FIC: Here Be Dragons (Prompt 39, Harry, Sarah, Four)
Title: Here Be Dragons!
Author: MinervaFan
Prompt: Sarah and Harry are getting married, to their mutual bemusement
Word Count: 4,551 words
Characters: Sarah/Four UST, Harry
Rating: PG13
Written for doyle_sb4 as part of the churchontime Ficathon.
Summary: In order to get a rare substance for the TARDIS, Harry and Sarah must get married. Too bad the Doctor didn't give them much advance warning.
A/N: I love Harry and Sarah, and really think that once she gets over the Doctor, they would make a great couple. But this definitely is not the time.
“Absolutely not!” Sarah Jane Smith stormed through the TARDIS corridors with the Doctor close at heel and dragging his scarf carelessly behind him. “Under no circumstances, no way, nein, mais non, and I don’t bloody think so!” She stopped, turning so suddenly that the Doctor almost ran straight into her before catching himself. “Do I need to learn a couple of new languages? Because there is no way I am going to go through with this farce.”
Harry Sullivan sauntered up behind them, half amused and half insulted by Sarah’s violent reaction to the Doctor’s “innocent” suggestion. “Try Swahili, Sarah,” he said. “You know Swahili, don’t you, Doctor?”
“And not another word from you, Harry Sullivan.” Sarah’s tone was so sharp that Harry felt himself involuntarily snapping to attention. “Oh, I’m sure you think this is perfectly normal…”
“A bit unconventional, yes, but…”
“Nothing unconventional at all,” the Doctor insisted in his low, booming voice. Placing one arm around Harry’s shoulder and another around Sarah’s, he led the couple back towards the command center. “There’s nothing more natural in the universe than a man and woman getting married.”
Sarah dug in her heels, slipping out of the Doctor’s grasp and refusing to budge. “Not natural when the man and the woman are not in love and never even heard about said marriage until the morning of, thank you very much!”
“Well, it sort of came up,” the Doctor explained.
Harry chuckled. “You know, this sort of thing never happens when he’s not around.” He nodded to the Doctor, winking at Sarah. “It’s not a real marriage he’s proposing, you know. No connubial expectations.”
Sarah blushed and glared at Harry with the same venom she’d been reserving for the Time Lord. “You think this is funny, don’t you? Both of you?”
“Well, it is rather-“ Harry caught sight of Sarah’s expression and changed tacks. “No. No, it’s not funny at all.”
The Doctor took both of her hands in his, turning on that charm he seemed to pull from his pockets like Jelly Babies and sonic screwdrivers. “Now, Sarah dear, I know this is sudden. And I assure you that I have no impropriety in mind for you or Harry. If there was any other way-“
“But why married? Why now?”
“Because I need the holminite shreds, and the only place to acquire them is in the capital city on Gwanji, and the only way to acquire them is to get married.” He waited, as if it all made perfect sense and his demand was nowhere near the vicinity of absurd.
Sarah was having none of it. A frown dipped low on her pretty face, eyes narrowing and brows furrowed. “So why don’t you marry Harry, then, if it’s so bloody important?”
Harry coughed, and the Doctor grinned. “Unfortunately, the Gwanjans are even more skittish about that sort of thing than you Earth types are.” He turned an apologetic glance to Harry. “No offense, Lieutenant.”
“None taken, I’m sure,” Harry said.
“Sarah, I’m sorry, but the Gwanjans will only marry a male and a female, and before you even suggest it, they will not marry mixed species couples. Very reactionary group, if you ask me.”
“Looks like if we’re going to get these holminite shreds, old girl, it’ll have to be you and me.” Harry shot Sarah Jane a look that was simultaneously apologetic and amused “I promise, I’ll be a complete gentleman.”
“Don’t call me old girl,” Sarah glowered, arms folded across her chest, staring from one man to another. “Are you certain this is the only way to get those stupid shreds?”
The Doctor took that as assent, and gathered the young woman into a great bear hug. “That’s a sport!” he said, and grabbed her arms to pull her toward the wardrobe. “Now, you’ll need a traditional wedding robe-they’re suckers for tradition-and we’ll have to…”
*
Harry stared at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t so much that he was admiring his own appearance as it was he was trying…desperately…not to stare at Sarah Jane Smith. “Well, these are….”
“Interesting?” Sarah offered meekly, her eyes closed slightly, a furious blush covering all visible areas of her body. And since the Gwanjan matrimonial garb left very little to the imagination, there was a hell of a lot of blush to see.
“Drafty.”
“Obscene,” she corrected, glowering at her own reflection. The bright red garment flowed like satin against her pale skin, covering the barest minimum decency demanded. Harry fared no better-his costume was little more than a red loincloth and metal bangles around his wrists. “Completely obscene.”
“Nonsense.” The Doctor re-emerged from where he’d been burrowing through the wardrobe. “Gwanjans are physiologically incapable of reproducing outside of wedlock, so of course the matrimonial garb will be evocative.” He barely seemed to notice Sarah as he began stringing gaudy red flowers through her hair. “Promotes fertility,” he explained as he snagged one of the stems in a stray curl. “Of course, these are silk, so you should be safe.”
Harry shot him a worried glance. “You don’t mean we’re expected to-“
“No, no, no, no, no!” The Doctor finished stringing the flowers, reserving one for his buttonhole, before stepping back to admire the couple. “Gwanji is notorious for its weddings, so much so that there is an almost automatic annulment service on the neighboring planet of Pacrix. Make a killing on it, actually.” He frowned, scratching his head amidst the mass of brown curls. “Come to think about it, the Gwanjans don’t take kindly to off-worlders making a mockery of their rituals…”
“So we call the whole thing off?” Sarah suggested hopefully.
“So we make sure we have this down. We can’t let them think even for a moment that you and Sarah aren’t really a couple, or there could be dire consequences.”
Sarah and Harry turned to each other, worried expressions on their faces. “What…erm…sort of dire consequences?” Harry asked.
