Title: Strangers When We Meet
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: John Smith/Arthur Eddington
Fandom: Doctor Who/Einstein and Eddington
Rating: PG
Table: 2
Prompt: 91, Strangers
Author's Note: This fic doesn't feature the Tenth Doctor, but technically, since he is John Smith, it does fit the challenge claim. Slight spoilers for Einstein and Eddington.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own John Smith or Sir Arthur Eddington. Please do not sue.

***

John looked around him as he stepped off the train onto the station platform, suitcase in hand. He was only going to be here in Cambridge for a week or so, but he intended to make the most of the time that he had in this city. After all, he had no idea when he'd have the chance to visit again, and he intended to enjoy his stay here.

He had expected the place to be more crowded than it was, but he shouldn't really be surprised at that, he told himself. It was the middle of the day, and the students who probably usually flocked around this area were in classes, or studying. It probably hadn't been the best time for him to arrive, but he hadn't had much of a choice with the time.

At least he'd managed to get a short sabbatical from his own work, he told himself, squaring his shoulders and casting a quick glance around at the few people who populated the station. He'd have to be back in another eight days, but that gave him at least a bit of time to look around this legendary town, a place that he'd always wanted to see.

He'd always wanted to go to Cambridge, he thought wistfully, almost envying the people who had been able to spend their college years here. He'd been to a reputable school, of course, and his teaching credentials were impeccable. Still .... Cambridge. Just saying the name demanded a certain amount of respect in teaching circles.

John frowned slightly, trying to think back to his own college days. The memories were there, he was sure -- but they were hazy, unreachable. Why was it that whenever he tried to think back over his past, everything seemed to have a gauze curtain wrapped around it, the memories hovering tantalizing just out of reach?

No matter. He shook his head as though trying to clear it, putting his suitcase down beside him and taking a more thorough look around. He wasn't sure who the school would have sent to meet him here, but he hoped that he would be able to get on with whoever it was.

However, he couldn't help but wonder if they'd forgotten him -- there didn't seem to be anyone around who looked the part of a Cambridge professor, John noted with a sinking heart. They were more than likely all in their classes, at any rate. The best he could do would probably be to sit down and wait ....

"John? John Smith?"

John whirled around with a gasp when he heard his name being called, wanting nothing so much as to fall into obscurity at this moment. The voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to ring out in the quiet station, and the few people who were there turned their heads to look at him curiously. Only his adherence to polite manners kept him cringing away.

But all thought of cringing or hiding was driven from his mind when his eyes fixed on the tall man striding across the floor of the station towards him and holding out a hand. Without a doubt, this had to be the most attractive man he'd ever laid eyes on. John had to blink a few times to make sure that he wasn't seeing things.

Without thinking, he held out his own hand, murmuring in a slightly breathless voice, "Yes, I'm John Smith." He couldn't think of anything else to say; it was as though his brain had stopped working, and all he could focus on was the deep brown eyes that were drawing him in.

His hand was caught in a firm clasp, one that he didn't want to relinquish. John stood there, letting the other man shake his hand, his senses whirling, too dazed to speak. Fortunately, the tall, handsome man took care of that for him by introducing himself. "Hello, John. I'm Arthur Eddington. The school asked me to collect you, as you'll be staying with me during your stay here."

He didn't want to stop looking into those eyes; he had the feeling that if Arthur looked away from him, some sort of magical connection would be broken, one that he might never find again. His mouth opened, but no words came out; Arthur tilted his head to the side, looking puzzled, and John realized belatedly that he had to say something.

What was it that Arthur had said? Oh, yes. "Hello, Arthur. I wasn't quite sure just where I'd be staying -- I hope that I won't be an imposition on you and your family." There. That sounded quite good -- and whatever the answer was would let him know if this man had children, and .... a wife. John couldn't keep himself from hoping desperately that Arthur had neither.

His next words made relief course through John; he felt as though he'd narrowly managed to avert some tragedy when Arthur spoke. "No, not at all. I don't have a family to speak of. There's only my sister and myself, and I'm sure you won't bother either of us."

"That's good to know. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble." John spoke softly, quietly, glad that Arthur's raised voice when he'd first called out his name had given way to soft, cultured tones. They weren't the center of attention in the station any more, which he was glad of; it gave him more of an opportunity to study Arthur covertly.

He really was stunningly gorgeous, John told himself, glancing at Arthur's profile when the other man looked away for a moment. Prominent cheekbones, full lips, firm chin, skin that looked as soft as velvet, the longest eyelashes that John had ever seen -- and, of course, those incredible deep brown eyes that he wanted to fall into.

Arthur bent to pick up John's suitcase, then turned to the other man with a smile. "Let's find a taxi, shall we? I walked here, but I don't fancy carrying something on the way back -- and I certainly wouldn't make you carry it. I'm sure it will be fairly easy to track one down."

"After all, this is a train station," John said softly, returning the smile. He was no wit; those words proved it, he told himself, wincing inwardly. But Arthur didn't seem to notice.

Following the other man outside, John squinted in the sunlight, looking around at the well-tended garden near the station. The streets looked surprisingly clean and well-kept, he thought, feeling the tension start to ebb out of him. There was no reason for him to be nervous; he couldn't think why he felt so keyed-up and on edge.

