“Well OB-viously, darling, we hold them over the top of each pumpkin while they pull out the goo, which is wonderfully disgusting, and then we sit them on workstools for the rest, and we finish what they can’t when they get too fatigued! We’re going for a festive high-point here!”
Koschei clasps Jack by the face, a palm on each cheek, and chuckles at his perpetual clean-shavenness.
“Lemme just remind you, I’ve seen our ‘end,’ if end is the right word for it, and I know we are eternal, you and me.”
The word means so much more to his husband, and he knows it, and he applies it to the pressure point with the accuracy of aim that can be either devastating or infinitely comforting. It’s his particular talent.
“You know, sometimes, I think that’s why they left me behind on that game station. Figured I’d be fine in the end, I’d figure a way out of there one way or another. I mean, sure, he was regenerating, I get that. But then nothing after that? Yeah, I was never gonna need them. Not like I need you.”
He’d be marinating in bitterness, save for the way Jack chose to conclude. As is, Koschei can’t help but exude warm affection. He reaches out to caress Jack’s ever-soft cheek, familiar and gentle.
“Yeah,” is all he says: happy to confirm to whom he belongs.
Jack takes that hand that reaches for him, turning it palm up to kiss it and pulls him close. “Unsure on the ‘saviour’ part, but that deep, existential need? Yeah, that’s got you written all over it. So come here, hubby, and give us kiss.”
“Well I’m sorry, but I DO believe you’ll have to apply for a husbandly snog.”
Koschei pulls coquettishly away from Jack, stands and saunters to the other end of his TARDIS.
“We accept submissions to the slotbox at the front of the vehicle, or, if you prefer an expedited process, you may woo the recipient directly.”
The magnitude of the answer is beyond him to speak, so Koschei only laughs wetly.
“Oh, sweet boy, come here,” she says, pulling him in for a massive hug, even though she’s several inches shorted than him. She hasn’t a clue about his secrets or his past, but she doesn’t care about them either. She’s seen him in the here and now, with her son and her grandchildren, and that tells her all she needs to know about him. “You have such a gentle heart, no matter how beaten up it is.”
Koschei flings his hands over his face just as it completely crumbles; he still manages another laugh thick with withheld tears. He bends at the waist and crushes his face completely into his mother-in-law’s shoulder.
“Hearts, mum, Time Lords have two,” he shakily corrects, despite what he says having absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand.
He hesitates, shoulders trembling.
“I have never been gentle to anything in my life.”
“Two hearts? That means you are twice as kind,” she says, holding him close and gently rocking him. “You’ve never been gentle to anything? Then who was it who sat with my granddaughter this morning and listened patiently to all her wandering stories? And who was my grandson cuddled up to watching the sunset yesterday? Who came to me when I was at the asylum and lifted me out of my bed and rescued me?”
She pulls back enough to kiss his forehead. “My sweet, sweet boy, you are nothing but gentle.”
Koschei sighs another laugh. He can’t deny that the rhythm of Laura’s rocking soothes him.
“I am MADE gentle by the people who inexplicably orbit me,” he insists, pulling back to hastily wipe his eyes, and kiss her forehead. “I would not have had it in me to lift you from your bed and rescue you had you not been an incandescent beacon of kindness, and what’s more, had your son not loved me, and made me love him, and made me just want him to be happy.”
He shrugs, and tilts his head in contemplation.
“It’s a chemical reaction. Good people catalyze goodness in their lessers.”
The magnitude of the answer is beyond him to speak, so Koschei only laughs wetly.
“Oh, sweet boy, come here,” she says, pulling him in for a massive hug, even though she’s several inches shorted than him. She hasn’t a clue about his secrets or his past, but she doesn’t care about them either. She’s seen him in the here and now, with her son and her grandchildren, and that tells her all she needs to know about him. “You have such a gentle heart, no matter how beaten up it is.”
Koschei flings his hands over his face just as it completely crumbles; he still manages another laugh thick with withheld tears. He bends at the waist and crushes his face completely into his mother-in-law’s shoulder.
“Hearts, mum, Time Lords have two,” he shakily corrects, despite what he says having absolutely nothing to do with the matter at hand.
He hesitates, shoulders trembling.
“I have never been gentle to anything in my life.”
Koschei looks up from his favorite lounging spot, naked, on Jack’s chest, leeching his warmth like a cat does a spot of sun, and the dictionary definition of smug.
“Flattery may get you everywhere but don’t expect me to want to move anywhere anytime soon, regardless.”
Jack laughs, hard enough to shuffle his husband. “Actually, I’m more concerned about the Time Lord-shaped tan line, but hey, as long as you’re comfortable, right?”
“Well alright, you bounder, turn over onto your stomach and I’ll make sure both sides match.”
“I’ll tell you a secret: the Doctor isn’t interested in you unless you need them. And I don’t mean need them to carry your parcels or give you driving directions. I mean need them in a deep, aching, existential way. I mean you’re looking for a savior. They can’t resist. Not one. Single. Time.”
“You know, sometimes, I think that’s why they left me behind on that game station. Figured I’d be fine in the end, I’d figure a way out of there one way or another. I mean, sure, he was regenerating, I get that. But then nothing after that? Yeah, I was never gonna need them. Not like I need you.”
He’d be marinating in bitterness, save for the way Jack chose to conclude. As is, Koschei can’t help but exude warm affection. He reaches out to caress Jack’s ever-soft cheek, familiar and gentle.
“Yeah,” is all he says: happy to confirm to whom he belongs.
Icarus 