“Well, Sarah will incur a steep fine. And you…” He let his gaze trail down Harry’s body to linger on the human male’s groin area. “You did want to become a father someday, didn’t you, lad?”
Harry turned pale, gulped, and said nothing.
“We can’t do this,” Sarah urged. “You’ll have to find your holminite elsewhere, Doctor.”
“We can’t find holminite elsewhere. This is the only way.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Listen, Harry. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t need it. Don’t overestimate the danger, of course. It’s a short ceremony, and you only have to pull off the deception long enough to get in, get the holminite, and get off to Pacrix for an annulment. Easy as cake.”
“Easy for you to say,” Harry grumbled.
Sarah sighed. “Harry, look, I suppose we can…” She turned back to her own image in the mirror and shook her flowered head. “We can do this. It won’t be permanent, and I promise I won’t get…” She blushed. “No harm will come to you on my account, and we leave it at that.”
“Good then!” The Doctor herded them out into the corridor, chattering nonstop as they headed for the command center. “You’ll have to have a sponsor-that will be me-shall I be your uncle or his, Sarah? Never mind. I’ll take care of that. We should be on Gwanji in just a few minutes. The ceremony-oh, well, don’t bother with that. Just follow my lead….”
“Don’t you think,” Harry stuttered, trying with no small amount of embarrassment to keep his loincloth from flapping open as they walked. “Don’t you think it might be wise, in consideration of the possible consequences, to maybe at least give us a hint as to what we’re supposed to be doing?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. They’re used to off-worlders. Besides, the ritual is very simple. All you have to do is make sure they believe you’re young and in love.”
“We’re doomed,” Sarah muttered.
*
Sarah tried not to pace. Her shoes were barely on her feet, open and flat and soft as they were. She felt the cool breeze of the Gwanjan afternoon tickling the soles of her feet as she waited with Harry for the Doctor to return with the arrangements. She lifted her right foot, dangling the shoe as she scratched the bare calf of her left leg.
Harry was watching.
She stopped, blushing, putting her foot down immediately. “You can stop staring,” she scolded.
“I’m not staring. I’m…” He rolled his eyes. “I’m bored. Isn’t he ever going to get back?”
“I always thought that waiting to get married would be nerve-wracking, but this is ridiculous.” She tugged at the hem of her dress, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration at its shortness. “I also thought I’d be wearing clothes and marrying someone I loved, but I guess that’s just a pipe dream, too.”
Harry coughed politely. “I don’t think he’s going to actually make us consummate the marriage, Sarah,” he said gently.
“Well, I know that. But still. The cheek of that man-bullying us into a sham marriage-“
“Shhhh!” Harry’s eyes grew wide as he looked around to see if any passing natives had heard her comment. Drawing her to him, he said in a harsh whisper, “Do you mind?”
“Sorry,” she whispered back. “Look, it’s bad enough he’s making us do this, but to make us wait here in this vestibule all alone for hours is even worse.”
“He’s making arrangements. We have no way of knowing how long that normally takes.”
Sarah looked around, searching the vestibule for a place to sit down. It was a darkly paneled room, sparsely furnished. But there was a low table just near the door, and she sat down, stretching her bare legs before her as she rest her face in her arms. “This is not happening.”
Harry sat beside her, nudging her slightly until she gave him room. “It’s not so bad. I mean, just a bit of a lark, right?”
“Right,” Sarah said glumly.
“Hey, it’s not you risking life and limb, you know?”
Sarah sighed, stretching backwards to lean on her hands. “I know, I know. It’s just…” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I always dreamed of having a lovely wedding. There, I said it. Corny and cliché, but there it is. When I was younger, I pictured myself getting married in my Aunt Lavinia’s back yard, under the big elm tree. Simple, you know. Just family and a few friends, maybe some flowers in my hair.”
Harry reached up to touch a silk blossom in Sarah’s curls. “You got the flowers, anyway.”
“I never pictured myself on an alien world, half-naked and marrying some bloke I don’t even-“ She stopped short at the stung look on Harry’s face. “Oh, Harry, it’s not like that. I’m very fond of you, of course. But…” She turned to the door, which remained closed and quite free of the Doctor’s presence. “He doesn’t even care.”
If she saw Harry’s hurt expression, she didn’t acknowledge it. “I’m sure he cares,” Harry said softly. There was a long silence between them, awkward on Harry’s part at least. Finally, when the quiet got too much to bear, he said, “You know, perhaps we should…erm…practice?”
“Practice?”
Harry coughed again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ve got to convince these people we’re getting married for real,” he said. “And we don’t look at all like we’re in love.”
“Oy,” Sarah whispered.
“Try to, well, gaze at me adoringly.”
Sarah looked up at him dutifully, but her expression was more nausea than adoration. “Maybe we can claim Nervous Bride Syndrome?”
Harry shrugged, his cheeks bright red as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Well, at least we should, erm…I mean, they’re going to expect us to…” He closed his eyes tightly, and forged ahead. “Kiss.’
“Kiss.” Sarah’s eyes were wide, but her voice was flat and dull. “Oh, right. We’re supposed to kiss.”
“On the lips.”
“Yup.” Sarah nodded, dropping her face back into her hands. “Can’t we just kill him and take our chances that the TARDIS will bring us back home without him?”
“You know, some girls might actually like the idea of kissing me.”
“Oh, don’t pout, Harry. Of course, you’re handsome, you’re gorgeous, you’re a prince among men!” She grinned at him, and he grinned back at her, and they both began to laugh. “This is absurd. We’re not children. You don’t have boy germs, and I don’t have cooties.”
Harry reached out to draw her near, placing a soft kiss on her lips. There was a moment’s silence, and then they both burst out laughing. “I think we’re a bit on the hysterical side,” Harry choked.
“Maybe. Just a little,” Sarah gasped, wiping the tears from her eyes. “No, seriously, mate, we have to pull ourselves together. If we burst out laughing like crazy hyenas right after we kiss, they might suspect something.”
