Author's Note
This is a Matt Smith in real life story - never attempted anything like this before and I'm not sure it's even appropriate to post it but since I wrote it and I've seen a couple of other 'real life' stories here I thought what the hey?! It's totally self indulgent of course ... not intended to be serious in any way and also written with the utmost respect for everyone involved in Doctor Who. This really is a silly little, just for fun story for anyone who ever went to a convention with the 'what if' fantasy in mind. I think we ALL know nothing like this ever happens in reality! I don't own anything to do with Doctor Who - no copyright infringment intended.
What was I thinking?!
"Okay, next question," Matt Smith looked out over the crowd expectantly. It was Comic Con and my ticket purchase had been motivated primarily by the attendance of the cast of Doctor Who. I'd put my hand up at the very beginning of the Doctor's question and answer session, and then waited tensely for my turn to arrive.
The attendant handed me the microphone and urged me to stand up and speak clearly.
"Hi," I said, trying to hide my nerves.
"Hello," Matt Smith returned in that friendly way of his. "You have a question?"
"I was wondering what criteria you have for choosing roles, outside of Doctor Who?" I asked.
"Criteria," Matt repeated like he was tasting the word to see how he should apply it to himself. "You mean like a set of rules or something?"
"Yes," I felt the need to clarify why I was asking. I'd recently seen Christopher and his Kind and then soon after Womb. Matt's roles had been so different to the Doctor I couldn't help but think that was the only reason he'd chosen them. "The parts you played in the two films you've done since becoming the Doctor couldn't be more different. Is that why you chose them?"
"You've seen both films?" Matt questioned. I started to feel impatient because he hadn't put any of the previous questioners through an interrogation before answering their questions.
"Yes I have," I replied without inflection.
"And you don't approve?" he sounded very serious all of a sudden.
"I don't think it's anyone's place to approve or disapprove – that sounds too much like censorship," I wanted to sit down, regretting that I'd ever stood up in the first place. "Without getting personal I have to assume each role was a huge challenge for you – no comfort zone in either one. I guess what I really wondered is why you'd do that, why you'd drive yourself that far? Was it just to create so much distance between you and the Doctor that no one would ever be able to stereotype you, because that would be like self-torture, don't you think?" I'd said too much – my nerves running my mouth at a speed I couldn't keep up with.
"Without getting personal," Matt repeated, brow raised. He gave me what almost felt like a respectful nod and then smiled. "And I thought you were going to comment on all the nudity."
The crowd laughed.
I smiled. "Well, unlike the poor Doctor, I don't think anyone has to tell you that you're hot – you won't find very many protesters if you want to show a little skin – or a lot of skin even." My face felt hot and I knew I was blushing, even as the crowd cheered.
"Well, thank you, I think," Matt replied. "To answer your question," he stopped. "What's your name?"
"Sarah." I didn't tell him my last name was also Smith, no relation, because that would just be too embarrassing.
"Right, well to answer your question Sarah, you're correct in that I did choose both those roles because they represented a huge challenge for me as an actor. I don't want to distance myself from the Doctor – he's a great character and I really love playing him. WHO continually reinvents itself though – I'd be stupid not to think about my acting future, and the films are a part of taking care of that side of things." He looked out over the crowd. "For anyone who doesn't know what we're talking about, I played Christopher Isherwood in a film called Christopher and his Kind. He was a writer who travelled to Berlin in the early 1930s, chiefly to enjoy his homosexual lifestyle more freely than he could back home – but he then got caught up in the rise of Hitler and the persecution of the Jews. And in the second film, called Womb, I play a man killed in an accident whose love impregnates herself to bring him back as a clone and then eventually has sex with him, sort of a reverse Oedipus Complex thing."
The room was noticeably quieter when he paused. "Well, that killed the mood nicely." He looked at me. "Does that answer your question?"
"Yes thank you," I felt like I should apologise to everyone. "I'm sorry if I didn't express myself clearly – I'm a bit nervous."
"That's okay," Matt smiled. "And no need to be nervous – we're all friends here, right?"
The crowd volume level rose again as everyone cheered. He certainly had a way about him, the ability to tap into what would win a crowd over to him and the personality to make it happen. He was a lot more charismatic in person than I would have expected, and as I sat down I felt relieved that I'd lived up to my own personal challenge – to ask Matt Smith a question. On the whole scale of things it was small but I was proud of myself anyway.
"Right then, next question," Matt invited.
I was happy to sit back and listen as he answered a slew of questions I imagined would be very similar to the ones he'd answered at the last convention. It was all very interesting and entertaining and funny. Yes, Matt Smith very much knew how to work a crowd.
When it was done I merged in with the rest of the crowd, looking around once away from the stage and chair area for signs indicating photo booths and signing tables. I'd decided that if I was going to do this thing, I'd do it full speed – go to all the Q&A sessions, have my photo taken with the stars and get my personal autographs. I still felt a bit embarrassed about how badly my question to Matt Smith had gone but it wasn't like he'd remember me so I should be safe.
The line for the photo moved slowly but I didn't mind. Plenty of time to psych myself up as I watched the crowds. There were a few doctors there, including a few in their tweed and bow ties. They were tame compared to some costumes, my favourite of which were the two girls dressed up as the weeping angels. They were so impressive. When it was my turn I put my bag where indicated and then looked up. It was the weirdest thing, to see Matt Smith standing right there in front of me, the guy who played the Doctor.
"Well, hello again," he greeted me like we were old friends.
"Hi," I smiled as I followed the photographer's direction to stand next to Matt. I was tall enough that I thought we'd be of a height which was even more nerve wracking because when I looked at him my eyes were almost level with his. It took me a moment to realise that I was staring. "God, I'm sorry," I looked away, face flushing again.
"Relax, this won't hurt a bit," he teased, putting his arm around me and turning to the camera. "This is the part where you smile," he advised helpfully.
I did, too embarrassed to say anything. The camera clicked and the photographer checked the shot.
"Matt, you blinked," he scolded, but in a friendly, we're mates kind of way.
"Did I? Sorry," he glanced at me with a smile. "First time today. You know what, I think I have something in my eye. Be a pal Jim and grab me a tissue will you?"
The other guy who I assumed was his handler of sorts for the convention nodded. They didn't have tissues inside the photo booth so Jim had to run off to find them elsewhere.
