𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬
𝟐𝟏𝟒𝟓

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

Amy and Rory thought the Doctor and I had died out in the forest.

By the time we stumbled back to Alonium's home, they were in the middle of a heated argument—Amy, ever the hero, insisting they go out and rescue us, while Rory tried to talk sense into her, arguing they'd have better luck finding something useful back at the TARDIS.

They froze when we burst through the doors, both turning wide-eyed in our direction. Relief flooded their faces, and for a moment, Amy looked torn between hugging us and smacking us upside the head. She settled for a huff and a glare that promised a later scolding, while Rory just sighed in relief.

The rest of the night was spent fixing Alonium's heinie-enhancer elixir to ensure he stopped turning women into fucking unicorns. The Doctor and I worked through the formulas, correcting his mistakes and brewing a fresh batch of antidote for the ladies still prancing around as unicorns against their will.

By the time we finally made it back to the TARDIS, the sun was rising, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. We were exhausted—well, Amy, Rory, and I were. The Doctor, in true infuriating fashion, was already bouncing on his toes, rambling about our next destination like we hadn't just spent hours dancing with nomads and brewing potions.

Nothing between us had changed—at least, not outwardly. We hadn't mentioned to Amy or Rory that we were now casual partners. Well, he's my casual boyfriend—but he's certainly not treating me like a casual girlfriend. He practically treats me like a wife.

Casual, my ass.

The TARDIS thrummed with life, the central column rising and falling in a steady, rhythmic pulse. The Doctor whirled around the console like a manic storm, all flailing limbs and wild energy, his hands flipping switches and yanking levers with reckless enthusiasm. The room was awash in golden light, the hum of the engines blending with his rapid-fire suggestions as he plotted our next adventure.

"Ooooh, I've got it! The Hanging Gardens of Babylon! No, wait—bad idea, someone tried to set them on fire last time I visited. Not my fault. Mostly. Right! How about the Great Moons-Winter Festival of Zallinox? Oh, it's brilliant, full of floating lanterns and six-armed jugglers. Or maybe—hold on—Venus, 3034! Anyone up for surfing? I know you are, dearest! No, no, no—Wait, I know! The Cosmic Burlesque of—"

He kept going, bouncing around the console with the energy of a hurricane, barely stopping to breathe. Amy and Rory were watching him with varying degrees of exhaustion—Amy perched against the railing with her arms crossed, eyebrow raised, while Rory sat slumped on the stairs.

I didn't say a word. Only hummed in response to his surfing suggestion, but he did not notice as he kept prattling—flipping switches to his beloved ship.

I turned and walked away.

No dramatic exit, no witty remark—just quiet, measured steps leading me down the corridor and away from the console room. I suppose if the Doctor really is my boyfriend now, I at least had a chance to partake in an Earth trend from 2147 that I have been curious about for a while.

The voices continued behind me, the Doctor still rambling, Amy occasionally cutting in, Rory sighing. It wasn't until I was halfway down the corridor, my boots echoing softly against the gridded floor, that I heard the Doctor calling for me. He had just realized that I had left.

"PJ?"

The Doctor's voice rang out, cutting through the air with that curious mix of concern and confusion.

I ignored it. Not for any specific reason—I just like ruffling his feathers. And being a dramatic bitch.

"PJ?" He tried again, louder this time.

Amy and Rory must have noticed because their voices soon joined his.

"PJ, where'd you go?" Rory called.

"Oi, at least tell us when you're running off!" Amy added, sounding equal parts amused and exasperated.

I didn't answer. Mostly because I was too busy trying to think about the last time I had baked.

See—cooking, I can do. Cooking I am generally good at.

Baking, on the other hand... that's a little more of a questionable skill.

My feet carried me forward, past the familiar winding corridors of the TARDIS, past the soft golden glow of the walls that pulsed like a heartbeat.

