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okay-j-hannah · 1 year

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Hear My Words

Doctor Who : Fic

Tenth Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 2352

Warnings: I’ve had to rewatch Doctor Who to get back into writing for the characters and... of course I’m swooning left and right. I need to watch everything David Tennant now 🤦‍♀️

Request: “Hi! I wanted to request a fluff hurt/comfort John smith/10th doctor? Like the reader has a crush on the doctor, and during the events of Human Nature, they get really sad seeing John fall in love with Joan, but when he’s the doctor again, he tells the reader it’s always been them? Thank you and hope you’re doing good!” Anon

A/N: Using the chameleon arch meant putting you in charge of John Smith, but it also meant the Doctor was free to fall in love much to your dismay

The tardis was quaking beneath their feet, parts exploding in showers of sparks. Fireworks of brilliant gold and fiery orange cascading until burning out against the grated floor. The erratic flying sent the Doctor and (Y/N) tumbling against the railing.

“Did they see your face?” the Doctor yelled over the steaming console.

“No, I don’t think so,” (Y/N) said frantically, “Doctor, what are we going to do?”

He paused his searching to look at her. Between the smoke and the sparks, she looked frightened – really properly scared. And it broke his hearts. He wanted to take her by the hand and whisper sweet words of endearment and comfort. He wanted to let her know that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

His fingers itched to reach for her. His legs begged to run for her. His hearts pleaded to embrace her.

But he couldn’t. Not when he’d played the façade so well.

She had no idea that he was completely smitten by her.

“We’re going to have to disappear,” he finally breathed. Yes – disappear. If he could conceal them from the hunting party then no harm would befall her.

“Alright,” she said shakily, though relief painted her tone. There was always relief when the Doctor had a plan. “How are we going to do that?”

His hands clenched, “I’ve got to stop being a Time Lord.” His eyes flickered up and down her frame before pouncing to the console. He frantically continued his search for an object.

“I’m sorry, what?” (Y/N) cried, “How is that possible?” Her heart was in her throat, “Doctor, you’re frightening me.”

He clutched at a silver fob watch, running for her. “I’m going to rewrite my biology. Can’t do the same to you, I’m afraid. You’ll have to improvise.” He tossed the watch into the air, catching it to gain her attention. “Rewriting means my memories too. You’ll have to be in charge.”

“I don’t understand.”

He cursed himself – urged himself to speak slower. “I have to completely conceal myself. To do that I’ll have to become something else. I’ll have to become human. And I’ll need you to look after me.”

His arms felt warm and heavy as he kept them from holding her. In times of panic, when the adrenaline was high, it was always harder to keep his wants under control.

“I don’t…”

“I need you to take care, (Y/N). Can you ensure that I don’t open this watch until the most dire of circumstances? Can you make sure that I believe myself human until we can escape?”

Her eyes were beginning to water at the sight of his begging.

