"And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Peyton frowns, gesturing to herself in a sweeping motion.
Both the Doctor and Clara say nothing except tilt their heads to the side with bemused frowns.
"We're going to Vegas," Clara says finally. "And you're wearing a shirt and jeans."
"These are my best jeans," Peyton reasons. "No stains, food or alien, on them at all. Doctor, tell her; we don't do 'dressing up'."
"What's the harm?" The Doctor asks, walking over to Peyton and wrapping an arm around her shoulders and gesturing to Clara. "She looks lovely."
Clara does a little curtesy in her vintage silver knee-length dress.
"Says you," Peyton shoves him away from her lightly. "You wear the same outfit every day."
The Doctor pulls a face of mock offence.
"Come on, Peyton," Clara says grabbing her hand. "Let me pick something out for you. The wardrobe here is like nothing I've ever seen before."
Peyton looks back to the Doctor as she is dragged down the stairs with a pleading expression but he just sends her a goofy smile and a double thumbs up.
• • •
"So the dress is a hard no?" Clara asks again.
"Where am I supposed to put my stuff?" Peyton calls back through the curtain as she pulls the suit vest on.
"We were blessed with cleavage for a reason," Clara replies in a sing-song voice.
Peyton sighs and looks herself in the mirror one last time before tearing the curtain back.
"Ooh, very nice," Clara says, liking her up and down as she reclines on the chaise.
"I look like him, in a 1950s mob boss kind of way. Or a waiter," she complains. She turns to the full-length mirror, adjusting the bow tie that sits around her neck. The vest, a grey, glen plaid material, cut in an overlapping vintage style overlays the white shirt with golden cuff links with Gallifreyan writing on them.
"I like it," she jumps to her feet and circles her. "I don't understand why you don't do this more."
"Hey, I've saved whole worlds wearing a hoodie," Peyton complains, straightening out, unable to wait to be finished so she no longer has to be alone with the insufferable chatterbox. "And it just feels like playing dress-ups. I was never into dress-ups as a kid."
"Really?" Clara stands back with her hands on her hips. "Do Time Lord children not have time for silly games?"
"Me and my human friends," Peyton shoots an annoyed look her way before reaching up to pull her hair into a low knot. "Were more the rough and tumble type when we were young. I think I was the most 'girly' out of all of us. Until we grew up that is."
"Well, that's hard to picture," Clara laughs. "I'd love to meet them someday."
Peyton's hands fall from her hair and she freezes in the mirror. The wound still feels as fresh as the day it happened.
"Oh, and I found this," Clara says, breaking the silence. Peyton looks over to her to see the brunette with a regretful expression standing quite awkwardly, able to tell she had struck a nerve.
She stretches a hand out toward Peyton to reveal a gold hairpin with something a circular Gallifreyan design along it. It pairs beautifully with her cuff links.
"Thanks," she mumbles as she pins it into her bun.
• • •
"Viva Las Vegas!" The Doctor yells as he swings the Tardis door open.
YOU ARE READING
The Time Lord's Apprentice
Fanfiction"But, you're impossible!" "Yeah, and the world is ending, I don't think now is the time." Peyton is an orphan, taken from her mother as an infant by the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. She is raised separately from other children because she is spec...
