You don’t even realize you’ve fallen asleep until the next morning, to which you are met by a loud bang and angry shouting from the kitchen.
“We can’t record now, I have an exam in Physics—“
“Why didn’t you say that when we were talking about it yesterday?!”
“I did!”
“You didn’t!”
“I know I did, Roger!”
“Well, you didn’t!”
“But I did!”
“But you didn’t!”
“Listen, I don’t have time for this. I’ve got to get to class. I’m sorry, Rog, we’ll record tomorrow.”
“I didn’t get the studio booked for tomorrow!” called Roger, but the door had already slammed, signaling Brian’s exit. There was another crash and a loud, “FACK!”, so you could guess Roger had thrown something. The coffee machine, probably.
You smiled, rising stiffly from the bed and rubbing sleep out of your eyes as the memory of yesterday afternoon came flooding back. You had caught yourself in that hazy state in which one wakes up not quite remembering where they were, but the comforting weight of a blanket across your shoulders and the sun seeping in through the window told you that everything was alright. It was a state wherein the best decisions of the oncoming day are also made, and thus you woke up knowing that today you’d go back to the street on which you’d left the TARDIS. You’d tell the Doctor where you’d been and then enjoy yourself while their ship was recuperating.
“You’re awake! And already looking better. Fabulous.” Freddie smiled at you as you stumbled into the kitchen, and you noticed with a slight pang that he was still awkwardly attempting to hide his teeth as he did so.
“I am, thank you,” You said, forcing a smile and taking a little bow. Freddie and John chuckled appreciatively—the latter had been seated at the rather low kitchen table with a cup of tea and an empty plate. You gave him a questioning look.
Noticing your gaze, the bassist offered an awkward little laugh and his cheeks went a bit pink as he looked down at the empty plate. “I figured we should wait for you to have breakfast.”
You’re unable to stop the smile from growing on your features, his kindly words forming butterflies in your stomach and a blush of your own on your cheeks. “You’re so sweet,” you said softly, not really meaning for him to hear. Nevertheless, he did, and promptly went red to the tips of his ears poking from under his long, almost cocker-spaniel-like hair.
“Alright, you two, save some sugar for the tea,” Freddie interrupted, lightly mussing John’s hair as he passed him on the way to the toaster. The bassist ducked his head bashfully, fingering a pattern on the tablecloth. You, too, averted your gaze, opting instead to study the kitchen interior.
Unlike every other room you had seen in the flat, the putrescent green walls of this one were hung with cookingware instead of photographs. The wooden clock on the wall read 8:16. The faux marble countertops contrasted heavily with the carrot orange of the cupboards, but you were surprisingly fond of the overall effect. Had you been limited to your home time frame, you would have considered it “retro.”
“Speaking of tea,” Freddie started, interrupted by the ‘pop’ of the toaster. He held out a plate, easily catching the two slices of toast that had been blasted into midair on impact before continuing in the same nonchalant tone. “After breakfast, we thought we might go visit this ‘Doctor’ fellow you were talking about last night.” You froze. When had you told them about the Doctor? What had you said? “Where do they live?”
