Summary: Another planet is being invaded, and the Doctor is in a hurry to help. However, you're hungry.

QOTP: Do you like Italian food?

Word Count: 1216

"'Just add oil and egg,'" you mumble to yourself, reading from the box of waffle mix you're holding. "Sounds easy enough."

You start to grab a mixing bowl when a familiar noise rings through your ears. A pulsing, odd sound that can only be described as a TARDIS with its breaks on.

Which is exactly what it is.

It materializes in your living room, and, not long after it's landed, the Doctor flings the door open in a panic. "Y/N!"

"What?" you ask, irritable considering you haven't eaten since breakfast, and he's just interrupted your soon-to-be breakfast-for-dinner.

He doesn't notice your annoyed expression as he jumps over your couch to get to you. "There's this planet - Invomfeotape [DJ_Tatortot ] - that's being invaded by a genocidal race called the Thanosians. We have to go right now; it's urgent!"

You think for a moment, glancing back at the waffle mix on the counter. "Can we eat first?"

The Doctor looks incredulous and confused. "Can we what?"

You sigh. "I'm starving. And you can't defeat a genocidal alien race on an empty stomach."

His nonexistent brows furrow. "What part about urgent don't you understand?"

You look at him for a solid ten seconds. "What are you?"

He stops. "What?"

"What are you?" you repeat.

"...The Doctor?"

"Less specific."

It takes him far too long. "... A Time Lord?"

"Exactly."

He looks at you strangely. "I'm confused."

You sigh again, gesturing to the TARDIS. "You have a time machine, you buffoon! Nothing is urgent!"

His face lights up in understanding. "Oh! Right. Well, then eat your..." He looks at the box on the counter. "...waffles, I guess."

"No," you reply immediately.

"What do you mean, 'no'? You're being really confusing-"

"I'm going to change, grab my money, and you're going to take me to dinner." You head towards your bedroom without waiting for a response.

"Where?!" the Doctor shouts down your hallway.

"I'm in the mood for Italian!" you shout back.

He smiles. "I know just the place."

////

Fifteen minutes later, you meet him on the TARDIS and find him wearing a tux. "You changed."

He shrugs, looking at your now-fancy outfit. "Well, I can't just wear suspenders and a jacket, can I? I have to look fancy. I can't have you out-dressing me."

"Well-"

"Though I'm afraid you always do, despite my best efforts."

You blush, then try to hide your face so he doesn't notice. "Th-Thanks."

"You're welcome." With that, he pulls a lever and the TARDIS takes off.

////

You look at the fairy lights strung up around the patio, the moon shining brightly in the sky. The Doctor is sitting across the table, smiling at you. Quiet music is playing in the background.

Italy is such a lovely place to eat.

"This is so much better than waffles," you state.

The Doctor nods. "Yes, very. Now, these aliens-"

"No," you interrupt, "we're not talking about that right now. It can wait."

"Wouldn't it be nice to be prepared?" he asks.

"Are we ever?" you shoot back.

"No..."

"Good. So an hour or two of just you and me, hanging out, no danger whatsoever."

He smiles, liking this whole dinner date thing a lot more. "Good."

You look at the menu for a few minutes, ironically waiting on your waiter. Suddenly, you look up at him. "Let's order wine."

He blanches. "Wine?"

"Yeah." You shrug. "Goes great with Italian food."

"Is that the best idea before stopping an alien invasion-"

"Stopping a what? Sorry, I couldn't hear you."

He nods again, then makes a mental note to stop talking about the aliens. "Right. Wine."

The waiter makes it to your table and you order wine, then continue looking at the menu. After a few minutes, the waiter comes back and pours your wine. You both need more time to decide, so you wait to place your order. He glances up at you from his menu. "So... what have you been up to?"

You shrug. "Work. Waiting for the next adventure. You?"

He smiles. "The same. Except for work - it sounds dreadful."

You snort. "Well, you're not wrong."

When the waiter comes back to take your order, the Doctor orders a kid's spaghetti with meat sauce, and you order [food].

You look at him incredulously after the waiter's gone. "You're in Italy and you're ordering plain-ole spaghetti? Really?"

"I like spaghetti," he replies matter-o-factly.

You chuckle. "You also like fezzes. And bow ties-"

"They're cool."

You shake your head. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

////

"You're a mess," you laugh, watching the Doctor try his hardest not to get spaghetti sauce all over himself.

He looks up almost sheepishly. "I'm trying."

You watch as he nearly gets it on his lap. "Please don't get that on your tux."

"I've got a bunch more, it'll be fine. Besides, it's no fun when you're not messy," he says.

You chuckle again. "Well, I'm not messy and I'm having a lot of fun right now."

"Me, too. And not just because I'm messy."

You cock an eyebrow. "So, what's your point?"

"What point?" he asks, wiping his mouth. "I'm having fun because I'm messy and because I'm with you. But mostly because I'm with you."

You blush and look down at the table. "I always have fun when I'm with you..." Then, you stop. "At least, when we're not facing certain imminent death."

"Isn't that always?"

"Not necessarily. Key word: imminent."

"Ah." He goes to take another bite and slings spaghetti sauce on his crisp, once-white shirt.

"You got it on your tux!" you exclaim.

He starts dabbing it with a napkin. "Oh, blimey."

You laugh. "Not so fun now, is it?"

"Well, not the messy part, no. You're still here, though."

Your brows furrow as he gives up on the sauce stain. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"A whole number of reasons," he replies. "You could get tired of me, you could get tired of all the crazy adventures..." He stops and doesn't continue for a minute or so. "... I could lose you."

You reach across the table and place your hand on his. "You'll never lose me."

He shakes his head. "No, I mean... I could lose you. You could be... gone. And it'd be my fault."

"No, it wouldn't," you gently argue. "I choose to go on the crazy adventures. I choose to travel with you. And I will never get tired of it - or of you - ever. And I'm not just saying that because of this fancy dinner."

He smiles a little and jokes, "Is it because of the wine, then?"

You smile back. "No, it's not the wine, either. It's you. And it will always be you, Doctor. Never forget that."

He's about to reply when the waiter brings your cheque. He pays for it, despite your protests, and then you get up and head to the TARDIS.

He flicks some switches, pushes some buttons, then turns to you. "Well, we should be off, then."

"I guess so," you reply.

"Ready?"

You grin. "Always."

He grins back, then pulls a lever. "Geronimo!"