"There you are!"
Sophie hauled the crate onto the bar, ignoring Claude's offers to take such a heavy thing from her. Milady set down her cloth, coming over to inspect the contents immediately, the bottles gently clinking as she counted them.
"A dozen bottles," Sophie elaborated, "courtesy of my mother."
"Your mother, madame?" Milady uncorked one, decanting it and exchanging glances with Claude. "Are you on speaking terms now?"
Sophie grimaced a little, wringing her hands, entirely missing what Milady had called her.
"...No, I think these were a peace offering though. I'm working up to writing to her. P-perhaps even visiting..."
"Good. One shouldn't accept gifts if they feel nothing good in return you know."
"I know. Besides, the card said 'for you and your friends'. I couldn't really refuse this time. Oh, er, it doesn't really need to breathe by the way. I know these bottles aren't our finest, even if they're good. Mother must be... short on money."
Milady nodded, pouring out glasses for the three of them.
"All the more reason to patch things up then, madame. Do you know if Monsieur Lautrec will be joining us?"
Sophie sipped the wine, finding it tasted exactly as she remembered. It seemed for all that her mother found her father's obsession with wine infuriating, she was just as exceptional at making it.
"He said he may, or he may not. 'Dawdling is detrimental to progression' as he put it."
"Well, could be cosy with just the three of us," Claude leaned his weight against the bar, testing the wine. "No doubt Doc'll be much happier buried in books."
"On the contrary."
They whipped around at the sound of the Doctor's voice, finding him just passing the threshold of the room.
"Little moves me as a fine wine does. And, I said 'dawdling is detrimental to the progression of my work' Sophie. You should learn to become a better listener."
She flushed with embarrassment as he reached the bar, plucking out a bottle and inspecting it. After scrutinising it, he finally let out an approving noise, taking a glass from Milady and settling in his usual chair. A brief silence fell, as they watched him take his time tasting the wine, his expression never changing. Only a slight twitch from his moustache indicated he had a small smile underneath.
"A gentleman should address a lady with a softer manner Monsieur."
"Sophie is not a fragile vase Milady. And I have never had the audacity to describe myself as a 'gentleman', I might add. That concept perturbs me, you will not find me subscribing to it."
Claude couldn't help a hearty laugh, moving from the bar to join Lautrec at the table, holding his arm out to Sophie to invite her too.
"I think we know that. You don't coat your words at all."
"If one is always truthful and to the point, they will always achieve the most efficiency in communication."
"All the same Doc, there's something to be said for knowing when to show good manners. Especially to a lady."
"What absolute rot. I shan't honey my words for anyone Claude, especially not on the basis of sex."
Sophie hid her blush behind her wine glass, listening to the exchange with a little discomfort. It wasn't the first time Claude had jumped to her 'defense' in an unwelcome way, and it wouldn't be the last. Appealing to the Doctor's sense of... chivalry was a lost cause. He didn't have such a sense. Which wasn't to say that he was unkind in the least, only that he would not afford special treatment to any person. Frankly, it had always been what kept their friendship going. She'd had quite enough of men working in academia who either could not give her the time of day, or would never cease to act as though she were a novel alien being. It was to be expected, with universities only opening to women in the last five years, but that made it no less unbearable. Doctor Lautrec had never acted such a way.
"At any rate, my work is now done, and I should like to enjoy this drink without another of your dreadfully revealing lectures on how you feel women should be treated."
Claude held up his hands in mock-defeat, a grin spreading across his face before taking his glass and proposing a toast.
"To adventuring, mystery and intrigue. May our spoils be many!"
He finished his words with a wink to Sophie, and she sank in her seat beside the Doctor. Spoils. Milady and Claude had suggested the evening's activity, and she knew she would regret it already. All she had wanted to do when she received the crate of wine two days previously was simply gift her friends a few bottles each, and reserve perhaps more than one for that letter she ought to write. Instead, Milady had suggested that Sophie drink with Lautrec in case the wine made him a little more open to discussion of emotions, and Claude had stepped in immediately afterwards to elevate the 'plan' from a small gesture to let's-all-get-absolutely-rotten-drunk (and still aim to get the Doctor to discuss feelings). She squirmed in her seat. She wasn't looking forward to Claude's inevitable wheedling.
In the end, she found she didn't have to wait too long before Claude put his foot in it, starting an argument over whether Doctor Lautrec was completely indifferent to the charms of women or not. Sophie sighed, putting her fingers to her temples, massaging and blocking out their bickering. She had been right, this was not pleasant. Claude wasn't helping matters either. His heart was... sort of in the right place, if you temporarily overlooked his own womanising habits, but he didn't have the skill to go head-to-head with the Doctor. Not even when drunk. Especially not when drunk.
"And to think you parade about Paris each and every day with such a lovely lass on your arm and you haven't a thought to spare of how gorgeous she looks in-"
"What could possibly be achieved by repeating the same thought every day? Conversing with one's self privately about the attractiveness of one's friend doesn't accomplish a thing."
