Kate Oswald always loved Space. She would sit outside and watch the stars. She would read every book and watch every tv show and movie that had anything to do with space.
So when a strange man, in a blue police box wearing a bow tie, asks whether o...
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ᴛʜᴇ summer was worse than Kate Oswald thought it would be. Not only was she constantly waiting for word from the Doctor, but she was also forced to work through a heatwave to make sure children had someone to care for them while their parents were working. So, when she finally gets home that night, craving a cold shower to cool down the blood in her veins and rid her of the sweat that has started to create an uncomfortable fiction between her thighs, she isn't expecting a note to be waiting on her kitchen counter, written in a familiar scrawl that makes her stomach tighten with anticipation.
Be back in five, you're out of milk!
She scrunches the note up in her hand. He's not here. She would've seen the TARDIS on the way in, she would've heard it on her walk home and she most definitely would've passed him on his way to the shops. She doesn't know how this note got here, but it can't be from him because he hasn't once tried to contact her since he ran off after finding out the real identity of River Song, and her brain is starting to melt from the heat that claws its way through her apartment, tearing apart her walls and trapping her in a sauna.
She throws the crumpled up note in the bin and opens the kitchen window, hoping for the smallest breeze. It doesn't come. It never does, but she leans her head out of the open window in the hope that some higher being will answer her prayers and cool her sticky skin.
After a few minutes of ignorant wishing, she falls back into her flat, kicking off her sandals and socks in an attempt to feel the cool kitchen tiles beneath her feet, but it's just as hot as the air suffocating her. Her eyes glance over at her couch, knowing that there will be no coolness to come with the cotton covering. Nowhere in her little flat will be cold enough, at least if she can get to shower without any interruptions, she can sit in there until the sweat is gone and her insides have cooled.
Just as she's about to start unbuttoning her blue dress, she hears the familiar whooshing coming from outside her flat. Her blood boils and before she knows it she's throwing open her front door, immediately being met with the stunned expression of her least favourite person right now.
"I got your milk," he tells her, holding out the carton of milk he clearly didn't need to take his TARDIS out to pick up. She stares back at him, arms crossed over her chest to hide the top of her unbuttoned dress. He sends her a lopsided grin but the anger never leaves her cool expression.
