Title: The Right Decision
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Michael Cutter
Fandom: Doctor Who/Law & Order
Rating: PG-13
Table: 100_tales
Prompt: 74, Decisions
Warning: ongoing story, past non-con
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Michael Cutter, unfortunately. Please do not sue.***
The Doctor let the curtain fall back across the window when he saw Michael's car pulling into the parking garage, taking a deep breath and trying to compose himself. He'd decided that this would be the night he'd tell his lover the truth about himself; he couldn't put it off any longer.
Of course, he wanted to give his lover time to unwind; this had been his last day at his office, and the Doctor knew that he would be coming home in a low mood. He needed to gauge Michael's mood, to find the right time for what he needed to say.
That obviously wasn't going to be easy, he thought with a soft sigh. He had the definite feeling that Michael might not be in a good mood for days; he'd loved his job, and it wasn't something he'd wanted to let go.
But he hadn't had much of a choice, the Doctor thought, his small fists clenching in anger. The people who'd wanted him out of the DA's office had pointed out that because his kidnapping and rape had been made public, he was vulnerable.
The Doctor wanted to scoff at their arguments -- he didn't for a moment believe that the criminals his lover prosecuted would lose respect for him because of what had happened. But humans didn't seem to look at things the way he did.
So now .... Michael was out of a job. And, if everything went the way that the Time Lord hoped it would when they talked, he would be willing to leave not only this apartment, but this planet, and travel with him in the Tardis -- as much more than just a companion.
Truth be told, he wanted to keep Michael with him forever -- or at least as long as the other man's human life span would allow him to. He loved this man; he wasn't willing to fade away out of Michael's life, but there would be problems.
How did he begin to tell Mike that he was having a love affair with an alien? That he was a Time Lord, that he was not only an alien, but that he was over 900 years old? It wasn't a subject that he could easily find a way to bring up.
And not only that, but what if the man he loved didn't believe him? What if Michael thought he was completely barmy, and backed away from him? That would break his hearts, but he had to be prepared for the possibility of it happening.
He moved across the room to sit down on the couch, curling his long legs under him just as he heard the sound of Mike's key in the lock. He took another deep breath, clasping his hands in his lap as his hearts began to pound harder and faster. It was tonight -- or never.
Michael entered the living room, throwing his keys down on the coffee table and shrugging out of his coat with a heavy sigh. Sitting down on the couch next to the Doctor, he leaned his head back on the couch cushions, closing his eyes and reaching for the Time Lord's hand.
"Today was rough," he murmured, twining his fingers with the Doctor's. "I think it might have been the hardest thing I've ever done to put everything personal in a couple of boxes and walk out of there for the last time. I felt like crying."
"I know you did, love," the Doctor whispered, reaching out with his free hand to stroke his boyfriend's hair back from his face. "But it's over and done now, and you have to move on with your life. You have so much ahead of you. The world is wide open."
The other man shook his head, a wry smile on his lips as he turned his head and opened his eyes to look at the Doctor. "Not really. I can't practice law in New York any more. Not now that it's known I was more or less kicked out of the Assistant DA job."
This was the time to jump right in, to say something about his choices not only being limited to New York. But the words stuck in the Doctor's throat; he couldn't make them come out, couldn't say what he knew that he needed to verbalize.
"What about the people you work with?" he said instead, hoping that Michael might have some good news there. "Surely they can't all have wanted you to leave. Isn't there some hope that they can do something for you in terms of your job?"
Michael shook his head with another heavy sigh. "Jack didn't want me to leave, but he didn't have a choice. There were too many people against him -- and even though he's the DA, he's not the last word in who has my job. Especially not after what happened."
"He doesn't believe what those people said about you 'not inspiring respect,' does he?" The Doctor scowled, angered at the remembrance of those words. He'd never been so utterly disgusted at the human race as when Michael had repeated those words to him.
"No, of course not. But he's just one voice in a chorus." Mike shrugged, closing his eyes again. "But at least I'm away from that woman. I'm so sick of her trying to crawl all over me. Now she can find somebody else to obsess over, somebody who'll go for her brand of desperate."
"I'm glad you won't have to deal with her any more," the Doctor agreed, squeezing his lover's hand. And glad that I won't have to see her and pretend to be nice when I really want to hurl her ugly arse into a horde of Daleks, he added silently.
"Ugh. It was repulsive having to deal with her blatantly chasing after me." Michael shuddered at the memory. "Now at least I can be free of the breeder cow mentality -- and I don't have to keep repeating 'I'm gay' half a dozen times a day and moving away from her constantly."
"Have you decided what you want to do now?" the Doctor asked softly, almost holding his breath in anticipation of Mike's answer. He didn't know if he was afraid of what he could hear -- or excited at the possibilities that his lover's words could open up for them.
Michael shook his head, frowning. "I hadn't really thought about it. I guess I should -- it's not like I can afford to keep living here while I'm unemployed, and I'm not going to impose on you by moving into your hotel room."
Now was the perfect time to begin, the Doctor thought to himself, taking another deep breath. That was a segue into what he needed to talk about; there was no better time to leap into explanations than the present.
All he could do was hope that his boyfriend would hear him out, without rejecting everything he said and thinking he was utterly crazy. That was always a possibility, of course, but he was sure that Michael would listen before he judged.
"Sweetheart -- I may have a solution to the problem," he began, trying to pick and choose his words carefully. He knew that he wouldn't be able to keep doing so; within a few moments, all the words would begin to tumble out, falling over each other in their haste to be said.
Mike raised his brows in question, sitting up and turning to face the Doctor. "Yeah? What's that?" he asked, his dark eyes meeting the other man's gaze. "I'm fresh out of ideas for the future, so anything you say would sound pretty good right now."
"It's not going to be easy for you to believe," the Doctor told him, trying his best to keep his voice steady and not let his words pour out too quickly. "I don't exactly live in a hotel. But I'd like to take you to see the place I do live."
The other man looked puzzled, a frown creasing his brow. "I thought you said ...." his voice trailed off, and he shook his head, laughing and squeezing the Doctor's hand again. "But I probably just assumed that. What's your solution?"
"Live with me. Travel with me. Be with me," the Doctor said, his hearts starting to pound in his chest, beating faster in anticipation now that the time was so close to reveal the truth about himself. Would Michael believe him? Or would this end their relationship for good?
Michael reached out with his free hand, cupping the Doctor's cheek and stroking his fingertips over the soft, velvety skin. "I want to," he whispered, nodding, his gaze never leaving the Time Lord's. "I want that more than anything in the world."
"So do I," the Doctor murmured, raising his hand to place it over Michael's. "Keep an open mind, love, please. What I have to tell you might be hard to believe -- it might even seem impossible -- but I swear it's all true."
His lover laughed again, moving closer to the Doctor and leaning forward to kiss him. "Nothing you could say would be too hard to believe after everything I've dealt with in the past few weeks," he said, his voice husky. "Just tell me."
The Doctor nodded, taking another deep breath and trying to steady his nerves. Telling Michael about himself was the right decision -- the only one he could have made. Now was the time, before he lost his nerve and continued on in the way they were going.
He couldn't keep doing that. He owed Michael the truth -- and he had to give the other man the choice of being with him or not. It wasn't only his decision to make -- it was Michael's more than his, and he had to trust that the man he loved would choose to be with him.
Settling back against the couch cushions, he closed his eyes before turning his head to look over at Michael with a small smile on his lips. "Get comfortable, love," he murmured, his eyes meeting his lover's. "I think this is going to take a while."***
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