The Doctor is a lonely man. His entire race, his civilisation, it’s all gone. And apparently it’s his fault. No one will exactly tell you that, but it’s what you’ve heard.

It’s really sad. But he acts relatively cheerful most of the time, and it’s nice to know that even with a dumptruck of trauma, someone can act like this. Even if it’s a mask of his horrible guilt.

And then you, with the same amount of trauma as him but with different causes, come into the picture. And the two of you are unstoppable. Him with the brains, you with the… whatever the hell you’ve got. Probably depression.

But something else that adds just this little amount of spark to his days travelling the universe.

And it’s safe to say he’s got a big fat crush on you. How can he not? You’re beautiful, and you know what he’s rambling on about when he’s controlling the TARDIS, and you’re the first person to really get that his gender is just… some kind of chaotic scribble on a piece of paper. It’s certainly not set. You find it cute.

Luckily, the two of you are distracted from the weight of the last “adventure,” where the Master had almost murdered you just for funsies, by the news of mysterious disappearances occurring on earth, in the 1800’s.

Good thing he’s a history nerd.

———————————————

1800’s London is exactly like the movies described. Except everyone’s disease ridden, and hacking up blood, and yelling horrible things across the street.

It’s a little overwhelming.

Luckily you have the Doctor. Partner in time, if you will. And this was all his idea, of course it was. “Let’s go to the 1800’s! We’ll have so much fun!” Yeah, right.

To be fair, he was right, it was fun, but… Jesus Christ, British people have been like this from the start, and it shows.

As the two of you walk through the streets, dressed in your fancy 1800’s attire that is certainly very tight, he points out a blacksmith’s, and then a baker’s, an excited grin on his face. He’s very excited.

It’s dark out after a short while of walking, and the two of you have done a full lap of the town. Your shoes click against the stone road as the two of you admire the streetlights, and he finally speaks in a normal tone.

“Y’know, I’m starting to think that maybe there aren’t any mysterious disappearances. Just… normal ones.” It’s not like the Doctor to doubt the TARDIS’ reports, but neither of you have seen anything so far. It’s an average London town.

With a shrug, he leans against one of the brick buildings, stones wet from the recent rain. You follow after him, mirroring his pose and admiring the stars. They’re much more visible, when the sky isn’t polluted with city lights. The 1800’s are very nice.

That is, until he rests his head against yours, too busy admiring the oyster of a universe that he gets to explore. That’s the saying, right? Probably.

It makes you a little nervous. The sudden action, I mean. Not the universe being an oyster. Because good god, you also have the biggest, fattest crush on this dumb British man.