Married

The Doctor, in Anji’s opinion, made an okay husband.

“Hello, my dear!” said the Doctor. His brown curls bounced around his head as he ran to Fitz. Fitz only had a few seconds to think I regret this before getting pounded by the Doctor’s everpresent joyous hugs.

“Um, yeah. Hello, dear,” said Fitz. He looked nervously at the two squirrel-people watching them, who were nodding appreciatively.

“You don’t seem very enthusiastic about meeting your husband. We would think after weeks of imprisonment, you’d be delighted,” said one of the squirrel-people.

Imprisonment. It wasn’t the worst prison that Anji had ever been in, but it still wasn’t a picnic. Yet again, the Doctor had led them into a planet, without fully researching what exactly was going on in that society. Without checking whether, say, the squirrel-people had draconian marriage laws concerning the males in society.

“It’s just that I’m tired,” said Fitz. His face was red, whether by embarassment or shock she couldn’t tell. Or maybe he was enjoying the way that the Doctor was snuggling up to him. She wished she could take pictures right now.

“Oh, then you two should go to your bed!” said the squirrel-thing. His fur looked greyer, and she guessed that he was an elder. The very sharp spear at his side also indicated his higher rank.

“Sorry, did you say ‘bed’?” asked Fitz. “Not like, ‘beds’? Or separate rooms?”

“Of course not. You can’t do physical pair-bonding activities if you’re in separate rooms,” said the younger squirrel thing.

“But, the Doctor and I don’t--”

“Indeed, I’ve been missing chances to bond with my dear beloved,” said the Doctor, who grabbed Fitz and kissed him on the mouth. At first, Fitz’s eyes shot open, but then he began to relax into it.

Anji really wanted a camera now.

Finally, the Doctor’s lips left Fitz’s. Fitz looked shell-shocked, as the Doctor said to the squirrel-people “May we be taken to our room now?”

The squirrel-thingies nodded, and led the Doctor and Fitz forward. Anji attempted to follow, and felt the sharp point of a spear at her neck.

“Only those with spouses can get access to the couple’s abodes,” said the older squirrel-person. His furry face stretched into a grin. If he hadn’t still looked so cute, she might have punched his smug smile off his face.

“How do I get a spouse?” asked Anji.

The squirrel-thing looked her up and down, and said “I’m afraid you might not have much luck. But some of the female Terran tourist might have interest? Or the Neo-Malakhs, though those women are a bit aggressive.”

“And if I’m not interested in women?”

“Learn to be.”

The squirrel-person then forced her out into the weird lobby. The hallways weren’t actually meant for people of human height, so she ended up crouching down as she wandered around. She wasn’t quite sure where she was going, but after deciding that she wasn’t going to get anywhere without a spouse, she quickly made up her mind to find a nice woman, take out with the TARDIS-issued credit card, and pay that nice woman to pretend to be a couple. It was pragmatic, in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Fitz watched as the Doctor disrobed, and wondered how far this “pretend to be a couple” thing would go. Fitz had already found out that the Doctor was an even better kisser than he thought, and was trying not to think about it. That quickly became harder when the Doctor jumped into the bed, and beckned him forward.

“It’s necessary for the disguise, you see?” said the Doctor. His cheerful smile was pissing Fitz off. Did the Doctor not realize what that looked like?

“Okay, I’m not taking off my clothes,” said Fitz.

The Doctor’s face was completely mystified, and he shook his head. “It’ll get your clothes wrinkled.”

“Still not doing it.”

The Doctor shrugged.

He and the Doctor stared at each other in the bed for several minutes. The alien’s eyes were watching his, staring into the human’s eyes. A small smile crept up his face.

“What’s funny?”

“You, Fitz. You’re rather wonderful, as humans go. We’re trapped on a planet of bloodthirsty Millians, which is a very big problem, and you’re worried about taking your clothes off. It’s a bit amusing.”

“Why are the Millians a problem? They’re just giant squirrels.”

“Actually, they’re post-humans. And no, they’re a bit more than that. They work for for the Enem—oh, look, a letter!” said the Doctor suddenly. He jumped out of the bed (giving Fitz a good look at his, er, sonic screwdriver, though by now he was used to it,) and ran to the door, taking out a piece of paper from the floor. He quickly looked at it, then started beaming.

“Fitz, this letter says if we stay, we’re going to die!”

“Oh. And that’s a good thing?”

“Obviously no. But, the letter came from a future me!” said the Doctor.

“That means we live, right?”

“Yes. No. No, definitely not,” said the Doctor. He moved to put the letter in his pocket, then realized he was still nude. Shrugging, he threw the letter to Fitz, who caught it deftly. Then the Doctor ran out the door, still nude.


“Sorry, I’m already married back home.”

“I’m not even into humanoids.”

“You aren’t paying me enough.”

“Screw you, Anji!”

How hard was it to find a woman to pretend to be a wife? Anji had even been willing to settle for a non-humanoid, or even a Dalek at this rate. No luck. And not that Anji wanted a wife per se, but the fact she apparently couldn’t get one didn’t feel too good. As she watched the tourists of Nemini walk around her, she wondered who was in charge of this tourist industry. Actually, how had a feudal industry of squirrel-thingies created a tourist industry? The squirrels didn’t seem in charge. Actually, no one seemed in charge. She could see no clerks, just automated checkpoints. It felt cold and impersonal, even for her.

Above her head, a weird symbol that looked like the infinity sign was painted. It hurt her eyes to look at, and even seemed to bend and twist as she watched.

“It’s a Mobius strip, or so I’ve been told,” said a woman who sat beside her. She was a blonde woman, with cropped hair, and curious, yet worried eyes. Her accent was British, likely upper-class. “Advanced technology, or something.”

“I’m Anji, by the way,” she said, biting her lip, wondering if it was worth “popping the question.”

“I’m Helen. You don’t seem like you’re from around here,” said the woman. She brushed her hair to the side, and she added “So, would you mind pretending to be my wife? I need help.”

Anji was taken aback, and smiled. “Thought you’d never asked.”