𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧
𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟏, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

"Well, this is surely adorable..." A strong Scottish accent caused my eyes to fly open.

"Wha—? Who, what, where?!" The Doctor cried from next to me, standing from the console railing chair and began pointing his sonic screwdriver all around.

My back aches indicated that while I had been dead asleep, it had not been under the prettiest conditions. AKA, definitely not in that glorious bed the TARDIS had gifted me.

Amy stood in front of me, completely dressed for the day with her arms crossed over her chest tightly. Her eyebrow was quirked in amusement as she looked between the Doctor and I. The sleepiness and confusion finally faded away as I realized the last thing I remembered was talking to the Doctor about some of our favorite places to visit in Andromeda.

We had fallen asleep on each other.

The same realization seemed to have dawned on him as he snapped his face down to stare at me with understanding. Surprisingly, he did not fluster or anything of the sort, rather he appeared calm... almost happy.

Well-rested.

"Ah, hello, Pond, did you sleep well?" The Doctor finally got a hold of himself, stretching dramatically.

"Yeah, and it looks like you did too?" She trailed off, clearly wanting to know what she had stumbled upon.

The Doctor nor I answered her.

Not like a normal stretch that one does right when you wake up; no, this guy proceeded to exotically bend down and touch his toes. It caused his pajama shirt to rise and his pants to fall low on his hips. In other words, he decided to do this right in front of me, which gave me the most pristine view of the top of his ass crack.

There is no way.

My face must have reflected disgusted horror.

I could not utter any words as he finally snapped himself back into an upright position, his shirt falling back into its rightful place. He twisted his back in both directions which caused it to crack loudly.

"Ah, that's better!" He cheered. "Sleeping on that chair put a kink in my neck." The Doctor complained. "Are you sore at all, PJ?"

I did not answer his question, eyes open but unseeing.

"Why were you two out here? I thought we all left to get rest at the same time yesterday?" Amy questioned, her brows furrowed as she looked between us.

My face was still blank as I considered my life.

The Doctor turned to Amy. "She rebirthed a killer robot and we had to destroy him before incinerating its remains in a scrapyard," He answered flippantly.

Her mouth opened and closed. "What? Killer robot? What happened—explain!"

I cut them off by standing up from the console chair, my bones cracking as my body finally left the uncomfortable position.

"While you get caught up, I think I'll start getting ready for the day. You mentioned something about forcing me to Victorian London?" I asked the Doctor.

Better to just not address it his hairy asshole.

But seriously... how the fuck does he have barely any brows but his head of hair is amazing and his pubic hair is clearly dense too?

His eyes lit up. "I am taking that for its face value—we're going to Victorian London! We can do Isodonic another time! Pond, you go get changed as well! There are plenty of historically accurate dresses in the costume room. Ask the TARDIS too; it provides holographic help if you need it in figuring out something appropriate to wear!" He had started spinning around the console controls. "Now, get, off you guys go!"

"I am choosing the next destination!" I puffed with indignation, blowing a strand of long hair from my face.

It was about time to cut it.

The Doctor turned to look at me.

"I thought your choice in destination was Sabrina Carpenter?"

"That's only my prize," I told him matter-of-factly. "For winning, remember?"

The Doctor's lips quirked almost flirtatiously. "What? A kiss doesn't qualify as a proper gift?"

I was surprised by the comment but didn't let it show.

"From you? Definitely not..." I snarked.

He pouted in a dejected manner.

Bold moves from the guy who was complaining about me being called his wife just a few hours ago.

Neither of us were able to say anything further as Amy grabbed my arm while she raced past me, forcing me to follow her.

"Enough flirting with the old guy! C'mon, you can catch me up on the killer robot situation while we get ready!" She told me.

Turning my head back, I did not miss the way the Doctor watched us run through the corridors longingly.

Hairy bootyhole.

I shivered at the thought.

▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✶ ▂

Amy and I laughed as we tossed around random garments and scarves and silks. By the end, we looked like proper ladies of the Victorian age. Rather stunning too, especially Amy.

