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“Well, that was nice,” said the Doctor as they made their way along the road. He patted down his pockets, trying to find somewhere safe to put his wedding cake.
“Aye, it was,” Jamie agreed. “Pity we missed the ceremony, though.”
“The reception’s the best part.” The Doctor slid his cake into an inside pocket. Jamie was sure it’d never be seen again.
“Because that’s when you get cake?”
“Quite right,” said the Doctor. “Oh, my! Look at that sunset.” Yawning, he stretched his arms up to the pinkish sky.
“Long day, eh?” said Jamie.
The Doctor’s first attempt had landed them seven centuries early, on the wrong continent, and in the middle of a civil war. On his second they’d wound up on Mars. On his third they’d landed on top of a mountain in the midst of a storm. By the time they made it to London in the 1960s, Jamie’d all but given up hope.
“Hey, do you suppose Ben and Polly liked their present?”
“Of course they did,” said the Doctor.
“I’m worried they just said that to be polite.”
“Don’t be silly,” the Doctor said. “Every household needs a singing blargle plant.”
“If you say so,” said Jamie. “I still think we should’ve got them something less carnivorous. And quieter,” he added.
“Keeps the flies down,” said the Doctor, walking on. “Oh, we really must go to more weddings.”
“Oh, aye!” said Jamie. “Hey, we could nip back and do Polly and Ben’s again.” The Doctor gave him a look. “I’m joking!”
“Hmm,” said the Doctor.
“Hmm?” asked Jamie.
“I don’t suppose – no.”
“Don’t suppose what?” Jamie nudged him. “Eh?”
“No – no, never mind,” said the Doctor. “Best get back to the TARDIS.”
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” said the Doctor, in that tone Jamie knew meant ‘everything’. He sped up, trotting along purposefully along the road to the TARDIS.
Jamie caught him up. “C’mon, what is it?”
“Well.” The Doctor fumbled with the TARDIS key. “Well, I was only wondering if you might want to – well, perhaps – I thought perhaps, you might –” He’d given up on his attempt to unlock the door and stood twisting the chain between his fingers. “I was wondering if you might like to get married.”
“What?” said Jamie. “Don’t talk daft.”
“Oh?” The Doctor’s eyebrows drooped.
“I don’t need to get married.” Jamie elbowed the Doctor fondly. “I’ve got you.”
“That’s, ah, well, that’s what I meant.”
“Eh?”
“I thought perhaps we could – well, we could get married.”
Jamie burst out laughing. “Oh, aye. Go on, then.”
“I’m not joking.” The Doctor’s tone was ever so plaintive. Jamie’s laughter died.
“You really mean it?” he said.
“Yes,” said the Doctor.
“You want tae get married?”
“Yes.”
“With me?”
“Well – yes.”
Resting a hand on the warm wood of the TARDIS door, Jamie tried to take it in.
“It was just a thought,” said the Doctor. “If, if you don’t want to, we can always pretend I never ask – if you’d prefer, or, or –”
Jamie threw himself at the Doctor, hugging him so hard he almost bowled him over, giddy, almost dizzy with happiness. It was too big a question to answer with mere words; there was only one response he could give.
“Oh, my,” said the Doctor, staggering. “Is that a yes?”
“Of course it’s a yes.” Jamie pulled back, taking the Doctor by the arms. “C’mon, let’s do it right now. I’m sure the vicar’ll still be –”
“Goodness me,” the Doctor laughed. “I, I think perhaps we ought to wait at least a few days.”
“Aye, quite right,” said Jamie. “Oh – c’mere.” He pulled the Doctor close, pressing his face into his neck. “Mmm.”
There he stood, hugging the Doctor by the side of the road, not caring who saw or who minded. He felt the Doctor tremble. “Hey, are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” came the slightly choked response.
“Are you sure –” Jamie sighed in exasperation. “Hey now, are you crying?”
“…No.”
“You are.” Releasing him, Jamie looked the Doctor in his teary eyes. “Ach, you silly thing,” he said, reaching into the Doctor’s pocket for a handkerchief. “Here.”
“Thank you,” said the Doctor as Jamie dabbed at his face. “I’m terribly sorry. I, I’m just ever so happy.”
“Aye, me too.” Jamie beamed at him.
“Oh, goodness me!” sobbed the Doctor. “There I go again – now, stop laughing.”
“I cannae help it. You make me laugh.” Jamie jerked his head at the TARDIS. “C’mon. We’d best start planning the wedding. Ach – how are we gonnae invite all our friends?”
“I’ll think of something,” said the Doctor. “The seating chart will certainly be complicated.”
“Should we invite my parents?” said Jamie. “I dinnae think they’d like to – oh, hell. Should we invite your parents? Do you have parents?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” The Doctor patted his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll make us both cocoa.”