“Doctor…” she breathed, “I…”

~~~

John shot up in bed, gripping his blankets and chasing the last images of the dream. Of the angelic look on the girl’s face.

He rubbed at his eyes, “Gracious…” he sighed. “I’m getting that one more often than I like.” Of the catalogue of dreams that plagued him at night, the one about the kitchen maid became more and more frequent.

And it always left him with a race in his chest.

He would spend the morning teaching his classes and reading his books and seeking a glance of Nurse Redfern. But by the end of the day he sought a glimpse of the kitchen maid, (Y/N). He yearned for a bit of conversation with her – a much needed reprieve on his ever consumed mind.

His head always felt stuffed, as if a dense volume of water filled his cranium to the brim until the pressure was too much. It somehow felt lighter after an evening with Miss. (Y/N).

He found his wandering footsteps descending the stairs to the kitchens, running into a few flustered maids.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Pardon me, sir – are you lost?”

He’d wave them off, “No, I assure you I know where I’m going. Good evening.” The stone corridors became second nature as he found the staff room beside the bustling kitchen preparing dinner.

“Ah, excuse me,” he’d gesture to a lady’s maid, “Where might I find… oh, there she is, never mind.” And the sight of (Y/N) made his heart tug in a way that felt overwhelming, as if it tried to consume his entire chest.

“Sir,” she muttered, sounding surprised even if her eyes spoke otherwise. John always found his way downstairs at the end of the day, “Do you wish to have your dinner in your quarters? I could bring it up personally.”

“Lovely idea,” he said, “But I would rather enjoy a meal here with you, if you were agreeable.”

She urged the warmth from her cheeks, “That’s rather improper, sir.”

He shrugged, “I’ve found my quarters rather suffocating as of late.”

“Very well, sir,” she curtseyed, “You can find yourself comfortable in the staffing quarters and I’ll be there momentarily with supper.”

(Y/N) scurried to the kitchens with a squirming stomach, always worried that the reason John sought her out was because he finally remembered who he was – that he was becoming himself again. But as always he just took comfort in her familiarity.

There was something about her, he would say, that would put him at ease. As if they were companions in another life.

But she knew their coming conversation would be of dreams and fantastical stories and the possible future with other staff members. Inevitably they would dwell on the topic of Nurse Redfern.

And it would hurt her to encourage him to speak with the nurse, to befriend her and see what would grow.

“Here you are, sir,” she said, placing a delectable dish in front of him. She personally chose his favorites from the serving platters about to be sent up. “Will there be anything else?”

He snapped his head towards her, “Surely you’ll stay. Please, sit beside me.”

She held back a retort, already hearing the gossip jumping between her coworkers. “If it please you, sir.”

“It always has, (Y/N). I want to speak with you about an interesting dream I had last night.”

She nodded, retrieving her meager servants stew and sitting beside him. “I figured as much.”

“What do you mean?” He was amused.

“Just that you normally come knocking when you’ve had a funny dream or some peculiar thought.”

“Well, you’re right.” He forked around his supper, “I dreamt that we were on another one of those adventures.”

(Y/N) kept her eyes down, pondering her stew. She wondered what memory was forcing its way to the surface of his mind.

“You were so terribly frightened about something chasing us,” he chuckled, “And I told you I had to become a human to hide us.”

She stilled for all but a moment, containing the inflection in her voice, “I hadn’t realized you weren’t human in these adventures.”

“Neither had I,” he laughed, eyeing her simple supper. “Would you care for a bit of mine?” He gestured to the seasoned chicken and roasted vegetables and rich sauce.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chortle, “Sir, there are rules between kitchen maids and professors.”

“Rules about a bit of chicken?”

She gave him a look, “Are you like this with any of the other staff? Do you blur the lines with them too?”

He cleared his throat, using a teacup saucer to give her a portion of his meal, “You cooked it, you should be able to eat it too.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, “But that didn’t answer my question.”

John swallowed a mouthful, “Has she asked about me at all?”

(Y/N) burned her tongue on the stew. She knew he was going to say Nurse Redfern, but it didn’t make hearing it any better.

“Once or twice.”

“And?” he pressed, abandoning his knife and fork.

She shrugged, “Joan’s always been cautious of her feelings. She keeps asking if you talk about her at all. I suppose because she wants to know if you’re interested before she makes a move.”

“And what have you told her?” he asked, leaning forward, wide eyed at her words.

“That she should go with her instincts,” (Y/N) said quietly, “That she should stop doubting herself.”

John positively beamed, “Oh, now that’s brilliant.” He fell back in his chair, grinning, “Well done with the spy work.”

(Y/N) felt her stomach squirm again, pushing her food around. She couldn’t help but feel special that John sought her out for company – hopeful that it was because his human self took an interest in her unlike the Time Lord version. But he still couldn’t fathom a future with her, fake life or not.

It made her queasy.

“Are you alright?” he asked, digging into his food once more.

“Fine,” she said warily, “Just fine.”

~~~

It was later in the evening, an hour past the usual time for dinner, and (Y/N) was ascending the staircase towards the professor quarters.

There was a request from John Smith: a bowl of soup and crackers. There was a report of an upset stomach and slight fever, meaning he would take supper in his room.

He asked that she deliver it personally and it was almost hilarious when she told the lady’s maid that the assistant cook was to leave the kitchens.

