A/N: Hello again! A few things to get out of the way first:
- If you haven't, please read the previous two stories for greater context
- I'm going to be updating this story every other Sunday night/early Monday morning (GMT), but if I end up with a massive backlog of chapters I will post more regularly
- The rating will go up, but not for a very long time
- I've estimated that this is going to be 49 chapters long, but we'll see!
I think that's it! This first chapter is really a collection of little ideas that grew into its own self-indulgent thing, but I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer (for the whole story): some of the dialogue is by the writers of Doctor Who. Doctor Who is owned by the BBC.
It had been four months since Ryan had said goodbye to his mother, Jackie, for the final time. Four months since a fiery, redheaded bride called Donna had suddenly appeared on the TARDIS. Four months since Ryan and the Doctor had found out he was going to live a lot longer than either of them had previously thought.
Not much had changed since then. Not really. Well, it depended on which aspect of the Doctor's and Ryan's chaotic lives you were looking at. They still saved entire planets, brought down corrupt governments and rescued travellers who were lost, drifting in space, who felt they had had no chance of survival. But they also took more downtime. Ryan still had bad days, when the grief would boil over again. They would just stay in the TARDIS, mostly together, occasionally apart when Ryan requested some time alone.
Not much had changed regarding their dynamic, either. It was nice, comfortable, platonic. Occasionally it would stray into something more, but not for long. Lingering touches, hugs with no real reason – and when they were justified, they were far lengthier than they should have been. And then there was the occasional bedsharing. There was nothing behind it; if Ryan was feeling particularly lonely or scared, he'd ask the Doctor, the Doctor would say yes, and the Doctor would be gone in the morning. Nothing more, nothing less. No promises, no intent. Just two friends, one comforting the other, while they unknowingly comforted the first.
Ryan thought the Doctor would have made some kind of move, seeing as he didn't have to worry about having to one day stand over Ryan's grave. Maybe Ryan had read him all wrong in the first place. Sure, the Doctor said he had danced, and that he had once been a father, but what did that really mean? He didn't even know if the Doctor was capable of harbouring romantic feelings, and even if he was, was there anything to say that those feelings currently existed, and were inclined towards Ryan?
It had been four months since they had last been on Earth. Ryan had suggested a visit; even if he didn't live there anymore and had no intentions to do so in the future, it was always pleasant to visit your place of birth. And nowhere else in the universe could they get better chips.
"You've changed suit."
The Doctor smiled boyishly as he danced around the console. "I'm glad you noticed."
Ryan heard the unspoken question. What do you think?
He appraised the Doctor's new outfit. A deep blue suit with subtle rust-coloured pinstripes, and matching red Converse All-Stars. "Looks nice. Suits you, even." Ryan chuckled at his own pun. "I believe you promised me a trip to Earth."
The Doctor grinned. "I believe I did." He threw down a lever, jolting the TARDIS into flight. They landed no more gracefully than they normally did, nearly falling to the floor. The Doctor took Ryan's hand and tugged him down the ramp and out of the TARDIS.
"London," the Doctor announced. Ryan didn't recognise the street, but it looked enough like central London for him. "Now you've gotta tell me when," he teased.
Ryan took the Doctor's challenge. Nothing looked too out of the ordinary, no weird logos on advertisements. People weren't using any different technologies, and they were still dressing in baggy jeans and jackets. It was warm, though not yet t-shirt weather, and there was blossom on the two trees Ryan could see.
"I'm gonna guess… early twenty-first century, probably not too far from 2007 and… spring? I dunno, you tell me." Ryan said, shrugging.
The Doctor looked proud and genuinely impressed. "It's Sunday the 27th of April, 2008. Well done, you." He nudged Ryan playfully, then suddenly shuddered.
"What's wrong?"
"Sundays," the Doctor sniffed. "Don't like Sundays. Boring."
"Well, we'll just have to make it interesting then, won't we?" Ryan shot the Doctor a tongue-touched grin as he pulled him down the street.
"How are we gonna do that?" the Doctor asked.
"We'll start off with some chips, obviously." Ryan gave the Doctor a side-eye. "And don't you think you're off the hook, you're paying."
The Doctor waggled his eyebrows. "What if I don't have any money on me? New suit, remember?"
"Fair point," Ryan laughed. "Though I don't think you would've bothered with transferring stuff between suits, so I'm guessing the TARDIS just copied everything over, or something like that. Can she do that?"
The Doctor sighed half-heartedly. "You got me there," he admitted.
"Knew it. Come on."
The pair soon found a chippy; the Doctor slipped a tenner into Ryan's hand before seating himself at a table by the window. Ryan sauntered up to the counter.
"Hello sir, what can we do for you?" asked the man behind the counter, a portly, middle-aged, balding chap.
