thedreamer | open post;

He looks up to him, having braved that encounter with the bravest of faces. It is a whirlwind and there's nothing Thomas wants more right now than to sit and be quiet in his own head for a while, but he's happy here. With him.

"What's - going to happen?" he wonders.

"They'll customize a treatment plan," he starts to explain, tenderly sweeping some hair back from his eyes. "The specific nutrients we need to reintroduce to your body. She'll return with everything we need and we can go back to the TARDIS for you to rest. You won't have to stay here much longer."

Thomas is quiet, absorbing that information for a moment. A treatment. Something so simple and easy that his world simply couldn't provide.

It seems surreal.

"You still owe me five minutes."

He hums lightly, equal parts amused, curious, and fond, at the callback. "Suppose I do. And I always pay my debts," he smiles a little tenderly, a little cheekily.

He turns a bit, moving to cup his hand to Thomas' cheek, just for a quick kiss, but they're interrupted when Doctor Restac returns, a gentle, knowing smirk on her face at the noted touch of affection. But she launches right into particulars — "Not too long at all, was it? Now, here's everything you'll need." She hands over a few small containers to the Doctor. "You know what to do, I assume?"

"'Course I do," he gives her a little playful salute. He opens everything to have a quick look, though. It's all labeled — meal supplements, a few injections, and some pills. He quickly closes everything again, looking at Thomas. "And he'll be —"

"Much better," she finishes. "With a bit of time. Though, you should notice marginal improvements within the week, at least. Come back right away if not."

She reaches her hand out to Thomas one more time. "It was good to meet you."

Thomas takes her hand confidently and nods. "The pleasure was all mine," he tells her genuinely, glad that she said nothing about the gentle touch, the small kiss. He marvels, though, that the cure for him, for years of wear and tear on his bones and body, is all sealed up in a bag that she just casually hands to the Doctor.

Is it really so easy?

"Thank you again. I will be certain to return if anything happens."

"I hope you don't return, but we'll do everything we can for you if there's a need," she promises to him, and then glances at the Doctor. "Double-check that container thoroughly before you leave," she notes pointedly to the Doctor, leaving it at that with a brief nod and a wink before she goes.

"What do you..." But she's already gone, and so the Doctor goes to set it down on the counter, pulling some things out, searching for — what, he doesn't know, until he's holding a small wrapped parcel and it's exactly what he'd asked for. He turns to Thomas with a grin, holding up a separate, smaller bag of — "Stickers and suckers! Ha." He grabs a sticker, one in the shape of a balloon that's shimmery and multi-colored, and he plops it right on his left cheek. He sticks another one on his right hand, and then comes closer to Thomas. There are roughly a dozen stickers in different shapes and colors, and a few large suckers in different colors as well. The Doctor picks a blue one, though he pauses before peeling off the wrapper, sticking it in his pocket now instead. "For later. After your medicine. But have your pick of stickers."

Lieutenant Jopson is fucking dignified. He is a steward, a captain's steward, and such frivolities are beneath him.

So it's a good thing that he doesn't really feel like a steward or a lieutenant. He feels like Thomas, so he picks a sticker at random - a little cat in a basket - and sticks it on his cheek to match the Doctor.

"This way?"

"You know, I can't be quite sure, but that one might glow in the dark," he indicates the sticker now perfectly situated on Thomas' cheek as though it's always belonged there. The Doctor, of course, thinks it's highly respectable, and he has his amused little lopsided grin on his face when he leans in to briefly kiss Thomas' stickered cheek.

"Like that," he belatedly confirms. "Ready to head back? I can make that omelette now and you'll get your five minutes."

He actually blushes at that soft kiss, chaste as it is, and hops off of the table and rubs his shoulder. "Yes," he confirms. He is more than ready to get back to something familiar.

He doesn't think too long on how the TARDIS had become so familiar in the short time he had been there. But it, of course, really isn't the TARDIS herself, but her passenger, someone Thomas will always feel at home with.

He starts to lead him back, and it's not a long walk down the corridor, but halfway there, a thought pops back in his mind like he's finishing a sentence, with a point that doesn't really need to be made, probably, obvious as it is. "You'll get more than five minutes, of course. A whole load of minutes! Minutes, hours, days, years — all with me." He grins a little, and once they've made it to the TARDIS, he opens the doors and stands aside to let Thomas through first.

"Go and settle if you like, I'll bring your medicine and food."

"Ah yes," he teases once he's behind the door. "Minutes full of diversions and distractions."

Not that Thomas actually minds.

He goes back towards the strange room that the Doctor had designated as his and disappears inside of it so that he can just - sit. As cheerful as he sounds, as lovely as it seems, he doesn't know how he's supposed to process through this.

He lies on his stomach, his face in the pillow, and closes his eyes into it while he waits.

Only days ago, they were still trapped in that world far from all of this, and now they're here, and while the Doctor is used to whirling and twirling about rapidly from one moment to the next, not everyone else is. So much has happened in a short time, and he he doesn't really get it or understand it fully, but there's the beginning of that understanding as he comes back a bit later, carrying a tray of things.

