Title: Live Every Minute
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Michael Cutter
Fandom: Doctor Who/Law & Order
Rating: R
Table: 100_tales
Prompt: 47, Present
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.

***

It didn't seem possible that he'd been here on Earth for a few weeks now. With Michael.

The Doctor looked around the front room of Michael's apartment from where he sat on the couch, letting his eyes rest on each object around him. He'd grown used to it in the past few weeks, but he didn't want to let himself take these surroundings for granted.

He'd learned all too often how easy it was to not pay attention to all the little things around him that came to mean so much -- and how it felt to miss those things terribly when they were gone. He didn't want that to happen this time.

Of course, he wouldn't be able to stay here forever. That was impossible. And at this point, Michael didn't even know who -- or what -- he really was.

The Doctor frowned, letting the thought sink into his mind. It was going to be so hard to leave Michael when their inevitable parting happened; he was already dreading it, even though he knew that it had to happen at some point.

How could he tell this man who he was? At the moment, Michael thought he was a professor of some sort, and he hadn't dissuaded his lover from thinking so. It was a plausible enough cover, and as far as he knew, Michael hadn't checked into his background.

A background that simply wasn't there. There wouldn't be a "John Smith" in any database Michael might happen to look in, or at least not one that matched his description. If there was, he would be shocked -- and that might be something he would have to look into.

He couldn't tell the man who'd become his lover that he was an alien. A Time Lord, at that. He couldn't tell Michael that the nights he didn't spend at this apartment, he was traveling in space and time, and that more than merely a night went by for him.

For one thing, Michael would never believe that. He wasn't an unimaginative man by any means, but he would undoubtedly find it impossible to believe that he was involved with an alien.

And for another, his lover wasn't someone who could easily go away with him and not be missed. He had an important job; the Doctor couldn't just sweep him off in the Tardis and not expect there to be some sort of repercussions when he returned.

He wanted to tell Michael about himself -- of course he did. But it was too dangerous, that voice in the back of his mind insisted, that voice that he always felt compelled to listen to when it spoke. Michael couldn't be his companion, not in the long-term sense.

Heaving a sigh, he glanced over at the clock on the mantel above the small fireplace, smiling slightly when he realized that it was nearly time for Michael to return home. For once, the other man wouldn't be working late, and they'd be able to spend the evening together.

It had seemed strange at first, spending most of his time on Earth here, in one place. But he was quickly becoming used to it -- and starting to think of this apartment as his home.

He had a sense of belonging here, in a strange way. And Michael didn't think that it was odd for him to spend so much time here -- he'd told the other man that he lived in a hotel, and that most of his belongings were in storage. Fortunately, Michael had accepted the story.

Still, he had so many worries about their future -- for there would come a time when they'd have to part. He knew that, as reluctant as he was to admit it. Michael wasn't the man that he was fated to spend his life with, no matter how much he wished that it could be so.

His attention was caught by the sound of a key in the front door, and he looked expectantly towards the entrance to the living room. In a few moments, Michael was standing there, smiling at him as he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of a nearby chair.

"I was hoping you'd be here when I got home," he said with a smile, moving across the room and sitting down on the couch next to the Doctor. "It's nice to have somebody to come home to. I didn't think I'd ever have that pleasure again -- until I met you."

"It's nice to know that I have someone who's coming home to me," the Time Lord said softly, feeling an ache in his chest as he said the words. It wouldn't always he true, he knew. His time with Michael would come to an end all too soon, and this would be nothing but a memory.

"Why the sad look?" Michael reached out to cup the Doctor's chin in his hand, tilting the other man's face up to his. "What you just said is really at odds with the expression on your face. Did I do or say something to make you unhappy?"

The Doctor shook his head, closing his eyes. "No, you didn't. I was just .... thinking of the future, and not being sure if we'll actually have one."

"The future is .... the future," Michael told him, his voice soft and steady. "We don't need to think about that now, John. We need to live in the present, and enjoy what we have as go along. Too many people focus too much on the future and don't enjoy what they have at the moment."

"Time .... is something that I have too much of, I suppose," the Doctor murmured, wishing that he could sit here and confess everything to Michael, tell this man who and what he was and be accepted as such. But he couldn't. It wasn't possible. And, for him, neither was simply living in the present.

"Time is something I wish I had more of," Michael said, smiling. "But somehow, even with my lack of time and you having too much of it, we're making it work, aren't we? Just relax, John. Don't worry so much about what could happen. Take it day to day and live in the moment."

"I'll try," the Doctor replied, forcing back the lump in his throat. "Sometimes .... it's not that easy. I suppose I have a tendency to worry too much. I may try to take on more than I should. Or maybe I'm just .... nervous a lot of the time. I hope you can bear with me."

It was a halting explanation, he thought, but one that he hoped Michael would accept. And there was probably more truth to it than he himself wanted to admit.

Fortunately for him, Michael nodded, seeming to digest the Doctor's words and let them sink in. "That's not good, you know. You need to learn to relax .... let all the worries stay in one place and not affect all of your life. That's what I have to do. I can't bring my work home with me."

"I'm glad you don't," the Doctor said with a slight frown. "I wouldn't want you to be thinking about the horrid things you must see and hear every day. You need to have a place to get away from all that, to get it out of your mind for a while."

"Exactly. And you need to do the same thing, kind of -- to stop worrying about the future and try to enjoy the present." Michael bent his head to brush a light kiss across the Doctor's mouth, murmuring against the Time Lord's lips. "Do we have a deal?"

"We do," the Doctor said, his words muffled by the pressure of Michael's lips. "I promise, I'll try to stop worrying. And you're right -- what we have is something that a lot of people don't ever find in their lives. I should enjoy it while it's happening."

"Yes, you should," Michael told him, moving his strong hands down the Doctor's body, pulling at the Time Lord's shirt as he did so. "Starting right now, in fact."

"Yes sir, Mr. Cutter," the Doctor agreed, his words soft and breathy. Within a few moments, both men had discarded their clothes on the floor, and their bodies were speaking much more eloquently than any words ever could.

***