It was foreign walking the halls of the school, but she felt a thrill of excitement at seeing John again. As always she couldn’t help but hope he wanted to see her because he finally realized he liked her.

And as always she was disappointed beyond belief.

She knocked on his door and nudged it open with her hip, tray of soup in hand. She was able to catch the last second of Nurse Redfern kissing John’s forehead.

Of course Joan was there. John was sick.

“Oh, goodness,” Joan gasped, “The kitchen maid.”

“(Y/N),” John said warmly, flushed at having been caught in an intimate moment. “You’ve brought my supper.”

(Y/N) bowed her head, refusing to look at him, and she hurried to place the tray on his side table. She could see Joan holding her stethoscope tersely from the corner of her eye.

In a small voice (Y/N) asked, “Might I inquire after the patient?”

“He’ll be alright,” Joan replied, “Just a tinge of the flu.”

John smiled, “I’ll be right as rain in the morning.” He spotted the way she refused to look at him. “Thank you, for answering my call.”

“Always,” she said instantly. “I’ll always answer.”

She stood there rather awkwardly for another minute, Joan clearing her throat to excuse the silence.

“That’ll be all,” the nurse said.

(Y/N) curtseyed, scrambling to get out, “Of course, sorry. If there’s anything else…”

“Thank you,” John said again, his voice quieter.

She didn’t dare look at him to see if his face matched the sweet sound of the thank you. She instead ran to the nearest stairwell and found refuge in the staff quarters.

She felt the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver in her pocket, a little reminder of the mission at hand. A small part of her chest began to hurt as she clutched the short piece of metal. It grounded her with thoughts of distant planets and endangered people. Of quick breaths stuck between a tight space.

It was easy to fend off her affections when the Doctor was too busy to look on anyone else. But with the steady pace of a human life, he was falling for another. And that realization pained her like nothing else.

She could only wish the three months went by quickly.

~~~

The Doctor stood outside the tardis, framed by the grey hills of 1913 England. The wind was whipping his coat about, sending his hair into a frenzy.

It was so him, it was making her sigh with relief.

“Hello there,” (Y/N) said, climbing the hill, “Feeling more like yourself?”

“Yes, well…” he shook one of his legs, “The right foot still feels a bit like John Smith. But the rest of me is one hundred percent the Doctor.”

(Y/N) laughed, looking at him fondly, “You sound like yourself again.”

He returned the soft look, “Thank you – for taking care of me.”

She cleared her throat, “You’re welcome.” But there was another unspoken question on the tip of her tongue. She didn’t want to sound too curious but she whispered, “How was Joan?”

“Fine,” he answered immediately, “She’ll be alright.”

“Right,” (Y/N) said, “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy to… to say goodbye. You were so fond of each other.”

“John was,” the Doctor said, “And he is a part of me. So by proxy I suppose I am somewhat fond of her.”

(Y/N) nodded to herself, taking a step towards the tardis door, but the Doctor blocked her way.

“But a life with her isn’t possible,” he said softly. “It’s not a life I want.” He so desperately wanted her to look up at him. The way she avoided his gaze was sending that familiar ache through his chest.

He hadn’t realized that his human self would pursue another woman. He could imagine how difficult that must’ve been for her to witness – encourage even.

“That was a fake life, (Y/N),” he urged her to hear his words, “The life I have now, with you, is what I want.”

She tilted her head up towards him. “That’s kind of you to say, Doctor, but you don’t have…”

“No, you’re not hearing me,” he said, taking her hand. “I love my life because of you. I wouldn’t trade it for the world. You are who I’m fond of. You are who I trust. It’s always been you, (Y/N). Long before this adventure.”

She still had disbelief in her eyes but a smile was growing on her face, “Really?”

He laughed, “Quite a pair, aren’t we?”

“I adore it,” she laughed along, “All of it.” She clutched at his hand, “I love you too.”

“Now,” he kissed her knuckles, “I don’t believe I said love.”

“Yeah you did,” she mused, leaning into him, craning her neck to reach.

He eyed her lips, speaking in that quick, eccentric way, “Yeah, well… let me say it with less words then.” And he kissed her against the tardis.

~~~

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