Categories > TV > Doctor Who > Yours Truly, The Doctor
Yours Truly, The Doctor
0 reviewsThe Doctor sends Jack a letter after a very special night. NinthDoctor/Jack
1Moving
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Jack woke up with a start, starring at the grey metallic ceiling, he blinked and realized he was sitting up. Slumping back onto his pillow, he groaned and heard something crumple beneath his shoulder.
Intrigued, he rolled on his side and stared at the piece of folder paper. Scratching his head and he yawned widely with a back as he rolled his shoulders. Still musing on the pulp product, Jack picked it up and unfolded the paper.
Ignoring the distant humming of the TARDIS, Jack scanned the letter, various emotions being expressed across his face as they quickly travelled downwards.
To Jack,
I don't normally write letters. I find them odd to use. I never got used to them, having never having any use of them. They are hardly ever used after the early twentieth century on Earth, but I miss the parchment and ink in later centuries and worlds.
With a snort Jack shook his head, only the Doctor would think of something so silly, so inefficient as something more than early Human crude attempts at writing methods. By his time, they had been mere history.
This is written for last night. I'm pretty sure you remember it.
"Well of course I remember it! I was there, you know," mutter Jack, poking the letter peevishly.
If you want me to tell you, I'll be obliged, just ask me and I'll tell you, I'll show you in full photographic detail. The TARDIS is an amazing ship with all sorts of special features, that I only know about.
"Dirty old pervert," Jack snickered and then thought seriously of the written words. Jack frowned. "This could be difficult to get out of."
But the real reason of this letter is not to show you anything like that. I wanted to tell you more of what I felt last night but couldn't. For some reason it got caught up in my mouth and all that came out was strange gibberish.
"So that's what that was all about..." Jack murmured, thinking of the last night. There had been something about cats, which had puzzled him. Then, the Doctor had wanted to go out for Pizza? Jack shrugged, some things lost in the daze of sleep.
I wanted to say how much I felt about this moment. That was only ours. How much I loved the noises you made deep in your throat. Can I ever describe the exact feelings of the muscles tensing and unclenching under my finger tips? The expressions of trust. Your beauty, your ease.
"Oh..."
Most of all I wanted to say, how much I loved you, Jack...
Yours Truly
The Doctor
"Jack?"
He starts and looks up guiltily at the voice from the doorway. It's the Doctor and he can't help trying to hide the letter under the sheets. The Doctor notices this but.
"I see you've found my letter." He starts to say before stopping and looking awkwardly around the room. Jack follows his gaze to the floor, then the wall to the bed and finally back to him.
For a moment Jack was cross eyed.
Looking down, Jack nods, "Yeah..." He smiles as the Doctor walks over to the bed, smelling of soap and orange juice.
"Don't have anything to say, Jack?" The Doctor asks, sitting down beside him.
"Yeah... I think I do..." Grasping the Doctor's shirt, he pulls him into a slow, burning kiss. "I'd like to say, back to you."
The Doctor pushes him back on the bed, and smiles, real warmth entering his eyes, "That's fantastic Jack, really fantastic!"
Jack woke up with a start, starring at the grey metallic ceiling, he blinked and realized he was sitting up. Slumping back onto his pillow, he groaned and heard something crumple beneath his shoulder.
Intrigued, he rolled on his side and stared at the piece of folder paper. Scratching his head and he yawned widely with a back as he rolled his shoulders. Still musing on the pulp product, Jack picked it up and unfolded the paper.
Ignoring the distant humming of the TARDIS, Jack scanned the letter, various emotions being expressed across his face as they quickly travelled downwards.
To Jack,
I don't normally write letters. I find them odd to use. I never got used to them, having never having any use of them. They are hardly ever used after the early twentieth century on Earth, but I miss the parchment and ink in later centuries and worlds.
With a snort Jack shook his head, only the Doctor would think of something so silly, so inefficient as something more than early Human crude attempts at writing methods. By his time, they had been mere history.
This is written for last night. I'm pretty sure you remember it.
"Well of course I remember it! I was there, you know," mutter Jack, poking the letter peevishly.
If you want me to tell you, I'll be obliged, just ask me and I'll tell you, I'll show you in full photographic detail. The TARDIS is an amazing ship with all sorts of special features, that I only know about.
"Dirty old pervert," Jack snickered and then thought seriously of the written words. Jack frowned. "This could be difficult to get out of."
But the real reason of this letter is not to show you anything like that. I wanted to tell you more of what I felt last night but couldn't. For some reason it got caught up in my mouth and all that came out was strange gibberish.
"So that's what that was all about..." Jack murmured, thinking of the last night. There had been something about cats, which had puzzled him. Then, the Doctor had wanted to go out for Pizza? Jack shrugged, some things lost in the daze of sleep.
I wanted to say how much I felt about this moment. That was only ours. How much I loved the noises you made deep in your throat. Can I ever describe the exact feelings of the muscles tensing and unclenching under my finger tips? The expressions of trust. Your beauty, your ease.
"Oh..."
Most of all I wanted to say, how much I loved you, Jack...
Yours Truly
The Doctor
"Jack?"
He starts and looks up guiltily at the voice from the doorway. It's the Doctor and he can't help trying to hide the letter under the sheets. The Doctor notices this but.
"I see you've found my letter." He starts to say before stopping and looking awkwardly around the room. Jack follows his gaze to the floor, then the wall to the bed and finally back to him.
For a moment Jack was cross eyed.
Looking down, Jack nods, "Yeah..." He smiles as the Doctor walks over to the bed, smelling of soap and orange juice.
"Don't have anything to say, Jack?" The Doctor asks, sitting down beside him.
"Yeah... I think I do..." Grasping the Doctor's shirt, he pulls him into a slow, burning kiss. "I'd like to say, back to you."
The Doctor pushes him back on the bed, and smiles, real warmth entering his eyes, "That's fantastic Jack, really fantastic!"
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