FAGE 8:Soul Mates
Title: Some Enchanted Evening
Written for: Ash Knight
Written By: WelshWitch1011
Rating: T (for violence)
Pairing Given: Steve/Peggy crossover.
Summary/Prompt used: "We love people not so much for the good they've done us, as for the good we've done them."
― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace.
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community/FAGE-8-Soul-Mates/93625/ﾧ
After traversing the galaxy and travelling through the very fabric of time and space, the prospect of a quiet Saturday evening on Earth should have been a sobering and altogether forgettable prospect for a Time Lord.
Yet as he reclined against the cushions of a rather regular sofa, watching shockingly sub-standard Saturday night television, the Doctor would have found it difficult to think of a time or place he would have rather been in than that very normal, boring Earth moment.
His tweed jacket had been long abandoned and now adorned the arm of the sofa, and as he cast a glance around the very regular, rather unspectacular living room, a smile settled on his features.
Yes, there were truly magical sights to behold on every corner of the galaxy, and adventure coursed through his veins with every beat of his hearts - but this- this was perhaps the most wondrous reality he could have imagined.
The fields of Trenzalore, a hundred years of solitude on Christmas, and a - regeneration; never would he have imagined that he'd be there, in that moment, with the woman he had somehow always known he loved.
"Doctor? Everything okay?"
Eyebrow arched in preparation for his reply, the Doctor bestowed an adoring smile upon the woman in his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Perfect, Clara. Absolutely perfect," he assured her, sighing contentedly as she mirrored his expression and snuggled back into his embrace. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and he squeezed her gently before giving in to impulse and brushing a second kiss into her hair.
"Don't think much of any of those singers," she stated somewhat dismissively, wrinkling her nose as the line-up on the televised talent show all stood assembled on the stage, and a commentator read out the phone numbers for prospective voters to save their favourites from elimination.
"Well, they're not a patch on Frank or Bing..." the Doctor agreed, thinking back to the evenings he had spent around a piano with musical legends he simply considered his friends. A blush crept across his cheek as he recalled their more mischievous exploits, and he cleared his throat as he felt Clara's brown eyed gaze level on his face.
"I don't want to know, do I?" she speculated, pursing her lips and biting back a smile as the Doctor offered her a brief shrug and a flustered 'well...' fluttered from his lips.
Rolling her eyes, Clara sat up and yawned, stretching to shake herself from the sleepy reverie she had found herself drifting in to. Whether it was the safety of his arms or the gentle thrum of his hearts beneath her ear, she found that the Doctor had a maddeningly calming effect on her sometimes - ironic given just how many times they had waded into untold dangers on their travels together.
But perhaps, really, it was that Clara felt loved. For the first time in her life, she wasn't afraid of being lost or abandoned. The Doctor had literally searched time and space to find her, and his unswerving loyalty and devotion was evident in every word, touch, and gesture that passed between them.
The Time Lords had deigned to help him on Trenzalore, spurred on by the impassioned plea of the woman who loved him, and demanded that they see the importance of his existence just as she did. Clara still wasn't sure how her cries had reached them, but every moment they spent together she was immensely grateful for.
"I'm going to make tea," she stated, still perched on the edge of the sofa at his side. Leaning closer for a moment she kissed him quickly, giggling as his arm swept out and he puller her closer, repeating the gesture until she was laughing against his lips.
"Back in a minute!" she promised, still smiling to herself even as he watched her retreating form disappear out of the doorway.
"Oooh, have we got any Jammie Dodgers?" he asked hopefully, eyebrows raised as he waited with baited breath for her reply.
There was no better compliment to a nice cup of tea than a Jammie Dodger, in his professional, tea drinking opinion. It was a truly magical pairing; like Fred and Ginger, Lennon and McCartney... the Doctor and his Clara.
"Yep. Shall I just bring the packet in?" she shouted back, unable to see just how elated her suggestion had made him.
"Splendid idea!" he called back, adding a sincere shout of, "thanks!"
Leaning back against the cushions, the Doctor inhaled slowly, his lips pulled into a smile that made his eyes shine with wonderment.
A nice cup of tea, a biscuit, and his Impossible Girl - life really didn't get much better than that. And of course he would know, being something of an expert on the subject of living multiple lifetimes.
He wasn't sure just how long he had spent in a pleasant reverie before Clara returned to the room- two steaming mugs of tea in her hands and a packet of his prized biscuits precariously clutched under her arm.
"Smashing!" the Doctor enthused, rubbing his hands together as he prepared to gently remove the mugs from her grasp and deposit them onto the coffee table beside him.
Clara sat down slowly at his side, her attention now caught up in the action playing out on the news. The war between the Avengers had taken up the majority of the focus on most news programmes for the last few days, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had given little away as to their plans to bring peace and reconciliation to the divided heroes. Although if the details now being described by the news anchor were true, it was perhaps too late.
"He's really dead?" Clara asked sadly, her expression conveying her disbelief and sorrow at the events of the day. Clutching her mug between her hands, she leaned forward in her seat, allowing the steam from her mug to drift soothingly over her skin.