"You don't mind waiting, do you?" Matt asked me, dropping his arm away from me. He was being so mister guy next door, who wouldn't want to spend an extra couple of minutes talking to him.
"You're kidding, right?" I couldn't help but ask. I made myself look him in the eyes again. They were so compelling, a true kind of green with just the hint of brown at the centres. "I'm staring again," I flushed. "I don't think I'm cut out for this kind of thing."
"What, for having your photo taken?" Matt kindly didn't make a big deal over my dumb founded admiration of him. Probably because it happened to him all the time. "Nonsense – you look pretty photogenic to me – I'm the one who messed it up."
"I wasn't talking about the photo," I murmured, looking away.
Silence descended and I felt rude for not speaking to him, like I was being a bad host since he was a visitor to my country. "How long does it take to get a packet of tissues," I finally muttered.
Matt laughed. "That sound you just heard was my ego being crushed into the dirt. It's only been a few minutes Sarah – are you over me already then?"
"You're got a really good memory," I complimented. How many new names did he hear every day at one of these things. It must be a real skill to correctly retain any of them.
"I don't really," he leaned in to confide. "Actually I'm rather crap at remembering anyone's name most of the time. Lines I can do. Names, not so much. Just ask Karen and Arthur – used to drive them both crazy."
"Oh," I said stupidly.
"It's a little hard to forget the name of someone who asked me the most interesting, and I have to say confronting question I've ever been asked at one of these things," he concluded.
"Now I feel really bad," my guilt had me making eye contact earnestly. "I really was nervous getting up in front of all those people, but I'd promised myself I would, and I really did want to know why you picked those roles."
"Don't feel bad," Matt excused. "When you put yourself out there as an actor, particularly in those kinds of roles, you have to expect people to question you. I'm always more surprised when people don't ask the questions – they tiptoe around the issues like they think there's a chance I really am a homosexual or a man who's obsessed with his mother."
"So you're not …," I suddenly felt at ease enough to tease.
"Not obsessed with my mother, no," he replied, laughing. 'Don't get me wrong, she'd a great old bird whom I love dearly, but God no!" he smiled when I laughed. "And no, I'm not a homosexual either, very much not," he arched a brow at me suggestively and all but leered.
"Wow, you're really good at that," I blushed, I know it, but it was funny too.
"Tissues," Jim arrived back at that moment, brandishing a travel pack of Kleenex.
Matt took them and without even bothering to pretend, stuffed them straight into his back pocket. "For later," he shrugged without any remorse whatsoever.
"Okay, back into position," the photographer all but ordered.
"You're going to get into trouble for the delay," I muttered, moving to stand beside him again.
"It was worth it," he put his arm around me, pulling me in very close. And then, with impeccable timing just at the shot was taken, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. "One for the photo album," he said as he pulled away. "How did we do this time?" he asked the photographer.
"Great shot, both of you," the photographer complimented.
My cheek felt too warm where his lips had touched. As I moved out of the circle on the floor towards my bag I was intent on just getting out of there.
"What's this, no goodbye?" Matt challenged.
"Um, sorry," I swallowed against a too dry throat. "Thank you for the chat and everything," I got out, too awkward.
"It was a pleasure to meet you Sarah," he replied, holding out his hand.
I took it because that's what you did when someone offered you a hand shake – his skin was so warm and strong and he held on for just a second too long. I'd always thought he had great hands on screen – turns out they were even more noteworthy in person.
And then it was over. He was turning to the next person who'd had to wait way too long for their photo, and I was being ushered out of the area.
I was glad I'd come to the Con alone because I didn't have anyone there to witness my unsteady walk away from the booths and back into the crowd on the convention floor. I was sure Matt Smith was that nice and that friendly to everyone – I'd watched enough Youtube clips and already seen how he behaved here at the con to know that. I could see that sometimes an actor would single out someone for a little more attention – some teasing or a story that was told and then mentioned repeatedly, a way to create some continuity during a two day event like this. It was normal I was sure. I just hadn't expected that I'd be one of those people.
Autographs weren't until later in the day, after a second Q&A session for VIP pass holders. I had one of those and as the time approached for the session I did think about not going. But I had paid my money and how bad was it likely to be?
I found out almost immediately after Matt was introduced and strode out in front of the much smaller group of people who'd come to listen to him.
"Usually at these things you guys ask the questions and I answer them," he began, looking out at us expectantly. We were a bit of a shy bunch to start with so no one immediately raised their hand – no one wanted to be first. Matt scanned the crowd and when his eyes landed on me and he smiled, I knew I was about to be embarrassed all over again.
"Ah, the lovely Sarah," he greeted me, moving from the front down the centre aisle until he stood beside my seat, right there at the end of the row. "I know you have a question for me," he invited.
I expect he thought I'd ask the same one as that morning. I was going to, but then I opened my mouth and a different question came out. "Since you asked, yes I do," I replied. "Do you enjoy taking your clothes off on camera and are we likely to see you bearing all on Doctor Who?"
"Wow, not what I was expecting," Matt's eyes were full of mirth and I realised abruptly that I hadn't gotten the better of him at all. The chair next to me was empty and he all but pushed me into it so that he could sit down. "This is better," he commented. Turning around he eyed the rest of the audience. "For that kind of personal question, a man really needs to sit down."
Of course, the crowd loved him and everyone laughed. He turned back to me. "So, am I right in saying that your question is Am I some kind of closet exhibitionist?" More laughter followed. It was pretty funny and I couldn't help but laugh too.
"Maybe what I should have asked is do you mind that everyone who's seen either of your last two films has also seen your ass, assuming that was in fact yours and not a body double?"
"Totally one hundred percent mine darling," he replied, patting my knee.
While I was suddenly breathless at how forward he'd been, he stood and regarded his audience. "Since we're talking about it, how many of you have seen either Christopher and his Kind or Womb?"
A fair few people raised their hands. "Right, so about half of you have seen my naked behind. Should I be worried, do you think?"
He glanced down at me, raising a brow. "Not on my account," I said low enough that he had to lean down a bit to hear me. "It's a great ass."
The microphone picked up my words and the room erupted into such gleeful laughter it really was a pleasure to be part of it, even though I felt it was mostly at my expense.
"Well, thank you very kindly," he touched a hand to my shoulder before spinning in a very Doctor Who like manner and all but skipping back to the front. "That's going to be a hard act to follow, but don't let that stop you. Next question?"
