𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐬
𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐱

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

"Go, go, go—they are on our asses!" I cried out, being the last one to fly through the big blue box doors, I closed them tightly behind me.

The sound of thumping and knocking could be heard on the other side, but nothing could get through this ship's doors.

The TARDIS welcomed us in warmly after a long many hours of leaping from theme park to theme park.

It was my idea, once we left the Whirly Dirly I told the Doctor we could do Asgard and he immediately took us there. And then we kind of just kept going—bouncing theme park ideas off each other and visiting each one for a few hours.

After the Whirly Dirly came Asgard Amusements, then came New Disneyland of the 25th century after which we followed up with Six Flags of the 23rd century, and finally, we ended our jaunt of amusement parks at Wet & Wild & Sticky: the ultimate waterpark of Earth during the 21st century.

It was a secret place that only the rich and famous knew about; thankfully, we had a TARDIS that snuck us right in. Toward the end, we even spotted Jennifer Lopez lounging about. Amy and I bothered her for a photo, the woman having begrudgingly given it to us before reporting us to the staff as being 'normies' who snuck in.

Because, according to her, only normies would want a photo.

I may or may not have responded by slapping her across the face and claiming that she was a washed up skank.

My hand moved before I could stop it, hitting the sneering woman who had a body made by a Goddess square across the face. "You washed up skank! And to think about how much I love your music!"

Amy stood next to me gaping.

But anyway!

AKA, the reason all four of us had to book it back to the TARDIS. We were soaked to the bone—Amy and me wearing flashy bikinis, Rory normal swimming trunks, and the Doctor, of course, chose to wear a damn scuba-diving suit. To a fucking water park.

Exhilaration thrummed throughout my bones, a huge smile on my face, a smile that matched the other four.

The Doctor clapped his hands together as he bounded up to the console. "Right then! Where to next?" He called out, flipping switches and spinning dials with gleeful abandon. "Considering we're already wet—we could always go to a planet of water? Did you know that Atlantis is real, or at least, it will be for you lot! 48th century: humans colonize an underwater planet and name it Atlantis! Truly astounding place!"

The Doctor, surprisingly, did not seem to care that I—allegedly—slapped someone. Either that or he didn't know, only Amy allegedly saw it happen. We grabbed the Doctor and Rory as we were racing away from the huge men.

Amy plopped onto the nearest chair, water dripping from her hair. "Maybe a break? My legs are killing me, my arms feel like noodles, and I think I swallowed half the pool on twisty slide."

Rory leaned against the railing, looking like he'd just run a marathon. "Seconding that. How long have we been going?"

The Doctor pursed his lips in thought, clicking on some part of the console. His eyes lit up a moment later as he read through something.

"23 hours and 47 minutes!" He chirped happily, not noticing the huge-eyed look the engaged couple shared.

"Thirded," I suddenly chimed, not caring if it wasn't a real word. "I mean, it's been really fun, but I think I've hit my limit for the next few hours. We should rest a bit..."

The Doctor made an exaggerated pout. "Oh, come on! Where's your sense of adventure? Surely there's enough energy left for a quick jaunt to Saturn's Ring Circus in the 22nd century or maybe a pop by the Moonlight Menagerie—"

"Nope," Amy cut in firmly. "I'm officially on strike. Break time, Doctor!"

"Same," Rory added, crossing his arms.

"Hard pass," I said, leaning against the console and grinning at him. "But feel free to keep going solo if you think you can handle it, Scuba Steve."

The Doctor gasped, clutching his chest like I'd mortally wounded him. "This is not a scuba-diving suit! This is state-of-the-art underwater exploration attire! Very fashionable on Calufrax Minor."

"Yeah, well, it looks ridiculous," Amy teased, grinning through her exhaustion. "You've got fins on your feet. We were only at a waterpark, not the ocean!"

"They're aerodynamic!" The Doctor protested. "Or... aquadynamic?"