Amy twirled in her gown, the green silk catching the light and shimmering like an emerald sea. The dress fit her perfectly, the corset pulling her waist in tightly and flaring out into a voluminous skirt that swished with every step. The deep green made her fiery red hair even more vibrant, cascading in soft, straight sheets down her back. Against her fair skin, her brown eyes looked almost golden, flickering with an inner fire as she turned to me with a beaming smile.

"Look at you!" She said, laughing, her hands gripping the folds of her skirt. "You could be royalty."

I glanced at my reflection in a cracked mirror leaning against the TARDIS wardrobe wall. The baby blue dress I'd chosen—or rather, that Amy had insisted I wear—was beautiful, but wearing it felt like a battle. The corset was cinched so tightly I could barely breathe, and the pointed shoes pinched my feet mercilessly. Victorian beauty standards were officially on my list of least-favorite historical trends.

Still, I had to admit, the dress did its job. The pale blue fabric matched my eyes. My hair, usually a cascade of loose waves, had been styled into tight ringlets that fell down my back, with half of it pulled back by a glittering clip Amy had found buried under a pile of lace gloves. Unlike Amy's porcelain complexion, my skin glowed with a warm, sun-kissed tan—a stark contrast to the two pale companions I traveled with. I'd always assumed my mother's heritage had something to do with it, she was Bulgarian.

"You look like you walked straight out of a painting," Amy said, stepping closer to adjust a strand of my hair. Her tone was teasing, but there was genuine admiration in her eyes. "Although I'm not sure a royal painting would include that scowl."

I tugged at the corset with a groan. "I look great, sure, but I feel like a trussed-up turkey. How did people survive in this stuff?"

Amy laughed, leaning closer to the mirror to fix a hairpin. "Beauty is pain, PJ. Besides, you'll be the belle of whatever ball we're crashing next."

"Belle of the ball?" I repeated, gesturing to the pinching shoes and my restricted breathing. "More like the victim of an elaborate fashion torture device."

Amy rolled her eyes, still smiling. "You complain, but you know you're loving how you look."

I gave her a sidelong glance and let the tiniest smile slip through. "Okay, fine, I do look good. And so do you."

She smiled at the compliment.

As Amy and I stepped out of the wardrobe, the click of our heels echoed through the TARDIS corridors. The layers of fabric swished and rustled with every step, lending an air of grace and elegance that neither of us truly felt. I fidgeted with the corset yet again, muttering under my breath about the absurdities of Victorian fashion.

We entered the console room, and there he was, bent over the controls with his signature frantic energy.

Rather than the tweed jacket I was so used to seeing him in, the Doctor wore a rather long tailcoat with a dark waistcoat hidden underneath. A golden chain connected from two pockets in the coat, no doubt hiding a pocket watch somewhere.

His trousers were the same familiar grey, simply without the suspenders and his boots were the same worn pair he always wore. Except, it did not look out of place. If anything, those two garments looked more in place with the fancier Victorian attire.

Last, but certainly not least, a tall tophat was sitting on his head, causing his hair to flop to the sides in boisterous waves.

I swallowed harshly. Again, in such an odd way but perfectly fitting for the Doctor, he was alarmingly handsome.

Amy must have been thinking the same thing for she stared at him appreciatively before delivering a wink my way. I kept my face blank refusing to let either of them in on any potential attraction I felt to the crazy British alien dude.

At the end of the day, that is all he was, another dude.

His long coat flared as he moved, his hair as unruly as ever. The Doctor was muttering to himself, tapping buttons and flipping levers, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

Amy cleared her throat dramatically. "Oi! Doctor, we're ready."

He didn't look up. "Yes, yes, I'm almost done. We'll be landing in a moment, just need to—" He finally turned and froze mid-sentence, his green eyes widening as he took us in.

There was a moment of silence before he managed to speak. "Well," he said, straightening up and gesturing vaguely toward us. "You... you look..."

"Go on," I said, crossing my arms and raising a brow. "Use your words, Space Lord."