“Right. Right,” he said, shaking himself brusquely for at least a semblance of control. “Let’s give it another go, shall we?”
“For Queen and country,” Sarah said solemnly, then burst into laughter before their lips could even touch. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“Sarah Jane, my privates are at risk here,” Harry scolded. “D’you think you could just care a little bit?”
“Sorry.” Sarah sniffed, gathering her composure. She barely tittered as Harry put his fingertips under her chin, guiding her to look up at him. This time, they got through a kiss without even a giggle. “There,” she whispered as if terrified of breaking the spell. “We did it.”
“Once more?”
She nodded, leaning up to kiss him again. Again, no laughter. In fact, it was rather nice, she thought as Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, extending the kiss long past the point necessary for practice.
They didn’t break the kiss until the Doctor came in, coughing indignantly and looking quite displeased as he led them off for their marriage.
*
Sarah knelt within the matrimonial space, holding hands with Harry as the Gwanjan priest-assembly chanted and slowly marched around them. Harry's "uncle" and their beloved sponsor stood just behind them, his hands on Harry's shoulders as he offered his blessings on the marriage.
It was everything she could do not to dissolve into nervous laughter.
This was not happening. She was not on some alien planet marrying Harry Sullivan while six five-hundred pound blue aliens with antennae sticking up out of their shoulders were chanting prayers to their abundant fertility.
She didn't even know whether she wanted to be fertile, much less with this particular bloke.
It was too much, and she gazed up at poor Harry for reinforcements. Harry looked a bit pale-understandable, considering what he was at risk for should they fail. But he grinned at her, and the twinkle in his eyes was enough to produce a genuine return smile in Sarah.
She could not be sure, but she actually thought she caught a disapproving frown flash across the Doctor's face. Schooling her expression, she smiled up at him. He smiled back, impatient, distracted.
No, Sarah thought. It is not possible.
Still, her reporter's instincts could not be assuaged, and she found herself, in the midst of all this, conducting a rather childish experiment. She returned her gaze to Harry Sullivan and smiled, catching his eye and making sure there was an obvious glint of wicked humor in her own. Harry grinned lopsidedly and flashed her an equally wicked expression.
A quick, covert glance at the Doctor told her everything she needed to know. His expression was downright sour, a frown drooping low on his big, puppy-dog face, his hand actually tightening around Harry's shoulder. His only reaction to Sarah's innocent smile was a slightly injured look.
The bloody bastard, Sarah thought. I cannot believe he actually has the nerve to be jealous! She squeezed Harry's hand, hoping he'd forgive her someday. But the opportunity was too good, and the vengeance too sweet for her to be the big person this time around. She repeated the chants as the Gwanjan priests instructed them, leaning slightly towards Harry as she did, playing the lustful bride for all it was worth, knowing that every smile, every sexy look she shot at Harry cut the Doctor to shreds.
It was mean and it was juvenile and it was tacky, but sometimes Sarah was just all those things, especially when there was one bloke who noticed she was half-naked and another who didn't seem to care until he realized the other bloke had noticed she was half naked.
Besides, Harry was rather good-looking, and if she had to have a sham marriage, it was lucky she had such a gentleman to endure it with.
The priests concluded the chant and bade them stand. One took the Doctor by the shoulder, and removed him from the circle. Apparently, the time had come for the sponsor to release the young couple to their own future. As the circle closed again, with the Doctor on the outside this time, Sarah was absolutely sure she saw him scowl.
Focus, Sarah, she told herself as she stood facing Harry. Stop the pettiness, and think of poor Harry. One slip, and Harry will be singing soprano in the U.N.I.T. Volunteer Christmas Chorale.
The elder priest, a tall creature with lovely blue skin-it rather reminded Sarah of a robin's egg-broke from the circle to place his paws on Sarah and Harry's shoulders. His words were translated by the Doctor's gift, but even without, she humored herself she would recognize a benediction when she heard one.
It wasn't Aunt Lavinia's lovely back yard, but as wedding blessings went, it was actually rather nice.
She smiled at Harry, who smiled back at her, squeezing her hands gently.
They kissed, at just the appropriate time, in just the appropriate way.
And the sky filled with silver.
Tiny curlicues of silver, dazzling, beautiful, twinkling everywhere, shot from the shoulder stems of the Gwanjan priests as they blessed the marriage. Sarah felt them tickling her skin, felt them catching in her hair, in her robes. She saw Harry covered with them, a virtual Christmas tree of a husband, and she laughed.
It really was a lovely ceremony, she thought, as she pulled a shred of holminite from Harry's curls and kissed him again, sweetly.
*
"How long, Doctor," Sarah grumbled as she leaned against the center console in the TARDIS. She'd changed back into her own clothes, Harry noticed, but the miniskirt she wore really didn't cover all that much more than her Gwanjan matrimonial robes.
Harry caught himself staring at her bare shapely legs, right down to the lovely slippers that adored her feet, Honestly, if he had to engage in a sham marriage, he certainly could have done worse for himself.
But Sarah's attention was only on the Doctor, as usual, and Harry stomped even the spark of interest down before it could ignite. Danger and heartache awaited him if he went down that road, and Harry Sullivan was far too practical to even consider falling for the lovely Miss Smith. Or was it, temporarily at least, the lovely Mrs. Sullivan? He still wasn't certain if the legality of their marriage would hold up in court back on Earth, but he bowed to Sarah's insistence they go through with the annulment immediately.
Unfortunately, the Doctor didn't seem quite so concerned. He'd stuffed his pockets full of holminite shreds after the wedding, and had insisted they pluck every single bit of it out of their hair and clothes and surrender it to him before they were allowed to change.
Then, he broke apart the TARDIS controls and set to work.
Three hours ago.
Sarah, not the most patient girl to begin with, was nearing the end of her rope. She nudged the Doctor's shoulder with that clever little sandal Harry was trying so hard not to notice. "How long, Doctor?"