He surprisingly had not grilled me with questions, but then again, it was not like he had much time to do so. We'd been theme park hopping for the last 23 hours and counting. The Whirly Dirly was still my favorite ride thus far.

Amy's favorite had been a coaster in Six Flags, Rory's was a Ferris Wheel at New Disneyland, and the Doctor—the Doctor reluctantly admitted to it having been the Whirly Dirly as well.

We all burst out laughing, and even the Doctor couldn't keep the smile off his face as he flipped a final switch. "Fine. If you lot insist on being boring, I'll find us somewhere quiet to rest." The TARDIS shuddered as she responded to his touch, her usual groans and wheezes filling the air as we rocketed into the time vortex.

I leaned against the railing, still catching my breath from the mad dash earlier. "Somewhere quiet sounds good. And maybe dinner. Anyone else starving."

We had all snacked on some pretzels of the future (which tasted exactly like pretzels of the past) at New Disneyland, but that was about it during our entire 23-hour jaunt.

"Me too," Amy said, sighing.

The Doctor puffed up with pride. "Good thing that I'm an excellent cook."

Amy snorted, and Rory gave him a dubious look. "You? Cook?"

I hid a smile remembering our doubt for him the last time he tried to cook. The thought of the toaster that started spitting bread at him made me internally laugh.

"Yeah," I added, grinning mischievously. "Wasn't it the time the toaster went berserk?"

"That was a misunderstanding," The Doctor grumbled, fiddling unnecessarily with a lever. "The toaster was a gift, you know. Sentient appliances can be a bit... finicky."

"It was sentient?" I asked, surprise dripping from my voice. "That's terrible!"

"Kind of, difficult to explain, but that's not the point!" He pointed at all of us with a look of mock seriousness. "Right. That's enough slander against my culinary skills. Go on, get yourselves cleaned up and dry, and I'll prepare a meal so spectacular it'll knock your soggy socks off!"

Amy raised an eyebrow. "I'm wearing a bikini, not socks," She deadpanned.

"It's just a saying, Pond! But that doesn't matter!" The Doctor declared, shooing us toward the corridors. "Off you go! Showers! Towels! And maybe a change of attitude while you're at it."

Laughing, we all began peeling away to our respective rooms, leaving wet footprints on the grating as we went. I paused at the doorway, glancing back at the Doctor still fiddling with the console. "Just don't burn the kitchen down while we're gone."

He shot me a look of offense, but the twinkle in his eye was unmistakable. "You wound me, PJ. Besides, you're the one who is questionable around fire... burning down things for fun, honestly..."

"Don't tempt me," I called back lazily, disappearing down the hallway.

I did not miss the way that the Doctor's eyes scoured my backside as I left.

The shower was nice—it left me warm and swaying. Afterward, I made it a point to change into soft pajama-like clothing. My long hair was winded up and out of my face; my feet were adorned in cozy slippers as I made my way from my room and toward the kitchen.

In my grasp was my Vortex Manipulator.

River and I had made great lengths to fix it, but without her help, it was proving harder to continue to fix. I supposed now was as good a time as any to hand it over to the Doctor and ask for his assistance.

When I entered the kitchen, I was immediately met with the sight of Amy and Rory sitting at the table as they gaped at the Doctor. I soon followed lead, the Vortex Manipulator nearly falling from my grasp at the sight of the Doctor professionally spinning about the counters and stove as he did the TARDIS console.

He had also changed, now adorned in his typical attire. Except, his tweed coat was missing—the man only wearing his button-up with his suspenders. Funnily enough, he wore a large floppy white chef hat along with a bright green apron that read... "GREETINGS! I AM AN ALIEN!"

It was a rather funny apron and I tilted my head wondering where he got it from. Probably Sedona, Arizona. That had Sedona written all over it.

I had no clue what he was cooking, but it smelled... why, it smelled delightful. Like heaven, and it made my stomach growl. Quite loudly too.

