Title: Trivial Ceremonies
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: T
Words: 2144
Summary: The Fourth Doctor and Sarah bear witness to two of the Doctor's dearest friends getting married.
Notes: Merry Late Christmas
spydurwebb!!! This gift was very hard to write, but thanks to
angelgazing I got this strange idea at the eleventh hour and went with it.
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As their gloved fingers remain together while walking down a snowy cobbled street, Sarah wonders where the Doctor is taking her. They landed not thirty minutes ago, and he ushered her out of the console room and down the corridor towards his wardrobe as if they were already running behind.
Once inside his vast collection, the Doctor plucked several articles of clothing for himself from random areas, slinging them over his shoulder and under his arm while maintaining that it was Sarah's appearance that would be the most important. Sarah didn't quite believe him at the time, but as he held out a lavish dark purple gown and pair of medium length black boots for her to put on, she knew there was more to the story.
They emerged from the TARDIS, the scarf-less Doctor in a top hat, gloves, and an outer black wool jacket that almost touched his knees while Sarah came out in a similar jacket much more tailored to her waist, also with gloves, and a tilted hat with a feathery plume on one side.
This is England, Sarah thinks, returning to the present by looking around at their local surroundings. Flurries falls from the sky, adding to the slight accumulation of snow already on the ground while buggies with and without horses appear in front of several of the larger homes. If she's learned nothing else in her time with the Doctor, Sarah's learned how to spot her own planet.
The homes look very much the same from the outside, but the Doctor approaches a specific iron gate, unlatching it from the inside as though he's done it before. They move down the small path towards the front door, and the Doctor doesn't ring the bell or knock, choosing instead to turn the doorknob and enter unannounced.
"Excellent. We haven't missed it." He smiles, shoving his gloves into his pockets, and hanging his top hat and outer jacket on the nearby wall hook. Sarah hadn't had time in the TARDIS to see his full outfit before he turns to face her.
His inner blazer was as dark as his outer jacket, but she could see the white shirt he snatched in the wardrobe underneath a black waistcoat and purple cravat. Apparently, the Doctor cared about fashion more than she thought as his cravat matched the colour of her dark purple gown. "Your jacket, miss?"
Sarah unbuttons her jacket through the large buttons down the front, and hands it to him. She then carefully unpins the hat, keeping her hair in order as the Doctor had insisted it should probably be up for the time period.
"I do hope you'll explain eventually." Sarah raises an eyebrow as the Doctor motions towards the stairs. She waits a second before following.
There is a long hallway, in which the Doctor stops at the third door on the right. He's slow to enter, peeking his head in first to see that the room he needs is not in fact otherwise occupied. He motions for Sarah to follow him.
A roaring fire greets them in the nearby fireplace as they have entered a moderately dim library. Shelves upon shelves of books line the walls while lit candles are scattered around various surfaces. The Doctor motions towards the back of the library where the table and chairs of the room have been pushed.
"We have to stand here, Sarah."
"For what?"
"Just wait." He takes her by the shoulders and turns her around to face the fireplace, his hands never leaving her.
A few minutes later, three people enter. The first, Sarah recognizes, is a man of the cloth as a single silver cross hangs from his black and white collar and he carries a book in his hands. The second is hooded, and the third is a young woman with long dark hair that falls over her shoulder. The minister stands by the fireplace and opens his book, and Sarah realizes what she's about to witness.
"Vastra and Jenny are two of my dearest friends," the Doctor whispers across her ear, leaning his head against hers as his hands drop to her waist. "And I wanted to stand for them on their wedding day."
The velvet hood falls to reveal a dark green reptile-like complexion, and as it falls, a smile crosses the young woman's rosy lips.
"They are beautiful," Sarah says, noting there are two different species of female getting married in a time not quite accepting of their gender or their love. It's means much more now than it ever would in her time.
The main part of the ceremony is quiet yet subtle, as Sarah ponders the merit of having a human man of the cloth deliver vows to a human and an alien. The ramification of religion and belief between the couple is more than she wants to contemplate right now.
She shifts her head, noticing how the Doctor's stare intensifies as Vastra speaks. It's as though he's cataloguing all the details while believing in such things as vows and eternal love. If she didn't know better, she'd almost say he was enjoying it.
"Why are we here, really?" Sarah's voice lowers to a throaty tone as she sees his hesitation. The Doctor is debating internally whether to repeat his former statement about the two women being his dearest friends, or add something else.
"The universe is often filled with trivial ceremonies, Sarah." His eyes stare forward. "But it's always the smaller more intimate ones that stick with you."
Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah sees the Doctor's eyes glassing over, and suddenly, she realizes what an close position they're in. Her back is snug along his front with his slender fingers spanning her torso with the perfect amount of pressure. Much as she imagines Jenny is feeling giving her vows, the butterflies in her own stomach flutter at a rapid pace.
"And you thought this would stick with you?"
The ceremony is nearly finished as Vastra advances forward to kiss her new bride, her arms curving around Jenny's slender form as Jenny's eyes remain closed. Their kiss is no less passionate than any other newlyweds, despite their respectable Victorian style.
The Doctor's eyes sadden, and Sarah thinks she's quite missed something. "I should offer my congratulations."