"Aha," Claude almost cried out, pointing an accusing finger at the Doctor. "No denial! So you do think Sophie is beautiful!"
"I was not aware there was any doubt," Lautrec poured himself another glass, not spilling a drop despite his movements having become looser, "I would have to be devoid of sight to be unaware of how Sophie looks."
Sophie gave a start, her eyes widening and her body becoming rigid. Did he really just...? She could see Claude perk up in satisfaction and Milady breaking into a grin out of the corner of her vision, but she could only feel shock, and... a sense of terror.
"Now Sophie, please, don't mistake me," The Doctor continued, swilling his glass but neglecting to sip by this point – taking an unbecoming gulp of it. "That was not meant as one of those insufferable comments that puts upon you and expects a response."
He suddenly looked at her intensely, and she squirmed on the spot.
"What I mean when I say such a thing, is that I very much do find you beautiful, but that is entirely my concern and I shan't bother you with it."
Sophie remained frozen, gulping a little, fixed under his stare. Then, just as quickly as he had met her eyes, he turned back to Claude, hand straightening his waistcoat as he squared his shoulders. He was preparing for a speech, Sophie knew it.
"First and foremost Claude, I shall pass judgement on one's actions or attitude as such things might be changed, but I shan't pass judgement on one's appearance. To think of Sophie as beautiful is a judgement, and to tell her such a thing would indicate some sort of expected response or action or feeling. To pin the expectation on her therefore would be incredibly inconsiderate of me, and something I cannot do. I, after all, am not you."
"H-hey-!"
"Secondly, I rather think this game y-"
"...You think I am b-beautiful...?"
The words tumbled out of her before she could stop them, and she stared at the Doctor almost in fear, not at all sure what she wanted the answer to be. He kept her gaze for longer than necessary, the steely expression he had worn to talk Claude down slipping away somewhat. When he opened his mouth to talk again, to Sophie this time, his voice was a good bit softer.
"Is that not what I said?"
"Then...," Sophie swallowed, nervous. Claude nodded to her silently, lopsided grin spreading across his face again, and she could sense Milady watching like a hawk from the bar. "You don't... you don't dislike that I'm... 'tomboyish' or... loud or talkative or... or unladylike or emotional or irrational or-"
"What are those things but combinations of social conditioning and subjectivity?" Lautrec frowned, finishing his glass and pouring another. "I don't subscribe to such utter nonsense. Did I not state a moment ago that appearance does not change my respect nor lack of towards one? What you are asking, my dear Sophie, is if I like you at all. Which I might comment is a particularly ridiculous question, when we have been friends for two years. I shouldn't think I would have invited you to return to the museum, if I did not 'like' you."
Sophie flushed, averting her eyes, feeling a little chided.
"Cut the poor girl a little slack Doc, you don't exactly sing her praises from the rooftops. She can be forgiven for not knowing whether you like her or merely tolerate her, with the way you act."
Sophie's eyes flitted from man to man, feeling uncomfortably caught in the middle. Lautrec was silent for a moment, considering Claude's words. He set down the glass, leaning forward to stare at the other man, his expression as severe as always.
"I do not merely tolerate her, nor even simply like her. I will let no other near my business and my work, as well as my private affairs. If that does not demonstrate trust and affection, then I know not what would."
There was a clatter as Sophie dropped her glass, the short distance to the table thankfully not shattering it, but the wine spilled over her clothes. She stood up hurriedly, breathing heavily, having heard enough. She hadn't been comfortable with the 'plan' from the start – though nothing Milady told her to do ever went well. 'A little wine to loosen his tongue', Milady had said, 'no man can resist the lure to reveal all once he has had a little liquor.'. Well a little too much all had been revealed. Whether infatuation or love, every fibre of her being longed for Jean-Pierre Lautrec, and she would not abide having their feelings discussed like this - no matter what the outcome. She bit her lip, feeling all eyes on her as she righted the toppled glass and smoothed herself down as best as she could.
"Well. It is getting late, it has been a long day, and I've far too much cataloging tomorrow to overstay," Sophie managed a smile she didn't feel, stepping away from the table. Her stomach squirmed as the Doctor began to rise himself, and she held up her hands. In the back of her mind, she noticed him sway slightly.
"No, please Doctor, it's all right. I don't live far-"
"Nonsense Sophie, it is dark out."
"Doctor-"
"The streets of Paris are not safe at this hou-"
"Doctor, please-"
"Sophie," He gazed at her intensely again, with an expression of severity, and only his relaxed shoulders gave away that he was not as stern as he acted.
"Sophie my dear woman, I love you, but you are wearing pantaloons."
It felt as though time stopped then, his words causing a tremble in Sophie as her heart pounded in her chest. God, how itpounded. The words she had wanted to hear from him for so long, the words she had resigned herself to the reality that she would never hear.
I love you.
She searched his eyes desperately, but nothing in his expression told her if he was sincere, or... jesting. She didn't want to believe he would play with her feelings. Actually she didn't believe that at all, she was sure, but...
