The Defender of Time

Fourteen

Alessia had finally managed a decent night's sleep. She'd found, especially post-bench, that her bed was exceptionally comfortable. Not to mention that the night had been mysteriously quiet; she mostly fell asleep to a cacophony of things being broken for the sake of being fixed. The silence had been almost shattering, but she enjoyed it. The night had been too short.

She awoke to the very same clattering coming from somewhere down the hall and a small weight on the centre of her chest. After gathering her bearings, she identified the weight as a slightly quivering Oliver, and used the mutterings of her father to identify the source of the clatter. "Dad!" She yelled, spooking the kitten even more. "Be quieter! You're scaring Oliver!"

"Sorry!" Came his response, which was followed by a cease in the noise. Uneven footsteps made their way to Alessia's door, which swung open. "Good morning!" The Doctor chirped, his face noticeably smudged. "Sleep well?"

Rather than answer, Alessia eyed him suspiciously. "Why're you so happy?" She asked.

He shrugged. "I need a reason?"

"Yes. Nobody's this happy for no reason."

The Doctor smiled and shifted his weight onto the doorway. "Breakfast?" He asked, avoiding the subject at hand.

Alessia sat up, snatched her glasses off of her nightstand, and let Oliver jump off her lap. "Is it my birthday or something?" She asked skeptically. "Did I sleep for ten days?"

"Nope. Breakfast?" He repeated, his lips pursed in a tight smile.

She raised her eyebrows. "Okay," she drawled, drawing out the last syllable. "What're you making?"

Her father shrugged. "I'll keep you posted." He turned on his heel and walked away, humming one tune or another to himself, and, judging by the rhythm of his footsteps, dancing along.

Too far gone to go back to sleep, Alessia swung her legs over the side of her bed and pulled her hair up out of her face. "Morning, Auggie," she said routinely as she felt around blindly for a hair-tie. She was met by silence, and she did a quick scan of the room; he was nowhere to be found. "August?"

"I'm not talking to you."

Alessia followed the sound of August's voice to the top of her bookcase, where he laid on his side with his head in his hand. "How come?" She asked innocently.

He scoffed. "'Cause you're going to school. And I'm not friends with people who go to school."

"That's stupid," said Alessia, mocking his tone.

August crossed his arms. "No, it's not. Going to school is stupid."

"Then we can be stupid together," Alessia compromised. "Now, I need your help. Dad's being suspicious."

August sighed. "What don't you understand about not talking to you, Less?"

"Apparently not a whole lot, since we're having a conversation."

August jumped from down the bookcase, his face screwed up in a pout. His hair was tussled, and his shirt was creased unevenly, like he'd either been in a fistfight or had been rolling around all night. He put his hands on his hips, thrust his chin in the air, and stomped away.

Alessia widened her eyes sarcastically. "Good talk."

She didn't bother changing for breakfast, instead opting for pulling her robe around her shoulders and padding to the kitchen in her pyjamas. The Doctor had already put out Oliver's food for him, which wouldn't have been strange for Clara, but was completely unheard of for him.