singillatim | Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen

"Of course you'd ask that," it's said with a fond laugh under his breath. Which means he owes him an answer, an actual answer that isn't one thought and then another thought, with no bridge between them.

"I was going to just keep kissing you," he tries to tease first. Like he's warming up to it. He's not running from the topic entirely, though, at least. He means to answer him.

"Ah, well, don't let me stop you from it," he says and leans in close, ensuring the fire is warm, one arm draped around his shoulders.

There, that's better. Just a moment more. As he loops an arm around his waist and kisses him again, he pulls back with a smile.

"It's that, to start. This kissing business, which is a personal favorite, which hasn't been true for me in a very long time. But what I meant before is that — well, people have each other. Some people do, that is, and I haven't. But when we're together like this, I do, I have you, and I feel...stronger for it and better and happier."

Thomas is not an object, not a possession, nothing of the sort, but he's begun to think of Thomas as his, and that's not something he generally allows himself to feel, or...has been able to feel. But — here they are now.

"You do have me," he assures him. "For as long as we can have each other." It feels so strange, so odd, to admit any of that aloud. It's just foreign to him because Thomas is not someone who gets to have anything he wants.

The Doctor has been showing him, little by little, day by day, that this is patently untrue. He can have things. He can have what he wants.

He takes his hand and kisses his fingers.

For as long as we can.

This is the part that's always done him in. He can get close (not often) to the edge of this unseen line, where he knows if he goes a step further, it's too late to stop the tide of emotion. Because he knows himself, his own hearts, how deeply and truly he loves when he lets himself. But "as long as we can" is all that anyone really has, except the one who runs from it every time he has to face it.

Thomas has shown him the value in so much he's pulled away from until now, in fully embracing all that comes with life and not just closing off to stop some inevitable pain. Because then he loses so much more.

He squeezes his hand, letting out a breath he's apparently been holding. "I haven't ever really known how that could feel." The times he's come closest, they were already gone and time was running out, in the wrong direction. Here — all the time that any of them have is a second chance. And he's still too hopeful to sink into the depths for long. He's just on the edge of making a cheerful remark about going back to the important business of stirring the boiling water, but — this is a new path to tread, and Thomas means too much.

He nods. He knows that these affairs of the soul and the heart are difficult for him. He's had loss so many times that not even Thomas can fathom it. He can hear it in his voice, in his words, and all he wants to do is be that exception for him. He wants to give him every single second that he has so that he can truly know -

Thomas stops himself there.

What is it that he really wants the Doctor to know? He cares for him? Sure. A lot of people do. That he wants him? Yes, that much is obvious. But Thomas knows there is something else left very, very unsaid.

"I - love you," he tells him all in a rush, very sudden.

"Thomas." There's only a half beat pause for a moment between the words before he fumbles, "Do you —"

Does he...what? What does he want to say? So much. No second of time spent with anyone at all is ever taken for granted by him, but especially with Thomas, especially this, and this is so important, so — big, suddenly. As if the room can't contain it all, as if his hearts aren't big enough for all that he feels now. He feels so much happiness from just those words, the most tender and fondest of smiles on his face.

The words are harder for him to say, even though he feels it, too, but he's only ever loved at a distance. Never this close. He takes Thomas' hand and kisses his palm before guiding that hand to rest over one of his hearts. "Do you know — what I feel for you? How important you are?"

That he feels the same?

Thomas isn't afraid of rejection as he says this. He still walks with a little trepidation because he has to, but he's learned the Doctor's words don't always match up with his intentions, and he doesn't try to seek meaning in the nonsense that he says. Not unless he's willing to contextualize things through another lens.

So the Doctor stutters and doesn't respond save to touch him, to stumble over his words, and Thomas is content.

"I believe so, sir. But it would be better if you said it yourself." He knows it's hard, but he believes he's owed this.

"It would be," he agrees.

Ah, yes, brilliant, Doctor. Very reassuring and affirming. Objectively, it almost occurs to him how ridiculous it is, that such an important thing can be felt, and yet he can't muster the bravery to say it. How absurd is that? Of all the terrors in the universe he could easily face, and this is what makes him want to run. If Thomas can say it, though, after all he's gone through, if he can be here now and he can feel this with him, out of everyone, then the Doctor can get out of his own way.

Right, yes, okay — "And I — I do, Thomas." His hesitation isn't because it's some great pain, something arduous to admit, something he doesn't want to say. It's all very much the opposite. It is the most important thing, and he has come so close before, only for it to be snatched away. He's so terribly afraid that will happen now. Now he's said it, he's going to lose this somehow. "I...love you."

He ducks his head for a moment. Of course he'll lose this — he knows Thomas' fate, but he's so alive here, he needs him to be, and he clings tightly to his hand, like somehow that will be enough to stop anything taking him away. It flusters him to think of that, so he's quick to say, "So you better not get any ideas of going anywhere at all far from me, Thomas Jopson."

He waits. He waits because he knows that look on the other's face. He waits because he knows that it takes him a moment to gather himself, to say what he truly wants to say.

He waits because he knows him. Because he loves him in this place of fear and scarcity.

"I'm not going anywhere, sir. Except right here with you, just across the lake."

And he pulls him close again to kiss him, feeling like that might say more.

It does say more, it says everything, like the perfect bridge between words and the bigger emotions that are sometimes difficult (at least for him) to properly convey. As they kiss, for a moment one of his hands comes to rest against Thomas' cheek, winding just a bit through his hair.

The Doctor doesn't dwell on fears and worries, he couldn't or it would have paralyzed him long ago. But it's still ever present in the back of his mind — dormant most of the time — that there is a creature here that can harm them all, that's killed and done considerable damage already, and that Thomas has been hurt here before. For just a moment, he deepens that kiss as the thought is given life. Just as quickly, though, he quietly asserts his commitment to keeping him safe, that protectiveness in him as fierce as ever.