By the time I stepped inside the kitchen, I was already pulling ingredients from the cupboards, my hands moving on autopilot. Flour, sugar, butter, eggs—I think that is all I need?

Ah, baking.

I reached for a bowl and cracked an egg against the rim a little too aggressively. The yolk slipped into the mix with a little bit of shell. I eyed it suspiciously.

Yeah, that will probably be fine. With that, I grabbed another egg and did much the same thing.

"Oi," A familiar voice huffed from the doorway.

I turned and smiled at my friend.

Amy stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with that sharp, assessing gaze of hers. There was no immediate scolding, no lecture—just quiet scrutiny as she took in the scene before her.

She sighed. "Why'd you just randomly leave? You had us worried."

I cringed before focusing on measuring the sugar—something about it seemed off, but I shrugged and dumped it in anyway.

"Super sorry," I said geniuenly. "But..." My tongue poked between my teeth. "I figured it best to leave wordlessly less risk telling you all and having the Doctor try to insert himself in my baking cupcakes for him..." I trailed before hastily adding. "And you and Rory—if you two would like some!"

The TARDIS hummed softly around me, its dim kitchen lighting casting a warm glow over the countertops, the gleaming silver appliances, and the absolute disaster I was currently making. Flour dusted the air like mist, sugar granules scattered across the surface like tiny, glimmering stars, and there was already a smear of butter on my shirt. Not my best work, but then again, baking was never really about precision, was it?

The Doctor asked me to be his girlfriend. And I technically said yes.

So here I was. Baking for him.

Not just baking—baking him cupcakes.

Because, in 2147, Earth girls did this sort of thing for new boyfriends. Sweetness and fun, they called it. This was one of the few trends that I had always wanted to participate in but never had a reason to do until now.

Plus, it's the perfect excuse to try and make cupcakes.

And the Doctor will need to eat them and enjoy them—even if he needs to lie about enjoying them. Because only an actual douche would tell their new girlfriend that they hated the cupcakes they baked for them to their face.

I smirked at the thought.

Especially considering I'd just dumped in an indeterminate amount of questionable sugar.

The thought made me pause, my fingers tightening around the measuring cup. Something about the sugar still seemed... off. It didn't glisten the way it should, the texture slightly different. Had the TARDIS given me something weird? I shrugged to myself and dumped even more in anyway.

"You're making cupcakes?" Amy asked as if she did not believe me.

Amy didn't call for Rory or the Doctor. Didn't bother telling them she had found me. Instead, she slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, her sharp gaze watching my every move.

"Yep," I hummed happily, biting my bottom lip as I grabbed the whisk and stirred aggressively. "For the Doctor!"

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I dunno... well, I do know, but it's not that important."

She narrowed her eyes. "Uh-huh. Right, so what's the reason?"

I sighed, tapping the whisk against the bowl. "On Earth, in 2147, it became a trend for women to bake cupcakes for new boyfriends. It symbolizes sweetness and fun or some sentimental nonsense like that. I just thought it could be fun to participate... y'know..." I weakly ended in a small cough.

Silence. Amy blinked at me. I blinked back.

"Wait—what?" Her eyes widened, her brain catching up to what I'd just said. "Oh my God—you and the Doctor are together? Officially!"

I winced at her volume. "Kinda sorta maybe yes?"

Amy gasped, leaning forward like I'd just announced I was secretly the Queen of England. "But—but he mentioned that future-you is his girlfriend, he never said that he asked you! This-you, that is!" Her hands smacked against the countertop in sheer excitement. "Blimey, I'm so happy for you two—Oi! So that was a double date we just went on, yeah?"

I scoffed but nodded, making my way over to one of the cupboards. "In a way. And we are very casual boyfriend-girlfriend, nothing too serious..."

Without much thought, I reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Amy's excitement faltered just long enough for her to frown. "Uhm—what are you—?"

I twisted the cap off, took a swig, then promptly poured a very generous amount straight into the batter.

Amy's mouth fell open.