"Stunning. Ridiculous. Like you've just stepped out of a very expensive historical drama." He blinked rapidly, pointing at Amy. "You—very green, very regal. Like a—what's the word? Ah, a duchess. Perfect!" He then turned to me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for the right description. "And you—blue as the sky, you know, your beauty actually rivals Aphrodite... are you sure you're completely human?" He laughed and I nervously laughed along with him, praying that he was just joking.

I think he is, although he momentarily gave me an odd look at the sound of my high-pitched squeaking laughter. It sounded suspicious so I quickly stopped, coughing at the end and sending him a hundred-watt smile.

He continued to stare at me oddly, something that was morphing into suspicion.

Think fast, bitch!

I forced a bright blush on my face, turning my gaze down to the ground bashfully.

Make him think he flustered me with that compliment. It was not that hard seeing as such a compliment did have me slightly flustered.

Glancing back up a second later, I was met with the Doctor's wicked smirk.

Crisis averted: the idiot just thinks that he flustered me.

Amy burst out laughing. "That's oddly specific."

I smirked, shaking off the fluster. "And you, Doctor, look like a TimeLord who is hiding his undone hair under a top hat."

He made a face, taking off his hat and running a hand through his untamed locks. "Rude." He recovered quickly, putting his top hat back on before darting down the console steps and pacing around us in a circle, his hands tucked behind his back like a professor inspecting his students. "But truly, you two look... fantastic. Although," he gestured to my corset, "are you alright in that, my dear? You look a little compressed. Are those abs of yours having a hard time breathing?"

I glared at him. "If you must know, it's an instrument of torture. But I'm enduring it because someone insisted we visit the Victorian era, and apparently, fashion accuracy matters."

"Oh, it matters," The Doctor nodded earnestly, stepping closer to inspect my gown. He reached out as if to adjust a fold of fabric but stopped himself. "Humans are quite judgmental during these times. We must blend in perfectly. And how are the shoes? You're a few inches taller than normal..." He held out a hand as though measuring me, I still only came barely to his eye level.

He bopped me on the nose while muttering something along the lines of "pretty, pretty,"; I pouted and looked away.

"Awful," I said. "Want to trade?"

He grinned, glancing down at his worn boots. "I think not." He did a small twirl in them.

Amy leaned against the railing, her arms crossed. "So, where exactly are we going? Somewhere fancy, I hope, considering the effort we've put in."

The Doctor's eyes lit up. "London—1820s'! High society, powdered wigs, secret backdoor dealings, possibly a murder or two to solve. Very much Victorian London."

"A murder?" I asked, raising a brow. "You couldn't have led with 'tea and biscuits'? Haven't we had enough running for our lives during the past forty hours?"

He grinned, a sparkle in his eye. "Where's the fun in that?" He bopped me on the nose again causing me to growl. "Our life in the TARDIS!"

I purposely ignored the way he said 'our' as though we were in some sort of a domestic relationship.

Amy and I exchanged a look. "Let's just hope it's not our murder," She quipped.

The Doctor clapped his hands together and spun back to the console. "Never, I always protect my companions! Anyway! Right then! Ladies hold on to your hats—figuratively, of course! Here we go!" He pulled a lever that caused the TARDIS to shake immensely to the point that Amy and I had to hold each other to keep balance. "Geronimo!"

Amy and I screamed as the TARDIS went berserk, it literally felt like it was spinning and flipping—which it probably was—through the Time Vortex.

"Doctor!" Amy cried as we desperately held onto the console railing and each other.

"WOOHOO!" Was his response back as he held onto the console flight pad, continuing to flip random buttons.

"Eleven! Fly this thing properly!" I yelled, my tone scolding.

"There's no proper way to fly her, dear!"

"Read the manual, you idiot!"

"NEVER!"

A second later the shaking stopped, and all was silent other than... the Doctor was fucking giggling. Chuckling like a school kid who was up to something naughty.

Amy and I looked at him, watching this more-than-grown man wipe a tear from his eye.

"Oh, that was fun," He breathed, his laughter fading as he patted the console. "Proper fun!"

"Raggedy man, I swear—" Amy started, lifting a hand and pointing to the Doctor.

I, on the other hand, had a more reasonable reaction to his antics. I whirled around and ran out the doors of the TARDIS, ignoring the way the Doctor and Amy yelled at me to "wait!"