The three looked toward me, the Doctor's eyes lighting up happily. He paused in whatever he was cutting, turning to the stove to put whatever he was boiling to a simmer, and suddenly bounded toward me.

The Vortex Manipulator felt rather heavy in my grasp and I made it a point to hide it behind my back before he noticed. I would ask him about it in a few minutes.

The Doctor hopped toward me with all the enthusiasm of a kid, Eleven's childlike wonder in full affect. Before I could say a word, his hands found my shoulders, gently steering me toward the table. His touch was warm, his grin infectious, and I allowed myself to be guided without protest—mostly because the heavenly smell wafting from the stove was making my stomach do somersaults.

The feel of him against my back was enough to make me hum in contentment.

"Oh, look at you! Starved, absolutely starved, aren't you?" He cooed, his voice laced with that unmistakable blend of pompousness and affection. "Good thing you've got me to whip up something special. So exciting, I realize this is my first time cooking for you. You're in for a treat, my love. Tonight's culinary delight is none other than Earth's finest... chicken parmigiana! Though, of course, I've added a bit of a twist—because why stick to boring old recipes when you can improve them, eh?" The Doctor, like always, was ranting—his mouth moving as impressive speeds.

Although, to me, it sounded like quick barely discernible British jumble.

He kept up his cheerful rambling as he led me to the table, gesturing dramatically with his free hand while the other stayed firmly wrapped around my shoulder. "I mean, you humans are brilliant, don't get me wrong, but sometimes you lot lack a little... flair with your food. A little pizzazz."

"Pizza?"

The Doctor ignored that comment, continuing to speak. "So, I've taken the liberty of adding a few intergalactic spices. Trust me, it'll be like chicken parm you've never had before."

Rory gave him a skeptical look as I was settled into the chair next to him. "Intergalactic spices? That sounds... curious," He muttered, clearly unconvinced. "Wait, it isn't going to turn me green again, right?"

The Doctor ignored him entirely, his focus back on me as he patted my shoulder and then, to my utter shock, leaned down to kiss my cheek. "You just sit there, PJ, and let your Doctor take care of everything," He said with a grin before spinning on his heel and practically bouncing back to the stove.

What the actual ever-loving fuck? My Doctor?

I do not need a damn doctor!

And yet, somehow, I knew that wasn't entirely true.

I blinked after him, my brows furrowing as my cheek tingled where his lips had been. Seriously, what holy hell was that?

Before I could fully process it, Amy's voice cut through the moment. "Well, well, well," She drawled quietly, waggling her brows at me from across the table. Her smirk was so wide it threatened to split her face in two. "Looks like someone is getting special treatment."

I shot her a glare and, with exaggerated precision, mouthed the words: bitch, do not encourage him.

Amy stifled a laugh behind her hand, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. Rory, meanwhile, was oblivious, his focus on the Doctor as he warily asked again, "Doctor, is this chicken going to turn me green?"

"Oh, Rory," The Doctor called back, waving a spatula in the air. "Have a little faith in me, won't you? I'm a TimeLord, not a mad scientist. And certainly not a cook from the Whirly Dirly! Well, not most of the time. The mad scientist part, that is, never been a cook for the Whirly Dirly..."

I placed the Vortex Manipulator on the table gently, it landed on the wood with a thud. The table—the one that sometimes hovers—was currently stagnant on the ground. It seemed the TARDIS did not feel like making it hover today.

Amy and Rory both glanced at the object curiously.

"What's that?" Rory asked.

"Can I have a look, I've been curious about it since you first arrived and the Doctor told me about it," Amy asked.

I nodded and slid it over. "Sure, just be careful—it doesn't work so it won't take you anywhere, but it's been kinda sparky. Wouldn't want it to electrocute you..." I told her, and she nodded before very carefully picking it up and examining it. Rory leaned over to look at it as well. "To answer your question, Rory—it's called Vortex Manipulator, it allows you to travel through time and space..."