He kisses him until he's out of breath, until everything is a little too dizzy, until everything in the kitchen just seems a little much.

"Thank you," he mutters, sliding his hands along the Doctor's arms, squeezing them gently. "I won't leave Wynonna, but - I'd like to spend more time with you."

He holds onto Thomas' hand for a moment in return before letting go, smiling softly. "If I have you, then you have me, which means — yes, absolutely yes to that." He also realizes in saying that suddenly, he doesn't know all that entails but only that spending time with Thomas — more time — is something he very much wants.

He does imagine — so many things, though. Taking care of him, being near him, enjoying every moment, and this...this closeness. More of that. It's not something he'd ever thought of before. In a moment, the rest of his brain will catch up and he'll remember to mention his time spent with Wynonna recently.

He reaches out for him again to kiss him, marveling at the fact that he can. What they've said to each other, what they've promised, it all seems so significant.

"I don't know what this means for us in the future," he mutters. "But I know that it means we're together."

"I don't know, either," he's quick to agree, only a moment after enjoying that kiss. "I don't — well, I don't look to the future, I just travel there sometimes. And I know what I feel right now, in this moment. With you."

He certainly has no better idea what it means for them a week or a month from now, but not only is it significant that they've shared these sentiments between the pair of them, it's significant that he's still standing here. He hasn't run. He wants this, wants Thomas.

"But — yes. Together." He reaches out suddenly, brushing some of Thomas' hair back from his eyes. "You're happy?"

"Very," he assures him, smiling at the gentle gesture of him tucking his hair behind his ear. "But do you know what would make me happier?" he wonders, reaching up to drape fingers over the Doctor's arm.

"I might be able to think of too many things, and then my thoughts wander off track, probably quite askew of what you're actually thinking," he smiles a little brighter. "I know I want to make you happier, and keep making you so."

He rests a hand on his hip now, remembering how lovely that feels, just to hold him close. "Tell me."

Thomas moves in close, very close, knowing that his skin is too cold for this. But he smiles, leaning close, and then whispers:

"If you took down the salt for the fish," he says with a laugh.

Of course, it wasn't at all what he was expecting, but then — what was he expecting, and why, and it was — thoughts he hasn't had in a very long time. Silly thoughts, of course they were.

But he's always quick to adapt, quick to laugh in return. "Oh, you just watch, I'm a dab hand at it."

He pats Thomas' arm briefly and moves away now, back to the task at hand, grabbing the salt, stirring the pot. Everything that's needed.

It's Thomas' turn to smile over at him, though he has a feeling he knows exactly what he's thwarted. Is that a little petty satisfaction that perhaps, just perhaps, he might get the same reaction from the Doctor that the Doctor elicits from him?

No, of course not. That's a silly fantasy.

But it's one he likes to indulge in.

Thomas gets back to work, as well. "Have I told you about the time we were caught in the blizzard in Antarctica?"

Glacially slow at times when it comes to actually expressing himself outwardly to match how he's feeling inwardly, the feelings of wanting more than only this are there, he just — needs to bridge the gap from what he's thinking to speaking.

He may also be feeling something he hasn't felt in a very, very long while, which is not only longing for more closeness, more...everything with him, but mild frustration and fussiness at being so close and yet so far. There would be a potentially easy fix for that if he used his words, but. But they've moved beyond it, at least for now, and he's genuinely thrilled, as he always is, with anything that Thomas shares with him about his life. A little space from each other while they work on the tasks at hand — perfect, yes, this will be fine. Clear his head.

"No, that one's dreadfully lacking from my collection of my Thomas Jopson tales, so now's the perfect time to share," he encourages with an easy smile. "I want to hear everything."

"I was just a boy then," he says, a laugh in his tone as he moves through his preparations. "But there was a time when the two ships lost each other in the black night. I will never get used to it. The darkness that comes at sea in the night. There is nothing on those cloudy eves but yourself and God. You can hear the voices and breathing of the men around you, but there's something so isolating about it.

"We crashed into each other, you see," he explains, firming up the pemmican. "The two ships. I thought that we would all be lost in the black ink of the icy waters. But - we managed to stay upright. There were repairs to be done, and I thought I might be better off hiding under the hammock, but - Crozier never faltered. Not once. He guided us through."

It's not often the Doctor has known or seen such darkness himself. Most times, in even the blackest oblivion, there's the smallest of lights. But he can imagine, and he has seen on rarer occasions.

"I don't doubt that for a moment about him," the Doctor smiles briefly at the mention of Crozier. "I know it goes without saying it's the duty of a Captain to do exactly that, but not all manage it, or manage it well. I'm glad you had him, and vice versa, of course." He thinks anyone should be so lucky to have Thomas Jopson there at their side. "How long did it take to repair?"

Thomas smiles into his work, shifting his feet slightly as he finishes and starts to clean.

"I don't remember, if you can believe it. I was simply too happy to be alive and to see someplace new. Antarctica was - unlike anything I had ever seen before. It was cold and vast and empty but also - so lively. It was so long ago, I don't think on the smaller parts of it any longer."

"It would be," he smiles warmly over his shoulder for a moment before he finishes up salting the fish, quickly cleaning his hands, making sure the broth is divvied up between the jars.

"How did it feel? After the ships were righted and repaired and you could — look out in this new place, stretched on and on. Happy to be alive, yes, but how did it feel inside when you took a breath and you looked all around? I like hearing you talk about it."

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor

Re: Preparation; Closed for the Doctor