Chapter Text
The 63rd Century. An orbiting station, full to the brim with alien life, from near, far, and anywhere in between. Free-flowing drinks - concoctions that were outlawed in seventy different states - and above all else, a dancefloor heaving with bodies of all shapes and forms. And oh , how the Doctor liked to dance.
His nostrils flared, taking in the scene as he hummed in delight. There it was, at the edge of the flavour profile of the greatest nightclub the universe had ever produced. The slightest hint of it, concealed well (if the Doctor wasn't perfectly trained to extract it from the screams of joy). Danger .
“Now, this is my kind of party!” The Doctor grinned from his vantage point by the TARDIS. “Thanks, my dear.”
He patted the TARDIS kindly, kissing her side. Almost in response, her light flashed momentarily brighter, and the Doctor laughed.
“Okay, okay - I won't dance with too many others,” he laughed under his breath. It wasn't like the TARDIS to be this vocal, not from the outside. A thrill went down the Doctor’s spine. Must be something good, then.
As he strutted off, the Doctor observed the dance floor again, focusing on individual characters as he did. Who to talk to? He saw an Aphaidrarl in the corner, an ancient race who had lasted through centuries of war on their planet, before taking on the stars in the early 58th Century. This one was leering over its partner, three eyes blinking in unison. A little perverse, perhaps, but not inherently dangerous. And in no need of intervention, if the weapon in the partner's pocket was anything to go by (whichever type of weapon it may be). No, there seemed nothing amiss at first glance.
“A drink for you, Sir.”
The Doctor twirled on the spot, catching eyes with a figure. They were standing behind the bar, voice loud over the din of the club. Despite the beak on their face, the Doctor knew a smirk when he saw one. He took a step closer and peered into the glass, enchanted by the partial fluidity that glittered back at him. There was a reason this station was known across both the universe and time.
The Doctor picked up the glass, inhaling the scent. His nose tickled; the spices coming from it were unexpected yet not unpleasant. He raised an eyebrow at the bartender
"Ginger," he said. “You really do want me to have a good time.”
"Not me, Sir,” the bartender replied. From his pocket, the Doctor felt his sonic pulse once, quietly, then a second time, more incessant. His heart rate picked up. "Then who?"
A third buzz and the Doctor pulled the device out to silence it. With a simple yet intrigued expression, the bartender nodded to the dancefloor, his eyes focused somewhere behind the Time Lord. The Doctor turned, following his gaze, and stopped.
"Oh," he breathed, as the world around him faded. The man in the purple shirt, leaning against a pillar, drink in hand and gaze like flames, fixed on the Doctor. "Oh, the signal, the TARDIS, the scans, I should've known.”
A whole package of impossible, held together with tight trousers and gel-slicked hair.
"Rogue," the Doctor whispered, barely believing the name ever as he savoured it on his lips. He watched the relief fall over Rogue, the name Doctor mouthed back as he shamelessly gave the Time Lord a once over, eyes making their way up and down his body. The Doctor, while dressed to fit in with the party-goers, still felt his heart thud at the sight, resisting the urge to reach down and smooth his shirt out. The crowd around him faded, and the heavy thud of the music was deafened by the roaring in his ears.
He turned back to the barman, grabbing his drink off the surface. “I’ll pay double for the next one if you play some Kylie.”
With a parting wink, he looked back towards the elusive Rogue, a grin now plastered on both of their faces. Suddenly unable to hesitate a second longer, the Doctor pushed off the wall and started to weave his way through the busy crowd, with only one goal in mind.
It was impossible to think, after how many months of waiting, each trip further away and more dangerous than the last, that the Doctor had found Rogue on the one occasion he wasn’t consciously on the lookout for him. The one time he’d turned down Ruby’s invite to Sunday lunch - and there wasn’t much that would sway him from Carla’s cooking. The one day he’d gone out to blow off some steam and give his mind a break - and here was Rogue, almost by design, waiting for him.
“That took you long enough.” Rogue didn’t move to acknowledge the Doctor’s presence, but the Doctor could read into the smile on his face and the look in his eyes.
“I - Rogue. You… how?” the Doctor fumbled. The last meeting with this man had been so fleeting, so full of panic and adrenaline, that the Doctor didn’t know what to do, nor what to say.
“Speechless? That’s a first,” Rogue said, jumping to fill the gap. “That’s not like you, Doc.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again. Maybe not ever,” the Doctor said, honestly. “There are millions upon billions of different dimensions-”
“And apparently none of them like me,” Rogue cut in with a grin. “Or, maybe this one wasn’t ready to give me up just yet.”
The Doctor coughed out a laugh, shuffling his feet. “And the Chulder…?”
“Taken care of. Believe me.” Rogue tilted his head slightly, lifting his glass. Somehow, the Doctor wasn’t surprised to see him with a glass of red wine, fitting the image. He watched as he took a drink. “You took your time to find me.”