"Like the TARDIS then?" He asked, looking back at me with wide eyes.

"Exactly!" I grinned only for the Doctor, who was being nosy and listening in, to shout, "NO!" From his place at the stove.

"Mind your business, buddy!" I called, whirling around to face the Doctor.

He held up a spatula and pointed it to me accusingly. "No, it's cheap travel, Rory! Nothing at all like the TARDIS and hardly safe for most humans to use!"

"Why?" Rory asked.

"The amount of terrible sicknesses and conditions that thing is linked to! Atrocious! Nothing like my beautiful and safe ship!" The Doctor explained, seeming to be nearly finished with dinner.

I snorted and mumbled under my breath. "Mostly safe ship..."

"What was that, dear?" The Doctor asked.

"Nothing, babe!" I called back loudly, smirking as his ears turned red at the playful nickname.

Rory looked between us both before Amy handed him the Vortex Manipulator to examine.

"Why'd you bring that out here, PJ?" The Doctor questioned, now making four plates of his food.

"I need help with it," I admitted almost shyly. "River Song was helping me fix it before, but now that she's gone, I'll admit I'm struggling a bit by myself... thought maybe you could take a look for me..."

I did not dare turn around to catch the Doctor's face. I envisioned he looked a bit cocky at having me admit that I needed his help. However, if I had decided to turn around, then I would catch a hint of sadness on his features.

Nevertheless, he answered gently. "I'll take a look at it later, dearest. But for now!" He clapped, somehow balancing four plates—two in his hands and two in the nook of his arm—and walked over to us. "DINNER!"

A plate of steaming deliciousness was set in front of me. Another plate to the empty seat beside me, and two plates in front of both Amy and Rory. Their eyes lit up as brightly as mine.

The Doctor was quick in tossing away his apron and hat, sliding into the chair next to me, and picking up his fork. He dug in, humming at the taste of his food.

When I took a bite—my own taste buds exploded.

Okay, fine, so I guess he is literally making me eat my own words... because this guy can fucking cook.

The Doctor nudged me as though he heard my thoughts.

I set my fork down, staring at my plate as though it might provide me answers. "Alright," I said slowly, gesturing at the Doctor with a piece of bread. "What's your game?"

The Doctor, mid-bite, glanced at me with an expression of pure innocence, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk. He swallowed dramatically. "Game? Me? No game. Just a gentleman, a stove, and an abundance of natural talent."

Amy snorted around a bite of her own food, shaking her head. "Natural talent, my arse. This is too good. What's the secret, Doctor? Did you steal the recipe from some five-star chef in the 56th century?"

"Or bribe some poor soul into giving it to you," Rory added, though his words were muffled by the sheer amount of food he was shoveling into his mouth.

"Neither!" The Doctor protested, looking deeply offended. "This is pure ingenuity at work. Hundreds of years of culinary experience, thank you very much. I've cooked for emperors, you know. And for Empresses! Oh, and there was that one time I catered a wedding on Clom. Tricky business, that. Hate to judge but a horrid planet really..."

"You're making that up," Amy said, rolling her eyes.

"I am not!" He retorted, tapping his fork against the edge of the table. "It was a very stressful day. And before you ask, no, I won't cook for your wedding, Rory. You'll have to settle for someone less brilliant as I will be showing you all how to properly dance."

Rory raised his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Which reminds me," Amy cut in, pointing her fork at the Doctor accusingly. "Break dancing?" And that was all she said but he understood well enough.

The Doctor immediately turned to me accusingly. "You told her about that?" He gasped as though I'd told Amy the biggest secret in the world.

"What? It was a secret?" I asked incredulously.

I told her that like right after we came back from that party, I was surprised it took her this long to bring it up to him.

"Well, not exactly, but whenever people find out they always want a show!" He exclaimed. "It's exhausting!"

