Technically ('River' entry)
Sep. 1st, 2014 09:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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who_contestTitle: 'Technically'
Rating: G
Genre: General/Angst
Word Count: 498
Pairings or Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Clara Oswald, mentions of River Song
Spoilers: Post-'The Name of the Doctor'; to be safe, any episode featuring River
Warnings: None
Summary: What was I supposed to say? "Hi; I'm the Doctor. I have a time machine. Let's go gallivanting across Time and Space. By the way, I'm married."
"Why didn't you tell me you were married?"
The Doctor looked briefly up from the console, glancing at Clara over the controls. His gaze looked half-guilty. Or perhaps more than just half. "Does it matter?"
She shrugged vaguely. "No. Not really."
"Then why bring it up?"
"No reason. It's just that, in all the times you mentioned Professor Song, you never once said that she was a woman. That's a pretty important detail to leave out. And it would have been polite of you to tell me that I was traveling with a married man."
"Clara, what's gotten into you? You sound...jealous." He watched her closely, curious. "Don't tell me you fancy me, or something?"
Her cheeks warmed slightly at his abrupt question. "No! Of course not. You're too tall and gangly and..." She narrowed her eyes appraisingly. "Chinny."
"Oi! What have you got against this chin?!" He stroked it, looking severely put-upon.
"Nothing. But it does sort of...jut out, there, doesn't it?"
"I think it's a good chin. It has character."
"It has enough character to be a third person."
"Can we please stop talking about my chin," he defensively demanded, smacking his hand against the console. "What were we talking about, anyway?"
"We were talking about your wife." How could he have forgotten that so soon?
"Oh, yes; that." And there went the uncomfortable hand-wringing. It seemed to be the Doctor's go-to nervous gesture. "Look, it's a long story. It's a very complicated story. In a way, it's sort of like not even really being married; I'm not even sure that it's legal. It was a quickie ceremony in an aborted timestream in a universe that technically never even existed. There was just no reason to ever bring it up."
"It would have been nice if you'd at least mentioned it once."
"When would have been the ideal time? When we first met? What was I supposed to say? 'Hi; I'm the Doctor. I have a time machine. Let's go gallivanting across Time and Space. By the way, I'm married.' Would you have said yes to me if I'd said it then?"
"Did you avoid telling me just to get me to say yes?"
"Of course not. It just never entered my mind. Look, she's been dead a long time. Technically, I've been a widower since the day I met her." He shrugged at her skeptically-raised eyebrows, looking away awkwardly. "Like I told you. Complicated. We always met in the wrong order. You said yourself that it didn't matter. So can we please just drop the subject?"
She peered closely at him, seeing the pain that lurked just beneath the surface. "This is really a sore spot with you, isn't it? Fine. Consider it dropped."
"Thank you." There was a weariness to his voice, one that she was beginning to get used to.
It didn't matter, really. Not a bit. So he was sort-of-technically-married-but-not-really-married. Didn't make the slightest difference.
So why did the knowledge still sting?
Rating: G
Genre: General/Angst
Word Count: 498
Pairings or Characters: Eleventh Doctor, Clara Oswald, mentions of River Song
Spoilers: Post-'The Name of the Doctor'; to be safe, any episode featuring River
Warnings: None
Summary: What was I supposed to say? "Hi; I'm the Doctor. I have a time machine. Let's go gallivanting across Time and Space. By the way, I'm married."
"Why didn't you tell me you were married?"
The Doctor looked briefly up from the console, glancing at Clara over the controls. His gaze looked half-guilty. Or perhaps more than just half. "Does it matter?"
She shrugged vaguely. "No. Not really."
"Then why bring it up?"
"No reason. It's just that, in all the times you mentioned Professor Song, you never once said that she was a woman. That's a pretty important detail to leave out. And it would have been polite of you to tell me that I was traveling with a married man."
"Clara, what's gotten into you? You sound...jealous." He watched her closely, curious. "Don't tell me you fancy me, or something?"
Her cheeks warmed slightly at his abrupt question. "No! Of course not. You're too tall and gangly and..." She narrowed her eyes appraisingly. "Chinny."
"Oi! What have you got against this chin?!" He stroked it, looking severely put-upon.
"Nothing. But it does sort of...jut out, there, doesn't it?"
"I think it's a good chin. It has character."
"It has enough character to be a third person."
"Can we please stop talking about my chin," he defensively demanded, smacking his hand against the console. "What were we talking about, anyway?"
"We were talking about your wife." How could he have forgotten that so soon?
"Oh, yes; that." And there went the uncomfortable hand-wringing. It seemed to be the Doctor's go-to nervous gesture. "Look, it's a long story. It's a very complicated story. In a way, it's sort of like not even really being married; I'm not even sure that it's legal. It was a quickie ceremony in an aborted timestream in a universe that technically never even existed. There was just no reason to ever bring it up."
"It would have been nice if you'd at least mentioned it once."
"When would have been the ideal time? When we first met? What was I supposed to say? 'Hi; I'm the Doctor. I have a time machine. Let's go gallivanting across Time and Space. By the way, I'm married.' Would you have said yes to me if I'd said it then?"
"Did you avoid telling me just to get me to say yes?"
"Of course not. It just never entered my mind. Look, she's been dead a long time. Technically, I've been a widower since the day I met her." He shrugged at her skeptically-raised eyebrows, looking away awkwardly. "Like I told you. Complicated. We always met in the wrong order. You said yourself that it didn't matter. So can we please just drop the subject?"
She peered closely at him, seeing the pain that lurked just beneath the surface. "This is really a sore spot with you, isn't it? Fine. Consider it dropped."
"Thank you." There was a weariness to his voice, one that she was beginning to get used to.
It didn't matter, really. Not a bit. So he was sort-of-technically-married-but-not-really-married. Didn't make the slightest difference.
So why did the knowledge still sting?
