There were a few things that Louis knew were forever going to be constants in this universe. They were simple things that anyone could catch onto if they were watching. Things like Martha would always be a little bit in love with John, Jack would always be thoroughly in love with the Smith twins, and she would forever be "not blonde enough."
Another, less obvious thing, though, would be that sleeping with one of your flat mate's best friends, simply because he got on well with said flat mate's brother, was not a good idea. Or maybe that was one of the glaringly obvious ones. Sometimes she got the two mixed up when she hadn't had enough sleep, or caffeine.
"So, to clarify, just in case of the off chance that I'm reading your signals wrong, this meant nothing."
Louis paused in her fruitless search for a clean shirt. "Um, well, no. Sorry. Bit like Jack sometimes with this sort of thing." She watched his eyes lose some of their playful light. Hastily, she amended her statement. "That came out wrong, I swear. That's not entirely what I meant. I don't go around sleeping with anything that breathes, I swear. I wasn't even planning on doing this with you. In fact, I've only slept a few people since high school."
"Oh, so, when you say you're a bit like Jack, what do you mean, exactly?"
"I mean, my emotions aren't tied to sex, or physical contact. Sure, I need it like a drug, contact, I mean, not sex. But, I don't get attached or use it to show my emotions like others do. I tried making love once, thinking maybe it could save a failing relationship."
"How long ago was that?"
"High school. Final year."
"And how did that go?"
"It didn't end well. At least, not for me anyway. But! I did learn two good things from the experience. One: I should never try to mix emotions and sex." Louis exclaimed her triumph when she found a suitable smelling shirt near the back of her wardrobe. "And, two: I'm no good with relationships and shouldn't have them. So, I haven't had one since."
"No dates? Since your final year of high school?" Jake watched as she bobbed her head while trying to smooth out her eyeliner. "Well, how lucky should I feel when you say you've only slept with a few blokes?"
"There was an old flame at his college graduation party and a mystery man about a little more than year ago. That's it. I mean, if you want me to be a bad guy, you can count the old flame as two since I slept with him, again, last year when I went home for holiday."
She heard Jake sniff as he tried to hold onto his righteous indignation, but could feel it slip away as she danced around her room getting dressed. "Fine, I'll let it slide, but if it happens, again, we'll have words."
Louis smirked and quirked her brow suggestively as he watched her from the bed. "Harsh words?"
"Very."
"Well, then, I should tell you I have a flight home scheduled at the end of next month."
Louis made sure her shirt landed somewhere she could find it again later. Laundry was definitely on her list of things to do when Jake finally got around to leaving. Not that she was in a rush, really.
John sighed as he gathered up his things for the day. He'd been stood up by not only his brother, but Jake, as well, when lunch rolled around. He never interacted with the other staff because at times he voiced his thoughts on their mental capacities, and that was rude. Jack, Martha and Donna were all busy little bees, working "actual jobs" as they constantly reminded him. In short, he was thoroughly out of ideas on how to entertain himself.
Giving up he pulled out the exams he'd administered and decided to get the torture of grading them over with. If he had to do it, he should probably do it on campus where he could easily imagine he was doing it because he wanted to, and not because his friends were otherwise engaged. His flat had a nasty habit of feeling empty lately. Traitor. He was knee deep in red marks when the confident knock rang through his office.
"It's open, River."
"Thanks, but I'm not Professor Snog."
John looked up to see Louis leaning against his door frame. She was wearing her usual brown coat that ate her whole with her jeans and biker boots just peeking out from underneath. Well, it wasn't that long. Really, it ended just passed mid-thigh. He could see a bit of skin winking at him through a rip in her jeans.
"Well, that is a horrible mistake. And her name is Song." He smirked when she shrugged and shuffled into his office. "What are you doing here? I would have thought that after last night you would be steering clear of me for a few days. That's the reoccurring pattern, at least."
"I thought about it. Then I had a good row with Jake and I'm not feeling so snarky anymore." John held back a harsh laugh. He was sure she could see him straining to keep it in. She was horribly observant sometimes. "That's actually why I'm here. He's got work tonight. Some special ops thingy. You know he works for the London branch of Torchwood, that high level security something or other that Pete Tyler runs. Oh, and Ian's skipped town for a few days."
John's pen slipped and caused a large line to run across the exam he was grading. "Ooh, that bad?"
"Um," John looked over the page quickly. "No, this one was actually mostly decent. Damn it."