"...Is that supposed—?"

"See," I interrupted, setting the bottle aside and whisking with renewed enthusiasm, "he asked me after he turned me back from being a unicorn—that's why it took us so long to come back."

Amy, shaking it off, smacked the table again. "I knew something had to have happened!"

"Yeah..." I stirred absently, then perked up. "We kissed too—did you know he has two tongues?"

Amy gasped. "No, he doesn't!"

I snickered. "He does! Ask him to open his mouth and show you!" I told her.

She threw a napkin at me. "He does not, you're just pulling my leg..." Amy laughed but still looked at me with wide, brown, doe-like eyes. "Right?"

"You'll need to check for yourself," I laughed and continued with my prior point. "But yeah—he asked me, and at first, I said no—"

"WHAT?!" Amy nearly fell off her chair. "Why?!"

I shrugged. "Why would I say yes? We're not Earth-lians, and labels are such a human concept. I mean, do we really need to put a label on it? Can't we just kiss and flirt and banter and fuck if we want—?"

"Oi!" Amy cackled, cutting me off before I could finish that statement. "First of all—you're still human... I get you were mostly raised in space and all, but you are still human, PJ..."

Guilt stirred in my abdomen. I shoved it down—angry that I even felt guilty. It wasn't a total lie anyway—I technically am human. Half-human, at least. That's like an entire 50%.

"What? It's true!" I exclaimed, gesturing wildly with my whisk. "Why do we need to put a label on it? We already live together in the TARDIS."

Amy crinkled her nose but smiled. "Because he loves you," she said simply, "and I think you love him."

I faltered for just a second, my stirring slowing. I did love him—I loved all three of them. The Doctor, Amy, and Rory... I loved most people whom I considered to be my friends. But I knew the truth; the love I felt for the Doctor was more than just platonic.

Amy tilted her head, voice coming out knowing. "Typically, when people love each other, they want something tying them together... even crazy space people like you two, I envision."

I huffed, looking away. Fighting the blush on my cheeks.

Amy smirked. "Oh, you so love him."

I groaned. "Sure, but I never thought someone like the Doctor would be into labels. But I guess I'm not that surprised..."

I dipped my finger in the batter, tasted it, frowned, then—on instinct—grabbed the vanilla extract and dumped a good amount into the bowl.

Amy cringed. Was it too much? "Uhm... are you sure—"

Nah, there can never be enough vanilla extract.

"I got this."

Amy just nodded her head, remaining supportive.

"Although..." I frowned. "I might've put a bit too much Jack Daniels in there..."

"PJ, ask yourself this: does Jack Daniels belong in cupcakes?" Amy deadpanned, lips pursed.

"Jack Daniels belongs in everything," I said immediately, reaching over and taking another swing—jittering at the strong taste, a shiver rolling through my body. "ACK—!" I coughed, a smile on my face as I wiped my lips and put the bottle back. "Always hits the spot!" I hummed at the buzz that took over my body.

Amy was watching, her mouth agape.

"Do you want some?" I asked, handing the bottle out to her.

She eyed it for a moment before shrugging and grabbing it. "Just a sip," She sighed and tried to do as I did—taking a swing from the glass.

However, her eyes widened, and she ripped it from her lips—violently coughing.

"Bloody hell—what is this? Is even this Jack Daniels?" She sputtered through heavy coughing.

"Of course it is!" I defensively spouted, taking the bottle back from her and spinning around while re-hiding it in the cupboards. "Well, mostly... River Song mixed like 25% of it with an unnamed whiskey brand from some unnamed planet during the 1800s... strong stuff... but good!"

"That is not good..." Amy slurred, seemingly already tipsy from just the small sip she'd taken. "I hate you so much..."

"No, you don't," I laughed, adding more flour to my cupcake batter to solidify it. "What color should the cupcakes be?"

Amy sighed, lightly slapping her cheek to keep herself aware. "Colour? What do you mean, what colour? What flavor are they?"

