Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/616539.
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Mature
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F/F
Doctor Who (2005)
Jenny/Vastra (Doctor Who s06e07)
Jenny (Doctor Who s06e07), Vastra (Doctor Who)
Published: 2012-12-31 Words: 6952

Five Firsts for Jenny and Vastra

by gnimaerd
Summary

'Its not proper, Jenny knows not at all what they do on the floor of the library by the
light of the Christmas tree. Not lady-like, and certainly not something they should be
indulging in before they are married. But its lovely, all the same.'
First meeting, first blood, first arguement, first kiss, first time. Loosely tied to my previous
fic, Hairy Apes and Stubborn Lizards, but smuttier

First meeting:
Not auspiscious in the slightest. Vastra is swearing in Silurian and Jenny is a screaming, bloody
mess on the ground, covered in gutter slime and Lord knows what other filth, bare foot, trembling
with fear and a little drunk on the whiskey shes been sipping in a vain attempt to keep warm all
night.
Such is the trouble with life as a match girl. As a child, Jenny harboured strong suspicions that she
was special, in some way that marked her apart from her vast array of siblings and the huddled
masses among which they lived in the slums of London. Life took every care to disabuse her of
this notion by the time she hit puberty, however, and as her parents died and her siblings slowly
joined them in the grave or disappeared into the churning quagmire of the city, she was left alone,
creeping closer and closer to prostitution or the workhouse.
There is nothing special about a match girl, nothing at all. They are ten a penny and cheaper than
whores to fuck; they are slight and small and vulnerable and no one notices when they disappear
from the frosty streets, no one cries on their unmarked, paupers graves.
Jenny fights the man who tries to rob her of her pennies more out of instinct than of any conscious
decision to not let him kill her. She has been stood on a street corner half the night slowly losing

the feeling in her bare feet, and she needs only another tuppence before she can afford a bed and a
loaf of bread on which to live for the next few days and she is absolutely damned if anyone is
taking that distant ray of hope away from her.
She kicks him to get him away from her and she runs, but he has a hold of her shawl and she trips.
The thin bones in her ankle twist and its perhaps the worst pain shes ever felt and now shes
certain that the man will kill her and take her money, or perhaps just take the money, but he might
as well kill her anyway, for she will starve to death before she can make enough for food and
shelter again.
She lands in the gutter, screaming, full of rage and terror, and glares at the man who means to end
her life, because if he is going to murder her he will know that she is Jenny Flint, and she is
special, even if she is only a matchgirl. He has a knife, but the hand its in is suddenly snatched
away from him by something that might be a whip or a rope (or a long, reptilian tongue), and then
Vastra arrives.
She is in a terrible temper, because she has been thrown out of a nice respectable establishment
before finishing her tea after some of the other patrons complained about her unseemly
appearance, and so she is in no mood to tolerate thieves and bullies and murderers. To this end,
she throws the man into a wall twice, for good measure, curses him in every one of the Silurian
languages and then in English, Mandarin and French, then kicks him in his genital area until he is
still. She feels a little better, but for the fact that the matchgirl is making such an awful racket.
She tells the matchgirl to hush, but she does so in Silurian and, to the uninitiated (and slightly
drunk or terrified) most Silurian languages sound almost entirely like the sounds made by
ravenous animals right before they decide to eat their unsuspecting pray. Jenny is not in the least
bit comforted, and is also angry, because her ankle hurts and she is covered in mud and there is an
enormous reptile probably about to eat her and when oh when did this night go so entirely wrong?
Vastra, beginning to understand that she is frightening the human, calms herself enough to
remember to speak English, and addresses her in somewhat calmer tones, with the phrase she has
learned is, amongst the English, the most singularly comforting available:
Would you, perhaps, like a cup of tea?
Jenny manages to quieten down, and gets a hold of herself, assessing the enormous reptile and the
unconscious mugger and her general state of undress. I cant get up. Ive done something funny
to my ankle.
Ah.
Vastra helps her up, and Jenny stares and stares, even though its rude (shes covered in mud and
this woman has probably just seen up her skirt, the time for conventional manners has passed).
Is it a skin condition? She asks, hopping, inelegantly.
No, Vastra replies. Im an intelligent reptile from a civilisation that long predates your own. If
one might call this a civilisation which I hesitate to.
Jenny is fairly sure that thats meant to be an insult, but shes tired and freezing. You said
something about tea?
Yes, yes, I live just along here.
She takes Jenny home, to her rooms above a tea seller on the docks, and makes her tea, and orders
up a bath and a meal and a new pair of shoes, and the matchgirl sleeps in Vastras bed and Vastra

