thedreamer | open post;

"Mm, whatever you'd like to do," he tells him, distracted. "Did you help them out of trouble?"

No matter how distracted, though, he is going to ensure that others are taken care of. Even if it's taken care of in the past.

In that case, he'll go straight for the chocolate mousse cake as what he considers a respectable starter. Not too much, just enough to tease the palate.

"I might have," he concedes, at first not planning to explain too much of it. Not for any particular reason except that he's not as good at telling stories about times he's saved the day. It's not the kind of limelight he wants or needs, but — "There were atmospheric changes at the time, nothing that made sense. This city in the clouds existed for centuries, no trouble whatsoever, but all of a sudden, ships and homes were falling out of the sky. It was no fault of their own and for once, no invading force was trying to harm anyone here, it was just a stroke of bad luck. The way they'd built the city — well, things had started to shift in the magnetic field holding everything in perfect stability. The simplest of causes, a very distant geomagnetic storm in the upper atmosphere that set things haywire." He waves his hand a little. "Rewired a few things, and Jonesy over there —" The Doctor nods to him. "He helped keep a lot of people calm."

It was simply science. Just the way that the world worked. No matter the world, they were all subjected to the whims of their planets. It's a little poetic in that way. Enough that Jopson turns back to him and reaches for his fork, doing something very ill-mannered.

He reaches over and takes a bit of the chocolate on his fork, the Doctor's chocolate, for himself.

"Oh," he laughs, covering his mouth in surprise.

A rare occasion when something goes wrong just because...things go wrong sometimes, and no menacing outside force had anything to do with it. That was a relief in and of itself. But now he's focused on Thomas eating his chocolate, and his subsequent reaction to it. He'd wanted this for so long, the simple pleasure of Thomas being able to easily indulge in one of the Doctor's favorite desserts.

"Incorrigible thief," he teases with a bright grin, too pleased at the reaction. "Don't stop there, at least another bite."

Thomas shakes his head. "I haven't - had anything like that before," he tells him and almost refuses again, but he can't help himself. He leans over and steals another bite of the chocolate, leaning against the Doctor's shoulders.

It's such a simple pleasure, really, watching the man he loves eating some chocolate mousse cake, but — it means everything to him. It's not just that, of course. It's being here at all, being near, able to show him this.

"Okay, one more of something else," he smiles, moving an arm around Thomas' waist, but simultaneously pulling a small plate closer. It's a variation of crème brûlée — this world's interpretation of it, that is. Near enough in texture and sweetness, with some purple and blue berries and cream in a circle around it. He cracks the shell with a spoon and lifts the spoon to Thomas' mouth.

It's ridiculous and silly and something out of a book. They're sitting together, leaning together like conspirators, and the Doctor is bringing a spoon of something that looks very delicious closer.

Thomas automatically takes it, trying it from the spoon, letting one hand drop down to gently place against the Doctor's leg.

"It's very good," he agrees. "But the chocolate is better."

There's a pleased sound, a fond laugh, under his breath at that remark. "And you would be absolutely correct."

He sets the spoon down, leans back comfortably, pats Thomas' hand against his leg. He likes it there.

"But now you've gone and spoiled yourself for supper," he teases. Who's the one who insisted on dessert first, after all. He knows what he's done. "There's time left for a good stew, the freshest local seafood, or something else entirely. Before sunset!"

"Seafood," he says with a laugh, because how are they getting that from the clouds? The ocean is so far away!

Still, he's trying to take things slowly, not wanting his stomach to rebel against him here.

"Seafood like you wouldn't believe," he hums a little. "It's quite fascinating, how different species adapt to their environments. There are fish here that can thrive in the very thickest, foggiest parts of the cloud layers."

He stops short of explaining about algae spores and decaying matter getting shuffled up into the atmosphere to help feed the fish. There are species below in the ocean, and they have gliders that fly down below, but before he can explain any of that, their server comes by, dropping off a batch of freshly baked rolls.

Fish that survive in the clouds? He needs to see that, to know how! The Doctor throws out these lovely, tantalizing facts and then declines to provide more information! Truly, Jopson is living in the worst age.

But then their server sets a small basket of fresh rolls, like it doesn't mean anything, like Thomas hasn't been dreaming of fresh bread for years.

"What a treat!"

He looks first to the Doctor and then to the rolls, his hand slowly reaching for one of his own. He has to be polite, as much as he wants to snatch it off the table.

