Work Text:
Pitter Patter Pitter Patter
The Doctor looked up at the rain drops trailing down the glass covering atop the bus stop. The sound of the steady downpour surrounded him as puddles steadily formed near his feet.
He hadn’t really thought this through.
He hadn’t really had the presence of mind to think it through at the time though (something that was happening with disturbing frequency these days). Something set him off. Something would always set him off. There’d be conversations about the future, the unknowns, the what ifs that others were simply curious about and he was obsessing about. There’d be conversations about the past; Rose would ask him about his previous travels, previous companions, somedays about her namesake—oh and if those particular question didn’t just dig into him after so many millennia. Everything felt larger than life, bigger than everyone probably meant for it to. It was only small talk with friends and get to know you questions with the family he’d been pulled into. It would still send his hearts racing.
Sometimes it was something smaller, the types of things he thought didn’t bother him anymore. Today it was the pack of fish fingers he’d grabbed from Donna’s freezer a several hours before.
His eyes had barely grazed over the packaging before his mind started spinning. There was a whisper of names he could never forget, the fuzzy outline of memories he didn’t have the strength to relive. The laughter of 7-year-old Amelia Pond filtered through like a song from a dream. He wasn’t sure whether to follow it or block it out.
And then it would come back again. The itch. That desperate need to fling himself far, far away, to somewhere where no one knew him, or somewhere where he knew no one. The feeling he had flung himself so totally into when she’d met him. He wondered absently if it was worse when thinking of her specifically, but he could muse further on it later. Right now, he needed to move. Needed to run.
In a moment of weakness, back within his first month of trying very hard to stay still and stay put, he’d bolted to the TARDIS without a second thought. Muscle memory, he’d reasoned guiltily. He needed something that wasn’t those four walls, something that wasn’t domestic slowness and normality. He needed something that didn’t remind himself of the wrinkles and stray greys he never mentioned he saw on Donna and how they prodded at the grief and guilt that lived inside him. He didn’t pick a location, simply set the TARDIS to random and hoped for anything that let him run. He needed something tangible, something he could think about with knowledge of how to solve it. He never knew how to solve emotions.
After returning what had apparently been a week later, Donna had given him a proper scolding. He didn’t dare tell her it had been a bit longer than that for him. She’d glared at him, telling him off, understandably, for running off without a word. It was hard to stare back but he couldn’t help but notice her gaze was sad. Oh sure, she was obviously relieved under all the raging she was doing (he was used to seeing those emotions work in tandem in her expressions, especially when it came to him), but her eyes were sad. They sparkled with something so akin to grief that it choked any rebuttals right out of him. He couldn’t feign any sort of confidence or indignation under that stare. His hunched posture and nervous tugs at his ear conveyed nothing but apologies. When she’d run out of words to throw at him, she’d launched herself at him and they clung to each other, her making sure he was alright and him trying to assure her he was now. After a meal with the family, she properly banned him from TARDIS use with a finger wag and a propped hip. She later amended that he could if there was approval from an ADULT family member (Rose would be too eager to gallivant through the cosmos without a second thought).
He already hadn’t been supposed to use it. The point of retirement, at least in the eyes of everyone who had insisted upon it for him, was for him to simply stop. Walk the slow path. The TARDIS was too great a temptation and induced a state of adrenaline and frenzy in him that was quite the opposite of slow. But it was also home
He really had done a decent job of not skirting off for joy rides on the regular till then. Really, he had! Unfortunately, that particular time, there had been too much build up. It had been a very stressful first month of “being human” what with all the UNIT paperwork, and the abrupt and drastic shift in his daily routine. The addition of what most humans would ACTUALLY call a daily routine, complete with mealtimes and bedtimes and the like was far less comforting at first than they’d tried to convince him it would be.
He'd been a tad overwhelmed.
And unfortunately, Donna’s TARDIS ban didn’t really change his levels of overwhelm, just sort of forced him to sit in it until he crashed. Implosion or explosion, take your pick. Both were becoming an unfortunate staple of his time in the Temple-Noble house. He might wind up sobbing on the kitchen floor with no warning. He might snap at someone who had been asking him about his day. He might do both at the same time, getting choked up mid shout only to crumple in on himself in despair (those were truly the most embarrassing).
Today it hadn’t been either of those. Today he had simply left.
He’d had that itch. That urge to be anywhere else and for once he finally, properly, gave into it.
He moved.
He moved out of the kitchen after slamming the freezer door shut.
He moved past the living room where Donna and Sylvia were going back and forth about something he didn’t have the wherewithal to care about.
He moved out the door as he heard Donna distantly ask someone a question.
He moved down the street as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
He simply moved.
After a moment, that didn’t feel like enough either.
So, he ran.
He’d ran himself through the streets, through the winds, under the thundering sky, and through the sudden downpour. He let his breaths feel heavy and labored, relished the burn in his chest and cherished every heavy footfall that soon turned into rhythmic splashes. He didn’t know where he was. He wasn’t sure he cared either. He was glad to be running again even if it was from an enemy that wasn’t doing the same. Yes, in midst of all that mental fog and distress something felt as though it had slotted back into place. It all gave a sense of familiarity and somehow, even in the midst of a building meltdown, he felt right. He felt more right than he had in days.