“How long have you been waiting?” the Doctor asked.
“Oh, not long. Half a lunar year or so.”
The Doctor froze. “Here? For half a year?” Rogue nodded. “Why?”
“Well, when I heard I was in the 63rd Century, one place stood out from memory. And it helped that I could hitch a ride from two ladies on their way over.”
“Right,” the Doctor remembered. “No ship.”
“No ship.”
They looked at each other for a second, feeling the tension between them. A pause. Rogue’s mouth twitched. The Doctor noticed it and quirked an eyebrow. Rogue followed the movement. Then the next thing they knew, there was laughter and grins and an arm around each other, in a tight hug.
“Gods, I’ve been planning what I’d say to you for months, and you’re here - and my mind’s blank!” Rogue said, pulling back but keeping his arms on the Doctor’s in an embrace.
“You’ve been waiting for me this whole time?”
Rogue pulled a mocking face. “Waiting for you? Psh. Having fun, more like.”
The Doctor laughed again, giving an over-the-top nod. “Ri-ight.”
“Well. I thought, if there was anywhere you'd look, the greatest dance floor in history was a good bet.” Rogue’s face slipped ever so slightly, letting out a vulnerability that the Doctor hadn’t seen before. “I was… nervous, Doc, that you weren’t going to turn up. That I’d be stuck here.”
The Doctor felt something twinge in his heart, something reminding him of someone else, the pain of all those who had come before. This wasn’t a good idea. He had Ruby, his best friend, and the thought of losing her was bad enough. And yet…
“My TARDIS has been scanning every dimension we land in, with the trace of DNA you left me.” The Doctor wiggled his finger, showing off the ring that he’d still kept on. “I didn’t stop looking, Rogue.”
Bleary eyes looked back at him. Once again, the world around the Doctor stopped, and the only thing he could think about was the hungry way that Rogue swept in to kiss him. Stunned for a half second, the Doctor quickly pressed back, all the relief pouring through the kiss. He reached up his spare hand to grab at Rogue’s shoulder, pulling them closer.
They were interrupted by a sudden music change.
“I’m spinning around, get out of my way.”
Rogue turned his disbelieving glare onto the Doctor. “Oh no you didn’t.”
Throwing his head back in laughter, the Doctor shouted “Oh yes I did. Kylie, baby!”
He dragged Rogue backwards towards the dance floor, pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he sang along. In his left hand, he brought his drink up and took a long sip.
“Thanks for the drink, babes.”
A frown crossed Rogue’s face. “I didn’t get you a drink.”
It was the Doctor’s turn to frown. A minor flash of panic passed through him. “What do you mean? The bar- the b…”
His tongue suddenly felt extremely heavy in his mouth. He stumbled, grabbing out for Rogue, but missed. The floor rushed towards him at breakneck speed, and the last thing he saw before he fell into darkness was Rogue’s terrified face.
***
When he woke up, the Doctor was in a bed. His eyes felt sore, and as he twitched his fingers, he winced at the stiffness. He tried to swallow, realised that his throat was as dry as a desert, and fell into a fit of coughs.
“Hey, hey,” a voice said to his left, and the Doctor felt a hand on his cheek. A cup of some fluid was pressed to his mouth, and the Doctor tilted his head up to drink. Hm. Salty. Medicinal. “There we are. You had me scared for a little bit, Doctor.”
The Doctor turned to look, seeing Rogue standing next to him. “What happened?”
“Drug cartel behind the bar got a bit out of hand. Paranoia, I think, so they've been trying to deal with threats to keep them out of their way.”
The Doctor sat up properly, realising he was shirtless. “Me?”
“Yup. Should've known the real way to get your attention was danger.” Rogue laughed.
“Don't go getting any ideas,” the Doctor warned, pointing a finger at him. “I don't need anyone else throwing themselves into danger for me.”
Rogue cocked an eyebrow. “I can hold my own. Bounty hunter, remember? I dealt with Mr Beak and his troupe, trust me.”
The Doctor stared at Rogue. “Now that is attractive.”
Rogue’s grin widened, and he reached down to touch the Doctor, palm on his shoulder. “No, Doc. What's attractive is you, shirtless in my bed.”
The Doctor caught Rogue’s gaze. “Oh really?” He put his hand on top of Rogue’s, sliding it up his arm. “You think your ship is good to hang in orbit one more day?”
“You have a time machine.”
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “I'm trying to be suave .”
“Suave?” Rogue asked, brow creasing.
“Shut up!”
Rogue laughed. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Well, doctor’s orders are you should stay in bed to rest another day.”
“Oh, so you're the doctor now, are you?”
The glare Rogue sent the Doctor was enough for him to laugh out loud, before a thrill went down to his stomach as Rogue pushed him back against the mattress.
“I think I like you better like this, Doc.”
And the Doctor, looking up at Rogue with his cocky grin and wide eyes, couldn't agree more.