He gently pushes the basket closer. "As much as you'd like! Should have started with these probably," he smiles a little sheepishly. There's so much he's wanted to share with Thomas, food and otherwise, but chocolate had seemed such a luxury to lead with. It's the bread that brings him back to those early days getting to know him, remembering how much he'd wanted to give him something even close to it.

He'll have to bake him a loaf of some sort in the TARDIS. He's never really baked in the TARDIS, but there's a first time for everything.

He wants to be a gentleman so badly, but that first bite of bread has him sighing a little too loud. He ducks his head, but he eats more anyway, undeterred by his own rudeness.

"Everything is - new," he reminds him. "Everything will be, but this - this is splendid."

Of course, the Doctor thinks him anything but rude and finds it delightful to see him enjoying it more openly. But he understands he has a different perspective at times when it comes to matters of decorum.

"There's so much I want to show you just here alone. After the sun sets — or suns, rather — just outside on the deck we should have a view of some of the fish swimming about in the cloud layers."

Thomas points at him with the bread.

"Now that, perhaps six months ago, would have made no sense to me! But I believe that I am able to now imagine it. Now I know what to expect, and that is - nothing!" he laughs softly, a little in awe still about this place. He tears into the bread again.

It's all so much, everything out there, everything possible, everything to be seen. Even the Doctor hasn't seen it all, but the strange and the unusual and fantastical, it's all status quo for him.

"I don't even know what to expect at times," he laughs in return. "I know what I've seen, but I keep being surprised — that's the wonder of it all."

He grabs a roll of his own now, humming as he indulges in a bite.

He loves the way he smiles. He loves the way he moves and talks and laughs and dreams. He loves everything about this stupid alien and he'd do anything for him. Right now? He's going to eat.

Right now, he's going to make sure he's strong enough to join him on these adventures.

"How is it?" he asks of the bread. "It's the best you've ever had, aside from my acorn bread, hm?"

He hums a little under his breath, giving this serious thought. Not that it actually takes much thought; his feelings bubble up quickly.

There's some cheek, to start, "Delicious, and it holds up better than the acorn bread, more portable, but!" He softens a little, quick to fully agree now. "It's lacking a few important components which, naturally, notches your bread up above all the rest."

He rolls his eyes playfully. "Is that because it wasn't made by my hand and you are a hopeless romantic at times?"

Thomas turns back out to the window, not dismissing him by any means, but more wanting to pay attention to what's outside.

"Oh, you think you know everything, don't you," he teases with his tongue out briefly. But — yes, yes that's exactly it.

While Thomas watches out the window, the Doctor briefly converses with their server about what else to bring. A hearty stew, loaded with vegetables and meat, packed into a perfect crispy crust. While they wait for the rest to come, the Doctor can't help enjoying the view. Of Thomas, that is. The way he takes it all in — it means everything to him. He could watch him like this forever.

Thomas doesn't seem to notice he's being observed until it's a little too late. He looks over, grinning, and feels his face flush. "What?" he smiles. "You're staring."

Anyone else caught staring might flush in return, and he's certainly not been the most eloquent at times about his feelings, bumbling and fumbling and confusing as he can be. But despite his clumsiness, it doesn't change how he actually feels, how deeply he loves this man. It's felt and known and slips out, and he smiles tenderly.

"Yes, one does that when they appreciate the view." It's more confident than he's been able to manage. "Because you're here and you're seeing all of this for the first time and —"

It's all gone in a flash and he doesn't want to look away. "You're far more interesting to look at than the rolls. Delicious though they are, they just sit there, you know. Predictable."

He sets his jaw, smiling to himself. Self consciously, he tucks a strand of hair from his face and behind his ear, the old habit returning out of necessity.

"You brought me here," he reminds him. "You - are the one who will show me such splendor. I cannot compare to that. So if you must stare, then stare." He reaches over to take his hand again, linking their fingers.

"But do eat your bread."

I cannot compare to that. Oh, how wrong he is about that. But the Doctor has also seen all of this before. He hasn't seen Thomas Jopson here, like this, with him. Beautiful and alive and — the one who holds all the sway over his hearts now.

"You can't compare, no. You're beyond and above, but —" He nods to the window, the beauty outside. Thomas is a splendor he's never known before. "That's all for you." He holds his hand, but he does eat more of the bread, until the rest of their meal finally arrives. The Doctor might have overestimated on the food a bit.

The feast comes and Thomas' stomach aches rebelliously. He wants all of it, all at once, but he forces himself to take his time on it. At least it's fish, which he's has before, though it's a strange flavor he's never tasted.

Could be the clouds, he thinks playfully to himself.

"Did you order the entire menu?" he asks, unable to keep the smile from his eyes.

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