I thoughtfully eyed the batter as I brought the whisk up and licked it—salty, strong, and sweet. It almost tasted like eating something immensely savory dipped in something entirely too sweet. The Jack Daniels added—oddly enough—a slightly spicy undertone to it.

"Hmm," I hummed. "I don't really know how to describe it, here—" I held out the whisk for her to take a lick, my eyes watching her hopefully.

Amy leaned forward, sniffing the whisk slightly, and recoiled as though the pure scent of it burned her nose hairs. Actually, it might just be the whiskey.

"Yeah, no, I'm okay, thanks," She said, shaking her head as if just being near the batter might poison her.

"Oh, come on!" I whined, wiggling the whisk in her direction. "Just one little taste! I need a second opinion."

"You don't need a second opinion," She shot back.

I pouted, dramatically thrusting the whisk closer. "Please?"

Amy groaned, rubbing her temples as if bracing herself for something horrible. "Fine," she muttered. "One tiny taste, and if I die, I'm haunting you."

"That's fair," I grinned.

With an expression of deep regret, Amy leaned forward and hesitantly flicked her tongue against the batter. The second it hit her taste buds, she gagged so violently I thought she might actually throw up on the counter.

"Oh, what the hell—PJ, what is that?!" She gasped, clutching her throat like I had just poisoned her.

I blinked at her. "Uh... cupcakes?"

"That's not cupcakes! That's—" She spluttered, shaking her head as if trying to physically rid herself of the experience. "That's suffering!"

I laughed, tapping the whisk against the edge of the bowl. "Yeah, but what color does it taste like?"

Amy stared at me like I had lost my mind. "I—What?! I don't know?! Regret?"

"Gold it is." I shrugged, grabbing a random golden-colored extract from the cupboard and dumping it in without bothering to measure.

The batter, previously a murky, questionable brown, swirled and shifted before settling into a deep, shimmering gold.

Amy, still gagging, watched this happen in complete and utter horror. "That's so off-putting," she muttered, her voice hoarse. "A total lie for the batter to look like that and taste how it does..."

I smirked, spinning the whisk between my fingers.

Amy sighed, rubbing her face before giving me a wary glance. "PJ," She started, her voice soft, like she was trying to be gentle, "maybe—just maybe—you should start over? Y'know, this time, I can help, and we'll make something that won't be classified as a biochemical weapon?"

I waved her off. "Nonsense! The Doctor will love these. Well, the Jack Daniels might've been a little much..."

Amy let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a strangled laugh. "Sure thing," She muttered under her breath as I started spooning the bizarre golden batter into cupcake liners, completely unbothered by her obvious doubts.

With absolutely zero care for precision, I shoved the tray into the oven, slamming the door shut and twisting the temperature dial to... some number. Did I check? No. Did it matter? Also no.

Amy stared at the oven as if it might explode at any second.

"Right," She sighed, plopping down onto a chair. "Well, if the kitchen doesn't catch fire, I'll be amazed."

I grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and shoved it in front of her. "Here, drink this."

Amy didn't hesitate—she snatched the cup and guzzled the water down in record time, desperately trying to wash the taste of whiskey-soaked disaster out of her mouth.

If not being able to bake properly didn't put the Doctor off from wanting me as his girlfriend, then nothing will. Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but still, most people want a partner who can bake.

"Oi, here you two are!"

Amy and I turned only to see the Doctor and Rory entering.

"Thanks for telling us you've found her, Amelia." The Doctor scolded sarcastically, bringing his arm up to look at the golden watch on his wrist. "It's only been ten minutes!"

"It took you both ten minutes to check the kitchen?" I quirked a brow. "Where the fuck did you check first?"

"Language!" The Doctor yelped, lips drawn into a frown.

