inthisformiambadwolf:

Requested Anonymously

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Truth serums were the tools of science fiction and weirder subgenres of fantasy, not reality. Although, if we’re being honest, you should have been prepared for any and all fantasy to enter into reality as long as you were traveling with the Doctor.

In case you haven’t guessed it, yes, you got hopped up on some nasty truth serum.

In your defense, this was totally not your fault. A human being could hardly be expected to be wary of random truth serum-injecting plants that no one bothered to warn you about. It wasn’t really the Doctor’s fault, either, except maybe through a lack of care, but you couldn’t expect him to remember every danger lurking on every planet you visited, so you could hardly blame him. So, there was nobody to be mad at about your predicament, which meant that the only thing you could legitimately take your anger out on was a plant that you never wanted to go anywhere near again.

There was a nasty-looking swirl of discolored skin on your calf from where a thorn on some sort of creeping vine had snagged your skin open. It didn’t actually feel that bad, and with the Doctor’s application of numbing agents, it didn’t feel like much of anything, but it still looked horrifically painful, which was probably what kept the Doctor hovering anxiously over you and applying totally unnecessary first aid measures.

“Never going that planet again,” the Doctor muttered, fussing without actually accomplishing anything. “Not ever. Should’ve remembered that vine, blasted thing, it’s always trouble, each and every time I come here, I swear to-”

“I want you to stop talking,” you blurted out, and immediately winced at your own rudeness. You usually got the Doctor to shut up via much politer and more tactful methods. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I know you can’t help it,” the Doctor assured you, not looking at all offended by your gracelessly truthful speech. “It’ll go away in an hour, don’t you worry. Do you want me to leave you here while it wears off, or…?”

“Yes!” you immediately answered, followed by, “Or, no. I don’t know. I want you to go because I don’t want to say anything embarrassing in front of you but I want you to stay because you make me feel nice.”

The Doctor paused, his whole body stilling except for a quiver of movement that shook the gravity-defying strands of his hair. “I make you feel… nice?”

“Obviously,” you said, and your stomach lurched with fear. You couldn’t make yourself stop talking. “Not always, though. Sometimes you make me feel very sad and I wish that I didn’t like you so much.”

The Doctor’s lips twisted into a slight grimace. “Oh.”

“But I do like you so much. You’re worth it. More than worth it.” Stop talking, stop talking. “Because everything’s got happy pieces and sad pieces and you’re just like everything, but I love your sad pieces as much as I love your happy pieces.”

The Doctor’s mouth fell slack, displeased grimace completely taken over by a baffled expression. “You… do?”

“I love all the pieces of you,” you sighed happily even though your insides were twisting themselves into painful knots. You had just- the truth serum made you admit- you might as well have said- “I love you.”

Blast it.

The Doctor shuddered, the motion shaking his whole body, as he stared at you, taking you in. You were a mess from trekking through an alien jungle and getting attacked by an angry vine full of truth serum, but that’s not what he saw. He only saw dilated pupils, clammy skin, the fully purple color surrounding your wound. Symptoms of the plant’s full effect: you were telling the truth, whether you wanted to or not, whether you were aware of it or not.

You were telling the truth, and you loved him.

“Oh, thank Rassilon,” he sighed, and gathered you into his arms for the fiercest kiss that a Gallifreyan could give.