Prompt Fic--Laughter Title: Laughter Author:rationalunatic Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Harry/Lucy Rating: PG for minor angst. Word Count: 476 Summary: Harry has always made Lucy laugh.
Written for faynia's daily writing challenge #3 "He makes me laugh. Most days, that's enough."
“He makes me laugh. Most days, that’s enough.”
Most days.
Lucy Saxon spoke the worlds aloud, her voice bouncing off of the walls of the cavernous cafeteria of the Valiant and returned back to her, distorted and shrill. No one was present to listen. She looked down to the ring on her finger and lifted the hand to her pale face, the modest diamond of her engagement ring flashing against the mottled bruising on her fair cheek.
“He makes me laugh. Harry makes me laugh.”
And he had. He still did. When she could steal his attention away from ruling the world, that was. He had charmed her mother, bonded with her father and doted upon her younger brothers and sisters. But it was the way he made her laugh that had truly sealed him in her heart. He seemed to take pleasure in making her laugh. He loved to induce utterly embarrassing snorts in highly public settings and never-ending giggling that seemed to come without warning. He seemed to consider it a personal goal to force her to her knees, laughing so hard that she couldn’t breathe. Harry made her laugh and she loved him for it.
“He laughs.”
She loved seeing him laugh. She loved the way his whole face would light up, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his entire being a picture of mirth. It was demented mirth at times, something which she should have seen then, but mirth all the same. She loved him most when he laughed, when his lips were quirked in humour, whether shared or his own. She loved the way he took joy from the simplest of things, almost childlike in innocence he couldn’t possibly possess.
“He laughs at the dark.”
There were times when Harry, no, the Master, did not make her laugh. The Master still held her Harry’s love of laughter and the urge to share that laughter, but the Master’s sense of humour wasn’t always appreciated. He didn’t laugh then, unable to comprehend why the others didn’t understand his wit, why they didn’t laugh along with him. Lucy felt sorry for the Master then. Naturally in these times she, poor not-terribly-bright Lucy, would try to help him. She would try to make him laugh again. For in the moments the Master laughed she could see glimpses, however brief, of the man she married, of the man she loved. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. It hadn’t worked this morning and her face bore the painful consequences of her failure. But she would try again because she loved Harry and did her best to love the Master. And the both of them still made her laugh.