does not sleep (she doesnt need to, really) but when she arrives back from fetching Jennys new
shoes in the morning, she finds the girl scrubbing the hearth and mending the curtains and
examining one of Vastras shirts, which has lost half a sleeve.
What did you do to this? She asks, it looks like its been chewed.
There was an enormous squid from outer space, says Vastra, and Jenny decides that she does
not wish to hear anymore than that.
I could fix this, she says, I am good with a needle if you if you need mending and such.
Although I suppose you must have a tailor
No, Vastra replies, handing over the new shoes, I do not. You may fix the shirt. Will you
require cloth?
Well
Its the owner of the establishment, a Mrs Bumstead, who does it first remarks to Vastra: Got
yourself a maid, then?
And Vastra doesnt think to disagree. Humans seem to like paying other humans to do elementary
things like sewing and scrubbing for them, and now she lives amongst them, she supposes she
must at least attempt to adopt the custom. Not least because she absolutely cannot be bothered
with sewing and scrubbing herself, and Jenny seems content enough to do it for her. (She is it
most definitely out-does matchselling as a way to make a living. Partly because Vastra has no idea
how much to pay a maid so pays her far too much and buys her new clothes and gives her free
board to boot).
Vastra is already starting to make a handsome living as a detective and consultant for Scotland
Yard, so some weeks later, they move into new, substantially larger lodgings on Paternoster Row,
and Jenny thinks that perhaps, just perhaps, there really is something special about her, little Jenny
Flint, the match girl from the slums of London, to have got so lucky. There is certainly something
special about Madame Vastra, who is good and strong and noble and rights wrongs and punishes
villains and defends the vulnerable, like the men there are all those songs about, but scalier.
She keeps the house for her new mistress, and makes her meals and stokes her fires (for Vastra
hates the cold) and they get along very well, all told.
First Blood:
Vastra very nearly dies, twice, before she agrees to let Jenny dress her properly for Londons
damp, cold, winter nights. She is used to the sophisticated, bio-engineered fabrics of her own
people which are light and easy to move in and adjust to a Silurians internal temperature
according to need; she does not want to be entangled in scarves and shawls and cloaks and gloves.
It is cumbersome, she must learn an entirely new way of moving and fighting from within her
heavy, woolen armour.
But she does nearly die, twice, simply because shes cold, and finally must admit the need for
extra layers. She has no wish to wake up for a third time, in bed, with Jenny sobbing over her
because she has stopped breathing for a full ten minutes.
Jenny dresses her. Shes good at such things she had four younger brothers and six sisters to
practice on as a child (most of them are dead now; shes not sure where the others are. Williams
in the navy somewhere, Johnny went to America; she tries not to think about any of them). She
has got Vastra a good cloak and an assortment of veils and hats, although there is the technical