"You're talking like you're famous for it or something..." I deadpanned.

"Well..." He trailed off, eyes lighting up. "Some might consider me just a bit famous—" I cut him off by playfully slapping his shoulder.

"Bitch, be humble," I rolled my eyes. "You're not famous—somewhat known is a better phrase!"

"Oi! Somewhat known is an understatement for having my name recognized throughout all of time and space!"

"Some of time and space!" I stressed. "Not only that but you always need to tell people who you are before they recognize you!"

"Well, it's kind of hard to be recognized when my face changes every so often!"

"Excuses!" I shook my head, laughing at the expression he made.

Before he could retort, our words were cut off by Amy. "Anyway! Break dancing! When were you planning on showing me?"

The Doctor motioned to Amy dramatically. "See! Honestly every time, one music video and suddenly everyone expects me to spin on my head for them, it's not even that impressive! The crazy giraffe is far superior..." He began to ramble at her and she had a retort to everything he threw at her.

No one bothered to question his statement claiming he was in a music video.

I leaned back in my chair, watching them banter with a soft smile. It was... nice, this kind of easy camaraderie, and easy life with fun adventures through space. It made the TARDIS feel... like a home.

Home is wherever you lie your head. I certainly did more than just lay my head in the TARDIS, the Doctor was so lucky to have this beauty.

Eventually, through the conversation and playful banter—recollections of today's events, the Doctor's gaze landed on me, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Speaking of secrets," He said, pointing his fork in my direction, and chewing with a knowing grin. "What about you, dearest? I've been very patient, you know. For me, it's been a nice little while with you, and the whole time I've been good. Haven't pried. Haven't peeked. Haven't conducted my own research. But something tells me you're not telling me the whole story."

I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, lots of things! It's been a nice little while for me, remember?" He replied brightly, leaning forward on his elbows. "Let's see: never actually lived in an orphanage. I still find it hard to believe that you just happened upon a Vortex Manipulator. And you've got that look in your eye, the look that tells me when you're up to no good."

"That's rich coming from you," I shot back, smirking. "Literally no one knows your actual name..."

"Yes, but I don't fib about it," He countered, wagging his fork at me. "I'm an open book! For the most part. Or at least, a very intriguing one with some missing chapters. You? You're more like a puzzle. And I do love puzzles."

I gave him a look of disbelief. Open book my ass—he's like a book with 80% of it missing.

Amy leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "I've been saying the same thing! She's way too cool to just be some random space Ravager-slash-bartender. What's your deal, PJ?"

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant even as my stomach twisted. "No deal. I'm just me." I smiled before throwing a hugely sarcastic look at the man sitting next to me. "What's your name, Doctor."

"Hmm, I can't seem to remember," The Doctor mused, tapping his chin before reaching out and bopping my nose. "What's your truth, Cooper?" He shot back.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small grin tugging at my lips. I ignored the delight I felt at the way he said my birth name. "Eat your food before it gets cold, Space Lord. You've still got to fix my Vortex Manipulator after this, remember?"

He beamed. "Oh, don't worry, dearest. I'll fix it in a flash. Right after dessert."

"Yeah, right, I just wanted you to take a look—no way you'll actually be able to fix it!"

"Want to bet?"

"Dessert?" Amy asked, cutting in once more while perking up.

The Doctor grinned wickedly at all of us. "Oh yes. Did I mention that I also make an excellent treacle tart?"

After more recollections—namely, all of us giggling at the memory of me sliding down one of the water slides while standing on the Doctor's back and using him like a surfboard, dessert (the Doctor does indeed make a really good treacle tart); we were all going our separate ways.

Well, not really, Amy and Rory were going to catch a few hours of sleep. The Doctor really did try to convince them to do just one more adventure before they went to sleep, but they looked like dead people walking after the last 23 hours.