I sunk low in my seat for the rest of the session. The questions were much more interesting and personal than the earlier session, probably because I'd set the tone in that direction with my stupid, stupid question. As a result we learned things about Matt Smith he'd probably not told his fans previously.
Still, part of me wanted to apologise but the bigger part just wanted out of there. Matt was escorted down the outer aisle and I wasted no time in hightailing it down the centre. In the line for autographs straight after, a few people commented on my question but it was all positive. As I stood there I realised he hadn't actually answered it and I had to chuckle silently to myself.
I could see Matt signing autographs as I got progressively closer to his table. His handler sat beside him, subtly moving Matt along when he lingered too long to chat to his fans. Before it was my turn he saw me there, in the line. His eyes locked to mine and his expression was so serious I wondered what he could possibly be thinking. My nerves sky rocketed and I felt shaky as I sat in the chair they provided when it was my turn.
"We meet again," Matt commented, smiling.
"Yes," I swallowed quickly and then rushed into speech. "Listen, I'm really, really sorry about what happened before, I honestly don't know what came over me to ask you a question like that – it's not like me and I'm just, I'm really sorry."
"You already said that," Matt pointed out. He didn't even make a pretence that he was chatting while signing, holding the pen with the lid still on it and my photo of him still in front of his handler. "Tell me, what exactly are you sorry for?"
"Um," I gulped, "because I asked you about on-screen nudity and I'm pretty sure that's a no no at these things."
"Ah, but I put you on the spot so perhaps I deserved it," he replied.
"No you didn't," I had to take responsibility. "I do think the rest of the questions were really good ones and maybe that was why but it doesn't excuse me."
"Then I suppose you'll have to make it up to me," he sighed, putting on a hard done by expression.
"Ah, make it up to you?" I asked uncertainly, glancing at the handler to see what he thought of the conversation.
"Don't worry about Jim," Matt advised. "As soon as I saw you in the queue I warned him that there'd be another delay."
"I have no idea what's going on here," I rubbed a hand across my forehead, feeling the headache coming on.
"Don't worry darling, it'll all become clear soon enough," Matt laughed. "Listen, I've already done the requisite meet and greet last night so tonight I'm on my own. All I ask is that you show me some of the night life here – all casual and above board okay?" He held up his hands innocently.
I shouldn't have said yes but I did feel that I owed him something and better me being a local host than some other woman who'd be seeing his request as an invitation to grope him. "O-kay," I said slowly, unsure I was doing the right thing.
"Give me your number," he pulled out his phone, quickly scrolling past screens until he could add a new contact.
I dutifully recited it, all the while thinking I had to be the craziest person alive.
"Sarah," he muttered, tapping away. "Wait, Sarah what?" he asked, looking up at me expectantly.
"Is that really necessary?" I asked with a grimace.
"Well, it wasn't, not until you reacted like that," Matt retorted. "Come on, you might as well tell me. In fact I'm not going to sign your picture until you do which will cause a huge delay and Jim here will get very cross with me. I might even get fired and sent home in shame and it'd be all your fault. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"
"Maybe I don't want your autograph anymore," I suggested weakly.
"Oh, I think you do," Matt smiled. "You paid way too much for it and you've lined up for an hour. You want it all right. Go on, be honest."
His eyes were so intent – the man did sexy with so little effort I wondered whether he even realised just how appealing he was.
"Smith," I said quickly and quietly, looking away.
"Sorry, can you repeat that?" Matt asked, grinning now.
"Smith," I said again a bit louder. "My surname is Smith, okay?"
"Wait, your name is Sarah Smith," Matt laughed, genuine and so infectious I found myself laughing too. "You middle name isn't Jane is it?"
"No! Shut up," I giggled and then clamped a hand over my mouth to stop another one from emerging. Giggling, me? I just didn't do giggling and it was mortifying to find that Matt Smith brought out that side of me. "Smith is a perfectly acceptable surname," I insisted once I had myself back under control.
"Oh, I know," Matt replied. "I'm rather fond of it myself."
Taking the photo Jim held up – him as the doctor with a Stetson on his head – Matt uncapped the pen with a flourish and then bent low, scribbling away for longer that should have been necessary. "There you go," he presented me with the photo, his eyes on mine.
I deliberately didn't look at it, slipping it into the folder I'd brought before standing up. I already had the photo from the morning in there – Matt Smith kissing my cheek. Even I had to admit it was a great shot even though I'd never be able to show it to anyone for the embarrassment of trying to explain how it had happened. "Thank you," I said, hoping that would be the end of it.
"I'll be in touch, Ms Smith," he promised.
"I'm already looking forward to it Mr Smith," I replied before hurrying away.
Once I was out of the venue and all the way back to my car I got the folder out and turned Matt's photo over.
"Ms Sarah 'not Jane' Smith, you darling girl. Just think, one day in the future, when I'm done sowing my wild oats and you've come to the realisation that no man could possibly be better for you than me, how efficient it will be for us to get married. You won't have to change your name and neither will I. I'd call that fate, wouldn't you? XXXX Matt."
I laughed. "Crazy lunatic," I muttered, throwing my gear in the car before jumping inside. As I drove away I decided I must be a lunatic too, for being so charmed by a man who'd forget me once his trip here was done.
At home I went about my evening business as usual, mostly because I didn't really expect that Matt Smith would call me. Of course, I hoped he would, I just didn't believe it.
When my phone buzzed at just after 7pm I rushed to answer it. It was an SMS, from Matt.
"Ms Smith, it would be my honour if you would meet me in the foyer of the Hilton Hotel, at 7:30 pm. Text me back if that's too early. Matt. PS Yes, I'm aware that this means you now have my private number. I trust you … see where I'm going with this?"
He wanted me to know I could trust him, so much that he'd risked giving me his mobile phone number. For all he knew I was someone not above selling it to the highest bidder, causing him a boat load of frustration before he managed to change it.
"Mr Smith, I'll be there at 7:30pm. In case you've already forgotten what I look like, I'll be the woman who strangely trusts you too, although I have no idea why," I texted back.
I was already ready to go – I could have tried to tart myself up a bit but what was the point? It wasn't my usual approach and I felt comfortable in the dark jeans, boots, and simple long sleeved shirt I was wearing. It probably wasn't dressy enough for the Hilton but I didn't think Matt's plan was to stay there so we should be right.
