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"David, quit fussing," John said.
"Look, you know they're out there, just waiting for one of us to go out the door."
"Fucking vultures. I don't give a toss what they say."
"Yes, well, right now, we're the newscycle. 'Doctor Who actors come out of the closet'." David finished straightening John's tie and tried to brush the rumples out of his coat.
"'Come out'?" John said incredulously. "More like dragged out kicking and screaming. Bloody hell David, you're not my fucking nanny!" He brushed David's hands angrily away, but then grabbed them up tenderly. "Sorry, love. I'm not mad at you."
David smiled. "I know that. It's the situation."
"Why the fuck don't they just leave us alone? It's nobody's business what we do."
David wrapped his arms around John and kissed him. "In a few weeks, we'll be old news. They'll find someone else to chase after." He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "In a way, I'm almost glad it happened when it did."
John arched his eyebrows incredulously.
"No, think about it. If it had happened when we first got together... when I was still the Doctor..."
John smirked. "And I was your Master..."
"Well," David said blushing, "yeah. But then it would've wrecked the show. People still think of it as a kiddie show."
"And now," John grumbled, "all it'll wreck is our careers."
"Oh now, you don't really think that?"
"I don't?"
"No, you don't," David said firmly. "You're reputation has survived worse, and what is that saying? Any publicity is good publicity just spell my name right?"
John couldn't help laughing at David's optimism. It was one of the things he loved about him. A perfect counterpoint to his own tendencies to the opposite extreme. "I do know one thing," he said, looking into his lover's rich brown eyes.
"What?" David asked, smiling.
John leaned forward, rocking on his toes to reach David's lips for a quick kiss. "It's worth it."
David touched his forehead to John's. "Want me to come with you?"
"I think I can manage to go to the store on my own," he said, scruffling David's hair. "If we go everywhere together, they'll, I don't know, think we're a couple of besotted teenagers or something."
Reluctantly, David let John go and sat on the sofa. "But, John," he said, looking up at him with playful puppydog eyes, laying the act on thick, "I am a besotted teenager."
"Arse."
David fell back laughing. "Don't forget the tomatoes."
John headed for the door, pausing to flip two fingers in his lover's direction before heading out to face the ravening wolves at their door. Behind the ruckus outside the second door, he could hear David's bright laughter again from inside their flat.
The paparazzi must've wondered why the usually glum John Simm had such a silly grin on his face that day.