by nostalgia [Reviews - 1]

  • Teen
  • None
  • Angst, Het

The Doctor came back to himself as Missy lifted herself off him. His hearts were trying to beat their way out of his chest and his breathing was ragged. It took him a while to calm down, by which time Missy was curled up next to him, sheets pulled up to cover herself as though she were suddenly modest.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to feel like he was in control of the situation. “Get out.”

Missy tutted. “Don't be rude. At least let me have a little nap before I leave.” She sighed quietly. “You always have to ruin our dates, don't you?”

He glanced sideways at her. “We're not dating,” he spat.

Her lips curled up into a patronising smile. “Honey, we've been dating for centuries.”

“Trying to kill each other doesn't count as dating.”

She shrugged, a gesture he found horribly adorable. “Why not?”

“It's not a relationship,” he insisted. “You can't try to murder me and then say you love me.”

“I didn't say I loved you,” she replied, as though it were nothing.

The Doctor turned onto his side to face her. “Why are you still here?” he asked, rather desperately.

Missy closed her eyes. “Because you can't bring yourself to make me leave.” She yawned. “Do you want to snuggle?”

“No, I want you to leave me alone.”

“Can't.” She shifted, pressing herself up against him. He felt himself tense as her skin made contact with his once more. She was hot, her body flushed and covered with a thin film of sweat. He imagined that he looked much the same.

“You can't stay,” he tried again.

She didn't reply, but her breath came too rapidly for sleep. With a muttered curse the Doctor slipped an arm around her and tried not to think about what any of this might mean.

Clara wouldn't approve. That was about the only thought that helped him when he felt himself falling into Missy's orbit. What was he supposed to say to Clara when they met again? ”Hi, how are you? By the way, Missy still alive and well, and we've been having sex on occasion while you're on Earth doing your job.” She'd punch him in the face and couldn't claim that he didn't deserve it.

He would probably, if pressed, claim that the appeal was simply the animal attraction of finally having another member of his own species around. It wasn't true, but maybe Clara would believe it? The Doctor prided himself on being a good liar, and he'd certainly had plenty of practice in his long life.

Missy muttered something, half-asleep. He tilted his head towards her to hear what she had to say for herself. “What was that?”

“We're beyond love,” she whispered, her voice clear and not muffled by sleep. He opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn't find the words to deny it. Maybe she was right. They were certainly... something, and he didn't want to pin it down with a definition.

“Go to sleep,” he told her, as gruffly as he could manage. He closed his eyes and resolved not to worry about tomorrow.