"If you keep bothering me, it might be days." He didn't bother to come out from under the console he had dismantled. "Why don't you and Harry go play a game of backgammon or something?"
"Backgammon?"
"I say, Doctor," Harry coughed. "Couldn't you install this stuff after you've gotten us to Pacrix for the annulment?"
"Holminite has a notoriously short life-span, Harry. You can wait."
And that did it. Poor Sarah's control just snapped, and Harry braced himself for the hurricane that was about to hit "Wait? Wait???" She hopped off the console, kicking the Doctor's leg hard. "You want us to wait?"
"Ow!" This got the Doctor out from under the console. His face was red and slightly flustered, and there were silver sparklies all over his vest. "Was that necessary?"
"You're lucky I didn't aim higher, you cheeky bastard!" Sarah's eyes were flashing with rage. "You've been behaving abominably, and I think for a second you might at least show us the courtesy of pretending to care. After all, we went through this ridiculous farce for you, put Harry's life in danger for you, all so you could get your precious little shiny things. And-"
"Harry's life was never in danger," the Doctor scoffed.
"I say, I might survive without my…" Harry coughed, averting his gaze as Sarah turned to face him. "I might survive without my privates, but I certainly wouldn't call it a life worth living."
The Doctor flashed him a maddening expression, that 'oh Harry, stop being an imbecile, you silly ape' look he got far too frequently for his liking. "Your privates?" He began to laugh. "Wherever did you get the idea your…privates…were in danger?"
"You told him that," Sarah fumed, her cheeks turning a bright pink. "You said there would be dire consequences, and then asked Harry if he really wanted to be a father someday-"
"Well, the fine is quite stiff for abusing the matrimonial services, and I was curious if Harry-"
"You insinuated…"
"It's alright, Sarah," Harry said, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. It really was too absurd at this point to even be angry. He began to chuckle softly, and even the fiery flash of Sarah's blue eyes couldn't dampen his amusement at this point. He caught her gaze and winked at her, and in a moment she smiled back.
"Never assume," the Doctor said, somewhat superfluously, as Harry and Sarah exchanged a long, meaningful gaze. "That always causes trouble."
Sarah never broke eye contact with Harry. "You're absolutely right. Never assume." She was signaling him, without a word, asking for his help. Harry lifted his eyebrows, fully compliant and willing to go along with whatever revenge she was obviously cooking up in that devious little brain of hers. "In fact, take your time with the holminite. Harry and I are in no rush to get to Pacrix, are we, Harry?"
"Not at all," he said, reaching out for her hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Sarah's triumphant look told him he'd read her intentions correctly, so he continued. "After all, we only get one wedding night, don't we, old girl?" Oh, this was wrong. This was beyond wrong. Harry made it a point to never get in between a couple, especially couples as daft as these two. But he had put them both through a lot, and judging by the angry expression in his eyes, the Doctor was taking the bait Sarah set out just perfectly. "Actually, we might want to wait a day or two, shall we dear?"
"A proper honeymoon? Oh, Doctor, do you think you could find your way to Florinda?" She turned to Harry, a radiant smile on her pretty face. "Oh, he's been going on and on about Florinda since I met him-never quite managed to find the place--but I hear it's so very romantic. A perfect place for…" She lowered her eyes, affecting a modest look. "You know."
Harry struggled not to laugh as he played the lusty bridegroom, pulling Sarah slightly closer, forcing himself not to check on the Doctor's reaction.
He needn't bother.
"Excuse me, you two. There's no hanky panky on the TARDIS," the Doctor said, hopping to his feet in a single, ungainly move.
Sarah flashed him an indignant look, then wrapped her arm in Harry's. "Actually, we're married, Doctor. So we can hanky all we want," she said with the sweetest venom in her voice. "Panky, too, for that matter. Come on, Harry. Let's leave the Doctor to his precious holminite." And she pulled him into the corridor before the Time Lord could even respond.
Once clear of the control room, and convinced that the Doctor was not following them, Sarah slumped against the wall, an apologetic expression on her face. "Well, that was childish."
"Maybe a little," Harry said, lifting her chin with a single crooked finger. "But he did have it coming. You okay?"
"No," she murmured. "But I will be."
"You know, for what it's worth, you were a beautiful bride."
She smiled and laughed a bit weakly. "Thank you, Harry. You are a perfect gentleman, you know?"
"Yeah." He was about to suggest a stroll around the TARDIS when Sarah suddenly tugged at his lapels, pulling him into a hard, passionate kiss. Her left leg went up around his thigh and her tongue forced its way into his mouth as her fingers snaked their way through his curly hair. Harry struggled to catch his breath, responding against his better judgment to the warmth of her mouth, the scent of her skin, her body writhing slightly under his. Then he opened his eyes, and followed her gaze straight down the corridor to where the Doctor was standing, fury in his eyes.
Oh, yeah. Steer clear of the rocks, Sullivan, old boy. Here be dragons.
"We will be on Pacrix in one hour, exactly," the Doctor informed them coldly, and returned to his work in the control room.
Harry and Sarah stood their quietly for a moment, awkward, still wrapped together in a rather compromising position.
"Sorry," Sarah said, her voice breathless and somewhat ashamed. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I know it's wrong, but…"
"He makes you crazy," Harry finished for her. "It's alright. We've all had people in our lives that drive us near madness, and the Doctor is yours. I won't take it personally."
Her expression was pure gratitude, and she placed a gentle, sisterly kiss on his cheek. "You're a star, Harry Sullivan," she whispered.
"Yeah, prince among men." Of course, there was the matter of fair play and all. "So, I assume there isn't going to be a proper wedding night then?" He pressed close against her, affecting a somewhat lascivious smile.
A lesser man might have been insulted by Sarah's immediate giggles, but Harry Sullivan was made of sterner stuff. "Not a chance!" she said.
Harry shook his head in mock disappointment, and pulled away from the lovely girl he'd had pressed against the wall. "So, fancy a game of backgammon, then?"
She took his outstretched hand and laughed as they headed down the corridor together. "I'd love it!"