Louis laughed and pulled the paper from him. "Where's the grading rubric? I'll help. This stack looks hefty."
John sighed and searched through his piles. "I normally don't have one, you know. There was an incident with a student, though, where they didn't believe that they were completely thick, and the headmaster came down on me."
Louis coughed and stole half the stack. "That's horrible, John, really. I feel your pain. How dare someone not understand Physics?"
"You don't like it, do you?"
Louis paused and ran her tongue over her lower lip. "Um, no, not really. It's just that I need more help with it then I would like. Sciencey type subjects were never my best subjects."
"And what was? Writing? Art? Physical fitness?" John watched as she went back to her work. "You know, I really don't know much about you."
"That's cause we aren't friends, John." She tossed a finished exam onto his desk and went right on to the next one, missing how far his expression had dropped.
"You're here. You're helping me grade these dreadful exams." He tried to go back to what he was doing but threw the paper down in frustration. "What do you mean we aren't friends? How aren't we friends? I've been going mad for months wondering what I've done to you. Trying to figure out how I'd offended you. And now, after I'm beginning to think we're on the mend, you're telling me you don't think we're friends?"
"I don't think we're not friends, John. I know it for a fact." She looked up at him and readjusted to take off her horrid coat and lean her chair back onto two legs. "I mean, sure, we're friendly, but we aren't friends, John. Friends share chips, go down to pub and joke and sit at home watching horrible b-rated films for the hell of it. They spend time together and simply let pass while in each other's company."
John fell silent, feeling somewhat defeated and winded. She was right. When was the last time they had just sat and had a beer without him getting completely smashed and trying to seduce her? Had they ever done any of the things she'd listed? Not that he could recall. Even with his vast knowledge of most things, he couldn't recall one time where they had even been comfortable with each other.
"You lick the corner of your mouth when you're thinking."
Her pen stopped and she looked up at him through her the short layer of her that had fallen over her eyes. "What?"
John plowed through, hoping, for once, that he had thrown her off balance. "You say we aren't friends, but I say we are. Friends know things about each other. I know things about you, like how you wet your lower lip when you're thinking."
"I thought I licked the corner of my mouth."
"You do both."
She was quiet for a moment before she set her stack on his desk and began putting her coat back on. "That's not something you know through being someone's friend, John. That's an observation and you can make those no matter your relationship with a person. You're surrounded by friends. How can you not know the difference?"
With that she left his room, not in a huff but a little bit more like she'd been winded. John quickly followed her, hoping to talk sense into her before they reached the doors. With the leisurely pace she looked to be keeping, he began to think that maybe it was one thing he could accomplish today.
"What are you going on about? Friends make observations all the time. How are we not friends?"
"What are my favorite TV shows? What's a guilty pleasure of mine? Who's my favorite author?" John floundered for a moment. "Am I geek? Do I prefer spending a day at the shopping centers? Or would I rather be at home watching Pride and Prejudice or some frilly romance drivel like that?"
"Um, well, that is..." So much for throwing her off balance.
"Okay, what's my favorite colour?" She gave him a hopeful look before scoffing at his guilty expression. "Hell, John, do I smoke?"
"I should hope not."
She stopped walking to stare at him. "You know what? I honestly can't understand why I'm being this immature. I knew the score when I came here tonight." John looked at her with lost eyes. "Come on, let's finish those tests and go to pub. After that we can shove you in a taxi. It'll be just like old times."
"Can people who are just friendly have old times?"
"Yes. Those are the times when you pretend you can remember that you were friends at one point." She closed the door to his office behind her. "You know, what you do all the time, apparently."
John sent her a meager glare as he dropped into his desk chair. That's when he noticed her shirt as she removed her coat for the second time in his presence. A smirk broke out across his face.
"You're a geek."
She followed his line of sight, a blush reddening her nose as she snorted. "Would you believe this was a gift from my mother?"
He chuckled as he read over the words that were printed across her chest, again. It seemed so perfect for her for some reason. A nagging began at the back of his brain, though. Like he had missed something important, or had, at least, missed something somewhat big.
"I have a bad case of Pon Farr… And you're the cure." John scrunched up his face in thought; the phrase seemed to be the key. "That's Star Trek? Pon Farr is that thing where you have to mate or you'll die, right?"
He was silent for a moment before he ran his hand through his hair. "Why does that make me feel all weird? I feel like I'm missing something. What is it?"
"Give it a minute."