difficulty of how to affix anything to Vastras head when she has no hair to pin things to.
Eventually, Jenny works out something technical and efficient with a system of laces and ribbons
that does very well, and Vastra begrudgingly resigns herself to life inside cloaks and coats and
mufflers.
But then, in her haste to get after a gang of diamond smugglers, she forgets her muffler, and
Jenny, efficient and concerned because the memory of Vastra collapsing on the hearth and not
breathing and her long tongue lulling out of her mouth looking a deathly shade of blue is still fresh
in her mind, follows after her with the article of clothing in question.
It ends badly. Vastra hoists Jenny out of the way with her tongue before she can be killed, but not
before Jenny has staggered over, bleeding from her head. When Scotland Yard has arrested most
of the gang (Vastra has quietly eaten the others she was hungry, and angry because Jenny is
bleeding, so she ate them)Vastra carries Jenny home. Jenny is mumbling about how she didnt
want her to get cold, groggily wrapping the muffler that created such trouble around her mistresss
neck.
You are far too determined to be good at your job, Vastra informs her. She can feel the warm
blood in Jennys hair, the bright stain on the collar of her blouse. Poor little thing. She feels small
and warm and vulnerable in Vastras arms, her face turned up, eyes big in the dark.
You ought to teach me to use a sword, Jenny says, then we wouldnt have this problem.
No?
No.
Jenny has been eyeing Vastras swords for months. Shes fascinated, mostly by the way they
make Vastra look tall and elegant and dangerous (which is to say, highly attractive), and she sort
of hopes that theyll make her look like that too. Shes never felt especially elegant, has Jenny.
But shes now growing distracted by the solid presence of Vastras arms and her shoulder beneath
Jennys cheek. It all feels very cosy, even though her head aches something fierce and the night is
still cold.
I could defend myself, she persists, and bring you hats.
That would be rather useful.
I thought so.
Vastra tends to Jennys wound, in the kitchen, with the maid bent forward in a chair, Vastra gently
picking through her hair to examine the cut. The maid is very brave about it flinches only once,
when Vastra applies a little alcohol (primitive, yes, but effective), and doesnt make another
sound. Her little shoulders draw together under her blouse, and Vastra tries to imagine her
wielding a sword she is quite well-muscled, for a human, it comes from scrubbing floors and
such. She probably has the relative strength and flexibility required. But would she have the
stamina? The speed?
More to the point, does Vastra wish to risk her in such dangerous situations as might require a
weapon in the first place?
She has little choice, of course. Jenny goes on strike until Vastra gives in, and Vastra is not at all
accustomed to doing her own cooking.
***

Vastra comes home bleeding because someone has half hacked off her arm. Jenny is rather proud
of herself for not fainting at the sight of it. She grits her teeth, puts a pot of water on to boil and
shreds the second best linens for bandages.
Vastra assures her that she will be fine, as long as she is kept clear of infection Silurians heal far
more quickly than humans do and Jenny thinks Vastra far too calm for someone who has almost
lost an arm. She spends the evening, after dressing the wound, scrubbing heavy red blood out of
carpets and curtains and table clothes and Vastras third best cape and blouse.
The real difficulty comes of the fact that Vastra now only has use of one arm, and absolutely
cannot do anything for herself for the next two weeks.
Vastra does not take well to the situation.
Jenny is a little startled to discover that Vastra does not have nipples, or a belly button. This she
discovers when helping Vastra bathe, despite trying to keep her eyes politely averted. She washes
Vastras back and helps her dry off after, easing blood and soot from deep emerald scales and
absently admiring the swirling pattern they make across her shoulders. Vastras head is covered in
pleasing geometric ridges and thin bands of skin stretched between them, which, Vastra has
informed her, evolved as a method by which to efficiently absorb and disperse heat. She goes to
wash them but Vastra immediately goes rigid, ducks her head so abruptly that water sloshes out of
the bathtub and soaks the hem of Jennys skirt.
Dont touch there, girl, for goodness sake!
Jennys somewhat startled not necessarily by the tone, for Vastra is snappish whenever shes
cold, and its England and the middle of winter, so Vastra is always cold but she had thought
she was beginning to know her mistress well enough to predict what will and wont set her off.
Sorry, maam, she offers, and then realises that what is wrong with the situation is that Vastra
actually looks embarrassed.
It is not done, the Silurian begins, her tone clipped, to touch the crests of another individual
with whom one is not intimately acquainted.
It takes a moment for Jenny to realise that she has, in essence, just groped her employer, and then
she drops the sponge with a yelp, approximately as mortified as that time she entered a room in
which her parents were vigorously copulating against a wall.
After that, Vastra manages to bathe herself.
First argument:
Its horrible, the first time they truly quarrel.
Jenny has been in Vastras employ for a full year, almost to the day, and, though Vastra
sometimes snaps or chides and Jenny rolls her eyes at Vastras back a little more than a maid,
mindful of her place, ought to, they have never had any serious disagreements before.
Jenny is now so efficient with a katana that she rarely leaves the house without it, strapped to her
leg, well-hidden beneath the heavy folds of her skirt. In fact, Vastra has just presented her with her
own, as an early Christmas present. (It is their first Christmas, as well as their first argument). It is
inscribed with Jennys name and with a number of words in Silurian, to the general sentiment of
efficacy in battle and thoroughly smiting ones enemies. Its so shiny and beautiful that Jenny
actually gets a bit teary when she opens it, to the hideous embarassment of all involved.