Rory proceeded to list seven rooms they had checked before the kitchen. "The workshop, the training rooms, the library, the pools, your bedroom, the Doctor's bedroom, Amy and my room, the art gallery, the trampoline room—"

I cut him off, my nose crinkled. "Half of those are just absurd options to check before the kitchen... and you have a trampoline room?" I directed the last part toward the Doctor.

He looked at me with glittering eyes and a big smile. "Sometimes! The TARDIS changes it around a lot..." He chirped, strutting forward.

But Amy stopped him by standing up and storming in front of him. He went cross-eyed, looking down at her questioningly.

Amy squared her shoulders, standing firm in front of the Doctor like a woman on a mission. "Alright," she demanded, hands on her hips. "Open your mouth."

The Doctor blinked, taken aback. "Pardon?"

"Your mouth," Amy repeated, wiggling her fingers at him like she was about to pry it open herself. "Open it. Wide. Say 'ahh'."

The Doctor glanced at me, then at Rory, as if either of us could provide an answer for whatever bizarre test Amy was administering. When the only answer he got was a confused shrug from Rory, he sighed dramatically before obliging, parting his lips and sticking out his tongue.

Amy leaned forward, squinting at him in intense concentration, then frowned. "Oi, you just have one tongue!"

The Doctor immediately snapped his mouth shut, brows furrowing in deep offense. "Of course, I only have one tongue!" He scoffed. "How many do you have?"

Amy huffed, turning sharply to glare at me, realization dawning. "You liar!" She accused, but there was amusement in her voice.

I snickered, shrugging innocently. "What can I say? It felt like he had two tongues, plus your reaction was priceless."

The Doctor gasped, clutching his chest like I had personally insulted his very existence. "You told her I have two tongues? So you're just in here spreading rumors about me—" he sputtered, eyes wide and voice both accusatory and undeniably amused.

"Well, you do have two hearts, and with how you use that tongue, gosh, coulda fooled me..." I smiled sweetly, noticing how his entire face went pink at my suggestive words. "And I'm actually in here baking you cupcakes..."

The Doctor's whole body went still, his mouth hanging open as his face remained a soft shade of pink. He blinked rapidly. "Baking me cupcakes—?"

I nodded, turning back to check the oven. The golden batter had risen perfectly, and the cupcakes were nearly done. I grinned, pleased at what I saw.

"Yeah!" I said, glancing at him over my shoulder. "It's a trend on Earth in 2147, y'know! New girlfriends bake cupcakes for their boyfriends! Symbolizes sweetness, and fun, and all that nonsense. And since you are so adamant about using Earth-like labels, I figured I might as well hop on board."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm aware of the trend." The Doctor spoke before a slow, mischievous grin crept across his face. "But," he started, stepping closer. "If you're not fond of the word girlfriend then how about..."

He rocked back on his heels, hands slipping into his pockets as he rattled off a series of alien words, each one rolling effortlessly off his tongue. "Mælanin? Jor'tasha? Kivori?" His voice took on different lilts and cadences, adjusting with each new language. "Sovreen, Alluri, Peśka, Viro, Ma Copine D'amour—"

I scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Alright, show-off, we get it. You're old, and you know a lot of languages."

The Doctor's grin widened. "Well, anyone as old as me should know that many languages. How about it, though, any of those words tickle your fancy?"

"Please don't ever say 'tickle my fancy' again." I scoffed in disgust at the phrase while desperately trying not to think about how many different terms he used for the words 'girlfriend and love'.

If I thought about it too deeply, I would be left blushing and giggling like a pathetic person.

"How about your employee?" I asked him.

The Doctor waved it off. "No, been there, done that..."

Before I could retort, Rory leaned toward Amy, lowering his voice like he was asking for clarification on a complex math problem. "I'm confused."

Amy gave a knowing smirk, glancing at me before turning back to Rory. "They're boyfriend and girlfriend now," She explained. "Well... very casually, according to PJ."

Rory's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Casually, please," he muttered under his breath, his tone carrying a hint of bitterness.