My heart was pumping a little too hard by the time I jogged up the steps and through the hotel doors. The foyer was huge, stairs to my right leading down into a seating area that led still further into a popular bar and bistro. To my left were the lifts and straight in front of me was the reception desk. Matt wasn't there yet. I glanced at my watch to see how early I was and when I looked up again there he was, striding from the lift.
He looked … incredible. There was no other word for it. He'd gone for casual too, with one of those ratty looking t-shirt he favoured under a jacket, jeans and boots, and a bowler hat on his head.
"This is insane," I muttered under my breath, watching him approach.
"The lovely Ms Smith," he greeted me suavely, touching a hand to my elbow to get me walking along with him. Clearly he wanted to get out of the lobby – given how many people were lingering here and there I could see why.
"We don't have to do this you know," I commented, glancing around me for anyone who looked like they'd recognised him and were about to pounce.
"Of course we do," he returned. "Life for the living and all that."
"Okay, then, what are we looking for here?" I asked, matching my stride to his. "What sort of venue I mean."
"This is your town darling," he grinned down at me. "You lead the way."
"God, the pressure," I muttered, frowning. Where did you take a guy who played the most famous character in science fiction history? The last thing I wanted was to suggest any degree of intimacy but I couldn't take him anywhere too populated because we'd likely get mobbed.
"Relax," he threw his arm around me and hugged me fondly. "It'll all be fine, okay."
"Easy for you to say," I let him hug me for a moment before moving away. He was just too compelling – any more of that and I'd be lining up for anything he wanted from me. Of course then I'd never be able to look myself in the eye again … so, not going there. "Okay, I know a place – you don't mind walking?"
He shook his head, watching me intently.
We walked briskly, our styles lining up so effortlessly. I hated to walk too slowly and always felt like I hurried in comparison to everyone else but Matt seemed to enjoy the pace. He looked at everything with such delight, like it was all new and special and unforgettable.
"Here it is," I announced about ten minutes later. I led him inside a small bistro. It was dark and quiet, arranged in a series of booths to create privacy. "Don't get any ideas," I warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured as I smiled at the hostess.
"Have you got a booth free?"
"There's one still unreserved," she replied, motioning for us to follow her. She put us near the window which was fine – we'd be able to look at people going past but they wouldn't be able to see us. Downside was that anyone coming into the bistro would also have to walk past us but with Matt sitting in the corner and me sitting next to him they'd have to be pretty nosy to get close enough to recognise him.
"Is this okay?" I asked, glancing around at the other patrons before turning to him. "I thought you'd want somewhere not too public – I hope that was right."
"It's cool," Matt replied. "Do I need to tell you to relax again?"
"I'm good," I shifted back before he could start hugging me again. "Are you a touchy feely kind of guy in general?" I asked.
"You mean do I go around hugging everyone I meet?" Matt returned.
I nodded.
"Not in general, no," he began, "but in certain circles it's the done thing, isn't it?"
"I wouldn't know," I reminded him, "since I don't traditionally move around in those circles." I looked at him intently. "What am I doing here Matt?"
"Being a superb hostess to a lonely tourist," he said promptly, giving me one of those winning smiles.
"Lonely?" I raised a brow at him incredulously. "Why do I not believe that?"
"Because you're not as trusting as you should be, Sarah Smith," he explained. "You don't believe in magic, miracles, unexplained phenomena do you? My God, I bet you're one of those people who thinks that love is something made up for the storybooks. Am I right?"
"When you say it like that it sounds pitiful," I frowned, looking down at the table. I didn't like the picture he'd painted of me and I had to remind myself that he didn't really know me, not after one day.
"That's because it is," he said bluntly, "but have no fear, because I'm here to show you that all those things really do exist, if you know where to look for them."
"And I suppose you do?" I sounded grumpy, which I liked even less.
"It's the least I can do," Matt smiled and I knew he was teasing me – or at least I thought he was.
"What can I get you this evening?" our waitress arrived, cutting off that line of conversation, to my relief.
We ordered beers and a range of starter dishes rather than full on meals and then sat back to wait for them to arrive. When the drinks came Matt raised his bottle. "To new friends," he said seriously.
"New friends," I agreed, clinking my bottle with his. That was more like it.
The food didn't take long and I found a surprising degree of enjoyment in sharing the various dishes with Matt. "I love finger foods," I told him a short time after we'd tucked in. "If every meal was served like this I'd be in food heaven."
Matt looked at me, surprised. "This really must be fate Ms Smith," he told me, "because you'd see me sitting right alongside you, eager for the next morsel."
"That's exactly it!" I grinned. "Why waste room eating a whole dish of something when you can get a taste of lots of different things?"
As we ate our conversation flowed easily. Mostly because I kept thinking of questions I'd always wanted to ask him. Now, with a captive audience I had the chance and I decided there was no point in being shy. Most of the questions were just silly things like were his lines all word for word as written in the script or did he embellish them as he acted them out; how many bow ties did they have in props for him; did he own a tweed coat of his own; was the thing with the changing hats his idea? After a time, when we were done with the food and on to our third beer, I shifted to more serious questions. Did the fame ever scare him? How long was he going to continue as the Doctor?
He answered all my questions, that was the amazing thing. Every single one of them, as though he'd never heard of the concept of a secret.
"Surely you've run out of things to ask by now?" he eventually asked.
"Just one more," I pleaded.
"Fine, one more, but then it's my turn to interrogate you," he replied. "Deal?"
"Sure," I shrugged. "I've got five minutes – shouldn't take more than that."
"We'll see," he said meaningfully. I wasn't worried though because seriously, what could he possibly want to ask me? I was so ordinary it was painful. "Ask your question," he prompted.
"Right, so, you're in for a day where you have do one of those scenes," I put emphasise on the last word, hoping he wouldn't make me say it.
"Those 'scenes'?" he air quoted, being deliberately obtuse. "Whatever do you mean?"
"Fine, when you're up for a sex scene," I said bluntly, hoping the bistro was too dark for him to see my blush. "How can you do it?"
"Do what exactly?" he seemed genuinely interested now.
"Get that close to another person, that … intimate," I expanded. "I know it's not real but in the unreality of it there's a violation of personal space and a level of closeness and I guess I don't see how you can bring yourself to do that, particularly with all the crew and the cast there, watching you."
"Do you mean that scene in Christopher?" Matt asked.