She names it Scorpion, having seen pictures of the insects wicked tail and actual specimens
preserved in the British Museum, which Vastra finds a little bemusing (Silurians do not consider
inanimate objects of death worthy of names, exactly. They value them as tools, not friends.) But
she is used to Jenny being altogether very human, so she doesnt say anything, and that evening
they go to a lecture on evolution and survival of the fittest by Mr Thomas Huxley.
Jenny has been very excited by Mr Darwins book and by all the debate it has stirred. Vastra finds
the entire thing at best farcical, for yes, well done poor Apes, for having spelled out, in the crudest
possible of terms, the barest bricks of your own existence. She has said as much a few times now,
and Jenny has bristled, once or twice, but one does not argue with ones mistress. For all its been
a year in which she has done nothing but grow closer to her employer, occasional accidental
groping aside, she still does not entirely trust that she will not, one day, end up back on the streets.
So she hasnt truly pushed or tested Vastra with the extremes of her own temper (which is not
mild no, Jenny Flint is many things, but she is not mild-tempered at all).
Then Vastra starts giggling so loudly in the middle of Mr Huxleys lecture that they are asked to
leave, and Jennys frustration begins to get the best of her.
Why must you always be so rude? She demands, feeling rather cross, now, actually. They are
stood in the courtyard outside the lecture hall, and its very cold and frosty and clear and it would
be pretty but Jenny is concentrating too hard on her annoyance to notice.
Im sorry, my dear, but that man is being entirely ridiculous, Madame Vastra waves her hands
about and pulls back her veil, inhaling the cold air and yawning widely. The cold makes her
sleepy. The idea that humanity is the pinnacle of evolutions process
Jenny is in no mood to be called anyones dear. She scowls. Well, arent we?
Of course not! Vastra is far too amused for Jennys liking. My dear, this London, England,
this world full of peasants and poverty and disease, I mean you havent even mastered the power
of electricity yet
So? Jenny demands, did your people have Shakespeare? Or Milton? Or or Plato? (Shes
surprisingly well read, for a matchgirl. There was a well-meaning Sunday school teacher who,
noting Jenny Flints intelligence, and determined to save the childs grubby little soul, taught her
proper letters using a bible. But Jenny was more interested in the fairies in Mr Shakespeares plays
than the endless lists of men who begat men who begat men in the Old Testament, and made a
habit of stealing books from wherever she could find them).
We have as much poetry and drama as yourselves do far more besides, the Silurians were
around longer than humanity has been, I assure you, Vastra shrugs, we have all of these things,
they are not unique to your own species, Jenny, and we have far more. Medicines so effective that
no one ever dies of sickness, systems of governance that do not distinguish between some
antiquated binary notion of male or female, technology that makes travel from one side of the
globe to another possible in the blink of an eye. And were my people to awaken now, en-masse,
they would wipe humanity from the face of the globe like the vermin we treated you apes as at the
height of our civilisation, and take back our home.
Jenny is, for a moment, stunned and Vastra blinks at her, for she still sometimes struggles to read
human expressions.
Then Jenny does a perfectly extraordinary thing, and puffs up like a bird, to almost twice her size,
full of venom and more righteous indignation than Vastra has ever found located in one small
body before. It would be both a little magnificent and highly amusing were it not that all of

Jennys long-withheld venom is being aimed directly at her employers face.