I, on the other hand, found myself sitting next to the Doctor in the TARDIS workshop as he mumbled to himself, examining and tweaking around with my Vortex Manipulator. Looking around at the workshop, the little slice of the TARDIS space that River and I had spent countless hours in, I could not help but smile.

Some of our inventions were still lying around, namely guns and blasters we had tuned up. I pointedly hid them on random shelves before the Doctor noticed them. Thankfully, he had been too distracted by the wiring of my Vortex Manipulator to notice much else.

I leaned against the edge of the workbench, my elbow brushing against the Doctor's arm as he hunched over my Vortex Manipulator. His tweed jacket was still nowhere to be found leaving him in just his suspenders and rolled-up sleeves.

He held a tiny screwdriver in his hands, the kind that looked like it came from a cheap travel kit, but he wielded it with the precision of a surgeon.

"See, this wire here," He muttered, gesturing with the tool, "it's frayed, which is probably why the feedback loop isn't closing properly. It's old, at least 100 years old, that's why it keeps sparking. Absolutely shoddy work by whoever handled it before."

Yeah, this had already been a hand-me-down when I got it from the Time Agency nearly 80 years ago, so its age doesn't surprise me.

I snorted. "You mean me?"

He glanced up. "No, not you. Well, maybe a little bit you. But mostly just old age, it was due for replaced parts and a tune-up at least 70 years ago. Surprised you got your hands on one this old."

"Well, how was I supposed to know how old it was when I got it," I quipped. "I found it in the Ravager booty, took it, and ran."

Lies... so many lies...

"Like me?" His lips quirked up, and he nudged me with his shoulder.

"Are you running?" I asked, smirking.

"Always," The Doctor hummed.

He turned back to the manipulator, muttering more incomprehensible jargon under his breath. I caught snippets of it: something about the temporal stabilizers and quantum filaments. It wasn't so much that I didn't understand it—I did, mostly—but I preferred to listen to the way he spoke. There was something inherently charming about the way his words tumbled out of his mouth, rapid and full of energy; his brain was running faster than his mouth could keep up.

I tilted my head, watching him work. His hands were quick but precise, the screwdriver twisting and turning with the ease of long-practiced skill.

Wow, those hands must be good at nearly everything.

Every so often, his fingers brushed against mine when he reached for another tool or adjusted the position of the Manipulator. Neither of us said anything about the touches, but I didn't miss the way his lips twitched every time it happened.

"You're awfully quiet," He said after a while, not looking up. "I thought you'd be bouncing ideas off me by now."

I rolled my eyes, leaning in slightly to peer over his shoulder. "Alright, fine. Did you check the isochronous circuit? If that's fried, it might be why the thing's been sparking. It's probably throwing off the synchronization. I would've checked, but there were so many other things I hadn't got around to it..."

The Doctor paused, his head tilting to the side as he considered my suggestion. "Ah, yes, of course, I was getting to that."

"Sure you were," I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

"I was!" He insisted though the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. He reached for the circuit in question, fiddling with it gently. "See? Still functional. A bit singed, though. Probably overloaded."

"So, what's the plan, genius?" I asked, resting my chin on my hand and watching as he poked at the device.

"Well, first of all," He said, picking up the tiny screwdriver again, "no sonic. Don't want to risk blowing it up."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why not? We've blown up plenty of things before."

"Yes, but other than you losing your Vortex Manipulator with no hope of fixing it—this is a time travel device," He said, his voice rising dramatically. "If it explodes inside the TARDIS, we could create a paradox! Or worse, rip a hole in space-time. Do you know how long it takes to patch up space-time? Ages. And it's messy. Sticky business, really. Like trying to put custard back in a carton after it's spilled."

That's so gross.

He isn't wrong, but that is quite the comparison. I couldn't help it—I laughed. He glanced over at me, his expression softening.

"What?" He asked though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head.

He set the screwdriver down, tilting his head as he studied me. "PJ, you've got that look on your face."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What look?"