Upon opening the doors, I briefly paused, my eyes wide as I took in everything around me.

Carriages pulled various people and things throughout the cobblestone roads. The streets were busy as people walked, taking strolls and passing by on their way.

The Doctor and Amy suddenly darted out of the TARDIS, appearing behind me.

I wasted no time in surging forward, grabbing Amy's arm, and tugging her along with me.

We laughed as we tried leaving the Doctor in our dust.

"Oi, get back here! I'm sorry, okay, it was just a bit of fun!" He called as he raced after us.

For obvious reasons, it was not hard for him to stop us, catching up easily as we were stuck in large dresses that made moving—let alone running—quite difficult.

"Yeah, we were just having a bit of fun too, raggedy man!" Amy breathed excitedly, her pupils dilated.

He stood in front of us, hands on his hips as he regarded us with a shake of his head.

"Remember the rules of traveling with me? No running off—" He tried to lightly scold only for me to hold a hand up in his face.

"Puh-lease, buddy," I rolled my eyes. "I am a whole time traveler on my own. I am barely a companion—I am more of an equal partner..."

He swatted my hand out of his face. "PJ, you know as well as I that a Vortex Manipulator is barely considered time travel. And you are my intern, my employee, remember!?"

Amy muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "This seems like it's toeing the line of an inappropriate boss-employee relationship..." but we both ignored her.

Before anything further could be said, someone bumped into us. A short male who looked extremely happy.

Too happy.

"Ah, beautiful people! You all appear to be wealthy! Is this your wife and mistress, good sir?" He asked, looking to the Doctor and motioning to me and Amy.

I blinked in astonishment while Amy went red in anger.

She opened her mouth, probably to let loose a slew of Scottish phrases that were anything but kind. The Doctor took that moment to step in with a big smile as he held Amy back.

"Yes," He nodded to me. "That's my wife," He then motioned to Amy. "And my mistress!"

"Perfect! Here you are, good sir! Good day to you all—cheerio, cheerio!" He handed me a thick piece of paper with beautiful scripture in black bold ink.

He hobbled away, flagging down another couple who were strolling arm-in-arm in rather expensive-looking attire.

It was no secret that Amy, the Doctor, and myself appeared better looking and in better shape than most people here.

Other than the fact that we were cleaner, our clothing was pristine, unlike most people who wandered about.

Some people even wandered without shoes. Not that it was their fault, it was much harder to stay clean and have nice clothing unless you were incredibly wealthy during this time period.

And it was immensely hard to become wealthy.

I eyed the invitation, head tilting as I read it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨:
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔐𝔦𝔡𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔢̂𝔱𝔢

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞.

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝟐𝟏𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝟏𝟖𝟐𝟏
𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞: 𝟒 𝐨'𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧
𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐀𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞. 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜.

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐰𝐨.

"Interesting..." I spoke out loud, interrupting the small spat between the Doctor and Amy.

I could not tell if Amy was more upset that she was "the mistress" or if it was because the Doctor did not introduce us as his friends. Probably both.

The Doctor, eager to get out of the situation, turned to me. "What's interesting?" He snatched the paper from my hands, reading it with wide eyes.

Amy leaned over, reading it from his side.

"What're they unveiling?" She asked. "Far beyond the Empire? What does that mean?"

The Doctor smiled excitedly. "I don't know, but we have about..." He pulled his pocket watch from his coat pocket. "Three hours until we find out, we can explore the town until then! Come along, Pond and PJ, there is much to be seen!"

1821 was, well, 1821. Nothing I had not seen before. A bunch of prejudiced and racist assholes. While America was worse than Britain when it came to racism, it was not by much. The thing that most people forgot was that, during this time, colored people in London were often treated as slaves, even though slavery was not legally supported in England.

Many colored people in London were former enslaved soldiers who fought for the British in the American Revolutionary War. Some were often reduced to poverty and stuck begging on the streets. However, some of them worked as domestic servants for wealthy white people.

It was fucked—I hated slavery and racism with a passion. That's why, despite what the Doctor said about the Victorian age, I did not much like this time period. The Victorian age surely had some perks and interesting things about it, but more often than not, all of it was ruined by the social normalities.