Apes?! Apes?! Jenny balls her hands into fists and wheels back as if shes been struck, is that
all we are to you? Not people who think and feel as well as you you said it yourself, your lot has
just been around longer than us, thats all, whos to say we wont get everything you had one day
and more, maybe even more, because my people wouldnt go wiping out a whole other people
just because they were in our way
At that, Vastra has to laugh, sharply. Oh, my dear, do you really know nothing about what
happened when that bastion of human morality, Christopher Columbas, discovered the Americas?
Or when James Cook landed in Australia? Do you not see, even now, your own great Britain
carving the African and Indian continents apart for gold and spices and human slaves?
And I suppose just wiping us all out, every one of us, is the preferable solution, then? Jenny
demands, like what was it you called us vermin? Rats to be driven out and poisoned?
It was our planet first, Jenny!
Well its not yours anymore! Jenny retorts, its ours! Last I checked we won it, fair and square,
we didnt squirrel away and hide from whatever it was got you all so scared we survived it, we
went on, we inherited the earth you abandoned we lived where you Silurians didnt have the
courage to stay and from where Im standing that makes us the ones with right to stay here now!
Vastra is aware, now, that she really has upset Jenny, but shes rather more flustered than she
expected to be under these circumstances and cant think clearly enough to gather up what it is
shes said that was so offensive. Vastra has only spoken the truth: what are the humans, if not
lesser-evolved interlopers? And what is Jenny suggesting about Vastras own right to live amongst
them?
They stand in the court yard, with the lecture hall aglow behind them, and its quiet and cold and
Vastra suddenly feels very, very lonely, because Jenny is looking at her for the first time as if she
they have nothing in common.
So Im just an ape to you, is it? Jenny asks, her voice high and trembling. I see. I see. Well, this
apes going home.
And she turns and stomps away.
Its a rather grand, emotional departure, spoiled somewhat by the fact that Jenny is not carrying
money for a cab or a key to the house (she does have both, usually, but she had had no reason to
bring either when out with Vastra before). And of course it begins to rain heavy, icey slush and by
the time she gets back she is soaked through and shivering and still has to wait a full half an hour
before Vastra arrives and lets her in.
They do not speak again for a while. Its very odd. Jenny gets a cold, which only adds to her
general misery. She lays aside her brand new, beautiful katana, hides it under her bed, because
every time she looks at it now she has a terrible temptation to cry. For a full five days, all she ever
says to Vastra is to ask, stiffly, when she wants her meals.
As it turns out, they are both very stubborn, and easily able to hold their grievances for protracted
periods of awkward silence. It is not conducive to a speedy recovery from what should be a
relatively minor schism, easily mended by a mutual acknowledgement that neither of them was
entirely right or wrong and really, the world is too big and life too short to disrupt the
companionable nature of their association over a petty squabble.

But they begin, in a slow, stutter-stop sort of way, inevitably, to right themselves after a while.
When Jenny has a sneezing fit, Vastra silently proffers a handkerchief, which Jenny accepts.
When Vastra, whose arm still gives her a little trouble every now and again, struggles with a tea
cup and drops it, Jenny helps her, quickly, unthinkingly, because it has become a part of who she
is, to take care of her mistress, even when shes angry with her.
Thank you, Jenny.
Thats alright, maam. Jenny says it warmly, forgetting, momentarily, that theyve fallen out.
Shall I get you another?
Yes please.
It is Vastras slight hesitation that reminds her. The Silurian is even less sure of how to smooth
things over than she is.
She makes Vastra tea, and is angry and outraged and humiliated and frustrated and resentful all
over again and stirs the tea rather too aggressively and burns herself. Vastra hears her swearing,
and comes into the kitchen.
You are not, you know, Vastra tells her maid, as Jenny sucks her fingers and glowers.
Not what? Jennys mouth is full of fingers, the words sulky and muffled.
An ape, Vastra says, watching her closely, to make sure she has got the right thing to say. You
are not an ape. That is not what I meant to say.
What did you mean to say, then?
That you are lovely and I would like to kiss you but that I am afraid that that would be something
akin to bestiality for at least one us, Vastra thinks, but doesnt say it. Shes a little shyer than she
looks, is Vastra shes better at killing things than she is seducing them. And she has at least a
vague notion that to voice any sentiment in that direction would only further complicate the
situation anyway.
Im sure I dont recall, she says, instead, and attempts an appealing smile.
You trying to apologise? Jenny asks, after a moment, removing her fingers from her mouth.
If youd like.
No maam, the point is, its if you would like, Jenny insists, thats how apologies work for us
apes, okay? Someone decides that they are sorry and theyd like to make up and move on and
then the other party agrees, generally speaking, and then they do.
Do what?
Make up and move on.
Oh, Vastra considers, yes, I would like to do that. Make up and move on. Please.
Jenny considers this attempted reconciliation somewhat sceptically. But Vastra looks so
hopeful, that it seems mean to try to tell her that really, shes still not quite got it right. It occurs to
her for the first time that Vastra is, in many ways, the more vulnerable of the pair of them the
foreigner, the fish (lizard) out of water. Her better nature prevails.

