor’s lips were a touch rough and his tongue was slipping just into Jamie’s mouth in that tentative way he was becoming far too familiar with. They really ought to stop doing this, he resolved as he kissed back.
The Doctor relinquished his mouth, but didn’t pull away. Jamie opened his eyes and found the Doctor looking at him, a faraway expression on his face. Their noses were bumping together. “That’s no’ a real tradition,” said Jamie, his voice uneven. “You made it up.”
“I did not,” said the Doctor, breath tickling his lips.
“Ye did,” said Jamie. “You made it up so you could kiss me.”
“Now why would I do that?” The Doctor kissed him again, nibbling gently at his lower lip.
Breathing out, Jamie pulled back, stepped away. “I need another drink,” he announced.
“Oh, do try the mulled wine.”
Jamie looked at his empty glass. “Aye, I’ll do that,” he said as he backed away from the window.
“And maybe we shall find some more mistletoe later,” the Doctor said, grinning toothily after him.
“Aye, don’t push your luck,” said Jamie – though as he turned on his heel and made for the bar, he couldn’t help smiling back.
4.
The TARDIS let out yet another grumble. “Is that bad?” Jamie went to the Doctor’s side, pushing himself right up beside him, squeezing his shoulder as if, if only he held on tight enough, he might be able to protect the Doctor from whatever nonsense the ship was getting up to now.
“No no, no,” said the Doctor, which was altogether too many ‘no’s for Jamie to believe him. He wafted away smoke and went on. “No. I’ve, ah, got it all under control. If I just – turn this –” He twisted a green knob a quarter turn to the left. It immediately clicked back. He shot it a glare and held it in place. “All in hand, you see,” he said cheerfully as he one-handedly tugged open a panel and pulled out a pair of black and red cables. “If I can just – bond these circuits –” He shoved a loop of cable into his mouth and squinted at his work. “Scoodriver,” he said.
“Eh?” said Jamie, squeezing tighter.
The Doctor took the cable from his mouth. “Screwdriver,” he said. “In my inside pocket. You couldn’t be a good lad and get it, could you?” Jamie stared. “I’m a bit tangled up, you see.”
“Oh, aye!” Jamie reached into the Doctor’s coat.
“No, ah, my other inside pocket – no, that other other one –”
“This one?”
“Yes, that one.”
Jamie pushed his hand into the Doctor’s pockets, feeling all sorts of odds and ends, none of which were screwdriver-shaped. “I cannae find it.”
“It’s in there. Have a rummage.”
“I am rummagin’ –” Jamie looked up and realised all at once how tangled up they’d become. He was squashed right up against the Doctor, nose to nose, one arm around his shoulders, the other stretched across his chest down into his coat. “I, erm.”
The Doctor’s eyes flicked up and down Jamie’s face, and he kissed the tip of Jamie’s nose – which Jamie duly wrinkled. “What did you do that for?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the Doctor. “You have a nice nose –”
“I do?”
“And it was just there. I couldn’t help myself.” As if to illustrate his point, the Doctor kissed him on the mouth.
Jamie’s eyes fluttered closed. The TARDIS let out another grumble, but neither of them noticed.
Jamie’s fingers closed around the screwdriver. “Mmm,” he said, pulling back. “Found it.” He drew his hand out of the Doctor’s coat with the screwdriver in it.
“Oh, good.” The Doctor juggled the screwdriver about. “Hmm. Now, take these –” He thrust the pair of cables into Jamie’s hands. “And hold on tight.”
“Oh, aye.”
“And do be careful, they might jolt.”
“How d’you mean, jolt – ouch! Hey –”
5.
“They call them the Seven Sisters,” the Doctor said. He pointed at each of the seven moons across the sky and named them, one by one.
Stretched out on the grass, Jamie squinted at the blushing pink sky and said, “why’d they call them that?”
“Well, they were worshipped as goddesses, you see,” said the Doctor, which didn’t quite answer Jamie’s question and in fact raised several more.
“I thought you said no-one lived here?” he said.
“Not any more, no,” said the Doctor. He settled back against his wadded up coat, a pensive look upon his face.
“And another thing,” said Jamie. “There’s eight of them.”
“Hmm?”
Jamie counted them off. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. You missed that wee one.”
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “That’s not a moon.”
“It’s no’?”
“No, it’s no’,” said the Doctor. “I mean, it isn’t. It’s an orbital defence station.”
“Oh, aye.” Jamie stared up at the tiny not-moon. It was odd, for the planet looked to his eyes entirely unspoiled. Until mere moments ago he’d assumed no-one had ever lived here. “Doctor?”
The Doctor turned to face him. “Hmm?”