I turned back to him, arms crossed, smirking. "As if you could handle anything more than casual," I teased. "Have you met yourself?"

The Doctor exhaled sharply, pretending to be wounded, but there was a knowing gleam in his eyes as he rocked back on his heels, watching me with something dangerously close to fondness.

"Yeah, I have," He smirked. "You know my history..." He sang, alluding to the fact that he was once a married man with children—as though to tell me that he could easily commit to something more than casual.

"My point exactly." I rolled my eyes, turning and grabbing a weird-looking oven mit from one of the many drawers.

"History? What history?" Amy was immediately firing, her eyes looking back and forth between us. "Doctor, what're you talking about? What's your history?" Amy was eagerly asking—obviously more than curious about her imaginary friend.

The Doctor tried to wave her off, but Amy was not having it—only hitting him ten times harder with her questions. The Doctor looked to Rory pleading, as though begging the man to call off his fiancé, but Rory only shrugged.

Opening the oven, I freed the golden muffins—the bread having risen to create the perfect little circular tops.

Wait... muffins? No, these are cupcakes.

I placed the tray down on the counter and hit myself on the forehead while laughing.

"Stupid me," I laughed lightly, walking to the refrigerator to find the icing.

The Doctor noticed the motion, taking full advantage as he expertly evaded more of Amy's nosy questions. I could not exactly blame her—the Doctor knew nearly everything about her, and yet she knew so little of his past.

But it was not anything personal, the Doctor was just not an open person. I only knew most of what I did because I had heard stories about the last TimeLord since I stepped into this universe.

I was willing to bet that if I questioned him too, he would not be too keen to answer. The only reason he answered my question about having children was because I was stopping him from something he wanted until he answered; AKA, I would've said no until he told me the truth.

Not that me saying no even dissuaded him; it only made him more persistent.

But I didn't mind, when one finds the right person then everyone secretly wants to be chased by that person.

"Why did you just hit yourself on the head, dear?" The Doctor hastily questioned, practically running to stand next to me, leaning against the refrigerator as he regarded me.

Amy rolled her eyes at him evading her and Rory patted her back as though to console her.

"Because..." I shook my head while pulling out the icing. "I almost treated them as muffins! But they are cupcakes..." I trailed shaking the icing as though a weapon. "And they need buttercream icing!" I proclaimed, holding the icing up in victory before turning to my still-warming cupcakes.

The Doctor tilted his head at me, his gaze slowly falling to the cupcakes. His eyes momentarily narrowed as he fully took in the creation. However, the golden hue made them look delectable.

"Dearest," He asked me tightly. "What flavor of cupcakes did you bake me?" He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, nervously bouncing on his toes.

"Oh..." I shrugged. "Y'know..." I did not bother to finish the sentence, my tongue poking between my teeth in focus as I messily began putting a good amount of icing on the cupcakes. "Cupcake..."

"Cupcake...?" The Doctor repeated slowly, eyes flickering between myself and the cupcakes suspiciously.

Amy snickered from where she sat, now over the Doctor refusing to answer her questions.

"They're good!" She piped with a smile and mischevious twinkle in her eye. "I tried the batter for PJ—absolutely delicious! Your girlfriend really has a knack for baking!" She said proudly.

It was obvious that this was her revenge for him not answering any of her questions. Ever.

"Really?" The Doctor's voice dropped in disbelief, his gaze narrowing at the red-haired human. "Because my girlfriend has never had a knack for baking..."

Oh shit. So future me has already baked for the Doctor; no wonder he looked suspicious.

Amy shrugged. "Maybe she was messing with you in the future because those were incredible cupcakes, some of the best I've ever had!" She said, and I had to give it to her—Amy could be very persuasive.

The Doctor's eyes flickered with doubt, and he licked his lips thoughtfully.

"I guess I wouldn't put it past you," He said weakly, still eyeing me suspiciously.

I shrugged again. "Well, now that you have told me that—it means that when I go into your past, I can't be good at baking and actually do need to mess with you... trying not to break the past here, remember?"