He ran over the possibilities in his head when something she'd said early finally came to mind. "You had a good row with Jake. You made it with Jake? What on Earth or any other planet the vast systems of the universe would make you do that?"
She moved to her seat and plopped down with a huff. Honestly, though, he was a bit impressed. He'd never thought you could actually "plop" into a seat, and she'd just proved him wrong. She was doing that a lot tonight.
When he'd finally caught on that she wasn't going to tell him, he grumbled into the paper in his hands. It made no sense. She'd denied him time after time, but Jake comes out of nowhere and she just jumps right on in. Was there something wrong with him? Was he unappealing? Did she not like his cologne? Was she just tolerating him in case the day came when Ian and he were back on good terms?
Finally, when he'd sniffed, for the fifth time in the last hour, she gave a subtle cry of annoyance. "It really doesn't matter, does it? He was there when I was feeling the urge. I don't normally act on it, but today I thought "What the hell? I could go for that." So, I did, and it wasn't horrible."
"Does he know that's how you see it?"
"Yes, he does. We had a decent conversation over the matter. Don't you worry your spiky-uppy head none. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself, thank you." She went back to grading the papers in her lap before continuing. "And, really, it's none of your business. I can screw anyone I want and you can't do anything about it. Nor do you have any say on the matter. We aren't friends, John. Remember?"
John tossed his pen across the room. "Then why are you here?"
Louis slammed her chair down onto the floor. "Because, I thought we could at least manage friendly, but what was I hoping for? That you would, for once, not have to be right? Not have to push things until the opposing team conceded defeat? Guess what, John. It doesn't work that way. I was hoping we could maybe keep each other company for a while, but I can see that's not even a possibility. Enjoy your grading, Doc."
John watched silently as she stormed out, for what thoroughly appeared to be the last time. He considered, for a moment, going after her, again, but gave up that idea rather quickly. He was likely to lose his head or some other rather valuable appendage if he did. Considering his options, he went with the one that seemed, unfortunately, the one to most likely benefit him.
Satchel over his shoulder, he gave a small cry of triumph when he found River still on campus, as well. She seemed rather occupied with logging new items into the history department's inventory, but, really, when did he let that bother him? It never seemed to warn her away from trying to distract him. Revenge being a dish best served cold and all that. Might as well get his before they moved completely into spring.
"Professor Song, look at you! Could it be that you are actually working and not off chasing down some poor unsuspecting staff member?" River looked up at him and sent him a distracted acknowledgement. "All teasing aside, maybe, I need some advice."
River nearly dropped the pottery she'd been examining. "Seriously? Doctor John Smith needs my assistance in something? What's today's date? I want to compare it with the Mayan calendar. This could be the event those brilliant natives had predicted."
John coughed. "Maybe I should stop trying to one up the women in my life. It doesn't seem to be something I can accomplish at the moment. Oh, get that smirk off your face."
River's brow furrowed at his tone. "What's wrong, John. You haven't been this upset in months. I mean, this is nothing compared to how you were when- Well, you know what I mean. Probably shouldn't say it."
"No, it doesn't need saying, does it?" John walked over to her and pulled up a stool. "I just, well. I'm not really sure how to go about this."
"Maybe you should start from the beginning." River watched him roll his eyes. "I mean, that's usually a good place."
"And you're smirking, again. Keep that up and I'm going to begin to wonder if that's your primary expression."
"Oh, it is. Especially when I have you flustered. My mirth is never ending on days like this."
"Well, it's not you that's got me flustered. At least, not just you. Not mostly you." He readjusted himself and leaned onto work bench in front of him, making sure to avoid anything old looking. "There's this girl, Louis. I first met her when I was about 27."
"So young! And how old was she? Is she insanely blonde? I know you fancy blondes."
"She somewhat blonde, but not quite blonde enough." John scratched his head as he ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not sure how old she was."
"Well, how old is she now? We'll just do some simply arithmetic."
"Um-"
"Good God, John, why are you even bothering pretending? Leave the girl to get on with her life; it'll be better for both of you."
"Could you possibly hear me out before you get all angry face?" She signaled for him to continue as she went back to examining the artifact in her hands. "Louis was young, and that's all I remember as far as her age goes. Either way, she'd been sent to her grandparents for the summer and she kept to herself for the first few weeks she was there. I caught her watching us though, not in a creepy stalking you around a corner sort of way, but if she passed an open door she would just kind of watch before continuing on her way.