When he’d finally gotten tired enough to stop, everything was aching. He couldn’t suck air in fast enough, hunched over, hands on his knees, rain pelting down against his back. He let the sound of it take over. The rush of water against pavement, the people, and the places of business, their chatter and buzz were the backing track to his hasty inhales. He’d let it all wash over him. Not knowing where he was, and not ready to even think about going back, he leaned against a lamppost for a moment, gazing about this way and that. Few people were still out and about, umbrellas and hoods obscuring most of their faces. He must have looked ridiculous in his trousers and white tee, hair plastered to his forehead He looked ‘round the corner of where he was and had simply begun to walk. Before long he’d found the bus stop.
A breeze passed through him, bringing him back to his cold sopping wet present and he grimaced at his own lack of foresight. Not exactly a new phenomenon but at the current moment it was a character trait he was not very fond of.
There were a lot of character traits that landed him here that he was not very fond of.
The sensation of something thumping against his knee however brought him out of that rabbit hole before it could start.
Looking down the Doctor was greeted by two big shining eyes staring up at him, nestled in a mop of brown fur. The creature’s ears raised slightly after making eye contact, and its head tilted between the two bumps that were his knees.
“Well, hello,” the Doctor said, unable to mask his surprise. “You’re rather friendly, aren’t you?”
The dog continued to stare at him, its matted fur dirty and dripping. Its tail swished slightly behind itself in response to the conversation, but it didn’t bother actually saying anything back.
“Are you alone?” the Doctor asked, glancing up and down the relatively empty street. People here and there were milling about—a mother walking alongside her child who was jumping in puddles gleefully, a middle aged couple dashing carefully down the side walks with their coats more over their heads than their bodies, a young woman tippity-tapping away on her phone with one hand and holding an umbrella in the other—but otherwise the streets were sparser than he’d initially realized, and no one seemed to be looking like they had lost a furry friend.
The dog let out a quiet bark to confirm his suspicions.
The Doctor smiled a little, sadly. “’S alright. I am too. I can keep you company. It’s nice when someone keeps you company.”
The dog lifted its head a little and barked at him.
“Oh no, I ran away from home. Bit different I’m afraid.”
The dog let out a series of questioning (and in the Doctor’s opinion, rather judgmental) barks.
“Oi! I had my reasons,” he squawked defensively.
The dog let out a questioning whine.
The Doctor tugged at his ear, “No I-, no they’re very nice people. More than nice really. They’re lovely. Downright brilliant, they are.” He shook his head. “Wasn’t their fault.”
The dog shifted in his lap, bringing its head a little closer. The Doctor lips quirked up slightly before he began to scratch behind his new companion’s ear.
“They really are lovely,” he repeated after a beat of silence, voice quieter now, near reverent. “Put up with me through all my little moments. I know if Donna heard me now, she’d tell me not to talk like that, but really, I can’t help it.” Of all the Nobles, Donna had suffered the most because of him. In his mind, she had more right than anyone to complain about his excursions and blow ups.
Blessedly, she didn’t.
The dog barked slightly, left ear raising.
“Oh, Donna’s my best friend,” the Doctor explained obligingly. “Donna Noble, she’s absolutely extraordinary, she is. Think you’d like her. You both have kind eyes”
His eyes widened and his fingers stilled at his own candor. The sincerity of his own words made the world spin slower for a moment. It wasn’t that he never complimented Donna. Far from it. He enjoyed flattering his friends immensely. It was fun to make them feel good, make them laugh and giggle. It was just-
Well, it was just so true.
And the Doctor’s compliments often didn’t reach that deep unless sufficiently provoked.
The sensation of wet fur and a cold nose skating across his still palm brought the Doctor back to reality and back to scratching duty. He stared across the street at a couple of teenagers, talking animatedly about something as they neared the cross walk. One was nodding along to something and the Doctor watched their curls bounce with the motion. He frowned.
“This is your fault,” he muttered decidedly, informing the dog, who had the nerve to innocently tilt its head. He didn’t bother elaborating, and ignored thoughts of kind eyes, curly hair, and movie nights under an obscene about of blankets and pillows. “Have you got a name?” he asked instead
The dog barked.
“Wallace? Bit more humany than I was expecting,” he commented, intrigued.
Wallace barked again. The Doctor leaned in.
“Really? Tell me more.”
Wallace barked a few more times in succession. The Doctor listened with rapt attention at a far too fanciful tale to be a real explanation. Even so it was nice to listen. He found himself grinned with amusement, brows raising and lowering with intrigue at the appropriate moments, and all together captivated, if a bit dubious.
“Alright now you’re pulling my leg-“
“What are you doing?”
The Doctor’s head whipped up. Staring down at him was Donna Noble, kind eyes and fiery hair framing a, frankly scarily neutral, face.