After spending the first portion of my life locked away as a science project, dehumanized, and called an "outcasted half-breed" more times than I could count; one might say that I was done dealing with pricks who treated people like shit for stupid reasons.

I; myself, am not a great person. Hell, by most standards, I am probably considered a pretty shitty person given my track record. I own it. However, even I would never stop as low as some idiot people I had come across in these ages.

The Doctor pulled us through the London streets, pointing out various pieces of history and other things. Amy was intrigued, hanging onto his every word. I mostly tuned him out as I already knew this stuff.

Considering this was London in 1821, the majority of people were white. Fair-complexioned.

And without a doubt, narrow-minded.

A few people eyed me curiously.

As I was naturally tan with dark ringlets and a rather muscular body (which was odd for females during this time), it was bound to catch attention no matter how I dressed.

However, at the end of the day, I was white-passing, and being muscular only enhanced my natural attractiveness (not to toot my own horn), so no one truly batted an eyelash.

The Doctor continued to lead us down the bustling streets, his excitement palpable as he gestured animatedly at everything.

"And over there," He pointed to a modest-looking shop with a hand-painted sign, "is one of the first tea rooms in the city. Imagine! Tea brought all the way from China, and yet it became the lifeblood of British culture. Amazing, isn't it?"

Amy leaned closer, squinting at the storefront. "Doesn't look like much."

"Not much now," The Doctor agreed. "But give it a century or two, and tea will become the cornerstone of civilization! Wars will be fought over it! Well, and opium, but let's not dwell on the less savory bits." He spun around to walk backward, grinning at us.

Amy wrinkled her nose. "You really know how to sell it, don't you?"

"Tea's overrated anyway," I muttered, earning an exaggerated gasp from the Doctor.

"Blasphemy!" He pressed a hand dramatically to his chest, spinning back around to face forward. "Tea is the pinnacle of all beverages. Without it, the universe might collapse on itself! Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I love tea, one of the best creations from you humans!"

"Pretty sure coffee has you beat on that one," I teased, stepping over a loose cobblestone.

When it came down to it, like the true American that I was not, I was a coffee drinker.

"Coffee," He said disdainfully, "Is what people drink when they've given up on life and just need to survive. Tea, on the other hand—tea is hope. Tea is optimism in a cup."

I stared at him harshly. "You're actually insane," I remarked earning a proud smile from him.

Amy snorted. "I think he's being serious, PJ."

"Oh, I know he's serious," I replied with a grin. "That's why he's insane."

We continued down the street, the Doctor pointing out more historical tidbits. Amy asked questions occasionally, her natural curiosity shining through. I stayed quiet for the most part, half-listening as I observed the world around me.

The streets were alive with noise—vendors shouting their wares, carriage wheels clattering against cobblestones, and the faint strains of a violinist playing for coins on a corner. It all blended into a symphony of life, chaotic but oddly harmonious.

"You know," Amy said after some time, "This is all well and good, but I don't see why we're still wandering about when we've got a ball to prepare for."

The Doctor turned to her with a grin. "Anticipation, Pond! It's all about the build-up. What's the point of rushing to the grand reveal when we can soak in the atmosphere first?"

Amy gave him a skeptical look. "You just don't want to admit you're lost."

"Lost? Me? Impossible!" He scoffed. "I'm never lost."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because you seem to have taken us to the same street twice now."

He glanced around, his face falling slightly. "Well, perhaps the streets are a bit... labyrinthine."

"Labyrinthine?" Amy echoed, folding her arms. "You're lost."

"I'm taking the scenic route!"

Amy rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Doctor."

A nearby clock tower chimed the hour, the deep gong cutting through the city noise.

The Doctor clapped his hands. "Right! That's our cue. Back to the TARDIS, ladies. It's time to get ready for the ball!"

Amy's eyes lit up. "Oh, I've never been to a proper ball before! Not in this century, anyway. I want to go all out—dresses, jewelry, the works. If we're doing this, we're doing it properly."

"You're just excited to have an excuse to play dress up again," I said with a smirk.

