Love Like Ours

By: SilverLunarStar

Chapter One: Lighting the Spark

Disclaimer: I hold no claims over Doctor Who. I simply like to play with its characters. ^_^

Note: This fic is going to be dedicated to quite a few people. Number one and one being Bear (aintfraidanoghost/onabearskinrug) and Vannadear for their birthdays are coming up! And also Callistawolf for giving me the prompt: "A geek is in search of the mysterious girl that kissed him on Halloween, but his only clues are her blonde hair... and her pink Converse shoes." What was only meant to be a one-shot blew up in my face and became...whatever this is.

I will be updating once a week on Thursdays except for Thanksgiving weekend. This is my first go at a fic like this (College AU). Hope you all enjoy! A thousand thanks to Fogsblue for her quick and amazing beta-work. This is also for you, love!

Professor Doctor John Smith dismissed his last class of the day and, for the first time since the semester started, had no stragglers what-so-ever. He wondered, how did he get himself into these situations? Sighing, he collected the paper, pencils, and various geometric rules that were scattered on the desk into his bag, actually remembering to pack up his dry-erase markers as well. Exiting the campus of the University of London on foot, he looked around, hoping to catch sight of a certain blonde. He stayed there until he finally realised how utterly ridiculous he must look to passers-by. Chiding himself for even thinking about her in that way, he continued on to where a cluttered flat awaited him.

Closing the door of said flat fifteen minutes later, he pressed his rather large forehead against it. He really needed to stop thinking about her like that. Shoving his bag underneath his desk, the only place an area was clear of bits and bobs save for a wooden frame containing a picture he held dear. John pressed fingers to his lips, then to the picture in greeting, and then headed to the ensuite. Peering into the mirror with tired, green eyes, he narrowed onto his prominent chin where a few whiskers were growing. There might as well have been an army of facial hair with the way he took them down with the efficiency of a general.

Turning his head this way and that, furrowing his brow and bringing his practically-non-existent eyebrows together, he smiled, nodding in satisfaction before stepping into the shower. He went for the cold knob first and yelped when he was immediately sprayed with frigid water, cursing at having left the showerhead's knob turned on earlier today. He adjusted the temperature and let the droplets wash off his day's worries. It seemed to work…

Right up until he arrived where he was supposed to be meeting his friends. Here, his nerves got the better of him. The place was absolutely crowded. John fidgeted uncomfortably as he said a quick hello to one of his students. He wandered around for a while, trying to find the best spot to hide- 'Scout,' he rectified in his mind, for his friends. From the corner of his eyes, he caught someone wearing a red hood with a bit of blonde hair peeking out, but when he turned around fully to take a look, the person was gone.

He frowned before brushing it off, continuing to look for his two very meddlesome mates. He gave up after about half an hour as he waved at Lisa Faes, the fifth student of his he'd run into. It's not like he stood out or anything. He was closer in age to most of his students than any of the other professors here. Even some of his students were older than him! Maybe that's why he felt out of sorts. He was sure that, had he been around Professor Gregory Pace's age, he would have simply scoffed and glared at everyone who dared look his way. Chuckling to himself, he leaned against a wall in a somewhat abandoned corner with a drink in hand.

He was currently in the middle of a regular ol' college party multiplied by ten. Today was Halloween. From his morning class until now, most of his younger students had been celebrating all-out. While most had been able to control themselves and adhere to the university's rules about not wearing costumes to class, plenty of them had not, while others still celebrated in one way or another - either by wearing graphic tees honouring this festive holiday, covering themselves in makeup (which wasn't allowed either), and/or wearing other ornate accessories. Thankfully, there had been no alarming events and now that most classes were over the campus cops were being more lenient in allowing the students to roam about as they pleased. There was more security than most nights which made the university relatively safe and most students preferred to enjoy the night here. John was certain that the other campus houses were just as full as this one.

It was just past ten in the evening now and most people looked like they were just getting started. He frowned as he saw one of his younger students being harassed by an fourth year (though he could swear Mark Lyte had been here for much longer) and was just about to intervene when he saw Rita Jenkins rightfully slap him before marching away. He couldn't help the proud smile that spread across his face even though, as an employee of the school, he shouldn't condone such acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

Besides being a professor, John felt rather out of place because he'd never actually attended a college party before now. He had entered college at the tender age of fifteen and had breezed through like the genius he was. He'd achieved a doctorate at twenty-two and had immediately been offered several jobs throughout London. Schools, museums, research facilities, libraries - everyone wanted a piece of John. In the end, he'd decided to stay at his alma mater as his favourite maths professor had retired the year he'd graduated and had recommended John for the position. Besides being familiar with the location, curriculum, and atmosphere, his friends had also begun to attend.

Amelia Pond and Rory Williams had been his best friends since grade school. John had always been awkward as a child and had never had many friends. When he'd gone to live with his grandfather in the quaint town of Leadworth following his parents' deaths, he'd ended up having to attend the small school there that hosted all years. He ended up being picked on quite frequently for his intelligence. Some people didn't like to be upstaged and John did so with ease whether he meant to or not. He spent all his time with his nose in one book or another, books that were often slammed shut on his face.

It wasn't until redheaded Amelia Pond, who had come to live in the small town with her aunt just a few short months after him, had come to his defence that he was left alone. She had arrived with a tall, gangly boy their age named Rory Williams who had apparently also stood up for her just the day before and had a black eye to prove it.