"Not just that one but it's a good example," I said earnestly. "I know it would look and feel different on the set when you're filming it than it does in the finished product but there's so much there that does seem to be real." I laughed softly and shook my head. "I couldn't do it which is probably why you're the actor and I'm an admin officer."
"It's hard to explain the acting process to someone who's never acted," Matt began. "When you immerse yourself into a character, when you spend hours and hours every day being that other person, it becomes easy to put your sense of self aside. A good director knows that – the kind of scene we did in Christopher would be filmed towards the end of shooting once all the actors have had a lot of time to really adopt their character, to make him or her their own. I can't explain it really except to say that it wasn't Matt Smith snogging that block. It was Christopher Isherwood kissing a man he thought he was in love with."
"Before talking to you tonight I would have said that actors have to be self-centred to be successful. It's the opposite though, isn't it? You have to remove yourself from what you're doing, which is more than the average person ever does." I smiled. "It's interesting … and I've even more convinced I couldn't do it. I struggle to switch off the internal voice for a few minutes."
"Haven't you ever wanted to be someone else though?" Matt asked. "An archaeologist or a pilot or a femme fatale?"
"Indiana Jones, maybe," I allowed.
"Right, Indiana Jones, good choice," Matt replied. "What I do comes as close as you can to experiencing the other things you could be, even though in reality life is too short for you to do all of them."
"Does that mean -," I began.
'Uh!" Matt held up a hand imperiously.
"What?"
"You were about to ask another question when clearly we agreed it would be my turn from now on," he reminded me.
"Fine," I sighed. "Ask your questions."
"Have you ever been in love?"
"That's your first question?" I asked, giving him an incredulous look. "What happened to a gentle build up?"
"I prefer the shock factor," Matt didn't sound the least bit repentant. "Did you know that non-verbal communication – body language and the like – account for more than 90% of all communication between human beings?"
"I'd heard something like that," I replied. "So what did my non-verbal reaction tell you?"
"That romance isn't an area you want to talk about," Matt replied. "But since I answered all your questions I feel it's only fair for you to answer mine."
"Yeah, but I never asked you about your love life," I protested.
"An oversight you can correct later," he promised. "Now, answer my question Sarah Smith. Have you ever been in love?"
"No," I said bluntly. "You got it right before – I don't believe in love, not romantic love anyway. Don't look at me like that," I warned when he grimaced.
"What?" he demanded. "I'm not looking at you in any particular way."
"Yes you are," I insisted. "I know how it sounds, like sour grapes because no man ever declared me his one true love, so rather than take that on board I've decided it's because it doesn't exist. I'm not even saying that love doesn't exist, just not the kind that you see in movies or read about in books. In real life it's less dramatic, less life and death 'I can't live without you' and more of an intellectual endeavour because it makes sense for people to live their lives as couples and families."
"I should be coming up with stunningly articulate arguments to discount everything you just said but I find myself stuck on the first thing," Matt admitted. He put his hand over mine as he leaned closer. "No man ever declared you his one true love? Is every man of your acquaintance blind because I don't understand otherwise how that could even happen?"
My heart rate kicked up and the table we'd been sitting at so comfortably felt suddenly too small. Matt's presence crowded me and I wanted so badly to get up, to declare him the winner in whatever verbal battle we'd stumbled into. Only stubborn pride had me holding my ground.
"Your life is large … places, events, the people you meet," I said quietly, pulling my hand out from under his. "You can't possibly understand. Mine is so small … the same places, the same series of events, and so few new experiences. In that world it's easy for things to pass you by."
"And yet here you sit, after a day of new experiences, with me," he said just as quietly.
"Can I be blunt here?" I asked abruptly.
"Of course," Matt declared. "Be blunt. I love blunt."
"I'm thirty four and you're twenty nine and there is no way in hell that this is going anywhere, even on a one night only basis," I kept my eyes locked on his the whole time because I wanted to see his non-verbal communication in play. "That's not ego talking because I think I've already established a low threshold there. I suppose I'm just saying there's no point in flirting with me, whatever your reason for doing it."
He was good, probably trained to be, because he let nothing show. "Okay, so wild sex back in my hotel room later is off the table," his tone was cutting and I felt my eyes watering.
"You're angry," I acknowledged, looking away.
"Yes, I damn well am," Matt agreed. God, even annoyed he exuded something that had you wanting more.
"You should be," I nodded, knowing he was right and equally sure I'd had to put things in those terms to get my message across. "I know you're not after anything like that from me Matt. I'm confused about what you do want. I just, I don't understand any of this, nothing since I asked that question this morning has made sense to me. This isn't me – I'm not the girl anyone meets and then decides they have to be friends with."
"Oh Sarah, how on Earth did you cultivate such a low opinion of yourself?" he asked gently.
I wanted to cry even more then. What happened to what I thought would be easy surface questions I could answer in five minutes? I'd never had anyone cut so quickly to the heart of me and I didn't like it. "Being realistic is not the same as low self-esteem and it always annoys me when people suggest it is," I shot back. "We can't all be you Matt Smith – charming and witty and attractive and talented. You get to be all that because there are people like me who are so ordinary we help you stand out. I don't think it's negative to understand where you sit in life's unspoken food chain."
"I have the overwhelming urge to hug you right now," Matt admitted. "I suppose you'll take that as attempted sexual assault and have the police coming down on me."
I didn't answer, leaning into him and resting my head against his chest as I wrapped my arm around his waist. He reciprocated immediately, completing the embrace and holding me so close. It was heavenly.
"It's getting late," I said when we broke apart.
"No it's not," Matt denied. "I'd like to go somewhere loud and crazy where you can be anonymous right there in the crowd. Dancing!" he declared. "Let's go dancing, although I have to warn you I'm fairly crap at it."
"Dancing," I grimaced.
"What, you don't like dancing?" Matt pouted, putting on the disappointed face big time.
"It's not that," I sighed. "I'm not much of a night club person and it's been ages since I went out quite like this. I have no idea where we should go."
"Oh," Matt smiled. "Right, leave it with me." He motioned for our bill and when the waitress brought it over smiled at her too. "I'd like to take my lovely friend here dancing," he began. "Would you by any chance be able to direct us somewhere – not shabby but not posh either?"
