Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter One Hundred and One: Honeymoon

I drift between dreams and sleep for what must be hours. When I stir again, I find myself nestled under the covers in my room. The duvet is warm and soft against my skin. Sinking further into it, I watch how the crystal lampshade above my four-poster refracts light across a ceiling of swirled blue and white, like rainbows in a clear sky. I smile to myself and start to slip away again. Peaceful is the only word to describe this moment.

The door opens and the Doctor enters. A pair of blue striped pyjama bottoms hang low at his waist, his chest bare. He hasn't seen me yet, explaining his caution. Carrying a tray with him, he tiptoes barefoot across the room, almost tripping over a pile of discarded clothes. I watch, one eye open. He sets the tray down on the bedside table and settles back down beside me, pecking my forehead. I pull the covers over him and lazily draw him closer. "Morning."

"Afternoon," he cheekily counters.

Stifling a yawn, I sit upright. "Gods, is it really? How long have I been asleep?"

He passes me a mug of coffee and sets a plate of pancakes down in my lap, stacked with bacon and doused in maple syrup. "Not long," he says, digging straight into the breakfast with his fingers. "Nine, ten hours... maybe more. You needed it, I suppose."

"Well, I wonder why," I mumble. I take a sip, smiling softly to myself, my mouth shielded from his view by the mug — my favourite mug that we had custom made in a little Luxicorian pottery shop, a mini replica of the Tardis. The coffee is perfect. He makes it just how I like it, not a drop of milk too much nor a granule of sugar too few. Licking my lips, I glance over to my wedding dress, crumpled on the floor along with his suit. "Have you seen that pin, the one Jack gave me?"

He drinks from a mug identical to mine. "Nope. Why?"

"Just can't remember where I put it. Worried I lost it already."

"We can have a look, but I'm sure it'll turn up. Your mind was a bit... well, elsewhere last night. That being said, I seem to have some gaps in my memory. We didn't run into me again, did we?"

Frowning, I shrug. "No clue. Far as I recall, we were with Good Queen Bess for a few days, got married, came back here."

He pinches a piece of bacon from my plate and crunches on it, deep in thought. "Oh, well," he finally concludes. "Probably just a minor paradox, happens more often than you'd expect. Never mind that. We've got bigger things to discuss, Mrs Doctor."

Raising an amused eyebrow, I steal some of his in revenge. "I have a name, you know."

"Yeah," he replies slowly, scrunching up his nose, "but it has a nice ring to it, don't you think? 'Mrs Doctor'."

"That's Priestess to you. Agent, maybe, if we're going well into the past."

Breakfast forgotten, he sets our plates aside and goes in for a kiss, which I eagerly reciprocate. He hums contentedly against my lips. "Don't tempt me, I quite like that one. Let's see... what else? The Missus."

I groan. "You're not gonna stop, are you?"

"Wifey," he teases, punctuating it with a kiss.

"Doctor..."

"My old lady."

This time, I push lightly against his chest to stop him. "Okay, that is enough of that... husband."

He grins and moves even closer, whispering in my ear, "Didn't hear that, sorry. What did you call me?"

I do well to hide how flustered I feel and lean over to put my mug on the table. He takes the opportunity to kiss the owl tattoo at the base of my spine. Giggling at the tickling sensation, I wriggle around onto my back and he is quick to move over me. Our kiss is broken by him, leaning on one elbow to watch me. His hands trail along the curve of the arm I hug around my middle. It creeps up higher, to my cheek. "I only noticed recently..." he muses, trailing off in favour of dipping his head down to my neck, inhaling my scent.