Soon, the three were inseparable and everyone at school knew it. He'd connected with Amelia, Amy as she later preferred to be called, more because of their shared orphanage, but also found brotherhood in Rory when their female comrade would turn her temper to either one of them. A few years later, just before he found out he'd be receiving a full-ride to the gifted program at the University of London, he started to realise there was something… special going on between his friends. Before this, however, his grandfather, William Smith, had been afraid that John would never get through school for all the mischief he and his mates caused (usually defending others from the school bullies). Mostly, however, he knew the elderly man was proud and amused by their pranks against the notorious harriers.

Visiting home during the holidays two years later, Rory (shyly, but happy) and Amy (boldly and joyfully) had announced they were dating. John had been elated by the news, smug to know he was right, and had admitted to having his own special someone. The redhead had jumped on his case, demanding to know everything about his girlfriend and why he hadn't told them sooner.

Looking at his friends dancing together now, he couldn't help but smile. Rory wore a realistic-looking set of armour that, at the same time, looked very light, a no-doubt plastic sword sheathed in its holder, and a red cape, completing the look with authentic sandals of the era of the Roman centurions. Definitely Amy's doing, who wore a Roman goddess gown to compliment him. Fortuna? No, most likely Venus, knowing Amy. Some people found it startling that the pair was still together after all this time. Those two were quite different: Amy was more fierce and loud while Rory was calmer and subtle; yet he had never seen two people more suited for one another. The image framed in his flat of a middle-aged couple smiling at each other and holding hands flashed through his mind, along with a dull ache in his heart.

"You're not meant to look sad on Halloween, you know." A rough, feminine voice startled him out of his thoughts. He could hardly hear her over the music and wasn't paying attention quite yet.

"Unless you're haunted by your past." Green eyes clouded in sorrow, thinking about what else today represented.

She shook her head. "Our past is always with us. The next few days aren't meant to be a time to mourn, but to celebrate life." She extended her hand.

He looked from the offered hand, finally taking in a masked face and wisps of blonde hair peeking out of her red hood. He'd seen her earlier, he was sure. He continued to stare at the unique outfit of Little Red Riding Hood. The hooded cape looked like it was made of a thick, sturdy fabric, a grey skirt ending at a modest length (surprising, considering most females here were probably wearing the skimpiest outfits they found), and a simple white blouse with a black corset adorned her well. A shiny red mask covered most of her features, but he was sure there was an enticing face to be found underneath. He pretended to not understand what she was asking, waiting for her to move along and leave him alone, sure that she could attract someone a lot more… attractive than himself. Plus, he wasn't really looking for anything or anyone here. At least that's what he kept telling himself.

Instead of leaving, she tilted her head and considered. "What, you don't dance?"

Surprising himself, he blushed and was thankful that the room was dark enough to hide the redness of his cheeks. His sudden self-consciousness made him play with the cuffs of his own outfit, a simple Victorian suit of deep purple Amy had assured him made him look 'debonair'. "Not… well," he admitted, now fiddling with the buttons of his waistcoat.

"The world doesn't end because John Smith dances." She smiled teasingly, the tip of her tongue darting out of her mouth until it was quickly pulled back in.

Before he could think about why the action seemed so familiar or how she knew his name (oh, if this was one of his students asking him because of some type of bet, he'd fail those involved, teaching ethics be damned), she took his hand in hers and led him to the dance floor. He stood still when she took his other palm in hers as well.

"You'll find your feet at the end of your legs. You may care to move them," she said kindly, encouraging him.

At first, all John could manage was shuffling his feet, which suddenly seemed enormous. He was afraid of making a fool of himself in front of her even though something told him she wouldn't mind. He didn't know what it was, but he felt completely at ease with her. The storm that had begun to brew cleared away as the world around them disappeared. He squeezed her smooth left hand in his right before letting it go, only to bring his arm around her to pull her closer, hand resting on her hip. He inhaled the sweet scent that escaped from underneath the hood of her costume as she rested her head against his shoulder. His grip around her tightened. Even as the music became face-paced once again, they continued to sway gently to their own beat.

Several times, he was tempted to strike up a conversation with her, but either the loud noise around them or his own cowardice, his heart beating like a loud drum, intervened each time. She hadn't sounded familiar, but… He was amazed at how easily he lost himself in this girl. John shook his head mentally, feeling her soft curves pressing against him. No, not a girl, she was definitely a woman. A woman who knew what she wanted. She rose and he gasped as soft lips met his slightly chapped ones, lighting a spark inside him. Before he could respond in kind, however, she stepped back, mouth parted in shock, as if she could not believe what she had done. Even in the dim lighting, he could tell her eyes were wide behind the red mask though he could not quite tell their colour.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" She cut herself off, pursing her lips and turning, pushing through the cluster of bodies, running away.

He could only gape, his body frozen in shock. The only thing he could seem to focus on was her footwear. 'Pink converse with a Little Red costume is such an odd combination.'

"John, John, what happened? Who was that?"

Hearing Amy's voice beside him and feeling a hand on his shoulder, he finally snapped out of his reverie. He looked behind him to see Rory looking at him with the same concern that his girlfriend was voicing.

"I-I don't know." He was completely baffled. He hadn't come here for a good time, but somehow he had been enjoying himself with the blonde Red Riding Hood though all they did was dance and speak very little. Was she really even blonde? What if it was just a wig? He completely zoned out his friends' worries as these thoughts and more raced through his mind.

Amy, of course, didn't take kindly to this and went off ranting at him. "Such a space case, I swear. How did you survive all these years without us? We bring you out to enjoy yourself and…"

Rory was now trying to calm her down, but to no avail.

Finally John had had enough. "I'm leaving." He made his way through the crowd and mentally scolded himself for not following the blonde Red sooner. When he was finally out, the cool October air refreshed him and his determination for answers grew. A fire had begun inside of him and he would not rest until he found the one who would burn along with him.