#sparksearcher

«I’m telling you, that’s what they said,»the young shortstop said in his native Spanish. He gave his coworkers a scowl, asthey were all chuckling at him. No matter what he said, the story he had justregaled them with about their general manager, Clara Oswald, and their managerJohn Smith, talking in the clubhouse after the latter’s ejection from theprevious night’s game was not easily believed. «Do you think I’m lying?!»

«Exaggerating, maybe; lying, not entirely,» apitcher replied in a halting Spanish he clearly picked up in a classroom. «Javier, Ihate to tell you this, but they despise each other. Why would theyjoke about being Mom and Dad? That sounds like flirting.»

«Hey, I know flirting when I see it, and that was flirting, evenif they don’t realize it was.» Javier saw their manager head out of his officeand motioned for his fellow athletes to drop the subject for a moment. Once thecoast was clear, he started up again. «I’m telling you: they’re going to bedating by the end of the season.»

«Nah,» an outfielder scoffed. «They act like my aunt and uncle,and the two of them never should have gotten married to begin with.»

“What are you talking about?” The small group glanced over and sawthe Japanese interpreter staring at them curiously. “I can tell you’re talkingabout Smith—what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” the pitcher said, rolling his eyes. “Javier thinks thatSmith and Oswald are going to be an item by the end of the season.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t had hate-sex yet,” Javier admitted.They watched as the interpreter explained what was going on to their teammateand felt slightly uncomfortable as the two men discussed quickly in rapid-fireJapanese. Something was hilarious, it seemed, and it wasn’t clear as to what.

“Well, Makoto has to side with Javier on this one,” the interpretersmirked. “Smith and Oswald are perfect for one another. He says if they were inJapan, he would try to figure out how to set them up.”

“Impossible,” the outfielder said, “trust me on this one. He’s oldenough to be her dad.”

“Uh, you don’t know how much the Japanese love that older man andyounger woman stuff. Attractive older men are a thing there, and I’ve seen more than one female reporter make eyesat Smith… not to mention a couple men.”

“Just because it’s a thing in fiction doesn’t mean that they’re a thing.”

“Bae-toh,” Makoto said. He explained himself to the interpreter,who continued on for him.

“He wants you to bet on it,” he translated. “If you’re soconfident, then put your money where your mouth is and bet.”

“Bae-toh,” Makoto grinned.

“If my paw-paw can kick your granddad’s ass in war, I can kickyour ass in a friendly bet,” a catcher laughed. He took his wallet from hislocker and pulled out a twenty, slapping it down on the bench. “Our managerJohn Smith and general manager Clara Oswald will not so much as hug by the season’s end; any takers?”

The clubhouse simply eruptedin bae-tohs.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Silence.

Dead, suffocating silence.

Smith and Oswald stood in front of the room, both shocked at whathad just happened. After some casual banter, they had kissed in front of them. The lack of ire between them was welcome,the straight-out flirting was encouraged, but kissing… even if it had been a quick peck, it was as if theentire world was turned upon its head.

Oswald had tried to look Smith in the eyes afterwards, yetsprinted out soon as she did. It wasn’t long before the money started being swappedand the laughter began. Smith took off not long after her, with his second incommand attempting to keep things going.

“Alright, alright, let’s keep things in order,” Jimmy said fromthe front of the room. The bench coach fluffed out the stats report Oswald hadjust delivered and put on his best manager face. “Now, it looks like the roadMiss Oswald projects for post-break is going to be a tough one—doable, buttough… come on, guys. Focus!” Hegroaned in frustration at the team, as they seemingly ignored him.

“C’mon, Stalkingwolf—you know how much we’ve got riding on this,”Javier said.

“No, we bae-toh! I maykoo ryekuh kingu!”

“Tomare, Makoto-san;work first and all this stuff later.”

“Let the man ‘make like king’for a sec,” a catcher said with a laugh. “You’re just sore because you aren’tmaking anything yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Jimmy frowned. He got out his own walletand paid up a couple dollars to those whom he owed money. “We settle all thebets and then get going. Deal?”

“Hey! Someone needs to get a hold of Alex! He owes me a ten-spot!”someone else shouted.

