Touch The Sky: Doctor Who/Studio C [Book 3]

Tea For Two, At Two

Tea For Two, At Two

(Original Interlude)

When Matt had said 'later,' Mallory had at least expected the sun to be up. Instead, not an hour had passed when she heard the whisper of "Mal, wake up."

Half a whimper escaped her as her eyes sprang open and met his, mere inches away. Her eyes burned at the brightness of her bedside lamp and she couldn't help but immediately thrash away from the binding on her shoulders. "Let go of me, you can't have him...!"

Her restraints loosened and it took her a moment to realize it had not been the binding she'd feared, but simply Matt's hands. "Easy," he said softly. "It's just me."

"Matt?" she managed, and for a moment she was back on Rijul, their positions reversed. "What are you... why are you here?"

"I figured any nightmare bad enough I could hear you out in the living room was probably not one you wanted to see through," he told her under his breath. "You okay?"

"Sorry," she said, sitting up and fighting the sudden urge to start bawling. "I didn't mean... I'll make sure my door's closed tight next time."

"I wasn't even asleep," he assured her. "Are you okay?"

Her throat worked for a moment, but she couldn't bring herself to lie. Instead, she shifted forward, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her head in his shirt.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Again, she didn't answer, and he took her hand in his and tugged gently. "C'mon. Get up, move around, tire yourself out before you try to sleep again. And a hot drink is never amiss."

"You sound like the Doctor," she managed to grumble.

"You know, I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment."He rested his hand on her waist when she got to her feet. "I'd like to think I have some experience with this kind of thing, though."

"Fair enough."

They reached the living room and Mallory dropped to the couch with a heavy sigh, ignoring the blankets Matt had cast aside in his haste to reach her. "Have you got tea?" he asked, continuing toward the kitchen.

"Yeah," she said, turning and pointing him toward the cabinet.

"You've gone native," he teased.

"You asked," she shot back. He chuckled in response.

Comfortable silence enveloped both of them. Mallory eventually snatched one of the blankets from the floor, since all she wore in the way of pajamas were a pair of cotton shorts and a shirt that had been barely loose when she left six weeks ago, but was now hopelessly tight.

Not thirty seconds later, Matt reappeared with a mug in each hand and a packet of strawberry licorice she'd bought a week back—Earth time—under the influence of a truly wicked craving. "What's a midnight snack without something sweet?" he asked, settling beside her as he handed her one mug and set the licorice between them.

"It's not midnight," she said matter-of-factly. "It's 2:17."

"Aren't I supposed to the be one obsessed with literalism?" he asked. She didn't dignify that with a response. "Listen, I was thinking... in the interest of this whole 'actually talking to each other' thing... would you be opposed to trying something?"

"Something like what?" she asked warily.

"I'll tell you a secret if you tell me one."

She eyed him for a moment, before saying, "Okay." Neither spoke and she finally nudged him. "Your idea, you go first."