"Unfortunately not every soul on the street can be quite as enlightened as those of us in Academia. I have no wish to patronise or mollycoddle you Sophie, but I see no rational or logical reason why I should not accompany you where there is danger. After all..."
His words cut through her thoughts, and she blinked a few times, trying to gather herself. Lautrec paused, straightening his coat and stepping out from behind the chair to stand nearer to Sophie, and at her sides her hands shook.
"I do seem to recall that you accompany me into danger almost every day, and have saved my life on many occasions. I hardly think it fair not to look out for you as you do I. Now then, shall we?"
He held out his arm for her, and before she really knew what was happening, she had tentatively taken it. She managed a brief confused look at Milady and Claude as Lautrec said a brisk farewell, and they stepped outside into the chilly evening. The only light was from the dim gas streetlights, and a breeze bit at her ankles as they started off towards her home. Their steps fell into a natural synchronisation from familiarity, and she tightened her arm around his a little, her heart skipping a beat when he caught her eye with a small smile just for a moment.
Holding his arm like that... it was not a new development. Whilst Lautrec afforded no special treatment to others, he was a perceptive and... surprisingly sensitive man. He was well aware of the danger Sophie could be in even if he did not voice it, and he had changed his gestures and language accordingly. It was not long after she had introduced him to Treasure Animatus that he began to offer his arm during investigations, and very quickly the shouts she received in the streets had ceased. Sophie sighed softly. The Doctor had been so damned easy to fall in love with.
Tonight felt different. The touch felt different. She felt charged through and through with the revelations of what he had said. Instead of answering her questions about how he felt about her... it had posed more. He thought her beautiful, he loved her, he was indebted to her. But in which way was he all that? She couldn't just feel the fabric of his thick heavy coat on his arm, she could feel his warmth, bleeding from him into her. Their bodies jostled together as they walked the dark cobblestone street, each movement reminding Sophie of everything that had transpired that night. Even without much experience, even though she found him so impossible to read, she could feel something from him. An energy that shot through her body, making her take notice of everything about him, the way he moved and the way he looked, and the way he looked at her.
All too soon, they stood in the doorway of the small terraced flat Sophie occupied, closer to each other than was at all proper, pupils dilated and unwilling to entirely untangle their arms. Sophie's chest heaved, her skin tingling with anticipation, and she wanted, more than anything in that moment, for him to capture her lips with his own. Where his hand lingered on her arm, she wished it would snake around her waist, and where his body was but a few inches from her own, she wished it was pressed against her. Their breath mingled, and Sophie let out a whimper that would have embarrassed her had she been aware of it, knowing in that moment that Jean-Pierre Lautrec was going to kiss her.
He was going to kiss her.
In the brief moment their mouths hovered over one another, Sophie imagined inviting him inside, imagined inviting him into her bed, imagined a union made wondrous by all of their feelings bubbling to the fore. For that brief moment, infinite tempting possibilities laid before her, and her whole body trembled with want, need.
Just before he pressed his lips to her, she lifted a hand in his way, feeling the kiss laid in the palm of her hand. Lautrec's eyes fluttered open, but he did not move away. He instead brought his own hand to cover Sophie's, running his thumb over it more tantalisingly than he realised.
"You are drunk," She gently pushed him back, her voice more angry than she felt, her cheeks flushed with both intrigue and annoyance. "You are inebriated and being inappropriate. It's u-unacceptable."
Sophie was surprised at how stern her tone seemed, but really... she was a little bit angry. After all this time loving him in secret, he makes a lewd drunken pass on her doorstep. Nothing good could come of such a thing, for either of them. Understanding dawned in his expression, and she could see from his eyes he had realised the gravity of their near-mistake too. Regret filled her, but she steeled herself against it, almost gritting her teeth from the effort. That part wasn't love. Only lust, if she dared admit it.
Lautrec stepped back, dropping Sophie's hand and clearing his throat, though he didn't speak immediately. His eyes, normally guarded, were rather telling now that he was under the influence, and she could see his apology in them.
"...I have overstepped the line. Forgive me, I..."
It wasn't often she heard him at a loss for words, but she supposed she had never caught him drunkenly kissing someone in a doorway either. She kept her expression as neutral, balling her hand into a fist behind her as an outlet for the frustration she felt.
"...I should leave. Goodnight Sophie."
"Goodnight Doctor," She whispered, watching him nod and leave. Halfway down the street he paused, and she willed with her might that he not look back, lest she be unable to resist a second time. He thought better of it and continued, and Sophie kept her eyes on him until he finally turned out of view.
She let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding, slowly letting herself into the flat quietly - not wishing to wake any other occupants - and leaned back against the closed door, squeezing her eyes shut. Given how she had felt about the man she worked with day in and day out, and how long she had felt it... she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Thank you for reading! :D This is another fic I wrote a long time ago, though unfortunately I don't remember the exact date. It was intended to be a multi-chapter fic, but this part stands alone fine (though it does mean the ending is a little miserable), and I'm not sure if or when I'll do the next part. I hope you enjoyed it all the same!