"Er, large chips please, mate," Ryan said after a pause.
"Two pound fifty, cheers,"
Ryan placed the money in his hand, took the change and thanked the man, before wandering back over to the Doctor. The cheap metal chair scraped against the tiled floor as he pulled it out from under the table, and he put the change on the table as he sat down, grinning.
"What?" the Doctor asked as he scooped up the change, pocketing it.
Ryan lowered his voice to a whisper. "He called me sir!"
"I know!" the Doctor said excitedly, in a hushed tone.
"Makes me feel like a proper manly man."
The Doctor took Ryan's hand under the table and squeezed it. "But you are a proper manly man," he said gently.
"Thanks," Ryan mumbled. "But it's just nice to be seen that way by strangers, y'know? But you've been great too, amazing, even."
The Doctor's eyes widened. "I have?"
"Yeah, honestly I wouldn't have been able to do any of this without you," Ryan said sincerely.
The Doctor smiled softly. "You're the first trans person I've ever known," he quietly admitted.
"But you know so much?"
"Well, you know me, I like to do my research on my favourite species," the Doctor said with a wink.
"What about Time Lords?" Ryan hesitantly asked.
"Bit more complicated. We can change gender when we regenerate, though it's not exactly common. And Time Lord society was very different to human society, we didn't have the same strict gender roles. If a Time Lord did change gender via regeneration, it was just such a nonissue that no one ever really talked about it. Like, even I might be a woman someday. Who knows?"
"So… you've always been a man?"
The Doctor nodded. Ryan felt like he was pushing his luck, asking the Doctor about the Time Lords. He assessed the Doctor's body language and facial expression. He looked relaxed and was smiling, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Ryan decided he could safely ask him another question.
"Could Time Lords be trans? Like, what if you regenerated into a woman but your brain is still telling you you're a man?"
The Doctor scratched his sideburn as he pondered over the question. "Like I said before, you're the first trans person I've met. I never knew of any trans people on Gallifrey. I suppose it could happen, hypothetically, but honestly I've got no idea," he chuckled.
They continued their quiet chatter, until the man behind the counter interrupted them.
"One large chips," he hollered across the shop. Ryan went up to the counter to retrieve his food, and sat back down at the table.
"Do you want to eat somewhere else?" the Doctor asked, drumming his fingers against the tabletop.
"Don't see why not, it's a nice enough day."
They found their way to a park near the bank of the Thames. The Doctor took off his trench coat and laid it out on the green grass, and they both flopped down on it, Ryan placing the polystyrene chip box between them.
It was oddly reminiscent of Ryan's 'first date' with his first, leather-clad, icy blue-eyed Doctor, and his 'first date' with this newer, brown, cheerful Doctor. Except he wasn't looking particularly brown today in his new blue suit. A small part of Ryan wanted to pretend that this was an actual date, with the Doctor making an effort to look nice, changing into something different for the occasion.
Ryan settled back into the Doctor's coat, feeling the warm spring sun on his face. They talked about everything and nothing, mostly the Doctor rambling about the times he met various famous historical figures, or got arrested the moment he stepped foot on some alien planet because he was blond ("remind me to never take you there, Ryan"), or the time he accidentally invented the Yorkshire pudding.
The Doctor occasionally took a chip from Ryan's box – Ryan didn't count it as stealing, he had got a large, having taken into account the fact that the Doctor would take some, and the Doctor had paid for them in the first place. Even if the Doctor did effectively steal the money for them.
"…And then she told me…" the Doctor trailed off.
"She told you what?" Ryan asked, rolling onto his side to look at him.
The Doctor had sat up, and was staring across the Thames to the opposite bank, frowning slightly. "Plasma coils."
"What're they?" Ryan asked, having sat upright as well.
"Small devices, can be used for anything, really. Tend to cause a build-up of static electricity in the area – I'd be able to sense it, if we were a bit closer."
"So I'm guessing it's not from Earth," Ryan deduced.
"Your guess would be correct."
"Well," Ryan nudged the Doctor. "Looks like we've found something interesting for our boring Sunday," he grinned.
"D'you happen to know what that building is?" the Doctor asked, pointing at a particularly blocky and drab one.
"Hospital, maybe…" Ryan paused. "Yeah, think so. Royal Hope or something… oh! That works really well! You can be a doctor and I can be…"
"A patient. And I'll be your husband."
Ryan's jaw dropped. "What!?" he spluttered.
"Oh sorry, forgot we can't be married yet. Civil partners, then."
Ryan froze, but his face burned. What the fuck was the Doctor thinking?
"Why?" he managed to ask.
"It's quite simple really. I have a good reason for staying with you overnight, and I get to have a poke around while you sleep."