"The he's hot when he's clever look," He said with a smirk, his tone teasing.

I snorted, my cheeks warming despite myself. "That's not what that was."

"Oh, no?" He replied, his smirk widening. "Then what was it?"

"It's the putting custard back in the carton after it's spilled, that's really gross face, pretty boy," I shot back, grinning as I gave his shoulder a playful shove.

"Ooh, another nickname! Pretty boy! I always liked that one," He said, chuckling as he turned back to the manipulator.

"Don't get used to it," I muttered, though the smile on my face betrayed me.

We worked in companionable silence for another little while after that, our shoulders brushing occasionally as he explained what he was doing and I offered suggestions. Eventually, he straightened up, holding the device aloft like it was some kind of trophy.

"There! Fixed it!" He declared, his voice triumphant.

I raised an eyebrow. "Really? You're sure it's not going to spark or zap me the next time I use it?"

"Positive," He said, grinning as he handed it back to me. "Well... mostly positive. But it doesn't matter, you're with me now, anyway. You shouldn't ever need to use it, if rarely... right?"

The true meaning behind his words was obvious, his green eyes swimming with something nervous as he looked at me. The Doctor wanted to know if I planned on staying with him now that I have another means of travel through space and time.

While the Vortex Manipulator is technically fixed, I don't trust it to not break again. Not with its age, I need a new one. This is just a temporary solution, a backup incase I ever need to make a hasty escape.

Not to mention, traveling in the TARDIS is way safer and provides much more protection.

Also... I quite like traveling with the Doctor so I might as well take advantage of it while I am here.

I rolled my eyes but took the Manipulator anyway, inspecting his work. "Thanks, Doctor." I paused, smirking as he became more nervous. "And yeah, sure, I'll stay. This is just for if I ever find myself in a pickle... or make you so absurdly angry that I need to run or you tell me to leave..."

"Anytime, dearest," He lit up at the confirmation that I was not leaving him and the TARDIS. "And you will never make me so angry that you need to run away, love... let alone for me to ask you to leave," He sounded concerned, brows furrowing. "Please don't ever think or fear such a thing... I would never..." His words caught at the end, as though it physically hurt him to think of that.

Endearing.

"Relax, Space Lord," I nudged him, resting my head on his shoulder and examining the Vortex Manipulator. "I was only joking..." I hummed, smiling at the way he momentarily stiffened in surprise at my affectionate actions.

However, he relaxed and rested his own head on top of mine, his eyes following the way I played with the Vortex Manipulator.

The silence between us was warm and comfortable as we sat there, heads resting against each other. I fiddled with the buttons on the Vortex Manipulator, pretending to double-check the Doctor's work, though truthfully, I was too focused on the heat of his shoulder against mine to actually pay attention to the device.

He was a literal Lord of Time, I knew that his craftsmanship was more than fine.

"Still being awfully quiet," He murmured after a moment, his voice softer now, like he was speaking just for me. "That's not like you."

I tilted my head to glance up at him, arching a brow. "What's that supposed to mean? I can be quiet."

He smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that annoyingly charming way of his. "Only when you're plotting something, you can't."

"Plotting? Me?" I feigned innocence, pressing a hand to my chest. "Never. I'm an angel..."

"An angel of chaos, maybe," He teased, nudging me with his shoulder. "Alright, what is it? What's going on in that brilliant mind of yours?"

I bit my lip, pretending to consider. "Oh, I was just thinking about how bored I am."

"Bored?" He repeated, his tone mock-offended. "You're in a time machine that travels through space, with me, and you're bored?"

"Well, we've been sitting here for a while," I pointed out. "And you're always saying how brilliant you are, so I figured you'd have something fun for us to do."

His eyes lit up. "Fun, you say? Of course, I do, I am the King of Fun! Alright, then. Let's play a game."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A game? What kind of game?"

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as if daring me to question him. "Go Fish."