He pulls away as Sarah remains rooted to her spot, watching his interaction with the two females unfold. Sarah's sure she's the only one who notices the minister bowing his head and leaving the room without anyone saying anything to him.
"You know the rule, Doctor." Jenny laughs, Vastra's arm across her waist as she leans her head against her wife's shoulder. The Doctor drums his fingers along his chin. "One word can say it all."
"Admirable," the Doctor says, tilting his head and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets in the familiar way Sarah's seen him do thousands of times before.
"Introductions," Vastra replies, nodding her head towards Sarah.
"Companion."
"More."
"Ask," the Doctor motions to Sarah, but it isn't Vastra that moves, but Jenny as Jenny moves towards her.
"They'll be like that for hours, I'm afraid. One word conversations have been their style as long as I've known them." Jenny's happiness radiates outwardly as Sarah tries her best to engage the young woman rather than watch the Doctor. "I'm Jenny."
"Sarah Jane," Sarah replies, her eyes wandering to see the Doctor and Vastra are still exchanging only one word back and forth. "You both looked absolutely stunning. Congratulations."
"Thank you," the young woman blushes. "We weren't sure we'd find anyone to actually do it, but Father Moss is a lovely vicar. Open-minded like the Doctor, but private like us."
Jenny and Vastra exchange shy devoted glances, and it is then that the Doctor comes back over and drags Sarah towards the fireplace as Jenny follows. He touches Sarah's shoulder as he motions towards Vastra. "Devoted."
Sarah feels the scrutiny of Vastra's gaze, as it changes from something soft to rather hard and back again. Vastra smiles, and Sarah realizes that a smile sometimes can mean more to the universe than any word ever spoken. "There are times when one word is not enough, Doctor. I think your Sarah would agree."
Vastra reaches for her wife, combining their fingers.
"We shall talk again soon, Doctor. Goodnight." Vastra turns, taking Jenny with her as they leave the library and the Doctor and Sarah behind. The Doctor leans against the fireplace as Sarah recaps all that has just happened. She's not quite sure she understands.
She faces the Doctor and waits, knowing that if she waits long enough, he'll grow bored with her silence and explain what has happened.
"She likes you," the Doctor says. "Which is a compliment coming from a Silurian."
"Did you really have an entire conversation with her in one word statements?" Ignoring his words, Sarah crosses her arms.
"It's our way. Will be our way for a long time from what I've gathered. She met yet another one of me recently." The Doctor moves towards her, and from his instant close proximity Sarah can feel the butterflies generating once again in her stomach as the gaze in his eyes changes. He reaches for the hairpins he knows are holding her hair up, and pulls them down so her hair is once again loose. "I try not to ask too many questions."
"In one word?"
"In any amount of words," he says softly, his fingers still sorting her hair. His touch remains gentle.
"Does it bother you she knows of your future?"
"No." Putting the hairpins in his blazer pocket, the Doctor hesitates at what to do with his hands and settles them at his sides. "Though it was kind of them to allow us to come. Vastra's a fairly private person, especially when it comes to her relationship with Jenny."
Sarah nods, not quite sure of the logistics of showing up mere minutes before a wedding is supposed to take place. Then again, this is the Doctor and he knows far more about time and space than she could begin to comprehend.
"They planned for you," Sarah says, watching as the Doctor sheds his blazer. "Which is more than I can say about your planning."
"How indignant." He returns to the front of her, settling his hands on her hips without asking her permission as their eyes met. "And here I was trying to show you something."
"Like?" Sarah takes liberties of her own, settling her arms around his neck as a more serious expression deadens the Doctor's face.
"I've always wanted to-" The Doctor begins swaying, his words getting cut off of his own accord. "But there was never truly the right being, you see. And the Time Lords always protested. Though there was that one time with an Aztec named Cameca-"
"Doctor, were you trying to show me how you'd want to be married?"
"To my best friend. That is, if she'll have me. I wanted to show her what I liked first and see what she thought." His eyes soften, and he touches the corner of her eye with his thumb before stroking along her cheek. Sarah bites down on her lip, hoping she doesn't strike blood as she nods.
"Think Father Moss will do it?" Sarah tilts her head, trying to control the inner bubbly laugh that's spawning from those butterflies. This is surely one of the craziest things she's ever done.
"Here? Now?"
"Why not? No time like the present. We've already seen he's an open-minded and kind individual, and we are dressed somewhat properly. Thanks for the coordination, by the way. Plus, there are two newlywed women in this house that would probably return our favour if we asked nicely in one word or less."
"You'd honestly marry a Time Lord?" His voice was soft as if he couldn't believe her words. "What about Harry?"
"What about Harry? Honestly, Doctor, you're being thick. You're my best friend. As if I'd want to marry anyone else." Sarah steps on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his as she tightens her arms around his neck.
The Doctor's nose bumps hers at first as they switch angles, but slowly their movements become in sync as his lips figure out how to manoeuvre hers. He lowers her onto the flat of her feet, pulling back when he knows she needs to breathe.
"I wouldn't," he whispers.
"Good, because once we do this, you're stuck with me." Sarah's the happiest she's ever felt in her life. She's going to marry her best friend in the quiet beauty of this library in front of a proper vicar with witnesses who won't object or tell her she's wrong for wanting the things she's only imagined.
Their lips meet many times before Father Moss returns.
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