The Doctor groaned in annoyance, throwing his head back and kicking at the air. "Damn it," He muttered, another rare instance in which he said the most light swearing possible.

At least he seemed to believe us now.

With that, I grabbed a cupcake. It was cool enough, still warm but completely solidified from its baking. I pranced up to the Doctor, holding the cupcake out to him sweetly.

"Here you are, handsome, I really hope you like it!" I chirped, making my eyes rounder and hopeful as I watched him take it.

The Doctor blushed at the pet name, but his eyes narrowed. "You never call me handsome," He deadpanned, but it was not a complaint—only a phrase of suspicion.

"Well, I'll start now since you are just so handsome," I once again said, voice over-the-top with happiness and ringing with it being the only American lilt in the room.

The Doctor only narrowed his eyes further. "Right," He said slowly, eyeing the cupcake.

Nevertheless, after one last look at my happy eyes, his shoulders slouched, and he slowly brought the cupcake to his mouth. He then proceeded to take a gargantuan bite, and half of the cupcake was gone. I gaped at the display.

He cringed—screwing his eyes shut tightly as he chewed. I watched, waiting for the moment he would spit it out. Amy did as well, her brown eyes wide and mouth quirking up in amusement. Rory was lost, still having no clue if the cupcakes were good or not.

To my astonishment, the Doctor's eyes snapped open, his chewing sped up, and his head tilted as though he was truly considering what he was tasting. His gaze flicked down to the remainder of the cupcake in his hand before he took another massive, unapologetic bite, inhaling nearly the entire thing.

I gawked. Amy sputtered. Rory looked vaguely nauseous.

And then—he grinned.

"Oh, that's—that's unexpectedly brilliant!" He exclaimed, voice going high with excitement as he swallowed. "It's like... like a rebellious sponge cake. So much attitude!"

I was at a loss. Completely and utterly speechless.

Amy made an undignified noise of disgust. "You like it?" She practically shrieked.

The Doctor ignored her, already reaching for another cupcake, his enthusiasm entirely unshaken. "It's got layers, it's got depth!" He continued, talking with his mouth half full. "A salty-sweet, boozy sort of charm—like if fish fingers and custard had an equally as misunderstood cousin!"

I snapped out of my stunned silence, shaking my head quickly. "No way. No way you like this."

"Oh, but I do!" The Doctor sang, beaming at me before taking another absurdly large bite.

Amy looked horrified. "That's disgusting. Do you realize how much Jack Daniels I watched PJ pour in there? A quarter of the bottle, at least!"

Rory, who had been suspiciously silent, made a quiet gagging noise. "Wait—you put Jack Daniels in those?" He asked me.

"Yeah," I admitted, eyeing the Doctor warily. "And I think I might've... um... accidentally used salt instead of sugar."

Amy groaned. Rory actually turned away like he was going to be sick.

But the Doctor?

The Doctor's grin only widened, delighted. "Well, that explains the kick! Only instance where I like Jack Daniel's too, I suppose. Ooh, what a delightful bit of chaos in a cupcake! You, my dear, are quite the impressive girlfriend." He waggled his eyebrows at me, clearly enjoying himself. "Amy was right—seems you do mess with me in the future about your baking."

I just stared at him, open-mouthed. This was not happening. This was not how this was supposed to go.

I had been trying to prove a point. I had been trying to show him—show everyone—that I was not girlfriend material. That I was a terrible choice. I had purposefully made these cupcakes bad. I had ruined them.

And yet here he was. Loving every second of it.

My chest ached, suddenly overwhelmed by an emotion I couldn't name. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to grab him and shake him and demand to know why he had to be like this.

Instead, I yanked a cupcake off the tray and took a huge, angry bite.

The salt hit me first, sharp against the sweetness of the sugar. Then the whiskey kicked in, burning slightly at the back of my throat, followed by the buttery smoothness of the frosting. It was—not good.