Yes, alright, fine, she flaps her hands, inexplicably ashamed. Alright. Lets be friends again.
Lets always be friends, maam. We shouldnt bicker.
No, its unpleasant, Vastra agrees. I dont like it at all.
They always bicker, though its rather a fixture of their relationship. Its what happens when two
stubborn and proud individuals end up in close proximity, emotionally entangled, physically
ensnared and altogether utterly in love with each other. They learn to live with it.
First Kiss:
There are several, actually, depending on what counts.
There is the very, very first, when Vastra recovers from a terrible cold and Jenny (who is sleep
deprived, having sat by her mistress all night, and a little drunk again, having gone back to the
whiskey to keep her warm), is so relieved that she kisses Vastras temple and/or one of her boney
crest things, momentarily forgetting that to do so is a far more overtly sexual action than she
intends, making Vastra laugh and shake her off, self-conscious and flustered.
There is the time when Jenny, by some fluke, gets word that her brother William is, in fact, still
alive in the navy, and cries for the first time in several years. Vastra, unsure whether to offer
comfort or not, kisses the top of her head. Jenny clings to her and giggles and weeps.
But of course, theres something of a difference between those clumsy, fumbling intimacies and
the deliberate, stomach-churning press of one mouth to another and all the accompanying
implications of such an action.
There are a few near misses. Jenny considers it, more than once, in the summer of her second year
employment under Madame Vastra. She has taken a peculiar but determined fancy to the Silurian,
even though shes blunt and insensitive and still sometimes calls her an ape and is altogether
greener and scalier and more female than anyone Jenny has ever taken a fancy to before. She
knows perfectly well that she shouldnt feel such things for another woman, but theres no man on
earth who can be so interesting as her mistress, and besides, Jenny has noticed how very blue
Vastras eyes are. They are wide and blue and somehow thats charming? They dont fit with
the rest of her. Theyre so human, and by far the most expressive part of her face, and somehow
Vastra looks like she should have dark eyes monsters all have dark eyes in books, dont they?
So those big, intelligent, gentle blue eyes dont fit, and theyre charming and theyre pretty and
they are what make Jenny think, for the first time, that shed like to kiss Vastra quite a lot, actually.
That and the fact that Vastras snub nose is actually quite appealing. Jenny takes to tapping it
during sparring matches with the tip of her practice sword (Vastra tolerates this with varying
degrees of patience).
And Vastra suspects that she can feel Jenny considering kissing her and wishes to encourage this
consideration greatly but shes also really rather helpless around her maid, these days. Its terribly
undignified Vastra is one hundred and three years old and a scientist and a warrior and highly
reputable London detective. She really oughtnt to be getting tongue tied or snappish every time a
hairy ape from Finchley starts singing in the bath.
But she likes Jennys hair, which gets everywhere and which she chews and braids and knots
depending on her mood, and she likes Jennys pale little freckles and her impish grin and her
dimples (by all of space and time her dimples). These are all things that Silurians do not have, and
Silurians are not great singers, either theirs is a species more inclined toward a bit of military
chanting which just makes them all the more intriguing.

