"Then all my troubles will be gone
Oh Christmas lights, keep shining on”
Journey to the center of the TARDIS for a-….lightbulb?
He wasn’t at all tired. Emotionally, yes. But physically his body had been restored to it’s natural peak, given him the edge he needed to take in order to survive. His flesh may have been covered in tiny cuts and bruises, but they were simply a blemish to what Eleven was feeling like. So he moved quickly, knees sliding under his own figure, and he caught his fiance by the ribs and his hip- holding him straight.
"Righ’ then, we’ve got no choice. Look, we’re already up an’ at em." Using their awkward position as a way to get the man up, and into his arms, Ten groaned at the realization: he’d have to hoist him over his shoulder. Ven wasn’t in any stance to be carried bridal style, and the last thing the younger wanted was to jostle him about. It would hurt. Yes, it would be quite painful. But like only moments before, it would be worth it.
"How ‘bout-…Ah, how ‘bout I go and get us a few blankets. We can sleep out here, yeah? No moving. I can fix you up righ’ now."
Before Ten even began to move, Ven adjusted himself, prepared every muscle for the shift because he knew that if he didn’t, he was going to inform his fiance of just how much pain he was really in. So far, he was winning that battle, could easily swallow the ache into the depths of his belly, but when they were halfway up, he cried out and balled his hands into tight fists on the younger’s shoulders.
“Great idea,” he muttered hurriedly, a harsh breath ghosting Tenny’s ear while he struggled to keep the rest of his discomfort under wraps. He felt the ground beneath them like a sentient presence waiting for him, perhaps even using it as a distraction to keep from digging his fingernails into his palms or pressured into the fabric of the other Time Lord’s shoulders. After all, Ten would need to leave him there while he gathered supplies. It would at least give him a few minutes to steel himself against the rest of the night.
He shuddered involuntarily, cheek rubbing against the shoulder closest to him. “Go on, then. Don’t get lost in the cupboard. When was the last time we nodded off in the control room, anyway, ey?”
Panic rose up his throat, threatening to choke him, and he immediately ceased moving; Ven was hurt. His body was broken. It wasn’t sadness that filled him up suddenly, but an urge to fix him, to wrap him up and keep him nice and warm. But he’d need to get supplies first. Although Ven spoke casually to Ten, even urged him to get the supplies, his fingers were digging into the younger’s shoulders harshly. The Doctor steeled himself again, like he had done only minutes before in their quest for oxygen, and untangled himself from his fiancé.
“Love, I’ll be but a minute. I’ve only got to fetch a few blankets, pillows and the med-kit in the kitchen. Jus’ down the hall.” Everything would be alright. They only needed to be apart for a few ticks, nothing longer than five minutes. But even this seemed like torture, to be away from his injured fiancé, so he got up on his shaky legs to all but run into the door across from the entrance. It was peculiar to feel just how new he felt, the insides of his chest bringing oxygen into his lungs far quicker than they had before, which prompted him to jog.
The blankets were easier to find that the medical kit. They would need the entire kit, and then some. But the kitchen came in handy, seeing how he would need some water as well, to quell the other’s dry, cracking lips. His own had stopped bleeding by then, so he paid no mind to the dull throbbing, and instead grabbing a box of crackers alongside a large bottle of water that he’d gotten from the sink. Three thick blankets were draped over the Doctor’s shoulders while the pillows were under his arm alongside the medical kid, while his free hand balanced the water and crackers. Oh, he hoped to Rassilon he didn’t drop anything. One trip was long enough. It took a few tries once he’d gotten back to the console room, but he dutifully climbed the steps there as well, each step seemingly more steep than the one before
Scottish actor, David McDonald. Although, I’d be a bit miffed if you called me that at the moment,…
"None. D’you think he’d like some?”