The Doctor sighed in a similarly melancholy manner, blindly opening the packet of biscuits and releasing a Jammie Dodger from its plastic confines.
"It would seem so," he nodded, sighing as he took a less exuberant bite of his biscuit than he had planned.
"That's really sad," Clara stated, leaning back against the sofa cushions and shaking her head as the packet of biscuits was proffered in her direction. "He seemed like a really nice bloke."
"Captain Rogers? Oh, yes. Lovely chap. An all-round good egg, really. Yes," the Doctor confirmed. His final, contemplative 'yes' drifting out on a sigh, as he thought about his meetings with the first Avenger - back when UNIT had assisted the SSR in the war effort.
Not quite processing the information that had unwittingly been passed to her, Clara continued on, "He was meant to be really kind... A gentleman. Bit like you, really."
She smiled affectionately at the Time Lord, a teasing glint in her brown eyes, "Except for all those muscles."
The Doctor arched a dark eyebrow, examining the centre of his second biscuit as he tried to rise above her good natured teasing.
"Well... I suppose I can see what I can do on my next regeneration," he pretended to stare contemplatively into space.
Almost instantly her palm came to rest gently yet urgently against his cheek, and she carefully angled his head to meet her gaze.
"No. I like this face," she said softly, her adoring expression helpfully conveying her true feelings on the subject.
"What? Even this old chin?" he asked, his fingers entwining around hers as they shared a sentimental smile.
"Especially the chin," she confirmed, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss against his jaw. She was just about to contentedly nestle into his embrace when his previous words caught up with her.
Suddenly turning to regard the man beside her, Clara hoisted her legs up underneath her, steadying her mug as she eyed him with new found impatience.
"Hang on... You've met him? You've met Captain America?"
The Doctor bobbed his head, too busy caught up chewing the jammy, crumbly delight he had just popped into his mouth to otherwise reply.
"I don't know. First, William Shakespeare, and now bloody Captain America! Anyone else I should know about?" she demanded, askance.
The Doctor swallowed his mouthful of biscuit and shot her a disbelieving and wholly exasperated glance.
"Well... YES, of course there is! I'm a thousand year old Time Lord! I've met... You know... Well, everyone."
Taking a moment to digest this new information, and the other boundless possibilities his explanation implied, Clara took a sip of her tea and reached for the biscuit packet.
A suddenly beaming smile illuminated the Doctor's face, and he leaned forward in his seat, his hands clasped on his knees as if that would somehow quell his excitement.
"Eh... Do you want to meet him?"
"Who?" Clara looked suitably confused.
Rolling his eyes, the Time Lord gestured toward the TV screen. "Captain Rogers!"
As if it were a wholly stupid question, Clara had already deposited her mug on the table and climbed to her feet before he had been able to so much as blink.
"Course I do!" she stated, a dangerously infectious smile blossoming across her pretty face, "come on, then!"
"Well.. I didn't mean now," the Doctor called out with a huff, even as the petite brunette was already halfway out of the door and quite clearly headed toward the Tardis parked - or wedged - in the corner of her bedroom.
"Oh... For Pete's sake," the Doctor sighed, casting a fleeting glance at the TV screen as resignation set in, and he contemplated the quiet night in he had actually been looking forward to all week. Well, for as much of the week as he'd been able to experience before impatience had set in and he'd found himself zipping between dates with his companion and newly appointed girlfriend.
Standing up somewhat glumly, he reached into his pocket and produced a wad of paper, which he cast down onto the table. "I bought a lottery ticket and everything,"
Clara's head appeared around the living room door, and she eyed him impatiently, trying to spur his advancement. "Come on. No time like the present!"
Shaking his head at her antics - although really, he knew he could deny his Impossible Girl nothing - the Doctor ambled out to follow her, his half-hearted protests apparently not reaching her human ears.
"Yes, yes there is! I've got a time machine, remember?!"
Snatching up his well worn tweed jacket, he twirled the garment on the tip of his finger and shrugged it on, following Clara down the now well rehearsed path to her bedroom.
He watched from the doorway of her room as she deftly clicked her fingers and the doors to the Tardis opened on command. A brief smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her effortlessly absorbed into his world, and he suddenly found it difficult to recall the loneliness that had haunted him before he had found her.
A disembodied voice called out from inside the time machine, and he picked his way carefully across her darkened room, casting a somewhat caustic glance at the dressing table stool that had become his left shin's unlikely nemesis.
"Are we going back to the forties? I've always wanted to go there! Doctor? Get a move on!" she called out, and he knew instantly she'd be headed for the expansive wardrobes of the Tardis, where all manner of clothing and garb was stored for such occasions. Clara was in her element whenever the opportunity for dressing up in historical costume arose, and this appeared to be no exception to the rule.
"Bossy," the Doctor smiled slyly, suddenly standing up straighter and removing his hands from his pockets like a guilty school boy, as her voice rose over the gentle whirring of the Tardis engines once again.
"Did you say something?"
Unable to contain an excitable smile from overcoming him, the Time Lord adjusted the bow tie around his neck as he stepped into the doorway of his beloved Tardis and closed the doors with a flourish.
"Coming, dear!"