The End
Author: MinervaFan
Prompt: Sarah and Harry are getting married, to their mutual bemusement
Word Count: 4,551 words
Characters: Sarah/Four UST, Harry
Rating: PG13
Written for doyle_sb4 as part of the churchontime Ficathon.
Summary: In order to get a rare substance for the TARDIS, Harry and Sarah must get married. Too bad the Doctor didn't give them much advance warning.
A/N: I love Harry and Sarah, and really think that once she gets over the Doctor, they would make a great couple. But this definitely is not the time.
“Absolutely not!” Sarah Jane Smith stormed through the TARDIS corridors with the Doctor close at heel and dragging his scarf carelessly behind him. “Under no circumstances, no way, nein, mais non, and I don’t bloody think so!” She stopped, turning so suddenly that the Doctor almost ran straight into her before catching himself. “Do I need to learn a couple of new languages? Because there is no way I am going to go through with this farce.”
Harry Sullivan sauntered up behind them, half amused and half insulted by Sarah’s violent reaction to the Doctor’s “innocent” suggestion. “Try Swahili, Sarah,” he said. “You know Swahili, don’t you, Doctor?”
“And not another word from you, Harry Sullivan.” Sarah’s tone was so sharp that Harry felt himself involuntarily snapping to attention. “Oh, I’m sure you think this is perfectly normal…”
“A bit unconventional, yes, but…”
“Nothing unconventional at all,” the Doctor insisted in his low, booming voice. Placing one arm around Harry’s shoulder and another around Sarah’s, he led the couple back towards the command center. “There’s nothing more natural in the universe than a man and woman getting married.”
Sarah dug in her heels, slipping out of the Doctor’s grasp and refusing to budge. “Not natural when the man and the woman are not in love and never even heard about said marriage until the morning of, thank you very much!”
“Well, it sort of came up,” the Doctor explained.
Harry chuckled. “You know, this sort of thing never happens when he’s not around.” He nodded to the Doctor, winking at Sarah. “It’s not a real marriage he’s proposing, you know. No connubial expectations.”
Sarah blushed and glared at Harry with the same venom she’d been reserving for the Time Lord. “You think this is funny, don’t you? Both of you?”
“Well, it is rather-“ Harry caught sight of Sarah’s expression and changed tacks. “No. No, it’s not funny at all.”
The Doctor took both of her hands in his, turning on that charm he seemed to pull from his pockets like Jelly Babies and sonic screwdrivers. “Now, Sarah dear, I know this is sudden. And I assure you that I have no impropriety in mind for you or Harry. If there was any other way-“
“But why married? Why now?”
“Because I need the holminite shreds, and the only place to acquire them is in the capital city on Gwanji, and the only way to acquire them is to get married.” He waited, as if it all made perfect sense and his demand was nowhere near the vicinity of absurd.
Sarah was having none of it. A frown dipped low on her pretty face, eyes narrowing and brows furrowed. “So why don’t you marry Harry, then, if it’s so bloody important?”
Harry coughed, and the Doctor grinned. “Unfortunately, the Gwanjans are even more skittish about that sort of thing than you Earth types are.” He turned an apologetic glance to Harry. “No offense, Lieutenant.”
“None taken, I’m sure,” Harry said.
“Sarah, I’m sorry, but the Gwanjans will only marry a male and a female, and before you even suggest it, they will not marry mixed species couples. Very reactionary group, if you ask me.”
“Looks like if we’re going to get these holminite shreds, old girl, it’ll have to be you and me.” Harry shot Sarah Jane a look that was simultaneously apologetic and amused “I promise, I’ll be a complete gentleman.”
“Don’t call me old girl,” Sarah glowered, arms folded across her chest, staring from one man to another. “Are you certain this is the only way to get those stupid shreds?”
The Doctor took that as assent, and gathered the young woman into a great bear hug. “That’s a sport!” he said, and grabbed her arms to pull her toward the wardrobe. “Now, you’ll need a traditional wedding robe-they’re suckers for tradition-and we’ll have to…”
*
Harry stared at himself in the mirror. It wasn’t so much that he was admiring his own appearance as it was he was trying…desperately…not to stare at Sarah Jane Smith. “Well, these are….”
“Interesting?” Sarah offered meekly, her eyes closed slightly, a furious blush covering all visible areas of her body. And since the Gwanjan matrimonial garb left very little to the imagination, there was a hell of a lot of blush to see.
“Drafty.”
“Obscene,” she corrected, glowering at her own reflection. The bright red garment flowed like satin against her pale skin, covering the barest minimum decency demanded. Harry fared no better-his costume was little more than a red loincloth and metal bangles around his wrists. “Completely obscene.”
“Nonsense.” The Doctor re-emerged from where he’d been burrowing through the wardrobe. “Gwanjans are physiologically incapable of reproducing outside of wedlock, so of course the matrimonial garb will be evocative.” He barely seemed to notice Sarah as he began stringing gaudy red flowers through her hair. “Promotes fertility,” he explained as he snagged one of the stems in a stray curl. “Of course, these are silk, so you should be safe.”
Harry shot him a worried glance. “You don’t mean we’re expected to-“
“No, no, no, no, no!” The Doctor finished stringing the flowers, reserving one for his buttonhole, before stepping back to admire the couple. “Gwanji is notorious for its weddings, so much so that there is an almost automatic annulment service on the neighboring planet of Pacrix. Make a killing on it, actually.” He frowned, scratching his head amidst the mass of brown curls. “Come to think about it, the Gwanjans don’t take kindly to off-worlders making a mockery of their rituals…”
“So we call the whole thing off?” Sarah suggested hopefully.
“So we make sure we have this down. We can’t let them think even for a moment that you and Sarah aren’t really a couple, or there could be dire consequences.”
Sarah and Harry turned to each other, worried expressions on their faces. “What…erm…sort of dire consequences?” Harry asked.