“What’s an orbita- a one of those?”
The Doctor sighed heavily. “A space station,” he said. “Armed with enough firepower to destroy a battle fleet – or level a city.”
Despite the warm air, a chill ran through Jamie. “It’s no’ dangerous, is it?” They’d left Victoria picking flowers down in the valley. The Doctor had sworn it was safe.
“No, no,” said the Doctor. “The control circuits will have corroded – oh, hundreds, thousands of years ago. But the outer shell was built to last.”
“Seems to have outlasted everything,” said Jamie, eying the peaceful, unmarked hills.
“Quite,” said the Doctor. “Yes. It shall probably keep orbiting until this system’s star goes supernova. Orbiting, and – and watching.”
“A bit like a ghost,” said Jamie, eyes trained on the not-moon.
“Hmm,” the Doctor murmured.
Jamie turned to look at him and saw him stared at the eyes, one of those haunted looks on his face. They struck him every so often, seemingly out of the blue, these sudden melancholies. Left to his own devices he might stare at the sky for hours. Jamie couldn’t stand to be the one who’d set him off.
He rolled over. “Hey,” he said. “Dinnae make that face.”
“What face?” said the Doctor, looking at him mournfully.
“That face.” Jamie poked him in the ribs. The Doctor squeaked. “What, are ye ticklish?”
“No,” said the Doctor. Jamie poked him again. “Eep!”
“You sure?” said Jamie as the Doctor squirmed.
“I am not,” said the Doctor, “and never have been – eep!” Jamie attacked, diving on top of him. “No, no, no –”
“Admit it,” said Jamie, pushing his hands inside the Doctor’s coat. “You’re ticklish.”
“I – oh dear, oh dear,” the Doctor giggled, wriggling about underneath him. “Help! Victoria! Helllp!”
Jamie was laughing too, almost too much to say, “g’on, confess.”
“I’m not – oh, dear,” gasped the Doctor. “Mercy. Mercy.” Jamie relented, more because he needed to catch his breath. “I may,” the Doctor confessed, “be a little ticklish.”
“Oh aye, a little?” said Jamie. He was lying half on top of the Doctor, who was rumpled and blushing and probably a bit cross. He was about to climb off when the Doctor’s hand ran along his forearm, where his sleeve was rolled up, up his arm and shoulder to his face.
He swallowed. The Doctor was staring up at him, smiling to himself, a funny look on his face. His thumb stroked Jamie’s cheek. Jamie wet his lips.
The Doctor cupped his face and pulled him down to kiss, and Jamie closed his eyes and kissed back without even thinking about it. A moment later, it struck him just what he was doing, and he pulled back, startled.
Before he could speak, the Doctor’s hand slid around the back of his head, tugging him back down, kissing him properly.
This was probably a wee bit odd, Jamie thought. But then again, travelling through time in a box that was bigger inside than out was more than a wee bit odd but he’d come to accept that as normal. Who was to say he wasn’t normal to kiss your friends? Kissing with your eyes closed – lying down – with the perfect amount of tongue – for, ah, this long. Who was to say you couldn’t get all shivery kissing your friends. This was probably perfectly normal in the future.
The Doctor sighed beneath him, fingertips stroking his scalp just-so. Jamie wondered when the Doctor had found out he liked that, and just when he’d got so good at it. It was then he decided that things were probably getting out of hand, and slowly, reluctantly, pulled away.
With a contented sigh, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky, which was turning a duskier shade of pink. Beside him, the Doctor flopped onto his side, draping an arm over Jamie’s chest.
Jamie looked down. The Doctor was gazing up at him with a look of near-puppyish adoration. “What’s that look for?”
“Hmm? What look?”
“That look,” said Jamie. “The one you’re givin’ me just now.”
“I’m not giving you a look.” The Doctor shifted, resting his head on Jamie’s chest.
“You are,” Jamie countered. “You’re lookin’ at me all soppy.”
“I most certainly am not.” The Doctor nuzzled at his chest.
Jamie wrapped an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders. “You are so.”
“I am not,” the Doctor insisted. “And oh goodness, it’s getting dark. Perhaps we ought to go back to the TARDIS.”
“Aye,” Jamie agreed. “In a wee while.”
6.
“Y’know,” said Jamie, leaning against the console. “I reckon Zoe thinks we’re an item.”
“Hmm?” The Doctor barely glanced up from the controls. “What’s that?”
“I said –”
“Hold on.” The Doctor turned one last switch and the TARDIS purred. “There. What was that?”
“I said,” said Jamie, “I reckon Zoe thinks we’re an item.”
