starting another fic with no actual estimated chapter count

a madness shared by two (ten/rose, 1/?)

This can’t be right. Absolutely can’t be. Because the Doctor is one-hundred-percent certain that he would remember shagging Rose Tyler. And he doesn’t.

The Doctor wakes up in a bed he doesn’t recognize.

That’s not really what throws him, though. Even if the unfamiliar location is a little disconcerting, he’s woken up in far, far stranger places than a comfortable bed with soft sheets and plush pillows. At this point, if he wakes up in an unfamiliar place that isn’t immediately identifiable as a prison cell or a laboratory (of the evil persuasion), the Doctor generally counts it as a win.

No, what really throws him is the fact that he’s waking up at all. He’d slept for a few hours just two days ago, and he shouldn’t have needed to sleep again so soon. And yet he’s definitely been sleeping. As far as he can tell, he hasn’t been drugged, or knocked out, or subject to any of the plethora of unpleasant things which can induce unconsciousness in a Time Lord. There’s nothing foreign lingering in his system, no chemical aftertaste in his mouth, no residual pain from a physical altercation. There’s just the familiar sensation of his brain kicking back into gear after a period of rest, along with the ache of his muscles protesting when he starts to move towards getting up and out of the strange bed. And – well. That’s…different.

 He doesn’t usually sleep naked.

Keep reading