“Well, Sarah will incur a steep fine. And you…” He let his gaze trail down Harry’s body to linger on the human male’s groin area. “You did want to become a father someday, didn’t you, lad?”
Harry turned pale, gulped, and said nothing.
“We can’t do this,” Sarah urged. “You’ll have to find your holminite elsewhere, Doctor.”
“We can’t find holminite elsewhere. This is the only way.” He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Listen, Harry. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t need it. Don’t overestimate the danger, of course. It’s a short ceremony, and you only have to pull off the deception long enough to get in, get the holminite, and get off to Pacrix for an annulment. Easy as cake.”
“Easy for you to say,” Harry grumbled.
Sarah sighed. “Harry, look, I suppose we can…” She turned back to her own image in the mirror and shook her flowered head. “We can do this. It won’t be permanent, and I promise I won’t get…” She blushed. “No harm will come to you on my account, and we leave it at that.”
“Good then!” The Doctor herded them out into the corridor, chattering nonstop as they headed for the command center. “You’ll have to have a sponsor-that will be me-shall I be your uncle or his, Sarah? Never mind. I’ll take care of that. We should be on Gwanji in just a few minutes. The ceremony-oh, well, don’t bother with that. Just follow my lead….”
“Don’t you think,” Harry stuttered, trying with no small amount of embarrassment to keep his loincloth from flapping open as they walked. “Don’t you think it might be wise, in consideration of the possible consequences, to maybe at least give us a hint as to what we’re supposed to be doing?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. They’re used to off-worlders. Besides, the ritual is very simple. All you have to do is make sure they believe you’re young and in love.”
“We’re doomed,” Sarah muttered.
*
Sarah tried not to pace. Her shoes were barely on her feet, open and flat and soft as they were. She felt the cool breeze of the Gwanjan afternoon tickling the soles of her feet as she waited with Harry for the Doctor to return with the arrangements. She lifted her right foot, dangling the shoe as she scratched the bare calf of her left leg.
Harry was watching.
She stopped, blushing, putting her foot down immediately. “You can stop staring,” she scolded.
“I’m not staring. I’m…” He rolled his eyes. “I’m bored. Isn’t he ever going to get back?”
“I always thought that waiting to get married would be nerve-wracking, but this is ridiculous.” She tugged at the hem of her dress, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration at its shortness. “I also thought I’d be wearing clothes and marrying someone I loved, but I guess that’s just a pipe dream, too.”
Harry coughed politely. “I don’t think he’s going to actually make us consummate the marriage, Sarah,” he said gently.
“Well, I know that. But still. The cheek of that man-bullying us into a sham marriage-“
“Shhhh!” Harry’s eyes grew wide as he looked around to see if any passing natives had heard her comment. Drawing her to him, he said in a harsh whisper, “Do you mind?”
“Sorry,” she whispered back. “Look, it’s bad enough he’s making us do this, but to make us wait here in this vestibule all alone for hours is even worse.”
“He’s making arrangements. We have no way of knowing how long that normally takes.”
Sarah looked around, searching the vestibule for a place to sit down. It was a darkly paneled room, sparsely furnished. But there was a low table just near the door, and she sat down, stretching her bare legs before her as she rest her face in her arms. “This is not happening.”
Harry sat beside her, nudging her slightly until she gave him room. “It’s not so bad. I mean, just a bit of a lark, right?”
“Right,” Sarah said glumly.
“Hey, it’s not you risking life and limb, you know?”
Sarah sighed, stretching backwards to lean on her hands. “I know, I know. It’s just…” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I always dreamed of having a lovely wedding. There, I said it. Corny and cliché, but there it is. When I was younger, I pictured myself getting married in my Aunt Lavinia’s back yard, under the big elm tree. Simple, you know. Just family and a few friends, maybe some flowers in my hair.”
Harry reached up to touch a silk blossom in Sarah’s curls. “You got the flowers, anyway.”
“I never pictured myself on an alien world, half-naked and marrying some bloke I don’t even-“ She stopped short at the stung look on Harry’s face. “Oh, Harry, it’s not like that. I’m very fond of you, of course. But…” She turned to the door, which remained closed and quite free of the Doctor’s presence. “He doesn’t even care.”
If she saw Harry’s hurt expression, she didn’t acknowledge it. “I’m sure he cares,” Harry said softly. There was a long silence between them, awkward on Harry’s part at least. Finally, when the quiet got too much to bear, he said, “You know, perhaps we should…erm…practice?”
“Practice?”
Harry coughed again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We’ve got to convince these people we’re getting married for real,” he said. “And we don’t look at all like we’re in love.”
“Oy,” Sarah whispered.
“Try to, well, gaze at me adoringly.”
Sarah looked up at him dutifully, but her expression was more nausea than adoration. “Maybe we can claim Nervous Bride Syndrome?”
Harry shrugged, his cheeks bright red as he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Well, at least we should, erm…I mean, they’re going to expect us to…” He closed his eyes tightly, and forged ahead. “Kiss.’
“Kiss.” Sarah’s eyes were wide, but her voice was flat and dull. “Oh, right. We’re supposed to kiss.”
“On the lips.”
“Yup.” Sarah nodded, dropping her face back into her hands. “Can’t we just kill him and take our chances that the TARDIS will bring us back home without him?”
“You know, some girls might actually like the idea of kissing me.”
“Oh, don’t pout, Harry. Of course, you’re handsome, you’re gorgeous, you’re a prince among men!” She grinned at him, and he grinned back at her, and they both began to laugh. “This is absurd. We’re not children. You don’t have boy germs, and I don’t have cooties.”
Harry reached out to draw her near, placing a soft kiss on her lips. There was a moment’s silence, and then they both burst out laughing. “I think we’re a bit on the hysterical side,” Harry choked.
“Maybe. Just a little,” Sarah gasped, wiping the tears from her eyes. “No, seriously, mate, we have to pull ourselves together. If we burst out laughing like crazy hyenas right after we kiss, they might suspect something.”