The waitress was very friendly - and as luck would have it clearly NOT a Doctor Who fan, if the way she treated Matt just like any other guy was any indicator. She paused for a few moments to think and then suggested a couple of places within walking distance. She and Matt chatted for a few more moments and then she returned to her work.
"Okay, let's get cooking," Matt nudged my side to get me moving since he couldn't get out of the booth until I did. I grabbed the bill and jumped up quickly.
"Wait here," I told him firmly, hurrying up to the register and handing over my credit card. It wasn't cheap but no way was I letting him pay for me – he'd taken me outside my boring existence for the night so buying him dinner was the least I could do. "Thanks," I told the server when she handed me my receipt. Turning I almost ran right into Matt, who was regarding me with a bemused expression. "Didn't I tell you to wait?" I glanced to either side to see if anyone was looking at us. He did too, nodding politely to anyone who looked back.
"You are quite the treasure, Sarah Smith," he told me, putting his hand under my elbow as he escorted me towards the door.
"It's just dinner," I excused, already planning in my mind the best way to get to the first of the places the waitress had suggested.
"Which only makes you more surprising," Matt murmured. He put a hand to my cheek and suddenly my attention was entirely on him alone.
"Sorry?" I frowned. What had I missed?
"So am I," he replied, leaning down and touching his lips to mine lightly. It all happened so fast and he was already stepping back and giving me one of those cheeky grins before I understood what had happened. "For the dinner," he teased.
"Okay, um – thanks," I blushed. You just thanked him for kissing you, moron, I thought. "Don't do that again," I sounded grumpy which only made him laugh. "And don't laugh at me!"
"I'm not," he protested, taking my hand. I tugged but he didn't let go so with a resigned sigh I started walking. It was about eleven and there were a fair few people around and I tried not to worry that he'd be approached by anyone who recognised him.
"You were," I muttered, not looking at him.
"Maybe just a little bit but not how you think," he allowed. "You have no idea what a breath of fresh air you are."
"Really?" I found it hard to believe I was so different from anyone else.
"Oh, definitely," he squeezed my hand to emphasise his point. "You go out of your way not to assume anything." I frowned, confused by what that meant and he smiled. "Take dinner – most girls would have expected me to pay, being the famous actor and all, but I suspect you would have been horrified if I'd tried to settle the bill. If I'd said half of what I've said to you tonight to one of those girls they'd be all over me assuming all manner of things but again you looked more horrified that anything. My ego may never recover but I find myself liking that, a lot."
"I can explain all that very easily," I said just as we arrived at the right venue. There was a small line-up for entry and I wondered what I should do.
"So explain," Matt eyed the line for a moment and then grinned, pulling me to the back of it and then standing too close. "You can be my human shield," he excused when I glanced at him, brow raised.
"You don't want to go to the front and drop your name?" I asked, surprised.
"I'm just Matt Smith from North Hampton tonight," he told me. "He's quite accustomed to queuing for a drink and a bit of a dance, although to be honest it's been a couple of years since he's had to."
"It's nice to meet you, Matt Smith from North Hampton," I said seriously, a large part of me wishing it were as simple as that, that he really was just an ordinary lad from northern London.
"Ah," he nodded. "I can see you like him much more than you do Matt Smith, actor." He'd gotten it so quickly – it hadn't escaped my notice that he was intelligent and insightful but I had to smile when I realised anew just how smart he actually was.
"Maybe," I admitted, "but only because North Hampton Matt is in Sarah Smith's league." I laughed suddenly. "Listen to us talking about ourselves in the third person!"
He still looked a little put out that I wasn't as enamoured of him as I could be. "Don't worry," I patted his arm fondly. "I'm a Matt Smith fangirl and I can squee with the best of them. I wouldn't have been at that convention otherwise and then we wouldn't be having this conversation, would we?"
"A fangirl eh?" he looked amused. "And what behaviour constitutes squeezing?"
"First you have to watch everything your squee target has ever made, including going to whatever lengths it takes to get your hands on viewable copies," I began, ticking one off on my fingers. "Second to that you have to genuinely enjoy all of them, even if some of them aren't very good because everything your squee target is in is wonderful," I ticked a second finger off. "Third, and this one is the most important, you have to spend hours and hours searching YouTube for anything with your squee target in it, making sure your favourites list is full of links to them. That makes you ready for complete giddiness should you ever get the chance to see them in person."
"So you've done all of that?" Matt asked.
"I really have," I admitted without a qualm.
"Hours and hours on YouTube?" he persisted.
"Yep, most of them well into the wee hours," I agreed easily. "YouTube is a time sucker – once you're there it could be days until you finally make it out again." I glanced at him. "Does that bother you?"
"Only because I have no idea what impression you'd get from all of that," he admitted.
"A very good one," I smiled, "or else, again, I wouldn't have been at the con today. Go on, pump up that ego," I teased. "I was only there for you."
He actually looked embarrassed as he regarded me for a few moments before giving in and laughing along with me. "You're teasing me," he grinned. "That's great."
"I'm glad you're enjoying it," I smiled at the door guy when he indicated that it was our turn to go in. Inside it was dark and crowded and so loud that any real conversation was immediately curtailed.
Matt dragged me to the dance floor and then proceeded to convince me that in at least one area as Doctor Who he hadn't been acting at all. Remember Amy and Rory's wedding reception in The Big Bang? That's exactly how he danced. It was hilarious. I've never had so much fun at a night club before and I told him as much when we decided to leave a couple of hours later.
"God, I'm tired," I bent to rub one aching calf muscle as I glanced up at him. "Glad I'm wearing sensible footwear too or else my feet would kill right about now."
He was looking at me with the oddest expression, like he'd never seen me before. "Matt?" I straightened, giving him a worried glance. "Are you okay?"
"Sure, of course," he raised a smile from somewhere, offering me his arm gallantly. "You'll escort me back to my hotel?"
"Of course," I nudged his side as we started walking. "I couldn't possibly leave my mate Matt from North Hampton out where he'd probably end up lost."
"You're a gem of a friend," he assured me.
We were both strangely quiet as we walked. I was thinking about how much I'd enjoyed the evening and how much I wished it didn't have to end. Once I dropped him off there'd be no reason for me to see him again and I felt sad in the reality of it.
"Home sweet Home," I joked when we got to the Hilton.
"Come in, please," he added when I hesitated. "I understand the boundaries," he promised me.
