It was the comfort of knowing one another.
With Wren's finger trailing down his chest, he was sure he was in heaven.
Talking about menial, unimportant things; the groceries, what they're planning for the day, gossiping about the last planet they visited together...it just felt right.
She felt so right. As if they were just made for each other. Like she was the only one he'd ever known.
He would die for her, if only she would ask.
And talking, she would laugh. Wrap him in a tight hug, whisper anything into his skin.
He was afraid of telling her what she really means to him, though he was sure she knew already.
He runs. That was his whole gig.
The Doctor runs.
He runs from anyone and anything, and he will always run to her.
His Wren.
His fiery, stubborn Wren.
He was in love with her, with the comfort she brought. The intimacy of being known—of being seen for who he really was—was such a foreign concept to him.
It almost felt like a dream.
*Crack The Shutters - Snow Patrol
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Doctor Who: Really Tiny Short Stories
FanfictionThe bloody TARDIS. Of course, that was a brilliant idea; show everyone the Doctor's muddled clumps of memories... So I found some things in an old document of mine, and decided to publish them because why not? As the title says, they are very, VERY...