“Right. Right,” he said, shaking himself brusquely for at least a semblance of control. “Let’s give it another go, shall we?”
“For Queen and country,” Sarah said solemnly, then burst into laughter before their lips could even touch. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”
“Sarah Jane, my privates are at risk here,” Harry scolded. “D’you think you could just care a little bit?”
“Sorry.” Sarah sniffed, gathering her composure. She barely tittered as Harry put his fingertips under her chin, guiding her to look up at him. This time, they got through a kiss without even a giggle. “There,” she whispered as if terrified of breaking the spell. “We did it.”
“Once more?”
She nodded, leaning up to kiss him again. Again, no laughter. In fact, it was rather nice, she thought as Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, extending the kiss long past the point necessary for practice.
They didn’t break the kiss until the Doctor came in, coughing indignantly and looking quite displeased as he led them off for their marriage.
*
Sarah knelt within the matrimonial space, holding hands with Harry as the Gwanjan priest-assembly chanted and slowly marched around them. Harry's "uncle" and their beloved sponsor stood just behind them, his hands on Harry's shoulders as he offered his blessings on the marriage.
It was everything she could do not to dissolve into nervous laughter.
This was not happening. She was not on some alien planet marrying Harry Sullivan while six five-hundred pound blue aliens with antennae sticking up out of their shoulders were chanting prayers to their abundant fertility.
She didn't even know whether she wanted to be fertile, much less with this particular bloke.
It was too much, and she gazed up at poor Harry for reinforcements. Harry looked a bit pale-understandable, considering what he was at risk for should they fail. But he grinned at her, and the twinkle in his eyes was enough to produce a genuine return smile in Sarah.
She could not be sure, but she actually thought she caught a disapproving frown flash across the Doctor's face. Schooling her expression, she smiled up at him. He smiled back, impatient, distracted.
No, Sarah thought. It is not possible.
Still, her reporter's instincts could not be assuaged, and she found herself, in the midst of all this, conducting a rather childish experiment. She returned her gaze to Harry Sullivan and smiled, catching his eye and making sure there was an obvious glint of wicked humor in her own. Harry grinned lopsidedly and flashed her an equally wicked expression.
A quick, covert glance at the Doctor told her everything she needed to know. His expression was downright sour, a frown drooping low on his big, puppy-dog face, his hand actually tightening around Harry's shoulder. His only reaction to Sarah's innocent smile was a slightly injured look.
The bloody bastard, Sarah thought. I cannot believe he actually has the nerve to be jealous! She squeezed Harry's hand, hoping he'd forgive her someday. But the opportunity was too good, and the vengeance too sweet for her to be the big person this time around. She repeated the chants as the Gwanjan priests instructed them, leaning slightly towards Harry as she did, playing the lustful bride for all it was worth, knowing that every smile, every sexy look she shot at Harry cut the Doctor to shreds.
It was mean and it was juvenile and it was tacky, but sometimes Sarah was just all those things, especially when there was one bloke who noticed she was half-naked and another who didn't seem to care until he realized the other bloke had noticed she was half naked.
Besides, Harry was rather good-looking, and if she had to have a sham marriage, it was lucky she had such a gentleman to endure it with.
The priests concluded the chant and bade them stand. One took the Doctor by the shoulder, and removed him from the circle. Apparently, the time had come for the sponsor to release the young couple to their own future. As the circle closed again, with the Doctor on the outside this time, Sarah was absolutely sure she saw him scowl.
Focus, Sarah, she told herself as she stood facing Harry. Stop the pettiness, and think of poor Harry. One slip, and Harry will be singing soprano in the U.N.I.T. Volunteer Christmas Chorale.
The elder priest, a tall creature with lovely blue skin-it rather reminded Sarah of a robin's egg-broke from the circle to place his paws on Sarah and Harry's shoulders. His words were translated by the Doctor's gift, but even without, she humored herself she would recognize a benediction when she heard one.
It wasn't Aunt Lavinia's lovely back yard, but as wedding blessings went, it was actually rather nice.
She smiled at Harry, who smiled back at her, squeezing her hands gently.
They kissed, at just the appropriate time, in just the appropriate way.
And the sky filled with silver.
Tiny curlicues of silver, dazzling, beautiful, twinkling everywhere, shot from the shoulder stems of the Gwanjan priests as they blessed the marriage. Sarah felt them tickling her skin, felt them catching in her hair, in her robes. She saw Harry covered with them, a virtual Christmas tree of a husband, and she laughed.
It really was a lovely ceremony, she thought, as she pulled a shred of holminite from Harry's curls and kissed him again, sweetly.
*
"How long, Doctor," Sarah grumbled as she leaned against the center console in the TARDIS. She'd changed back into her own clothes, Harry noticed, but the miniskirt she wore really didn't cover all that much more than her Gwanjan matrimonial robes.
Harry caught himself staring at her bare shapely legs, right down to the lovely slippers that adored her feet, Honestly, if he had to engage in a sham marriage, he certainly could have done worse for himself.
But Sarah's attention was only on the Doctor, as usual, and Harry stomped even the spark of interest down before it could ignite. Danger and heartache awaited him if he went down that road, and Harry Sullivan was far too practical to even consider falling for the lovely Miss Smith. Or was it, temporarily at least, the lovely Mrs. Sullivan? He still wasn't certain if the legality of their marriage would hold up in court back on Earth, but he bowed to Sarah's insistence they go through with the annulment immediately.
Unfortunately, the Doctor didn't seem quite so concerned. He'd stuffed his pockets full of holminite shreds after the wedding, and had insisted they pluck every single bit of it out of their hair and clothes and surrender it to him before they were allowed to change.
Then, he broke apart the TARDIS controls and set to work.
Three hours ago.
Sarah, not the most patient girl to begin with, was nearing the end of her rope. She nudged the Doctor's shoulder with that clever little sandal Harry was trying so hard not to notice. "How long, Doctor?"
"If you keep bothering me, it might be days." He didn't bother to come out from under the console he had dismantled. "Why don't you and Harry go play a game of backgammon or something?"
