Procrastination (a 11th doctor x reader story)

Chapter 1

Your Doctor was quite the procrastinator.

You think it'd be the opposite with the whole "protector of the universe" and "oncoming storm" and all those other big and impressive and awesome names, but no. The Time Lord had the worst tendency to leave things to the last minute—giving you a heart attack in the process—but always managed to clean up the mess before it became too big to handle and mucked everything else up. It was a good thing he pulled off saving the world so well, of course, but you couldn't help but get a bit annoyed whenever you were in the Daleks' little plunger-like clutches and had to wait many agonizing hours for your madman with a box to actually show up and whisk you back onto the TARDIS with him.

Saving the universe wasn't the only thing he left up to the last minute, however.

Your Doctor also had a bad habit of waiting until your pent-up frustration had reached the breaking point before he made a move. He was clueless and quite oblivious to non-platonic feelings, it would seem. Now, whether he had trained himself to be like that or it was naturally-occurring, you never knew. All you could tell was that it was extremely aggravating and you could hardly stand for it. You both knew you were crazy for each other, and you were not afraid to show it. But the Doctor, oh the Doctor—he was a rather big chicken when it came to openly expressing his emotions. Such a coward when it came to matters of romance. You would find it rather comical if it didn't bother you so greatly. Hugs and handshakes were A-okay in his book, but for some reason, kisses and hickeys and other obvious activities of intimacy were off-limits. Which, of course, included the undeniably awkward topic of sex.

But today, you had literally reached the end of your rope. Your body was hot and irritated and you were getting unbelievably bothered by the way he was messing with his hair right now. His nimble fingers were combing through the dark strands erratically as his green eyes darted back and forth, obviously at odds with himself over whatever was going on within the TARDIS' engine. His red bow tie was loose and hung about his collarbone in the messiest way, and he had discarded his tan overcoat over the railing due to the rising temperatures within the console room—which were not helping matters for you. His suspenders were pulled tight over his shoulders, keeping his button-up shirt pressed against his chest and sculpting certain details agonizingly-well for your prying (e/c) eyes to see.

The Doctor let out a tiny sound of frustration, causing you to snap to attention. His shoes caused small muted thuds to emit from the glass floor of the TARDIS' control center while he paced around the console, fiddling with random levers and buttons here and there as he made his way back over to you.

"So...." you began, crossing your arms as you awaited his verdict.

"So," replied the Doctor awkwardly, "I may have torn a rather large hole in the fabric of reality in the sky of Barcelona in the process of searching for the Hijunsha System's legendary Museum of Fezes, but who's to say the planet's inhabitants will or won't mind it? I say we leave the subject alone and go for a nice cuppa and some Jammie Dodgers back on Earth, yeah?" He clasped his hands together and flashed you one of his stupid "I-screwed-up" smiles, nervously messing with his bow tie as he did so.

You pinched the bridge of your nose and attempted to push away all naughty thoughts you had been having previously. "Doctor, I thought you said we were going to visit London in the first place, not the 'legendary Museum of Fezes'. Is there even such a thing? Why in the name of the stars were you searching for that instead of flying us off to London to visit the Ponds? Besides, 'a tear in the fabric of reality'? I know you well enough to say you'd never leave anything of the sort unattended! What's really going on?"