But it wasn't horrible either. If you had refined and immensely mature tastebuds, that is.

I chewed thoughtfully, considering. Then, eyes narrowed, I met the Doctor's amused gaze.

"There is no way that you like this," I stated flatly. "You don't even like alcohol!"

Being able to tolerate it is one thing, but liking it is another.

He grinned, taking another bite of his own. "And yet," He said, mouth full, "I do. Besides, I don't like drinking alcohol—eating is a different story! Not to mention you barely taste the whiskey in this! So deal with it."

Amy groaned again. "You two are actually revolting."

Rory muttered something about never eating baked goods either of us cooked.

But the Doctor just reached for another cupcake, entirely unfazed, while I stood there—utterly undone by the fact that, against all odds, he had liked them.

Liked me.

No, no—we are far past like. As has been established time and time again.

The Doctor hummed, already licking his fingers clean of frosting. "I am definitely going to request you make these again..." He began to ramble, eyeing the remaining cupcakes as though contemplating how many he could reasonably fit in his mouth at once. "Never really been a cupcake gentleman, but these truly are brilliant... Now, I don't need to eat as much as you humans, but I might just finish these off in one sitting. Are you in the mood to start another batch, dearest?"

"Sure," I nodded, still half-dazed by the entire situation. "Yeah—uhm, in just a little bit... I want to shower. I have twigs and other pieces of Romulus's nature in my hair." I reached up to pull out what I was pretty sure was a tiny leaf, flicking it onto the counter.

The Doctor leaned in slightly, sniffing exaggeratedly before exhaling in delight. "Mmm, no need, my pretty girl! You smell absolutely divine," He smiled. "Like adventure and naughtiness and—ooh, burnt sugar! I could just keep you like this forever!"

"Well, I feel anything but divine," I snorted, rolling my eyes as I turned toward the corridor.

Then, with all the grace of an impish menace, the Doctor tilted his head and waggled his eyebrows. "Would you like a shower buddy?" His voice dropped an octave, all suggestive and ridiculous, as though he had any right to say such things with frosting still stuck to the corner of his mouth.

Amy gagged, shoving at Rory's arm. "Doctor! Gross—you two are worse than me and Rory!"

The Doctor immediately stiffened, blinking as if only just remembering that we were, in fact, not alone. His ears tinged pink, and he cleared his throat, waving his hands in frantic dismissal. "Right! Amy and Rory—Ponds! Sitting right here! No, yes—off you pop to shower, by yourself, PJ! Amy, Rory, and I will be... doing something, and then we can decide when to go once you're finished!"

Amy smirked, looking far too entertained by his flustered state.

I raised a brow, amused. "Hmm, okay then." Turning, I started walking toward the hall, but just as I reached the doorway, I tossed a casual, almost lazy, "It's a shame you backtracked—I was going to say that a buddy would be nice."

"What?!" The Doctor nearly tripped over himself, already moving toward me, arm half-extended.

I turned just enough to shoot him a grin, stopping him in his tracks. "Nah, too late—you need to entertain your children!"

Amy groaned dramatically, dropping her head into her hands. "Why did you say that? Now he's going to be insufferable!"

Rory, arms crossed, sighed in resignation. "If anything, it feels like we're your guys' parents sometimes..."

The Doctor gasped, scandalized. "How dare you, Rory Pond—"

"Not Pond!" Rory cut in, exasperated.

The Doctor ignored him, launching into a ridiculous monologue as he straightened to his full height. "I am older than your entire bloodline combined! I am big papa! Actually, no—best granddad of Earth! Yes, that's much better! Granddad Doctor, they'll call me! The intergalactic best granddad of—"

From down the corridor, I shouted, "You're creeping me out and turning me off all at once, old man!"

The Doctor stopped before yelling back. "Right, sorry, dearest—just your friendly Doctor!"

"Whatever, Doc Brown!"