"Come to find out later that it was caused by a nurtured aversion to intruding on family members and their friends. Her father, the Harkness of her family, in true male Harkness fashion, went from lover to lover, so she had a few siblings. Anyway, Ian and I felt- Well Ian was always a little more outspoken with his inner musings. So, really, he spearheaded the whole affair. I just-"
"John, the track? You've fallen off it."
"Yeah that got away from me there. The point is that Ian pushed Jack and me to be proactive about extending the hand of friendship. It turned out to be a good idea. She was great fun. Jack had a habit of feeling put out, but other than that it was a fine summer. After it was over, though, it was really over. She didn't come back the next year, much to Jack's pleasure. Ian and I didn't really take it too hard either, we had met Rose and Mickey by that point and you can figure how that would effect things."
"You completely forgot about her until after she moved here and Ian reminded you, didn't you?"
"Well, no, not exactly. Jack reminded me. Inadvertently, really. He was complaining, drunkenly, the night we went to meet her. His mother insisted. Something about being the bigger people, or some other weird saying. Either way, we didn't really connect but she and Ian hit right off. I was already with Rose at the time, so I suppose I just didn't care." River laughed so hard, John was sure he heard a small snort. "I know, I know. I think that's it."
"Really? How about after Rose left you and you went on that sex binge. Was she one of the participants of that escapade?"
"Um, no. She managed to somehow always keep clear of those situations."
"-" River stared at him for a moment before laughing, again. "You look so confused! Oh, I like her. I think I'll get her a present."
"Has anyone ever told you, you're a horrible person?" She snickered a little. "Fine, anyway, no. I didn't sleep with her. She denies me every time, without fail. But! She'll jump on in with Jake Simmonds. Who she's maybe met three times."
"Bitter, John?"
John mulled over the audacity of the situation for a while. To those outside of his person, he was certain it looked like sulking, but it wasn't. Really.
"John."
"What?"
"You are sulking, no matter what you tell yourself."
John voiced his aggravation and jumped from his stool. "I just don't understand why I can't let it go. She's not anything brilliant, really. Her hairs barely blonde, and far too frizzy, I have to say. She has freckles, and lots of them. She's short, oh, so short. And! If you leave her to her own devices, there is no proper excuse for the things she does."
"Like you?" John stopped in his pacing and glared at River. "I'm just saying, John, that I'm sure you remember the toaster I used to have in my office before you tinkered with it. The parts of that sentence you should pay attention to would be "the toaster I used to have," and "before you."
John scoffed and began ranting, again. River let him continue for a time, choosing to instead focus on her artifacts. It became too tiresome, he supposed, and she final voiced her opinion.
"You know why you can't let this go? Because she said "no," and she continues to, and you can't take it. Rose didn't even say "no" the second time around. And it is eating you up inside, cause you can't figure out why. "Why would anyone turn me down? Look at me."
River struck as ridiculous a pose as she could manage while sitting on a stool. "I do not look like that. Or think like that. Or talk like that!"
"Oh, please, you Smiths are all the same. You all have egos big enough that were someone with clinical depression able to siphon off just a meager fraction of it they would immediately become so confident and self-assured it would give the medical field whiplash."
John scowled and looked at the wall as he scratched his head. "Is that really what this is? A case of wounded pride? Cause, I don't like it River. It's like I have this thing in my head, this dark heavy thing, that says "you suck, you can't even get a Harkness to sleep with you." And when she's in the room all I can focus on is trying to fix whatever it is that's broken in the situation."
"Nothing is broken, John. Every man suffers wounded pride here and there. You'll bounce back." River stopped in her labeling and turned to glare at him. "I would also like to state that the fact that she is a Harkness has nothing to do with whether sleeping with her would be easy or not. Just because Jack doesn't seem to put much stock in picking and choosing doesn't mean she fallows the same practice. Honestly, I would have thought you of all people would know that just cause because you're family doesn't mean you're alike."
John pouted and lowered his head. "Fine. You're right." He grumbled a little before running his hands through his hair. "So, how do I fix this problem?"
"Well, you can try successfully seducing her. Maybe find someone who actually has "game". Or, pointers from Jake since he seems to have wooing skills you don't." John took the pause she caused by her snickering to mock her. "Or, try being friends with her. Gaining that friendly familiarity should help in staving off those sexual urges."
"Oh, that never works."
"Sure it does. I'm living proof that it works." At his questioning gaze her all too familiar smirk graced her face. "I'm friends with you."
