Title: Miracle Cure
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Owen Harper
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Table: VRD challenge - Pink, 5_prompts
Prompt: Pepto-Bismol
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 Owen Harper, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

"I am not drinking that." The Doctor sat up against the pillows, crossing his arms over his chest and clamping his lips together. "It looks .... bilious. For all you know, that could make me even sicker. I'm a Gallifreyan, not a human, you know."

"Doctor, you have an upset stomach." Owen sat down on the bed beside the Time Lord, trying to keep his tone even. He was starting to get irritated by the Doctor's refusal to drink something as innocuous as a spoonful of Pepto-Bismol. "This is going to make it better."

"How do you know that?" the Doctor asked, sounding suspicious. "You know a great deal about Time Lord physiology, Owen, but you don't know everything. And I don't want to feel any worse than I do now. So I'm not taking something that I'm not sure about."

"All right, so what did you take when you had an upset stomach on Gallifrey?" Owen asked, his temper starting to wear thin. He took a deep breath, pushing his irriation down. After all, the Doctor wasn't feeling well. He had a right to be sulky.

"I don't have any more of that remedy on the ship." The Doctor sighed, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side. "I'm sorry, Owen. I don't want to be annoying, truly I don't. But I also don't want to take something that I've never had in my system before."

"I really don't think this is going to hurt you," Owen said, putting the bottle of Pepto down on the table by the bed. "It's meant for upset stomachs. All it'll do is coat your stomach and soothe it. And I seriously doubt it will affect you any differently than it does a human."

The Doctor eyed the bottle of pink medicine doubtfully, but didn't reach for it. "What if it does affect me differently?" he asked, glancing at Owen. "I doubt you'll know what to do if there's some sort of problem, Owen. I don't want to take that chance."

"Doctor, it's a stomachache." By now, Owen was becoming thoroughly disgruntled. "I tell you, taking Pepto-Bismol isn't going to do anything adverse to your system. The worst that might happen is that you'll throw up. Again."

"And there you have it." The Doctor sank down into the pillows, his lower lip jutting out. "I don't want to throw up again. The first three times were enough, thank you very much. Hopefully whatever was causing me to be sick is out of my system now."

"Well, if you take this, it will help that much more," Owen argued, frowning. "Like I said, it'll coat your stomach and soothe it. So that even if you would have thrown up again, you probably won't." He raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, waiting to see the reaction to his words.

The Doctor looked at the small bottle sitting on the table by the bed, frowning again. "It's pink," he muttered, shaking his head. "And it doesn't look as though it would taste very good. I hate taking medicines that taste horrible."

"Everybody does," Owen said briskly, sensing that he was breaking down the Time Lord's resistance. "I hate any kind of medicine, but they're necessary sometimes. And Pepto doesn't taste terrible. Really. It's just a little .... chalky, that's all."

The Doctor made a face, sticking out his tongue and shuddering. "You really don't think that's going to convince me to take this stuff, do you?" he demanded, glowering at his lover. "I am not going to force a horrible-tasting medicine down my throat."

"Would you do it for me?" Owen asked, leaning over and reaching out a hand to cup the Doctor's cheek. He smiled at the other man's startled expression, bowing his head to brush a gentle kiss across the Time Lord's soft mouth. "Please?"

The Doctor sighed, nodding and holding out his hand for the bottle. "Oh, all right, if you insist," he said, obviously trying to keep back a smile. "I'll take it, no matter how revolting it tastes. But if I throw up again, I'm holding you responsible, Owen Harper."

"You won't throw up. I promise," Owen told him, secretly hoping that his words would prove to be true. He was fairly sure that the Pepto wouldn't make the Doctor sick, but the Time Lord was right -- because he had a different physiology, Owen couldn't be completely sure.

Uncapping the bottle, Owen carefully poured the thick pink liquid into a spoon, holding it to the Doctor's mouth. He raised his eyebrows a bit as the Time Lord hesitated before opening his mouth; Owen quickly put the spoon into his mouth before he could change his mind.

He watched as the Doctor swallowed, almost laughing at the disgusted expression that crossed the other man's face. "It doesn't taste terrible, but you're right -- it's a bit chalky," the Doctor complained as he reached for the glass of water that was sitting on the bedside table.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Owen asked, putting the bottle back on the table and watching the Doctor. "I guarantee that you'll feel better within a few minutes. At least, that's what usually happens when people take Pepto."

"If it settles my stomach, then I suppose it might be a good idea to keep it around," the Time Lord said, settling back against the pillows and looking up at his boyfriend. "All right, all right," he laughed, raising his hands. "You were right. I think I do feel better."

"And what do I get for being right, hmmm?" Owen murmured, leaning over until his lips were nearly brushing the Doctor's cheek. "Do you think I might be able to steal a kiss? Or should I --" He let his hand move down to rest lightly on the other man's stomach, "-- try for something more?"

He didn't really mean it, Owen thought to himself, and he could tell by the sparkle in the Time Lord's eyes that the Doctor knew he didn't. He was merely trying to lighten the mood, and he was sure that he had. The Doctor was actually looking more chipper.

"Owen!" the Doctor admonished, shaking his head and speaking with mock severity. "I've been sick! You should know better than to expect me to feel like being romantic after I've been throwing up and drinking chalky pink medicine."

"I'm sorry," Owen said, not sounding repentant in the least. "But you're irresistible, you know." He drew back reluctantly, taking the Doctor's hand in his and raising it to his lips. "I'll wait until you feel better. But I hope that's going to be soon."

"I think it will be -- I'm feeling much better already," the Doctor said softly, reaching for Owen and winding his arms around his lover's neck. Owen smiled as the Time Lord pulled him close, wrapping his arms around the Gallifreyan's slender waist and kissing him thoroughly.

"You must have been right about that pink stuff," the Doctor told Owen, glancing at the bottle on the table. "I think it's been some kind of miracle cure. I feel ready for anything." He smiled up at Owen, the look in his dark eyes inviting -- but Owen wasn't taking any chances.

"I meant it," Owen whispered, raising a hand to trace the outline of the Doctor's lips. "I'm not going to make love to you while you're not feeling well. But there's nothing against snuggling up together and doing a bit of kissing and touching, is there?"

"I've nothing against that at all," the Doctor answered, smiling as Owen's lips trailed down his throat. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasure of his lover's caresses, sure that being in Owen's arms would make him feel better much sooner than any pink medicine could.

***