Quite simple? Was that all? Sure, Ryan thought it was a sound plan, but why did the Doctor have to make things so bloody difficult? What was he supposed to think when the man he lo- has feelings for - wants to pretend that they're married?
"I've got a question." That was a lie, Ryan had about a million questions, most of which were some variation on 'do you have romantic feelings for me or are you just being oblivious and weird?'. "Why do I have to be the patient?"
The Doctor shrugged. "Thought that was obvious; you've got records and an NHS number and all that – should be easier than waving the psychic paper in everyone's face."
Ryan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, records that say I'm female. And dead," he added as an afterthought.
"Err, right. I forgot. Sorry," the Doctor said quietly. "We'll use the psychic paper, takes some of the fun out, though…"
The Doctor suddenly doubled over, clutching his stomach, wincing in pain.
"Oh my god, are you okay?" Ryan exclaimed.
The Doctor looked up at Ryan, with a sly grin on his face. "It appears I've suddenly got these awful stomach pains. Might have to go to hospital." He winked.
"Drama queen," Ryan chuckled. "Come on, I'll take you to hospital." He picked up the now-empty chip box, and helped the Doctor put his long coat on.
"John Smith. Again. Seriously?" Ryan hissed.
"You have to admit, Ryan, it works brilliantly," the Doctor replied, sounding a little smug.
Ryan sighed. They were sat in the waiting area of A&E. The Doctor had enthusiastically introduced himself to the receptionist as John Smith, and Ryan as his partner. The Doctor hadn't skipped a beat when he said that, in contrast to Ryan's instantly flushed face. The Doctor had shown the receptionist his psychic paper, and explained his condition to her. She smiled politely, and requested that they take a seat, and told them that a nurse would see them shortly.
That had been fifteen minutes ago. In that time, the Doctor had read every magazine in the rack, and was now bouncing his knee in boredom.
"Why is this taking so long?" he whined.
"It hasn't been that long, Doctor. And there's not that many people here, so you'll be seen soon," Ryan tried to reassure him.
"But it's a Sunday. Boring, stupid, Sunday. Why are people getting ill? No one's supposed to do that on a Sunday," the Doctor huffed.
"You know people can't control when they get ill? Doctor?"
The Doctor had decided to ignore Ryan and had found his new source of entertainment, a wooden bead maze. A child's toy that could be found in practically every waiting room across the country. Probably across the world, too.
Ryan sighed. "How old are you?" he asked, exasperated.
"I'm thirty-two years old!" the Doctor exclaimed, happily holding up the paperwork given to him by the receptionist, that showed John Smith's date of birth as being the 23rd of November 1975.
Ryan resisted the strong urge to either scream or kick the Doctor's shin. There were few things worse than waiting in A&E. One of those things was waiting in A&E with a nine hundred (ish) year old alien, who sometimes acted like a five year old, and yet could pass as a thirty-two year old.
The Doctor shifted back onto the uncomfortable vinyl chair. "Sorry. Don't really need the extra attention." It seemed the Doctor had finally noticed the other occupants of the waiting room, who were either glaring at them or pointedly ignoring them, hiding behind newspapers.
After another hour of waiting – which passed relatively quickly as the Doctor was doing a much better job of pretending to be human, by quietly conversing with Ryan – the Doctor was called through to see a nurse. The nurse wasn't able to draw any immediate conclusions – as expected of a patient who wasn't actually ill. They only had to wait a little longer to be seen by a doctor, who again couldn't find anything wrong, but told the Doctor that he would have to be kept overnight.
"Success," the Doctor whispered to Ryan, grinning. They had been left in a ward with a few other patients, and the Doctor was sat up in a bed, dressed in a hospital gown and with blankets over his legs.
"Well, only phase one," Ryan replied as he finished drawing the curtains around the Doctor's bed, the papery, thin fabric only giving them a little extra privacy. "So, what do we do now?"
The Doctor shrugged. "We wait, I guess. As I said, the plasma coils could be used for anything, so we'll have to wait and see."
Ryan groaned. He was going to have to wait with the Doctor for god knows how long. He didn't know who was going to go mad first; the Doctor with boredom, or him with irritation.
"Why're you frowning like that?"
"'S just I wouldn't exactly describe you as patient, Doctor."
If Time Lords could pout, Ryan would have said the Doctor pouted. "You wound me, Ryan. I am known for being patient throughout the galaxies – in fact I was once –"
Ryan placed a gentle hand on the Doctor's arm to hush him. "Doctor, you know you tend to get a bit antsy when you're waiting for something to happen."
The Doctor opened his mouth to protest but Ryan beat him to it. "Could you please be patient – and I mean properly patient – for me? Just don't drive me mad. Please?"
Wordlessly, the Doctor tugged Ryan down for a hug.