The Doctor without missing a beat, gestured to the dog he was still scratching. “Was talking to Wallace. Wallace, this is Donna. Donna this is Wallace!”
Wallace barked in acknowledgement, before looking at the Doctor an additional comment.
“Hush you,” the Doctor responded, bopping the dog on the nose with a finger.
Wallace went cross-eyed for a moment, before settling his head back in the Doctor’s lap.
Donna stood dumbfounded for a minute before looking to the Doctor mouth forming a question.
“I speak dog,” he informed her readily.
She stared at him, brows simultaneously creasing and raising in either disbelief or exasperation.
He decided both were equally entertaining. “I speak everything.”
Donna sighed, a deep long-suffering sigh, and suddenly her reactions had become far less amusing.
Her eyes were tired, the creases across her face, especially between her brows, were more prevalent, and she hadn’t smiled once since he’d seen her.
Guilt and dread made their home between his hearts.
“Will Wallace mind if I sit?” she asked, somewhat sarcastically.
The Doctor knew she might not have been being entirely genuine with her question but still felt it rude not to check. He chanced a glance at Wallace who seemed perfectly comfortable, quite relaxed, and quite silent.
“Nah, he doesn’t seem to have any complaints,” the Doctor said, prompting Donna to sink down onto the bench beside him.
He didn’t dare look at her, keeping his attention on Wallace and his tail that was now swishing side to side in a rather pleased manner. That was the only sound to be heard besides the drops of rain pitter pattering all around them. He knew he ought to say something, explain himself, apologize, anything, but for once he felt a little lost for words.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
He blinked, and his features scrunched, as if he could find the answer hidden in the depths of Wallace’s fur.
“I don’t know,” he quietly admitted.
So they didn’t.
The Doctor waited about 5 minutes for more cajoling, but he was met with nothing. No attempts to coerce him into talking. Donna just…sat. And it was pleasant but it was far too strange. He felt as though he was doing something wrong, and yet the moment felt more than right.
Two times today that’s happened now, he thought to himself.
He just scratched Wallace. There was nothing else for him to do but scratch Wallace and wonder about Donna. He scratched Wallace’s ears, under his chin, the sides of his face. He stroked the fur on his back, all unfortunate matts and tangles. He stared into those big, dark, kind eyes and they stared right back, and he felt full in a way he couldn’t describe.
Donna eventually started telling him about the day, what he missed of it, updating him on the house’s goings ons. Rose had had her science exam today. Grades hadn’t come back yet, but she’d felt confident she did alright. Shaun’s day had apparently been rather uneventful, although he had met a particularly chatty fellow today taxying that had apparently reminded him of the Doctor. She didn’t talk much about her own day, which the Doctor took to mean it had been long and taxing, long and boring, or a horrible terrible blend of both. Wilf had called that evening and was doing well. Wanted to see them soon for a bit of stargazing.
It was all so terribly normal. Slow. Quiet.
It was nice.
The background noise of rain showers blending with Donna’s quiet delivery and the soft happy panting from Wallace all just…worked.
Life, out of nowhere, had started feeling alright again. It made no sense to him, and he couldn’t piece together why this kind of slowness was comforting when it should have been suffocating. He didn’t understand the relevant variables or the pattern or anything at all about it. But he felt it. Calm had blanketed itself around him in a warm hug and, in the midst of rain, distant thunder, and a gloomy London street, he found himself at peace.
This same strangeness reminded him of just how frigid it actually was and how only one of them had the physiology that allowed them to ignore it.
“Are you cold?” he asked, during a lull in their conversation. Well not conversation. Conversations usually implied the other person was responding at all.
“Are you?” she asked, unhelpfully reflecting the question back onto him.
He wasn’t. It was a little nippy, but that was just a fact. It didn’t reflect his current state of being. He wasuncomfortably wet, his clothes sticking to him in ways they shouldn’t. Recognizing the time, he realized he had also probably missed dinner by now. Running away from home had its downsides
He looked down at Wallace, just as drenched, all on his own, probably hungry, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. He looked at Donna.
“Spaceman-“
“He hasn’t got anyone”
“You can’t possibly know that for sure.
“I speak dog, Donna,” he helpfully reminded her. She rolled her eyes all the way to the heavens, but she thankfully didn’t try to argue that.
“I can’t just randomly bring a stray home on a whim,” she tried instead, “I have a family to consider, Doctor!”
“You brought me home on a whim!” he retorted.
“You know that is completely different,” she groaned, a bit of classic Donna fire coming back to her voice.
“How?” he demanded. “I hadn’t had my shots-“
“You take shots?”
“I get into things I’m not supposed to all the time,” he said, steamrolling over the question. “I was wild Donna! If anything, I’m probably worse behaved than Wallace would ever be!”
She was trying not to grin, and he could see it in the twitch of her lips. His own grin doubled in size.
“Just for a bit? So, he doesn’t have to stay in the rain?”
Both boys looked at her with their big brown eyes shining.
When Donna Noble walked through her front door, she arrived with two soggy, wet, big-eyed strays for her family to gawk at.
Both of said strays, at least, seemed very pleased.