They spend about a three month period in that agonising (if absurd) state where they are both
absolutely, totally aware of whats going on but are simultaneously paralysed, and so neither of
them says a word about it to the other. Those close to the pair of them, however, note that they
have suddenly and for no clear reason at all totally ceased to bicker. They are both very, very
careful to be very, very polite to each other at all times. Which is very strange indeed.
So when it finally happens the kiss, the first real, deliberate one theres been rather a lot of
buildup, which makes it all entirely anticlimactic.
In the back of a carriage, at night, just before midsummer (not long before Jennys birthday),
Jenny takes her heart in both hands and crushes her mouth to Vastras and its awful and
embarrassing and clumsy and theres too much nose and teeth and shes shaking quite a lot. Then
she jumps out of the carriage and chases after the bank robbers they are pursuing, before Vastra
can really react.
Vastra thinks that that was a very odd thing for Jenny to do and also now shes rather over-excited
and has to take a deep breath before going after her maid (and the bank robbers).
Some hours later, at dawn, after Vastra has eaten two bank robbers, dropped another in the
Thames and handed the rest over to Scotland Yard, she arrives home. Jenny has been refusing to
look her in the eye since the incident in the carriage, and the maid immediately disappears into her
rooms. Vastra decides that she is probably better to wash the blood off her scales and brush her
teeth before going after her, and so it is not until well after breakfast that she encounters Jenny in
the drawing room, pretending to dust the mantelpiece.
There is a rather uncomfortable pause.
Well, says Jenny.
So, says Vastra.
Another pause, and then Vastra decides that for goodness sake this is all entirely ridiculous, and
crosses the space between them and takes Jenny in her arms and kisses her, in the manner
suggested by many romance novelists to be the most effective. (Vastra, much to her own shame,
has developed a bit of a habit for human romance novels. Jenny reads them all the time penny
dreadfuls and the like and she started lending them to Vastra and now somehow Vastra has
more than Jenny does, although she keeps them hidden under her bed because shed never hear
the end of it if Jenny ever found them).
This kiss is substantially better than the first, though. Jenny makes a sound in the back of her
throat like a startled child and throws her arms around Vastras neck and Vastra thinks
goodness, how very endearing, and holds her close, and feels her soft and warm Jennys mouth is.
Her long, thin fingers have found the lesser crests on the back of Vastras head and the touch of
her hands there is inspiring, to say the least.
They come apart, but not entirely.
Oh, whispers Jenny. Her tongue feels a little odd. She has let it touch Vastras lips and they are
not like a humans lips at all.
Well, Vastra replies, just as quietly.
Jenny manages a quick, tentative smile, then wraps her arms around Vastra, suddenly full of
affection. How long have you been waiting to do that, you daft old lizard?
If I am not allowed to call you an ape you are certainly not allowed to call me a lizard, Jenny.

You call me an ape all the time! You called me that yesterday!
I did not!
You did so.
Its comforting, to be able to talk to each other as they always do, even in this new, unfamiliar
territory.
It would be alright, wouldnt it? If I were to kiss you more often? Vastra ventures, after a
moment she says it mostly to Jennys hair, resting her cheek on the top of her maids head.
Oh yes, Jenny agrees, warmly. It would be perfectly alright.
Good, says Vastra.
Excellent, Jenny nods.
Its surprising how little things change after that, except that it shouldnt be. They have, Jenny
realises, been living as if they are a married couple for quite some time already. Now they go
about their day as normal, except that in the evening instead of sitting quietly, side by side in
Vastras library in front of the fire, they huddle together.
Vastra grows drowsy with a warm, sleepy human in her lap, and Jenny hums softly to herself as
the night draws in around them, fingering the collar of Vastras blouse and kissing the smooth,
clean scales at her throat. They spend a lot of time kissing in the evenings its a more pleasant
activity that Vastra remembers it being, but then, the last time she kissed anyone was several
hundred thousand years ago (at least), so perhaps kissing anyone would be good fun by now.
It must have a substantial amount to do with who shes kissing though. Shes fairly certain that this
wouldnt be half so fun without Jenny, who giggles and flirts and plays with her hair and lays her
head in Vastras lap and runs her long, pale fingers along Vastras arms and neck.
I do love you, maam, Jenny tells her, some months later, resting her head in the crook of
Vastras arm.
They have had rather a long day (a murder and a spate of kidnappings, the perpetrator now
arrested thanks to their efforts), and have retreated to the quiet comfort of the library Vastra is
reading the latest offering by Mr Dickens, Jenny is falling asleep.
You really must stop calling me that, Vastra tells her, smoothing a lock of hair out of Jennys
dark eyes, as the maid yawns. I am hardly just your employer anymore.
Well, but you are my mistress, in a manner of speaking. Jenny smiles to herself, scratching
absently at one arm. Besides, its only another yawn, keeping up appearances. Reckon
those boys at Scotland Yard would have a fit if they knew about us
Oh, I dont know, Vastra considers, they seem to have taken so many of the other facts of my
existence rather in their stride.
True, Jenny concedes, yawns a third time then shifts about, burying her face in Vastras chest.
Vastra continues stroking her hair. Oughtnt you to go to bed, my dear? Youre half asleep.
Nah, Jenny waves a hand, Im Im fine.

I shant be carrying you up the stairs again, you know.