“Don’t kiss me; morning breath,” the Doctor said as hepopped out of the high-tech coffin. Scrambling to his feet, he led his smallgroup of non-pudding-brains and Clara to the control room and plugged his sonicsunglasses into the main computer hub. After watching the door to the faradaycage close on the monitor, he turned around to grin smugly, only to be caughtoff-guard by Clara grabbing him by lapels of his coat and pulling him downtowards her. She pressed their lips together fiercely, which only made himstumble backwards in shock once she let go.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” she breathed, lookingsignificantly less put-out than her words suggested. “I thought you were gone…”

“So did I, for a moment,” he replied. He caught Cass andLunn signing at one another out of the corner of his eye and scowled at them. “Aren’tthe two of you rude gossips.”

“We’re not rude,” Lunn said, signing at Cass simultaneously.“If anyone here is rude, you are.”

“I’m Scottish now—I reserve the right to be rude if I want,”the Doctor huffed. He watched Lunn translate and Cass frown back at him. “What?I’m not wrong. I just saved us all!”

“Alice wasn’t rude,” Lunn translated. That made the Doctorlift his eyebrow.

“Alice?”

“O’Donnell,” Lunn sighed, having stopped signing. “That washer name. Did you forget already?”

“You try running about through time and space while keepingtrack of your Alices and see how you fare,” the Doctor defended. He glancedover at Clara and shrugged, to which her only response was to look at himflatly.

“Down Doctor,” she said. Clara then glanced over towardsLunn and Cass, eyes full of concern. “You might want to go back to where theTARDIS last sat—Bennett should be in, if my hunch is correct and the Doctor putthe TARDIS on auto-pilot.” Lunn nodded, signed quickly, and the two left, withClara grabbing the Doctor’s arm when he attempted to follow. “Nuh-uh. You’restaying here.”

“It’s my TARDIS,” he argued.

“…and if my hunch is correct, which it often is about thesethings, then you are probably one of the last people that Bennett wants to seewhen exiting the TARDIS, considering how O’Donnell is now dead.”

“Oh… yes, that could be a problem.” He bit on the side ofhis finger in thought, his eyes returning towards Clara’s face. She wassmirking at him, which confused the Time Lord. “What? What’s that look for?”

“You and your stupid, clever plan.”

“How can a plan be both stupid and clever, Clara? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s called ‘shut upand kiss me’,” she explained, taking a step closer to him. She put herhands on his chest and leaned into him, grinning inwardly as he draped himselfaround her and bent down into a kiss.

Humming in satisfaction, the Doctor lifted Clara by herbottom and set her down on the table, making it easier for them to kiss withouttoo much bending and stretching getting in the way. Keeping one hand on herhip, he moved the other to her face, brushing her cheek with the pad of histhumb.

“You were all I thought about in there,” he admitted betweenkisses. “A hundred-fifty years and all I wanted was to see you again.”

“What an honor,” she chuckled against his mouth. “Youthought of nothing else but me? Ifind that hard to believe.”

“I have multiple layers of thought, Clara; one was dedicatedto you at all times.” He squirmed slightly as her arms found their way acrosshis middle, underneath layers of clothes. Wait, when was his sweatshirtunzipped? It did not matter though, as it was Clara who was there, and that, atleast, was a comfort. He felt her legs squeeze his sides and he knew instinctivelywhat was coming later on in the privacy of the TARDIS, or even her flat.

“Umm… Doctor…?” The two looked over towards the door to seeCass and Lunn standing there once again, seemingly rather embarrassed over whatthey stumbled in on. “Bennett’s over by the faraday cage; he said he wanted tosee O’Donnell before seeing you.”

“Sounds good,” he shrugged, taking a healthy step away fromClara. He then took his sunglasses from the console and put them on, beginningto search through the database for a specific program. “Well, time to eraseyour memories.”

“Whoa, wait, what?!” Lunn gasped. He signed the informationto Cass and she flipped the Doctor two fingers—sign language that they allunderstood.

“Your memory of the writing, so that this sort of thingdoesn’t happen again,” the Doctor said. “I wrote the programming while I was inthe coffin… just trust me. Here—I’ll demonstrate on Clara first.”

Lunn interpreted for Cass’s benefit, and laughed at herresponse. <If he’ll do something tohis waifu, then it has to be safe.>

“What was that?” the Doctor wondered. He was having Clarasit down on a chair, placing the sonic sunglasses on her face.

It was a fluke, there was no other way to put it. Starsaligned, God and gods smiled down upon them, whatever it was, it happened andallowed the Quad City Gallifreyans to get into the Wild Card race on atechnicality their tenth year of existence. No one knew until the day aftertheir last game of the season, which was something that the Doctor made sure toexpress his conflicted emotions over.