He's beaming, just about to call out his name fondly, but stops short, closes his mouth, watches, observes. When he comes closer, he sets the tray down carefully, he sits on the edge of the bed, he speaks Thomas' name softly as he reaches out to lightly rest his palm on his back, hoping not to startle him.

He's not startled, and he turns to look up at the Doctor fondly. "You are early," he tells him warmly. "I thought you'd take ages. And look at me here, lying in bed." He pushes himself up and takes his hand.

"I'm always precisely when I'm meant to be," he teases a little, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles. "Though I could go away for a week or two if you prefer." With his free hand, he sweeps a bit of Thomas' hair back from his brow.

"You're where you should be right now — resting." He'd done too much, he thinks. Too much at once, pulled him away on an adventure right at the start. But he'll make up for it now, he'll take care of him while he heals, and there will be so much more to see soon. "Can you eat? Nothing with sugar this time."

Fortunately, that is not a joke that has gotten old with Thomas, and this is the first time he's hearing it. So he chuckles, mostly for his sake, and pushes himself up. "Ah, I suppose I could eat," he admits, though he doesn't know when he's had this much to eat in weeks, let alone two days.

He isn't feeling ill, though, and there's always room for more.

"It's only a bit." There's a glass of water there on the tray, along with the food, and when Thomas sits up, the Doctor makes a move to carefully rest the tray across his lap, if he's comfortable with it. There's the omelette, with a "unique" blend of ingredients — diced ham, a little cheese, fine herbes, a dollop of mayonnaise, and a finish on top of some crushed potato crisps. And there's just a small helping of strawberries in their own little bowl.

"When you've eaten, you'll take this medicine," he nods to the pills on the tray. "There's a mix of vitamins and nutrients there, to help you feeling better. The other pill — it will bind with any lead still in your body, help to expel it out." He always errs on the side of explaining as much as he can.

'Expel' sure is a word choice, Thomas thinks, but he doesn't know if he wants any more clarification than that. He trusts the Doctor and the doctor, so if they say that this is safe, then he has to and will trust them on it.

The omelette looks positively indulgent and Thomas takes it easy, just in case it's too heavy. The strawberries, though, he devours, so eager is he for fresh fruit.

"And - that's all? I'll feel better?" he marvels once he's eradicated the gnawing of hunger in his stomach.

"Not right away, but very soon, yes. You should feel stronger, your bones — the pain should ease — nearly reverse." How much it will ease, he can't be entirely sure, not knowing quite how badly his body was ravaged by disease and malnutrition, but the medicine is far, far advanced and should help to reverse so much of what Thomas had to suffer through.

"Alright," he agrees. Easy as that. Easy to trust and easy to take. He downs the pills with the water. "And now that I'm healed, or on my way, what's our next adventure?"

He asks not because he thinks the Doctor wants to tell him but because he genuinely wants to know. He's felt a little selfish so far, but he wants to know what they're doing next.

He's thrilled, of course, when Thomas asks, and he's even more happy at knowing he'll feel better soon. Or, he desperately hopes. Without asking or saying anything, the Doctor shifts and moves to stretch out on the other side of the bed for a moment, to lay beside Thomas. He crosses his fingers together and rests his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling as he makes a show of pondering. He reasons Thomas will shoo him away if he doesn't want him lying here like this.

"Oh, let's see...where next. There's so much I want to show you," he grins a little, eyes twinkling. "Your next adventure is a good long rest first. Bit boring, of course, but a prerequisite for travel. And then! Cocktails on the moon, or — a masquerade at Versailles, a museum at the end of the universe. That's only just scratching the surface!"

"The moon," he decides, stretching out beside him and sliding an arm around his waist, pulling close and kissing him. "The moon and then you can take me dancing like the people with money do. I think I'd like that now."

Because he'd be with the Doctor. Because they'd be together.

"And it will be perfectly grand," he smiles against his mouth for a moment as he kisses him again. His own arm wraps around him in return and he lets out a breath and hums a little, for the briefest of moments.

"I know that was a lot today, and you were braver than I probably would have been."

"I was not. You are the one who gives me courage," he says, resting his forehead against the Doctor's shoulder. "You have given me everything and you are - my anchor."

He has said almost as much before, but it bears repeating now. These quiet moments between adventures are going to be important, he knows. Each second spent like this means something.

It's a sentiment that's so deeply meaningful to him, so important that he just has to sit with it a moment, let it settle in his hearts. He smiles, though, kissing the top of Thomas' head, stroking his fingers through his hair.

The instinct to remark with something witty and slightly self-depracating takes only a moment to quell, and then, "There's a life we have now, Thomas, that's just beginning and I — didn't want this, never ever, I thought. It wasn't going to be mine. It belonged to everyone else, everyone and their...their happy lives, and it was all fleeting, and they would come and go and then I was alone. But there's you, now, here, and this life that I very desperately want to keep." And he didn't know that was possible, or that he could ever want it.

Thomas sits up and kisses him soundly. It's the only response that he has. Maybe it's the start of feeling better, or maybe it's just a rise in gratitude and love and - everything else that he feels for him.

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