Tough.
Foolish ape.
Stubborn lizard. Jenny glances up at Vastra, touches her little snub nose with a fingertip.
She wants to ask to stay with Vastra they havent, yet, shared a bed, at least not quite in that
way. Theres been some exploration, here and there, but nothing substantial. Its a question of
time. They live quite ridiculously busy lives and there hasnt been a night in the last six weeks that
hasnt ended with Jenny practically unconscious in Vastras arms, too exhausted to move, let
alone make love. And thatd be even more anticlimactic than their first real kiss, to make a start
and then fall asleep in the middle of it.
It must be special, Jenny is determined, and special means having enough energy to carry on for
longer than a half hour or so without getting drowsy.
First time:
Its Christmas, and no one has been murdered and nothing has been stolen and everything is
blessedly, gloriously quiet, and by the dim light cast by the fire embers and the little candles round
the Christmas tree, Vastra is undressing Jenny Flint, and Jenny Flint is happier than she can
remember being in a very, very long time.
Vastra is so gentle, and careful and kind. No one ever sees any of this part of who she is but
Jenny, and Jenny rather likes that. Its like having a secret.
Are you alright? Vastra asks, softly, against Jennys neck, as she goes seeking with her spare
hand, stroking beneath Jennys underskirts. You will tell me if you arent?
Yes, Jenny murmurs, though shes not really making a reply just a general utterance of
pleasure, warm and pure, closing her eyes and leaning into the sensation with a sigh.
Vastra laughs, and turns Jennys face toward her to kiss it, over and over. Precious girl
Do you love me? Jenny asks, not out of any real doubt but because she likes to hear Vastra say
it.
More than anything on this earth, Vastra replies, I love you, I love you, I
Oh! Jenny stiffens Vastras thumb has just found somewhere very interesting indeed.
Goodness!
The exclamation makes Vastra laugh and Jenny joins in, feeling giddy.
They must learn each other very precisely neither is, of course, like anything the other has ever
encountered before. Vastra is rather taken by Jennys nipples, which are sensitive and soft but
react totally of their own accord when touched. They are only a shade or two darker than the rest
of Jennys skin, and Jenny bites her lip and curls her toes when Vastra puts her mouth to one.
Vastra is lean and muscular, without breasts or a belly button, and her skin does not sweat as
Jennys does, but it grows so hot to the touch with desire that it almost burns and Jenny
discovers, much to her wonder it changes colour. Not all over, but in patterns: the scales ripple
from green to yellow to orange to scarlet as Vastra grows excited. The boney crests on her head
change and so do all the scales marking the length of her spine, tracing the routes of main arteries

and veins beneath her skin, lapping her hips and groin. Suddenly shes threaded with a myriad of
colours that are every shade of warm, some of which Jenny cannot even put names to. Its utterly
glorious looking.
Isnt that something, she murmurs, running her fingers along the deep red scales, watching them
change colour beneath her fingertips, oh, my darling, youre a perfect marvel, you really are
Do you think? Vastra examines herself, its only my chromatophore cells when my people
were little more than lizards, we seem to have evolved them as a means of signalling certain things
to each other
Such as? Jenny continues to stroke the deep, crimson swirl touching the edge of Vastras groin.
Oh the usual things danger, pregnancy
Excitement? Jenny has dipped her head to kiss where she has been stroking, working closer to
the soft groove between Vastras thighs.
Most probably
Jenny giggles, and Vastra gasps and shivers as Jenny puts her tongue to altogether more
interesting use than she ever has before.
Its not proper, Jenny knows not at all what they do on the floor of the library by the light of
the Christmas tree. Not lady-like, and certainly not something they should be indulging in before
they are married. But its lovely, all the same.
Thats to say nothing of Vastras tongue, of course. Jenny is reduced to such pleasure by it that
she is hardly able to move after, breathless and covered in a fine sheen of sweat (which Vastra
rather likes the taste of, these days). They have relocated to a sofa, Jenny nestled against Vastras
chest, still a little breath-taken.
Howd I get so lucky? She asks, sleepy and sated, to end up with a lady like you?
I ask myself the same question every day, Vastra replies, rather tender now, leaning over her to
draw a blanket about the pair of them.
Jenny smiles, yawning. Thats nice.
Mm.

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