"Go Fish?" I repeated, unable to hold back my laughter. "You're a centuries-old Time Lord with the whole universe at your fingertips, and the best game you can come up with is Go Fish?"

"It's a classic," He defended. "And besides, I'm very good at it."

"Oh, really?" I challenged, smirking. "I bet I could beat you."

"Ha! We'll see about that," he declared, springing to his feet and offering me his hand. "Come on, then."

I let him pull me up, his hand warm and steady in mine as we made our way out of the workshop.

He led me to the console room, to the TARDIS doors, pushing them open with a dramatic flourish. Beyond them, the vast expanse of space stretched out, glittering with countless stars, nebulae, and galaxies swirling in brilliant colors. The TARDIS hovered serenely, her hum blending into the quiet wonder of the universe.

"Alright," The Doctor said, sitting cross-legged in the doorway and pulling a deck of cards seemingly out of nowhere. Does he just keep cards on him? I wouldn't be surprised.

He patted the space beside him, and I joined him, our knees brushing as we settled in.

I couldn't help but take a moment to admire the view. "You know," I said softly, "space really is the most beautiful thing ever."

"It is," He agreed, his voice equally soft. "And the best seat in the house is right here." He glanced at me, his green eyes catching the starlight. "With you."

My cheeks warmed, but I smirked to cover it. "Flatterer."

"Only when it's deserved," He quipped, shuffling the deck with skill that made me huff in amusement.

We dealt the cards, the game beginning with playful banter and sharp remarks. It quickly became clear that Go Fish wasn't the most thrilling game for two people with near-perfect memories. Every round ended in a tie, with neither of us able to win considering it was a game of memory.

Mine was more my short-term memory that was good. Give it a few hours and I'll start forgetting shit left and right.

"This is officially the most boring game ever," I declared after the fifth tie, tossing my cards into his lap. "Whose idea was this, anyway?"

"Yours," He said, grinning as he gathered the cards.

"Mine?" I scoffed. "This was all you, 'Mr. Go Fish is a classic.'" I said in a terrible British accent on purpose.

The Doctor rolled his eyes at that.

"Alright, fine," He conceded, leaning back on his hands. "You've made your point. Shall we call it a draw?"

"Sure, I guess," I puffed and he rolled his eyes at my sour tone.

We both fell quiet, our gazes drawn back to the stars. The silence between us wasn't awkward or tense; it was... easy. Comfortable.

"So," He said eventually, his voice low. "Why'd you keep the Vortex Manipulator?"

I glanced at him, startled by the sudden seriousness in his tone. "What do you mean?"

He turned to look at me, his expression open but searching. "You don't need it anymore, not really. You've got me, the TARDIS... a way to see the universe safely. You know that your future in entwined with mine. But you still wanted it fixed. Why?"

"Why would I not want one of the most rare and priceless objects in the universe fixed?" I quipped sarcastically.

"I'd hardly call it rare or priceless, so try again," The Doctor hummed patiently, not accepting my answer.

I hesitated, unsure how to answer. "Fine... it's a backup plan. In case something goes wrong."

His brow furrowed. "Something like what?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Anything! Just... something. It's not like I don't trust you, Doctor. I do. But I've learned the hard way that it's always good to have a backup."

He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Fair enough. Just... promise me you won't use it unless you absolutely have to. Alright?" He paused, eyes turning nervous as he cast his gaze downward. "I quite like you traveling... with me..."

I smiled softly, nudging his shoulder with mine. "Alright, Space Lord. I promise."

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smile, and for a moment, neither of us said anything. The stars continued to shine around us, and the TARDIS hummed gently beneath us.

And suddenly, he laughed loudly, staring down at me with the utmost humor—eyes scrunched in the corner.

"What?" I asked him confused.

"It just occurred to me..." The madman said between snickers and snorts. "You slapped J. Lo..."

"Allegedly!"