Jamie complained whenever the Doctor played his recorder. He said it was screechy and annoying, But he never did complain very loud, and he never moaned without the ghost of a smile. Then the Doctor would roll his eyes in that way he did and purse his lips more to play it up an even screechier octave, but never without a twinkle in his eye, that made the young scotsman look down at his feet, and if that was just the slightest bit of pink in his cheeks, well, it must only be a trick of the light, was all.
One night, the Time Lord stood alone in his console room, turning the smooth wood of the instrument over and over in his hands. He was feeling a little melancholy of late, and he couldn't place why. Why, moping was no good, no good at all. Experimentally, he put the mouthpiece and blew two short, low notes.
"Watter ye up to in so late Doc?" came the gentle scottish brogue. Surprised, the Doctor turned to find the young scotsman standing in the doorway, wearing plaid pyjamas and brown hair gently mussed from sleep.
Composing himself, the Doctor took on a slightly aloof expression. "First of all, Jamie, this is a time machine, in case you've forgotten. There is no 'late'. Secondly, I do not need as much sleep as humans do, yes? Useless, to waste time sleeping when you humans have so little of it. You live a hunky dory warm life, but it's all so pointless and fleeting." He scowled good naturadly and blew upon his recorder again. It squeaked in protest and he winced. "Butterfingers!"
Jamie blearily approached the man at the console, almost shyly, his heavily lidded eyes blinking slowly and 5 o'clock shadow dotting his almost babyish face. "Doctor, ah- is somethin' botherrin yeh?"
"Now why would you say that? What are you doing up anyway? Don't you people need to sleep 8 hours for every 24, or some mumbo-jumbo?"
"I juss' got ter' thinkin' aboot things." he padded over to the Doctor's side by the console, the light "playing tricks" again by making his cheeks appear red as his jimjams.
"Oh dear, the cosmos help us, Jamie Mccrimmon is having a thought. The universe shall surely end." the Doctor said sarcastically in mock terror.
Jamie ignored the nudging tease and bit his lip. "Ye've mentioned yeh had a granddaughter before- yeh don't talk about her, much."
The Doctor's humor sapped a little out of his eyes and he sighed nostalgically. "Yes, Susan. I left her to have a better life, better than trailing after her doddering old grandfather. I'll go see her again, someday." he reminisced.
"Tha' must mean she has a grandmother, do'en she? An'-" he faltered, as if fearing an answer to his question. "-an' you have a wife, then?"
The Gallifreyan simply fingered the instrument, eyes downcast and mouth set into a hard line. "I did. Once." He sniffed, but not because of tears, no, no, his eyes were dry and anyway, the Doctor did not cry. "Met her at the academy. Bit eccentric, though." The corner of his mouth quirked just a little. "I suppose you might have even been able to call her mad at times. No wonder she married me." Then he cleared his throat, scowling comically again. "Now what's brought this on?"
Jamie appeared to turn an even darker shade of crimson. "Now, I can't help if I'm curious, cann'nie?" He looked sorry for him, and somehow pleased, and guilty for being pleased. "Is this what's botherin' yeh?"
"Did I say anything was bothering me?" Being emotional always made him grumpy and itchy. Such a human thing to do.
And Jamie had always been such a human human. Despite not knowing how to read or write and almost unbearable naivety, Jamie Mccrimmon seemed to know much more than the Doctor ever expected. More than the Doctor did, sometimes, although he'd never tell him that. Why the centuries-old Time Lord was in a sour mood, for instance. Almost unconsciously, Jamie reached across the console and gently took the Doctor's hand.
The Doctor startled at the sudden unexpected contact, but didn't pull away. Jamie's hands were cool as blades of red grass before the twin suns shone over the citadel. He could feel the small round calluses on his human hands where they had repeatedly and lovingly pressed the buttons of his bagpipes. The Doctor felt uncharacteristically shy. He frowned in disapproval. He could feel Jamie's dark eyes, wide and cool as pools, expecting, patient.
"I suppose I wonder if Susan has already forgotton about me. She has that human boy, now. David. Humans can do that. Time rolls on, you humans all age and die and suddenly everything in the past seems less important. Eventually, you'll forget all about me too." It was a pathetic confession, a weak simpering of vulnerability, and he instantly regretted voicing it.
But Jamie simply held his hand more tightly. "I'll never ferget 'yeh. Not a second."
His lips are soft and warm but fleeting, but somehow that's okay anyway. Not pointless at all.
Okay so I've barely watched any 2 and no Jamie so they are probably completely OOC please don't kill me gah I am so ashamed just, like Jamie and forget that this ever happened.