Doctor Who: Definitions Of Comfort
Jun. 30th, 2010 07:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amythorthreeTitle: Definitions Of Comfort
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor (Ten), Theta Sigma
Word Count: 254
Summary: A single act reflected at two different points.
Notes: Mmm, I do love mirror fic. This was initially written for...something. I'm not sure what but I know there was a prompt.
Close to a window that filters in sunlight, Theta Sigma lies sprawled out on the floor. The room is the closest thing to his that he's getting for a good while and the suns keep making him want to close his eyes, though never in a way to avoid discomfort.
One hand moves to trail fingers against his neck, marks having the time to settle and bloom so when he pulls away, everything aches a little, it all tingles with the ghost of a much sharper, more comforting pain.
Swollen lips curl into a smile while the sunlight wins out and his eyes fall shut.
--
The Doctor can't see his hands even when they're centimeters away from his face. No sound penetrates the walls, the air is cool but not terribly so.
He tries to remember when he saw the door open last and the number escapes him. Time is nearly out of his grasp but he'll not admit that, not now and not ever.
You could almost say that the room he's in, the one that is meant to be his, is comfortable.. Blankets made of soft material, carpeting that feels surprisingly nice on bare feet. Everything is so soft, so gentle and none of it is anything he understands.
This isn't what he expected, not in the least.
But something rubs against his neck, a collar against a mark that's too deep, a scratch that tore skin and he closes his eyes while swollen lips curl into a bitter smile.
Characters/Pairings: The Doctor (Ten), Theta Sigma
Word Count: 254
Summary: A single act reflected at two different points.
Notes: Mmm, I do love mirror fic. This was initially written for...something. I'm not sure what but I know there was a prompt.
Close to a window that filters in sunlight, Theta Sigma lies sprawled out on the floor. The room is the closest thing to his that he's getting for a good while and the suns keep making him want to close his eyes, though never in a way to avoid discomfort.
One hand moves to trail fingers against his neck, marks having the time to settle and bloom so when he pulls away, everything aches a little, it all tingles with the ghost of a much sharper, more comforting pain.
Swollen lips curl into a smile while the sunlight wins out and his eyes fall shut.
--
The Doctor can't see his hands even when they're centimeters away from his face. No sound penetrates the walls, the air is cool but not terribly so.
He tries to remember when he saw the door open last and the number escapes him. Time is nearly out of his grasp but he'll not admit that, not now and not ever.
You could almost say that the room he's in, the one that is meant to be his, is comfortable.. Blankets made of soft material, carpeting that feels surprisingly nice on bare feet. Everything is so soft, so gentle and none of it is anything he understands.
This isn't what he expected, not in the least.
But something rubs against his neck, a collar against a mark that's too deep, a scratch that tore skin and he closes his eyes while swollen lips curl into a bitter smile.