"Backgammon?"
"I say, Doctor," Harry coughed. "Couldn't you install this stuff after you've gotten us to Pacrix for the annulment?"
"Holminite has a notoriously short life-span, Harry. You can wait."
And that did it. Poor Sarah's control just snapped, and Harry braced himself for the hurricane that was about to hit "Wait? Wait???" She hopped off the console, kicking the Doctor's leg hard. "You want us to wait?"
"Ow!" This got the Doctor out from under the console. His face was red and slightly flustered, and there were silver sparklies all over his vest. "Was that necessary?"
"You're lucky I didn't aim higher, you cheeky bastard!" Sarah's eyes were flashing with rage. "You've been behaving abominably, and I think for a second you might at least show us the courtesy of pretending to care. After all, we went through this ridiculous farce for you, put Harry's life in danger for you, all so you could get your precious little shiny things. And-"
"Harry's life was never in danger," the Doctor scoffed.
"I say, I might survive without my…" Harry coughed, averting his gaze as Sarah turned to face him. "I might survive without my privates, but I certainly wouldn't call it a life worth living."
The Doctor flashed him a maddening expression, that 'oh Harry, stop being an imbecile, you silly ape' look he got far too frequently for his liking. "Your privates?" He began to laugh. "Wherever did you get the idea your…privates…were in danger?"
"You told him that," Sarah fumed, her cheeks turning a bright pink. "You said there would be dire consequences, and then asked Harry if he really wanted to be a father someday-"
"Well, the fine is quite stiff for abusing the matrimonial services, and I was curious if Harry-"
"You insinuated…"
"It's alright, Sarah," Harry said, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. It really was too absurd at this point to even be angry. He began to chuckle softly, and even the fiery flash of Sarah's blue eyes couldn't dampen his amusement at this point. He caught her gaze and winked at her, and in a moment she smiled back.
"Never assume," the Doctor said, somewhat superfluously, as Harry and Sarah exchanged a long, meaningful gaze. "That always causes trouble."
Sarah never broke eye contact with Harry. "You're absolutely right. Never assume." She was signaling him, without a word, asking for his help. Harry lifted his eyebrows, fully compliant and willing to go along with whatever revenge she was obviously cooking up in that devious little brain of hers. "In fact, take your time with the holminite. Harry and I are in no rush to get to Pacrix, are we, Harry?"
"Not at all," he said, reaching out for her hand. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it. Sarah's triumphant look told him he'd read her intentions correctly, so he continued. "After all, we only get one wedding night, don't we, old girl?" Oh, this was wrong. This was beyond wrong. Harry made it a point to never get in between a couple, especially couples as daft as these two. But he had put them both through a lot, and judging by the angry expression in his eyes, the Doctor was taking the bait Sarah set out just perfectly. "Actually, we might want to wait a day or two, shall we dear?"
"A proper honeymoon? Oh, Doctor, do you think you could find your way to Florinda?" She turned to Harry, a radiant smile on her pretty face. "Oh, he's been going on and on about Florinda since I met him-never quite managed to find the place--but I hear it's so very romantic. A perfect place for…" She lowered her eyes, affecting a modest look. "You know."
Harry struggled not to laugh as he played the lusty bridegroom, pulling Sarah slightly closer, forcing himself not to check on the Doctor's reaction.
He needn't bother.
"Excuse me, you two. There's no hanky panky on the TARDIS," the Doctor said, hopping to his feet in a single, ungainly move.
Sarah flashed him an indignant look, then wrapped her arm in Harry's. "Actually, we're married, Doctor. So we can hanky all we want," she said with the sweetest venom in her voice. "Panky, too, for that matter. Come on, Harry. Let's leave the Doctor to his precious holminite." And she pulled him into the corridor before the Time Lord could even respond.
Once clear of the control room, and convinced that the Doctor was not following them, Sarah slumped against the wall, an apologetic expression on her face. "Well, that was childish."
"Maybe a little," Harry said, lifting her chin with a single crooked finger. "But he did have it coming. You okay?"
"No," she murmured. "But I will be."
"You know, for what it's worth, you were a beautiful bride."
She smiled and laughed a bit weakly. "Thank you, Harry. You are a perfect gentleman, you know?"
"Yeah." He was about to suggest a stroll around the TARDIS when Sarah suddenly tugged at his lapels, pulling him into a hard, passionate kiss. Her left leg went up around his thigh and her tongue forced its way into his mouth as her fingers snaked their way through his curly hair. Harry struggled to catch his breath, responding against his better judgment to the warmth of her mouth, the scent of her skin, her body writhing slightly under his. Then he opened his eyes, and followed her gaze straight down the corridor to where the Doctor was standing, fury in his eyes.
Oh, yeah. Steer clear of the rocks, Sullivan, old boy. Here be dragons.
"We will be on Pacrix in one hour, exactly," the Doctor informed them coldly, and returned to his work in the control room.
Harry and Sarah stood their quietly for a moment, awkward, still wrapped together in a rather compromising position.
"Sorry," Sarah said, her voice breathless and somewhat ashamed. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I know it's wrong, but…"
"He makes you crazy," Harry finished for her. "It's alright. We've all had people in our lives that drive us near madness, and the Doctor is yours. I won't take it personally."
Her expression was pure gratitude, and she placed a gentle, sisterly kiss on his cheek. "You're a star, Harry Sullivan," she whispered.
"Yeah, prince among men." Of course, there was the matter of fair play and all. "So, I assume there isn't going to be a proper wedding night then?" He pressed close against her, affecting a somewhat lascivious smile.
A lesser man might have been insulted by Sarah's immediate giggles, but Harry Sullivan was made of sterner stuff. "Not a chance!" she said.
Harry shook his head in mock disappointment, and pulled away from the lovely girl he'd had pressed against the wall. "So, fancy a game of backgammon, then?"
She took his outstretched hand and laughed as they headed down the corridor together. "I'd love it!"
The End