The future's a grand place. True, the TARDIS scares Jamie more than the English ever did, and he'd love a good night's sleep between rounds of yetis and Cybermen. But the future's got hot water on tap, films and radios, bright lights whenever you want them. The future's got mangoes.
Best of all, the future's got the Doctor.
Jamie doesn't understand half the science everyone shoves at him, but he understands gravity, because the Doctor bends time and space around him. Jamie orbits, keeping close, happily captured.
But gravity's not the real force of nature, not for this. Browsing in the TARDIS library, Jamie finds a high shelf full of books that tell him what the Doctor never did. Books with pictures, dizzying to see, and Jamie looks and reads until the universe rearranges itself in a brand new shape.
It takes him almost an hour to track down the Doctor, in a little room full of little machines. He's taking one apart, humming as he untwines its shining guts. "An Obexian matter transmitter!" he says, hardly looking up. "One of the early prototypes. Isn't it lovely, Jamie?"
"Doctor - "
The Doctor lifts his head from his toy. "What's the matter?"
A bit impatient, but he's always like that. Little hedgehog, prickly and gentle. Jamie stands his ground and tries to breathe. "I . . . well, I . . . I mean, do you . . . oh, this is . . . "
And he kisses the Doctor.
"Oh," says the Doctor. "Oh, Jamie." He looks at Jamie, face squinched up in thought, like Jamie's some beautiful and confusing new device.
"Aye." Jamie touches the Doctor's shoulder, like a hundred other times, and then the Doctor's face, like never. Like the future. He leans in, closer and closer, until his lips meet the Doctor's again. Slowly, the Doctor's arms slide around his waist to hold him tightly, and this is grand. This is grand.
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