Amy nudged me playfully. "And you're not?"

"I don't need an excuse," I replied with mock arrogance. "I always look good."

The Doctor groaned dramatically. "Oh, fantastic. Two of you obsessed with fashion. This is going to take ages."

"Trust me, Doctor," Amy said, looping an arm through his. "You'll thank us when we're the best-dressed people at that party. Oh, and by the way, I am playing the part of your wife tonight, I was already the mistress..."

The Doctor frowned. "Does it really matter which one of you is my wife or my mistress when neither is true? I think we should stick with PJ being my wife and you as my mistress..." He trailed, swallowing nervously before hastily adding. "For the sake of sticking to what we said earlier, of course! It might look suspicious if we change it up!"

Amy rolled her eyes as she strolled with the Doctor arm-in-arm. I followed behind them, arms folded behind my back as I looked around.

"Oh, come on, suspicious to who? It was only the messenger who we told, and he must've given out plenty of invitations, there's no way he'll remember who was the wife and who was the mistress!" She batted her lashes at him.

The Doctor looked torn, suddenly turning his head to me with puppy-dog eyes.

"But our dearest PJ likes being my wife, we can't possibly take away the title now!" He exclaimed. "That'd just be cruel!"

I glared at him for using that excuse.

"You don't mind, do you, PJ?" Amy turned to look at me as well, her own eyes begging. "I really don't want to go through the whole night as the mistress!"

I shrugged. "I seriously don't care considering both are phony stories. As you were keen to remind me last night—we're not married..." I motioned between me and the Doctor, ignoring the pout the Doctor threw me. "You two aren't married... I don't remember either of us getting on our knees in front of him and—" My words were cut off by the Doctor's dramatic gasp and floundering.

"PJ!"

"What? It's true—have either one of us sucked you off but don't remember?" I tilted my head. "Have you had sex with either us on the down-low?"

"PJ!" He hissed as though what I said was sacrilege, giving me a more than flustered look.

I blinked at the long look he was sending, his gaze elsewhere.

Holy fuck... no way.

He blushed brighter as he noticed me noticing the look he was giving, the Doctor quickly looking away. Just because I had not yet sucked him off... didn't mean that I wouldn't in the future. And my future is the Doctor's past.

Nope. No way. Refusing to put any energy into that thought.

"Fine, fine! I suppose you're right, it really doesn't matter..." He waved it off, fixing his bowtie. "Pond, you can be my..." He paused, cringing at the word. "...Wife for the night. And PJ, you will be my—" This time it was me who cut him off, holding up a hand and shaking my head.

"I know what I am, you don't need to say it," I sighed. "I knew I was always destined to be the other woman..." I joked, my voice mockingly sad.

The Doctor flapped about. "No—no! It's not like that...!" He was borderline panicking.

"I was joking, Doctor," I lazily called.

Amy smiled a thousand watts. "Thank you, PJ!" She cheered gratefully.

"Anytime," I nodded with a small smile, still confused as to why it was such a big deal for her to be the wife in this fake situation.

Besides, everyone knew that if your husband had a mistress—it was the mistress who truly held his heart. A husband or wife who truly loves and is 100% satisfied with their significant other never has a reason to cheat.

Unless, of course, it was an arrangement agreed to by both parties. But open relationships could get tricky and sticky very quickly.

In the next moment, we arrived at the TARDIS which was sitting on a random corner. I guess the Doctor really wasn't lost.

A few people had pointed toward it curiously, but surprisingly, most seemed to ignore it.

The Doctor released his arm from Amy's, pulling a silver key out of his coat pocket and using it to unlock the door.

Amy was the first to jump inside, hollering about me meeting her in the costume room so that we could get ready.

The Doctor stepped to the side, motioning for me to go ahead of him.

"Go ahead, dearest," He softly smiled, me only quirking a brow while walking past him and into the console room.

I once again ignored the more than personal and affectionate look he was giving me.

Just ignore it and it will cease to exist. Or at least, that's why I desperately tried to tell myself as I prayed that the future version of me was not stupid enough to have started what I was beginning to suspect she had.

Fuck me... literally.