A Lizard Woman, Her Wife and a Baby (Doctor Who)
Title: A Lizard Woman, Her Wife and a Baby
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: E for Everyone
Summary: It shouldn’t be possible. Jenny says as much, asking the Doctor how it could have happened, but he just turns an odd shade of pink and turns back to the Tardis console.
“How should I know?” He asks, fiddling with buttons. “What you two do in the privacy of your home – well, that’s your business.”
ooh ooh, how about Jenny and Vastra huddling for warmth? :D
Vastra draws Jenny to her automatically, in the back of their carriage. London is thick with people and snow and it is growing dark. A horse has come loose and run amok amongst some market stalls and the road ahead is blocked, the road back too long to be worth taking. They sit in the stand still, the people dark shadows beyond the carriage windows, stirring amongst the snow and silver breath, steam rising from the flanks of their horses.
Vastra is veiled, as she always is when travelling in daylight so as to avoid drawing too much attention from the ordinary citizens of London, but Jenny, as she eases into Vastra’s lap, draws the veil up and drops it over her own head. The shadows grow deeper beneath the gauze – Vastra’s breath is warm on the tip of Jenny’s nose, which has reddened with cold. She presses close, burying her face against her wife’s neck, and Vastra wraps her arms about her, the grip proprietorial and strong.
Within the carriage, beneath the veil, they share the faint heat of their bodies, for it is dangerous for Vastra to grow too cold. She does not carry her heat about the way that humans do, but must gather is slowly and ration it carefully, and must be wrapped up and held close when in danger of losing too much at once.
Soft human flesh against smooth, cool scales, Vastra strokes and grooms her human wife, smoothes her hair and lifts her chin to kiss her.
“I do love you, my dear,” Jenny says, placing warm hands against Vastra’s face.
“And I you,” Vastra returns, stroking her knuckles. She can feel the cold creeping into her bones, but Jenny is warm and heavy in her arms, and it will be enough, for now, to sustain her.
redumdumdancy asked for: Vastra/Jenny. Cats.
Vastra had a cat.
She adopted the thing long before she ever met Jenny – one of her first acts, upon re-entrance to the world, in her little rooms above the tea merchant’s by the docks. She found the skinny, mangey tom, its fur thick with matts and fleas, and began to feed it scraps until it came to her of its own accord. She named it Farnstrung – the name of a lizard she had kept as a child – and clipped its fur and gave it left over steak and pig’s blood. Farnstrung adored her.
He was less fond of Jenny, when she arrived, eyeing her with deep, haughty suspicion from his favourite spot on the back of the chez lounge in the drawing room. He would not let her near him, hissed and scratched if she tried to stroke (or, god forbid, groom) him and would not eat a scrap of food put down for him by her.
So when the dratted creature died, Jenny could not say that she was especially sorry. But it devastated Vastra – brought her as close to tears as a Silurian can get, and left her quiet and woebegone for days.
Cradling his cooling, stiffening body to her chest, she stroked and rocked him.
“He was my only friend,” she told Jenny, sounding very small and lonely. “The only creature who would come near me.”
“I am your friend now,” Jenny replied, sitting next to her and squeezing her arm. “You’re not on your own anymore.”
“I know, my dear, I know.”
She continued to rock Farnstrung’s body, though, for a long time after.
Jenny found her a new cat – a kitten, born to a cat of one of the neighbouring houses – who was better tempered and far prettier than Farnstrung. Vastra was at first reluctant, but was too tempted by how warm the thing was (Vastra prized heat more highly than she did anything, perhaps even Jenny’s company), and consented to at least hold it a little while.
“Give it a test run,” Jenny suggested, cheerfully, “you hold it just now and I’ll make us some tea and if you don’t want him by the time we finish the tea, he can go back.”
The kitten was in the a peculiar habit, however, of clambering onto the shoulder of whatever companion it came into contact with, and curling up at their neck – and as soon as it took up this particular perch with Vastra, the Silurian was mollified.
She named it Barnacle, and let it lap pig’s blood from her glass as Jenny rolled her eyes, secretly relieved to see her mistress smile again.
Jenny\Vastra Possessive!Vastra after Jenny gets hit on\felt up by a passing drunkard.
“Did you really have to eat him?!” Jenny demands, hurrying after Vastra on the dark London streets, “I thought you weren’t meant to – if they weren’t criminals.”
“I’m sure he’s done something criminal,” Vastra retorts.
“But Vastra – ”
“I did not appreciate the way he spoke to you!” Vastra whirls round to glare at her.
Jenny skitters to a stop to save from crashing into her mistress. “Are you jealous?”
“Certainly not! Jealousy is a petty and – useless emotion!”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t feel it,” Jenny insists, “are you, then?”
Vastra narrows her eyes, but Jenny refuses to drop her gaze – they are, for a moment, locked in something of a battle of wills (over what is unclear). Then suddenly Vastra has Jenny’s wrists and pulls her closer and kisses her, and it feels…
It is not the first time that they have kissed, but it’s the first time that Jenny feels as if Vastra is doing something more than idly amusing herself – as if she can trust the desire in Silurian’s grip.
“I’m taking that as an admission, you understand,” Jenny manages, a moment later, the words stronger than she feels.
Vastra only smiles.