"Okay," I agreed, following him to lifts. The ride up was quiet too because after a night of easy conversation I suddenly had no idea what to say to him. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," I said when the doors opened on his floor.
"You're as safe as you want to be," he assured me, taking my hand and tugging me along with him. He unlocked his door and ushered me inside. Of course there was nothing of him in the room. It was impersonal as all hotel rooms were and he hadn't had time to spread his gear around.
"What time is it back in England?" I asked curiously, moving to stand in front of the window. The city lights shone back at me, the full moon illuminating the ocean just beyond.
"Ah … about four in the afternoon," he worked out, throwing himself on the couch with a sigh.
"It must be hard adjusting to the different time zones," I left the safety of the window and went to sit down across from him. "You have the same schedule at the con tomorrow?"
"I think so," he'd closed his eyes and now opened them to look at me. "Will I have the pleasure of seeing you in the audience again?"
"I'm sorry," I shook my head. "I only managed to get a ticket for the one day. You'll be fine – you might even find another fangirl like me to entertain you for the day."
"Is that what you think this is?" Matt sat up, leaning his hands on his knees and looming a lot closer than he'd been a moment before.
"Sorry?" I shifted back as far as I could get as I frowned at him. He looked annoyed and I didn't understand why. "You're a great guy Matt – I couldn't fault anything in your behaviour so please don't take this the wrong way. I don't think I'm just a fangirl but at the same time I can't see how I could be anything else. I live here and tomorrow you'll be halfway across the country. Then after that you'll be on the other side of the world."
"I like you Sarah," Matt said intently. "Is it so hard to believe that a friendship could exist between us?"
"Arg," I almost growled, glaring at him. "Now you're making me feel guilty. Yes, all right, yes! I don't understand how it happened but I can't deny the instant friendship thing, even though I've never hit it off with someone so easily before."
"Thank you," Matt smiled. "I want you to come to the convention tomorrow."
"I don't have a ticket," I reminded him.
"You won't need one," he assured me. "I'll just bring you in with me."
"Oh," I thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged. "Why not?" I grinned. "Does this mean I get to see the whole convention thing from behind the scenes?"
"If that's what you want," he agreed. "You can be my handler for the day."
"Now you're talking," I laughed. "This is going to be fun."
"Don't go getting giddy with the power trip," he warned teasingly. "You should know after today's performance that I'm not the best follower of instructions."
"As long as you don't pick up another fangirl I think we'll be right," I teased back.
"Jealous darling?" he challenged.
"Oh, hell yes," I laughed. "If you're going to have a friend from here then clearly it has to be me."
"Well then, friend, how about we watch a bit of telly," Matt suggested.
"It's late," I reminded him. "It might only be four pm where you normally are but it's almost two am here. You have to be up in a few hours."
"I know, but I'm not tired," he sounded petulant, giving me such a hopeful look that I caved without trying too hard to resist him.
"Okay," I agreed. "I'll stay for a while."
"Excellent," jumping up Matt switched the television on and then came back to me with the remote in hand. It was 2 am so of course there was nothing but music videos and home shopping programs on the free to air channels. Matt got the in house movie menu up and we chose something neither of us had seen. The TV was mounted on the wall – I continued to sit on the couch I'd chosen, assuming Matt would take the other one.
"This won't do," he declared, jumping up again and pushing the coffee table closer to his side. Then he grabbed my hand – I wasn't expecting that so he had me up on my feet before I could blink.
"Hey," I protested.
"You're too far away over there," he insisted, pulling me over to sit beside him. He put his feet on the table, looking at me expectantly.
With a sigh, I did the same. "Happy now?" I grumbled.
"Much better, thanks," he slung his arm around me and then turned his attention to the screen.
It took me a few moments to relax again but eventually I did, discovering that he was as easy to spend quiet time with as he'd been when we'd talked almost non-stop at the bistro.
It was the phone ringing that woke me, bringing with it a host of immediate impressions. I was still on the couch, my head resting against something warm and far too comfortable. We'd fallen asleep watching the movie. Frowning I realised I had no recollection of when.
"Matt," I sat up, shifting to look down at him. He was still asleep, that hair of his flopping down over his eyes. "Matt," I said again when he didn't stir.
"Hmm?" he woke up slowly, cracking his eyes open until he saw me leaning over him. "Hey," he murmured, sitting up and stretching. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, doing one of those full body stretches that just shouldn't be allowed. He looked too damn good and I was envious as hell.
"That is so unfair," I muttered, sure that I looked exactly like a person who'd been out all night and then slept on a couch should look.
"What is?" he bounced off the couch and across to the phone that was ringing again. Listening for a moment he nodded. "Thanks. Wake up call," he told me, putting the phone down again.
"I should go and let you get ready," I told him, standing up quickly.
"We have," he glanced at his watch, "just over an hour before I have to be at the convention," he said. "If you're going to be my handler for the day you're have to stick around and make the best of it."
"Ah," I grimaced, thinking about the impressions I was creating.
"Come on, stay and have breakfast with me," he urged. "You can freshen up here."
I glanced down at what I was wearing – I was a night time showerer so that didn't bother me, but I felt rumpled and stupidly cheap walking around in the same clothes I'd worn the night before. Like the walk of shame but without the fun of earning that title.
"I can give you one of my t-shirts," Matt offered.
"Okay," I shook my head. "Do you ever not get your way?" I complained.
"Not if I can help it," Matt grinned. He disappeared into the bedroom and returned moments later with a red t-shirt. "Here you go," he offered me the garment and then waved me towards the bathroom. "I'll order some breakfast."
Feeling awkward I let myself get carried along in the wake of his enthusiasm and take charge manner. I washed and dressed, trying not to think about how intimate it was to wear a man's shirt. As done as I could be I emerged to see Matt standing by the windows talking on his mobile.
"Yes I'm on schedule," he was saying. Laughing he shook his head. "I'm not always late Kaz – and I'm quite capable of getting up by myself." He saw me then, giving me an embarrassed shrug as he continued listening to his friend. "I'll be there in an hour okay – see you then."
"Karen," he said when he was done. "She's always checking up on me."
"Well, she was right, wasn't she," I commented lightly. "You didn't get up by yourself, did you?"
"Would you have wanted me to tell her that?"
