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Starman >> 10th Doctor X Reader

Title: Starman

Paring: 10th Doctor X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, angst, Doctor is basically a homeless old man abducting people regularly from London to see the universe.

Spoilers: Set on the last episode of David Tenant as the Doctor. 

Author's note: I'm not sure if this sort of fic has been written before? If it has, I'm so sorry! I had a dream a couple of weeks ago after bingeing most of the episodes lately (currently up to season 8!) and I realised, that in all his time of being alive, David Bowie, my favourite singer had never been featured on Doctor Who. I mean, if Vincent Van Gough can, then Bowie should!

I did a hella lot of research to write this, figuring out time lines and everything, so I hope you like it! Ooh, and I tried to make it neutral, so readers of all genders can appreciate it, and there isn't much of a relationship really going on...there just isn't tags to say that. And in this fic, you're just a companion - like you've always dreamed of being!

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You were never a good traveller. Maybe it was because of that time your family went to the seaside and forgot you on the trip home and left you with the gulls for eight hours. That had been borderline traumatic. Or maybe it was because that you couldn't tear yourself away from your little town and little life and all that you lived and loved. That ... was unfortunate. But that was until at the little shop you worked at in the hospital you came across a very sad-looking man wearing sand shoes and a long coat, and he whisked you away into the heavens above to see the stars. 

But things don't change that drastically. The man who you met, an alien named the Doctor, took you all over the world, and worlds you could only dream of both far and near in his magic box. A box so magic, it was able to go forwards, and backwards and more ways in time and space that you could ever imagine. In fact, when the fact things don't change drastically is waved about, it should mean you, in particular. You couldn't just magically make souffle without reading a recipe - and being in the TARDIS didn't change that you were never a good traveller.

You'd heard many stories of the other people who had come into the blue box - of the girls who grew into their strong words, of those who adapted to survive under circumstance, of the lady he'd met, with fire in her breath and fear in her eyes. And then, there was you. Born to work, working to live, living to survive, surviving until the day you died. But then Doctor came along and broke that cycle, did't he. 

He had a good habit of getting in the way of bad things. 

All you'd done is started a debate with Doctor, going around time and space without proper vaccinations because of space diseases and such. Without much of a thought, the TARDIS had landed, and keeping the ball rolling, the conversation kept going as the pair of you walked down the lane-way where you parked the big blue box. All you knew was the little screen was reading figures of South London in mid-August 1959. 

If you both hadn't been fussing over era-appropriate clothing or the fact that Doctor had no idea why you'd want to talk about immunology when the pair of you were in pre-Beatles England, you might have noticed. If you'd noticed the little boy with the scruffy mop-top hair, then all what happened next wouldn't have happened. If you'd noticed, you'd probably have locked the TARDIS behind you. 

Dressed in his usual sweeping coat, you'd picked out something a little more era-appropriate - a knee-length (f/c) Peter-Pan collared shirt with matching flat shoes - and off you went. But things were running awry fast, and the alien of the week causing mayhem upon the soil of Britain was soon quelled with the both of your help, and before you knew it, the day was saved, and the Queen of England had given you a written letter to pass on to the next monarch after her (to which, you didn't want to tell her that in 2017, it was still her). And like any other day, the Doctor and you returned to the police telephone box, and went off to who knew where.