Arthur had been right about the availability of a taxi; he hailed one within a few seconds, stowing John's suitcase and opening the back door to usher his guest inside. "It's not far to go -- only a couple of miles -- but it's much quicker than walking," he said as he held the door open for John to precede him into the cab.

He climbed inside, settling himself into the seat and moving over slightly when Arthur got in beside him. John could feel a shiver run up his spine when their thighs pressed against each other; he was equal parts shocked and aroused. Glancing over at Arthur, he wondered if the other man felt the same -- if only there was some way for him to know that without asking in so many words!

But knowing how Arthur felt would necessitate him telling the other man his feelings -- and he'd always kept those emotions hidden deeply within himself. At least .... he thought he'd done that. He couldn't remember ever telling anyone that he fancied boys instead of girls, but he was fairly sure that it wouldn't be something he'd discuss with anyone.

After all, he couldn't remember anyone with whom he'd been close enough to talk about that kind of a secret with. It simply wasn't anything that one could talk about casually, and he was a private sort of person.

John glanced at Arthur again, and was disconcerted to find the other man watching him, a slightly puzzled smile curving his lips. "If there's something on your mind, John, you don't have to be afraid to talk to me," he said softly, those dark eyes fixing John in their gaze. "I don't think I'm overly intimidating -- at least, I certainly hope not."

"I'm not afraid to talk to you -- I .... just don't know what to say," John murmured, feeling the telltale blush rise in his cheeks again. He'd never felt this shy with anyone; he was quiet, but not so quiet that he couldn't make conversation, even with someone he'd never met before. "It's just a bit hard for strangers to get their bearings with each other at first."

"I hope that you won't consider yourself a stranger for long," Arthur told him, and John found himself wishing that he could talk to Arthur about personal issues, the things that he was sure he'd never confided to any living soul. But it wasn't as though he could do that; Arthur would more than likely be shocked if John blurted out what was on his mind.

"I doubt that I will," John said, smiling in spite of his nervousness. "I wasn't sure if I would feel comfortable with the people here, but you've already set my mind at ease on that score. And if your sister is anything at all like you, I'm sure that we'll get on just as well."

"We've been told that we're a great deal alike -- Winnie is my saving grace at times," Arthur laughed, shaking his head. "She keeps me in line -- she's always able to draw me back to reality when my ideas might seem a bit too grandiose. She's ...." His voice trailed off, seeming to catch in his throat for a moment. "-- She's been there for me through some .... very trying times."

John couldn't help but wonder just what Arthur meant by that, but he didn't want to pry. Arthur was looking to the side, facing away from him; was it his imagination, or could he feel the slender body next to his trembling slightly? He fervently hoped that he hadn't said anything to upset Arthur; that would be no way to begin this visit.

If he'd managed to do that, he would have to apologize; but how could he apologize for something that he wasn't sure he'd done, especially when he had no idea what might have caused it? He opened his mouth, then shut it again when Arthur turned back to him, raising a hand and pointing out the large house the cab was stopping in front of.

"Here we are," he said, a note of forced cheerfulness in his voice. "I'm sure that Winnie will be happy to meet you. I've got nothing on the agenda today, so I can show you around a bit, though I'm sure that you'd like to see your room and freshen up a bit before you start a tour."

John nodded, opening the door on his side of the cab and getting out. Arthur paid the driver and hefted John's suitcase, and he followed the other man to the front door, wanting to ask Arthur what he'd done to cause that look of melancholy that had settled over his expressive features, but not daring to do so. He didn't want to make things worse.

Arthur turned to him outside of the door, setting the suitcase down and heaving a soft sight. "I'm sorry, John," he said softly, those dark eyes meeting the other man's again. "I didn't mean to get depressive .... but talking about some of the things that have happened -- quite recently, in fact -- is still hard for me. It's nothing you've said or done."

John reached out and laid a hand on Arthur's, giving him a slight smile and a nod. "I was a bit worried about that, but I'm glad to hear that I haven't done anything to upset you. If you need to talk, I've been told that I'm a very good listener."

Those remarkable eyes were still fixed on him, but John thought that he could detect a hint of hesitation in their depths. Arthur's voice, when he spoke, was soft and very low; he looked down at John's hand on his, but didn't pull away. "I may take you up on that. It's .... something I've wanted to talk about, but Winnie is the only one I've been able to open up with."

"I'm here to listen any time you need to talk," John told him, keeping his own voice low. "I won't judge you, Arthur. I have trouble talking about some things in my life, as well, so I know how you must be feeling."

"Do you?" Arthur whispered, swallowing audibly. To John's surprise, the other man clasped his hand, almost seeming to cling to him for a moment before he pulled away. "You can feel free to talk with me about anything you may need to, as well." He gave John a smile before picking up his suitcase again, pushing the door open. "Not strangers for long, are we?"

"No, indeed," John answered, feeling his heart thump against his ribs. Whatever it was that Arthur needed to talk about, he resolved to listen, and try to help if he could. After all, it was the least he could do in return for the friendship that had been offered to him.

And if talking about their respective issues led to a stronger bond between them other than mere friendship, well -- so much the better ....

***

Next story in series - No Secrets.