"Um," I glanced away, feeling more contradictions popping up all around us. We were friends so I shouldn't mind if he told his friend I'd stayed over. Friends did that all the time. Because I'd fallen asleep literally with him right there beside me I felt embarrassed – it was too intimate and I didn't want him telling anyone. "I'm sorry I fell asleep on you," I said instead of answering.
"I'm not," he returned. "Best night of sleep I've had on one of these tours."
"Don't tell your friend you had someone here," I decided abruptly. "We know it was innocent but the impression is hard to get passed."
Matt nodded, watching me carefully.
"Go and do what you have to," I urged him. "If I'm going to take care of you today then it'll be a poor start if I can't get you there on time."
He nodded again, but instead of heading for the bathroom he came over to me. Raising a hand he tucked my hair behind my ear. "It's a shameful cliché but I have to say that shirt looks better on you than it ever looked on me."
"I find that hard to believe," I retorted, "but thank you. Now stop being a shameless flirt and get moving!"
"Yes Ma'am," he grinned, leaning down and kissing my cheek before dashing away in that way of his.
The convention was mostly over before I had time to stop and think about my day. From the minute we got to the venue it had been go, go, go and I had a new admiration for Matt's job. It was hard work and he did it with the same open friendly manner at the end of the day as he'd had at the start. After only a handful of hours of sleep I was beyond tired but he gave no indication that he felt the same.
The day had to conclude earlier than the previous day because the guests had a flight interstate to catch. It was a holiday the following day and the convention organisers had decided to take advantage by scheduling another day of events.
"God, I'm glad that's done," Matt announced once all his official obligations were done. He slumped into the seat next to me, rubbing his hands over his face and suddenly looking very tired.
"What time is your flight?"
"Six," he glanced at me and then ran his hands through his hair. He did that a lot and I wondered if it was a way to distract from his expression – to hide in plain sight, like when he spoke as he looked off into the distance instead of at the person he was speaking to.
"I can take you to the airport," I offered quietly.
He looked at me again and then nodded. We were both quiet as we went through the motions of letting the organisers and his friends know he'd see them at the airport. After a quick stop off at the hotel for his bags we were on our way.
I enjoyed driving and tried to cheer myself up by playing at tour guide as I pointed out silly locations like the local pizza place or a shop that sold nothing but Christmas decorations.
"You'll come in," he didn't so much ask as make a declaration but I didn't care. I'd decided I was going to stick it out until his plane was a speck disappearing into the sky.
We parked in the short term lot and then walked into the airport. He checked his bag and got his boarding pass and then we walked through security.
"What now?" I asked, looking around. Maybe he had lounge membership – probably since it wasn't the usual thing to see celebrities sitting out in the main area.
"Walk with me," Matt requested, offering me his hand.
"I really enjoyed today," I said as we walked. "It's a long day for you – I never realised how much was involved."
"It's hard work but I like doing it," Matt replied. "It surprised me how much I loved it the first con I went to."
"You just like being adored," I teased.
"That doesn't hurt," he joked. We fell silent and then he sighed. "This is rubbish, isn't it?"
"What, pretending you're not leaving and that I'm probably never going to see you again?" I asked.
"Please, don't say that!" he protested.
"Reality is something I'm really good at Matt," I said lightly.
"So it doesn't bother you?"
"I never said that," I denied.
"I've spent twenty hours straight with you and I still have no idea what you're feeling," he complained, clearly irritated.
"Do you want me to burst into tears and beg you not to go?" I demanded, pulling my hand from his. "Would that be good enough to have your ego all pumped up and shiny?"
"This isn't about my ego," Matt was suddenly all quiet and serious. "Look, you drew the lines and I was okay with that … because I was enjoying your company too much to push the limits. But if you're just going to send me off with a 'have a good life' wave I might as well answer the question."
"What question?" My nerves kicked up a notch but I couldn't step back.
He didn't speak, just threaded his hand through my hair and drew me up to him. When his lips touched mine all the lies I'd told myself for two days just fell away. I was seriously attracted to him and in danger of losing my heart.
"Did that help?" my voice was raw and my breathing choppy by the time he pulled back.
"Not as much as it could," he murmured, leaning down to kiss me again.
It was all too much and I hadn't forgotten that we were in a public place, although Matt had had the good sense to seclude us in a corner away from as many prying eyes as possible.
"Stop," I ripped away, putting my hands on his chest. "How is this helping us?" I demanded. "You're leaving Matt. This means nothing!"
"Leaving and caring about you aren't polar opposites," he shot back. "Yes, I'm leaving, but that doesn't negate how I feel."
"We met yesterday," I reminded him grimly. "It's a novelty for you, that's all. Charm the older woman who's so starved for attention she'll gladly believe every lie you tell her." I was being cruel and I didn't believe a word of what I said. I just wanted him to go without making me promises it would be hard to keep when real life reasserted itself.
He looked at me for a moment while I shifted from foot to foot, waiting for him to storm away and cut his losses. When he laughed I almost hit him. "Maybe you should think about a career in acting yourself," he suggested. "That was pretty good."
"Then why aren't you gone already?" I complained.
"Because you're wrong," he said simply, taking my hand and walking again. "Yes, we met yesterday, but sometimes that's enough to know the important things."
"There aren't any important things!" I protested. "You're going, I'm staying and then we'll be as far apart as we can get. You'll be awake while I'm asleep. There's no future in this."
"I'll email you," he totally ignored my protests. His flight was called for boarding so we made our way slowly to his gate. He wasn't in a hurry to board, the two of us standing away from the waiting area while the line of people got smaller and smaller until there was no one left. The convention people arrived then and made their way through, Karen sending Matt a concerned glance that he fielded with a wave of his hand and a nod that said he'd be right there.
"You have to go," I put a hand to his chest and pushed him a little.
"True," he put his hand over mind and held on tight. "We will see each other again," he promised.
"I won't think badly of you if that never happens," I replied.
"I will email you," he said again. "You'll reply, right?"
"I guess," I rolled my eyes. "We're friends, that's what friends do."
"Friends," he agreed. And then he pulled me close and kissed me. It was pretty hot and intense and when he pulled away I stumbled before I got my feet steady without his support. He kissed me again, hard, and then he turned, gave his boarding pass, and walked away.
I stood and watched him leave, sure that I would never see him again outside of the Matt Smith I'd see on my television screen.
Author's Note:
That's all I have at this point - I don't know if I'll write more, especially as I have no idea why I wrote any of this in the first place! Hope someone enjoyed reading it!