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“What is that thing?” Jamie hissed. He peered through the bleachers onto the darkened field beyond, where a hulking, groaning shape lumbered back and forth.
“Some kind of disembodied psychic entity,” the Doctor whispered.
“It doesnae look so disem-bodied to me!”
“Evidently it’s made itself a body,” said the Doctor. “Hush, will you?”
“What, out of sausages and things?” said Jamie.
“Hm. Animal tissue,” the Doctor speculated. “Ah, formerly living tissue would be easier to animate than inert matter, one imagines – we ought to be glad it found its way into our dimension in a kitchen rather than a morgue.”
Jamie shuddered at the thought. It was some sort of school, this place, in the Americas. The Doctor had insisted on tracking some kind of di-men-sion-al disturbance here, and it was just as well he did – and just as well the meat-thing didn’t come through till after all the children had gone home.
So there they were, lying on their bellies in the only hiding place they’d been able to find. It wasn’t the best cover but it was better than nothing and the meat-thing didn’t have the best vision. They might be alright.
“By the by,” the Doctor whispered.
“Aye?”
“I didn’t get a chance to thank you, before.”
“For what?” Jamie edged a touch closer, to see the Doctor in the dark. Their elbows bumped together.
“Well, for saving me!”
“Eh?” said Jamie. “Oh, that. Och, it was nothing.”
“It was very brave.”
“All I did was lob a chair at it!”
“And who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t?”
“I was hardly gonnae let it hurt you, was I? I –” Jamie swallowed the words on the tip of his tongue.
“Yes?”
“Never mind.” Jamie ducked his head. What he’d been going to say was I’d never let anything hurt you, but he’d caught himself in time.
“Well, I’m very grateful,” said the Doctor. “And you were frightfully dashing.”
His eyes had gone all soppy. Jamie elbowed him. “Ach, whisht.”
“But –”
There came a tremendous, wet bellowing, echoing all around the playing field till Jamie couldn’t say which direction it came from let alone how close it was. He grabbed for the Doctor and the Doctor grabbed for him, holding each other tight till it was over.
They clung to each other as they got their breath back, and Jamie turned his head and found that they were nose to nose. The Doctor’s breath tickled his lips.
“Jamie?” said the Doctor, very softly.
“Aye?”
“May I kiss you?”
Jamie’s brain ground to a momentary halt. He thought, what, now? And then he thought, well, why not? It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it. Kissing the Doctor. He’d thought about that, once or twice. Three times. At least.
He said, “aye, go on.”
“Oh,” the Doctor said, a soft, breathy exclamation. “Oh, jolly good.” His tongue darted out, wetting his lips. Jamie closed his eyes in anticipation.
The Doctor’s lips brushed his, so softly that he shivered from head to toe, curiously thrilled at being treated so gently. It was such a long time since he’d been kissed – and he’d never been kissed like this, softly, tentatively, as if he was made of porcelain.
It was nice, but not nice enough. He kissed back firmly, his lips parted, their noses squashing together for a moment before the Doctor said, “hm,” and tilted his head to one side. His mouth was soft and sweet and when their tongues brushed Jamie shivered and the Doctor made a noise down in his throat.
A hand touched his shoulder, pushing gently, easing him onto his back. Jamie flopped down, and grunted, reaching for the Doctor as the Doctor climbed on top of him. Fingers carded through his hair as the Doctor kissed him again, wet and open-mouthed, and again, and again.
And oh, he could do this all night. Semi-consciously he reached up to stroke the Doctor’s face, happy to be kissed, to let the warm, gooey sensation in his stomach spread through his body till he melted into the moonlit grass.
“Jamie,” said the Doctor between kisses, “oh, oh you –”
“Aye,” Jamie breathed in agreement.
“You’re so handsome.” The Doctor kissed the corner of his mouth. “Mm. Oh, I – I want –”
“You’re not –” Another kiss, wet and lasting. The Doctor pulled away so slowly, Jamie all but forget what he was going to say, sucking on his lower lip, relinquishing his mouth with deepest reluctance. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Absently, he stroked the Doctor’s hair.
“I should hope so.” The Doctor smiled down at him, his eyes twinkling in the meagre light. He leaned down, their noses brushing, his breath tickling Jamie’s skin.
Jamie’s eyes slid half-closed – but then something caught his attention. He turned his head sharply away. “Wait.”
“Eh?”
“D’you hear that?”
The Doctor cocked his head, listening. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Exactly,” said Jamie. “D’you think it’s gone?”
“Perhaps.” They exchanged a look, and, as one, their disentangled their bodies, scrambling onto their knees, peering through the bleachers.
The field was empty.
“I think you’re right,” said the Doctor in a stage-whisper. “I think it’s moved on.”
“Aye,” said Jamie. “We ought to go and find Polly and Ben. Make sure they’re alright, ye ken.”
“Ah – yes. Quite right.” The Doctor wiped a hand across his mouth. “Come along, Jamie.”
Jamie grabbed his arm. “It might come back, though,” he added darkly.
“It might, mightn’t it?” the Doctor agreed.
“Could be back any moment.”
“Oh, most definitely.”
“We should mibbe stay here, where it’s safe,” Jamie said.
“I quite agree,” said the Doctor, settling himself back down.
Jamie stroked the Doctor’s arm, smiling to himself. “We’ve some time to kill, then.”
“Oh, yes.” A grin spread across the Doctor’s face. “And I’ve a few ideas how we might spend it.”
“Oh, aye?” Jamie drawled.
“Oh, aye indeed,” said the Doctor, and pulled him close to kiss.