Title: Never Make You Cry
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Mick St. John
Fandom: Doctor Who/Moonlight
Rating: PG-13
Table: 100_situations
Prompt: 84, Curse
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Tenth Doctor or Mick St. John, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.

***


"Why do you think that being a vampire has made you a cursed being?" the Doctor inquired, quirking a curious brow at Mick. "I don't think it's so bad. The only part that's a bit off-putting is drinking blood, but you don't have to get it from a living being."

Mick shook his head, tossing the bag of blood he'd just drained into the nearest wastebasket. "No, I don't," he admitted, "and I don't like to. I have a friend on Earth who takes his blood from the vein, but he doesn't usually kill the people he drinks from."

"He only takes enough to sustain him, and doesn't hurt the giver?" the Doctor suggested, his brows raising again. "That's a far cry from the usual impression that people have of vampires. I think you're a terribly misunderstood race."

Mick let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head. When he spoke, his voice was dry. "Believe me, there are plenty of vampires who would make you think otherwise. There's enough of them who think it's a fun thing to kill humans without a thought."

"I doubt you could ever be like that," the Doctor said softly, hoping that he wasn't wrong in that feeling. Mick didn't seem like a dangerous character at all to him; in fact, he thought this man was more human than quite a few of that race he'd known in his life.

"I've had to kill humans before," Mick admitted with a sigh. "But it wasn't because I wanted to. I've had to kill humans who were threatening innocent people, or those who were close to me. I'm not going to let anyone get away with that. In some eyes, that makes me a monster."

"Not in mine," the Doctor said firmly, shaking his head. "You do what you have to do to protect those you care for, Mick. And you're a man who's dedicated to protecting the innocent, whether they're of your race, or human. I admire you for that."

"I guess part of my curse is still feeling human, even though I'm not," Mick said with a sigh. He sat down heavily in one of the chairs near the console, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching out his long legs in front of him. "I've never been able to reconcile the two."

"I know that you want your humanity back -- but think of all the good you can do as what you are," the Time Lord pointed out. "Your humanity isn't something you're ever likely to recover -- but you've retained a lot of it in your soul. That's the important thing."

"You mean that I haven't turned into a cursed beast who hunts the human race, like so many people look at vampires as being?" Mick asked with a wry smile. "No, I haven't. Most vampires don't. But some do -- and those are the ones who make us all look bad."

"I can see where you might consider that being what you are is a curse," the Doctor mused, looking thoughtful. "But at the same time, there are advantages to your existence, aren't there? You'll live for a very long time, and you can do a lot of good in that time."

"Yeah, that's a good thing in some ways," Mick had to admit. "I'm not saying that it's all bad. But there's so much that I miss about being human -- so much that I can't ever have back again. I took so many things for granted when I was human that I want back now."

"Like what?" the Doctor asked, looking curious. "What could you do when you were a human that you can't do now? Other than procreate, I assume?" He raised his brows, smiling a little. "I obviously know you can have sex, but I wouldn't think you could father children."

"I can't," Mick said shortly, shaking his head. "That's not a big deal with me. I don't mind kids, but I've never really wanted any of my own. No, the things I miss are more .... visceral. Things that I could touch and taste and feel. I can't do any of that now."

"That's not true!" the Doctor protested, shaking his head vigorously. "Mick, if you couldn't feel, then I seriously doubt last night would ever have happened." He stopped speaking abruptly, a hot pink flush spreading over his face, looking down at his hands.

"That isn't what I mean," Mick said, laughing softly. "I could definitely feel everything that happened last night. And I loved every second of it. I hope you did, too." He reached out to take the Doctor's hand, twining their fingers together. "I hope we keep doing a lot more of that."

"I have no objections," the Time Lord murmured, finally looking up at the other man. He couldn't read anything in Mick's eyes but affection; this man didn't have any kind of an ulterior motive in taking him to bed. And he was obviously being honest about his feelings.

"What I mean is .... there are so many things that I took for granted when I was human that I miss now," Mick tried to explain. "I can't cry now. Did I tell you that? We don't have working tear ducts. Just like I can't eat or drink anything. Our bodies don't process food."

The Doctor nodded slowly, realizing just how much one could miss things like that if they were suddenly taken away. "I'm sorry, Mick," he said softly, squeezing his lover's hand. He wished that he could give those sensations back to the other man, but of course that was impossible.

"Yeah, me too," Mick said with a sigh. "I never thought I'd miss being able to taste food, y'know? Or crying. I never thought I'd miss being able to cry. It always seemed like something I didn't want to do when I was human. Now, I wish I had that mode of expression."

"Crying can be a release," the Doctor agreed, frowning. "Are you saying that you can't cry at all? You don't have that emotional outlet?" He was a little shocked at Mick's admission; he'd thought that everyone had that avenue to let their emotions out.

"I can cry -- as in sobbing, if that's what you mean," Mick told him with a shrug. "I just can't cry actual tears. Vampires don't have working tear ducts. It's an outlet that our bodies shut down when we become what we are. It's one that I never thought I'd miss -- but I do."

"I'm sorry, love," the Doctor said softly, wishing that there was something he could do to give Mick back something that he obviously missed in his life. "I understand why you would miss that ability. Crying can be a catharsis at times. It is for me, anyway."

"I hope that I'll never do anything to make you cry," Mick told him, squeezing his hand again before letting go. "If I do, feel free to slap me, or whatever you feel like doing. Well, as long as you don't drive a stake through me. Or lop off my head."

"I don't intend to do that!" the Doctor told him, laughing. "I like your head exactly where it is -- on those broad shoulders." He let his eyes roam suggestively over Mick's body, his gaze moving back to the other man's face after a few moments. "I wouldn't change a thing."

"Really?" Mick raised a cynical eyebrow, smiling wryly. "You mean you'd rather be involved with a cursed creature of the night than a normal person? You're a strange guy, Doctor. I haven't met many people who would accept me exactly the way I am."

"I do," the Doctor told him, getting to his feet and moving to kneel beside the chair that Mick sat in, looking up appealingly at the other man. "You're not cursed, Mick. I'd say you're blessed -- because if you were a normal person, you would age and die. And leave me."

Mick looked startled; he obviously hadn't thought of the situation in that light. The Doctor went on, his voice slightly choked. "Everyone chooses to leave me sooner or later -- though there are far too many who are taken from me by their humanity."

"I'm not going to leave you," Mick whispered, reaching out to stroke gentle fingertips down the Doctor's smooth cheek. "I couldn't. Not now. You're too much a part of me. And I feel like I'm where I belong. I feel more at home here than I have in over eighty years in Los Angeles."

"This is your home, Mick. For as long as you want to be here," the Doctor told him, his dark gaze fixed on Mick's face. "No one is ever going to refer to you as being cursed here. You're not cursed in my eyes. You're a rare, special being. And I'm proud to be with you."

"I think you're pretty special yourself," Mick told him, his voice soft and husky. "And if you want to retire to the bedroom, I'll show you just how special." There was no mistaking the intent in those dark eyes, or the desire in his tone.

The Doctor didn't say a word; he merely stood up and held out his hands to Mick, smiling as he did so. The other man stood and slipped an arm around the Doctor's waist, leaning forward to brush his lips against the Time Lord's before the two of them headed towards their bedroom.

***