The Doctor glanced at him. “Hmm?” He stared, his eyebrows knitting together. “Eh?”
“Aye, she was askin’ how long we’d been together and when I told her she said she meant together together, and I asked her what she meant together-together, and she says – hey, what’s the matter?”
The Doctor’s face had fallen. He was staring at Jamie, almost sorrowful.
“What?” said Jamie.
“You mean we aren’t?” said the Doctor.
“Aren’t… what?” said Jamie.
The Doctor toyed with his hands. “Aren’t an item.”
Jamie stared at him, trying to work out if he was trying to make some obscure joke. He had to be joking – but he looked so dejected, almost as if he’d been struck. “I, erm,” he said. “I think we’re just friends.”
“Oh.” The Doctor scurried away around the console, busying himself with a set of wavering dials.
Jamie pushed himself away from the console and made to follow, but thought matter of it. “Aren’t we?” he said.
“We do an awful lot of kissing for people who are just friends,” said the Doctor, not meeting his eye.
Jamie swallowed. “Aye, so?” he said. He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of who’s to say friends can’t kiss sometimes – but come to think of it, they did do a lot of kissing. There’d been that time with the mistletoe – and the time they’d happened to land on his birthday and the Doctor had kissed him for a present – and all those times there’d not been enough beds and they’d had to share and the Doctor had kissed him good-night – and good-morning – and they’d cuddled a bit. And now that he thought of it, lately the Doctor had taken to pushing him up against the console and kissing him silly just for the joy of it.
He wondered if it was possible to be so dense that you could be together together with someone without noticing. Lord, but he was that dense. It was suddenly blindingly clear that he and the Doctor weren’t just friends anymore and he had no clue when or how it had happened.
And now he’d been standing there in mute confusion for too long, and the Doctor was fiddling with the controls and saying, “I, ah, I suppose I must have – misread the situation.”
“Doctor –”
“I’m so terribly sorry,” said the Doctor, all flustered, with big sad eyes. “I’ll just – shall I?” He flicked a switch decisively and oh lord, but he was leaving the room.
Jamie ran after him, caught his arm. “I’m sorry,” he said. The Doctor was still giving him that sad look. Jamie dropped his arm. “I’m – och, I’m so stupid.”
“Don’t say that,” said the Doctor.
“No, it’s true, I – I didnae mean to upset you –”
“You didn’t.”
“Aye, I did – I – I didnae – I mean, I dinnae –” Jamie scrubbed his hands over his face, at a loss for words. He was no good at this. The Doctor had a way of somehow always knowing what to say, and he just – didn’t. He knew just what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t get it straight in his head, let alone say it aloud. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need,” said the Doctor earnestly. “It’s quite alright.”
“It’s no’,” said Jamie. “It’s – och, here.” He did the only thing he could think of, grabbed the Doctor’s face, and kissed him.
By the time he realised he had no idea what he was doing, it was too late to stop. The Doctor usually started things off and Jamie really didn’t know how to go about kissing another man, and the Doctor wasn’t even kissing back, just standing there, and perhaps he’d only made things worse.
When he pulled back, the Doctor’s eyes were closed, and he was blushing a pretty pink. “Ah,” he said, eyes fluttering open.
“You’re blushing,” said Jamie, a smile spreading across his face.
“I’m not,” said the Doctor.
“Aye, you are,” said Jamie, and kissed him again. It was so much easier this time, and it felt – well, proper. Normal.
The Doctor’s arms looped around his waist, pulling him in, and when their bodies pressed together the Doctor made a happy noise into Jamie’s mouth.
With a sigh, Jamie pulled back and pressed his face into the Doctor’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, muffled.
“Don’t be,” said the Doctor, hugging him tight.
“I’m an idiot –”
“No, you aren’t.”
“It’s just,” said Jamie, “I’m no good at this.”
“Oh, trust me,” the Doctor said, “you’re very good at this.” He pressed a kiss to Jamie’s ear. Jamie huffed out a laugh.
He drew back. “Aye, that I am,” he said, and kissed the Doctor’s nose, then his mouth.
“Mmm,” mumbled the Doctor, pulling away. “Now, just so we’re thoroughly clear –”
“Aye,” said Jamie, “we’re together together.”
“Oh, good!” said the Doctor, so cheerily that Jamie had to laugh. He dipped his head forward, touching their foreheads together.
“Let’s be damn stupid together, shall we?” he said.
“Yes, let’s,” said the Doctor. “Now, if you don’t mind, I believe we have some lost time to make up for.”
“Eh – ohh,” said Jamie as the Doctor pushed him up against the console. “Mmmm.” Oh, yes. He could do this all day, and he meant to.