"I promise," he whispered into Ryan's ear. "I promise I will be a patient patient." They both laughed and continued to hold each other for a few moments longer, before pulling away.
"I'm kinda hungry," Ryan quietly admitted.
"What, we only just got chips?"
"Yeah, four hours ago, it's half six," Ryan argued as he needlessly pointed at a clock on the wall – the Doctor always innately knew the time.
The Doctor sighed and reached into his jacket - which lay discarded on a chair beside his bed – grumbling about humans and their inefficiencies.
"I'll get you something as well if you like, or you can stick to hospital food," Ryan teased in response, poking his tongue out.
The Doctor pressed a couple of notes into Ryan's palm. "Surprise me."
Ryan found a Tesco Express just down the street from the hospital, the perfect place to grab a quick meal. From the general chatter he heard in the convenience store, he gathered that there was both a general election and a London mayoral election the coming Thursday. He had never voted before – his first chance to vote in a general election had been in 2005 and he missed that with no thanks to the Doctor's driving, and he had also missed the subsequent election of Harriet Jones. And now he never could vote, unless he decided he was going to commit voter fraud. The Doctor wouldn't let him do that – they would just jump straight to bringing down the government if need be.
He quickly picked out some food for both him (BLT sandwich, salt and vinegar crisps and a Diet Coke) and the Doctor (spicy chicken pasta, a bar of Fruit & Nut and a banana smoothie) and paid, then walked back to the Royal Hope.
The Doctor was practically beaming when Ryan re-entered the ward. Ryan drew the curtain behind him, dropped his carrier bag on the bed and sat down on a chair.
"You took your time!"
"I was gone barely fifteen minutes and you know that," Ryan argued, reaching into the carrier bag to give the Doctor his food.
"I was getting bored and you make everything less boring," the Doctor said, quiet and sincere.
Ryan nervously laughed. "I try," he said weakly, placing the Doctor's food in his lap.
"Ooh! Banana smoothie! You know me so well!"
As the clocks ticked closer and closer to midnight, they quietly talked, mindful of the other patients in the ward. Their evenings were usually spent reading together in the library, or huddled under blankets in the media room, watching a film. But as the Doctor had neither a book nor a portable DVD player on him, they settled for simple conversation. They could talk for hours, or more specifically the Doctor could, with a nearly endless selection of topics. However, Ryan eventually found himself nodding and humming in the right places, tiredness creeping up on him.
"You should take the bed," the Doctor whispered, suddenly changing topics.
Ryan blinked. "Huh?"
"You're tired. Take the bed – it's very hi-tech, well, by your standards, all these buttons to change the incline…"
"What're you gonna do?" Ryan asked, his speech slightly slurred.
"Wow, you really are tired; sneak around, investigate a little, you know!" The Doctor grinned devilishly.
"'Kay… wake me up when you get back, please…"
"Of course," the Doctor said as he slid off the bed. He gave Ryan a quick hug and then disappeared into the night.
Ryan kicked off his trainers, not bothering to untie them, before pulling off his hoodie and t-shirt. He wriggled out of his chest binder and slipped his t-shirt back on. He crawled under the covers; the bed was warm from where the Doctor had been sat. Ryan could smell him too, the faint scent of tea and old books and something earthier.
As his eyes fell shut, Ryan contemplated his day. For even their standards, it had been a bit weird. It had been nice, he wasn't going to deny that, but the whole you're-my-husband thing had left him very confused. How does the Doctor see him? Which category does the Doctor think their relationship falls in? And for once, Ryan felt he was glad that this was going to be one of those things that never gets mentioned again, because he didn't know what would happen if he got answers, whatever they were.
"Ryan, I'm back."
Ryan stirred and opened his eyes. "What time is it?"
"Thirteen minutes to one," the Doctor whispered as he sat down.
"Find anything?"
The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, nothing out of the ordinary at all. Go back to sleep."
"What 'bout you?" Ryan mumbled.
The Doctor tilted his head down at the chair he was in. "I'll get a couple of hours."
Ryan shuffled across the bed as far as he could. "'S not good for you, sleeping like that."
The Doctor sighed and got in next to Ryan, the single bed leaving them pressed together. They both rolled over onto their sides, facing each other, giving each other as much space as possible. Under the blankets, their hands found the other's.
The Doctor squeezed Ryan's gently.
"Goodnight, Ryan."
"'Night, Doctor."
Together, they fell into a deep slumber.
A/N: The wiki says the events of Smith and Jones happened on the 4th of June 2008. I have changed this for a couple of reasons, namely so that I get to make a bad joke much, much later, and because otherwise the election wouldn't be on a Thursday (as they always are in the UK). Thank you so much for reading, and feel free to leave any comments you may have!