“Clara, did you see this?” he asked, holding up his phone ashe walked into the kitchen. They were both still in their pajamas, with himhaving just emerged from the bathroom after his customary morning movementwhile she was whipping up some eggs for them and their daughter.

“I made a specific oath to not pick up my mobile until afterbreakfast,” she replied frankly, pecking his lips in greeting. She glanced overthe kitchen island to see Alba watching television, her teddy bear clung to herchest. “Sweetie? Can you please get the dishes ready?”

“Yes, Mom,” Alba replied. She didn’t move, however,seemingly too involved in her show to break away.

“I think you might want to break your oath just this once,”the Doctor murmured in Clara’s ear. “We have a bit of a situation.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” she shrugged. “Alba,I meant now.” The girl rolled off thecouch and dropped face-first on the floor, not wanting to comply with hermother’s order.

“No, seriously, you need to take a look at this…”

“I’m not in the mood to do this now, John—Alba…!”

“…but Mooommmm…!”

“Clara…!”

“John, be quiet; Alba, when I ask you to do something, Iwant it done immediately. Turn off the tell—”

“BUT CLARA WE MADE THEPLAYOFFS!”

Alba turned the television set off, leaving the house quietaside from the sizzling of butter and eggs cooking in Clara’s pan. Both of themstared at the Doctor, taken aback at his outburst.

“…but we can’t possibly…” Clara marveled.

“Yeah, Dad,” Alba frowned. “We can’t’ve made theplayoffs—Cleveland won the division and we’re way back in the Wild Card.There’s no way.”

“We all thought that, but Cleveland just got disqualifiedfrom the postseason because some tests on their stars came back positive forperformance enhancement and certain muscle relaxants that are bannedleague-wide,” the Doctor said. He scrolled through the news story on his cellphone, completely baffled at the happenstance. “Since we beat out the Tigersfor second place by half a game, we’re now the division leader.”

“Shouldn’t they just ban the respective players?” Claraasked. She shoved eggs out onto the three plates Alba had set on the breakfastbar and put the pan back down on the stovetop.

“Too many of them failed the tests to make that feasiblewithout it destroying their chances at advancing anyhow—Manfred simply decidedto axe them all and be done with it.” There was a sinking feeling in his gut asit all really hit him… they made theplayoffs. “Shit, Clara, call your dad and see what we can do aboutpostponing our trip to see him; I’m going to call Susan. Chances are thateither she hasn’t heard yet or isn’t even awake to hear.”

“We can’t go visit Grandpa now?” Alba sniffled. “I waslooking forward to seeing Grandpa!”

“We might have to visit later, is all,” Clara said. Shekissed her daughter on the brow, attempting to not let panic set in. “This isour first playoff run, so we can’t miss this opportunity. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Thank you; now eat your eggs and hurry up. It looks likeour pajama day has been cancelled.” Clara then scrambled towards her laptopsitting on a sidetable next to a couch, hurriedly opening it so she couldaccess Skype.

There was way toomuch work to do.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Och, I cannae believe it,” Jamie McCrimmon gulped. He wasseated in his usual chair in the conference room, he and all the otherdepartment heads having been called together for an emergency meeting on theirnewfound playoff run. The social media manager was the most confused of themall, as he was far from being literate on the game’s inner workings, only knowinghow to get their hit counter to go upwards. “This donnae exactly have precedent,does it?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Susan said, shaking her head. It was ten o’clockin the morning and her exhausted, taken aback heads of staff were attempting tohelp her make sense of the entire situation, despite the fact they were just asconfused themselves. “Jack, do you have the official artwork and logos from HQyet?”

“Just sent off to my team,” the marketing head replied. Hetapped his phone a couple times, whistling appreciatively at the screen. “Thedesigner in me always loves seeing the sweet, sweet curves in a super-hi-resvector. Yow!”

“Stop stroking off to pixels and get back to the matterat-hand,” the Doctor said from across the table. Pressed a finger down on thewooden surface, attempting to make a point. “When do you think we can fit infilming for the TV spots? My boys are far from being actors and they need theirtime to practice and calm their nerves if we ever want to win a game, let aloneadvance.”

“Let’s see…” Harkness muttered, tapping and swiping hisphone screen. “Since today’s Monday, I’m thinking something along the lines ofWednesday?”

“Can’t—has to be tomorrow at the latest,” Clara cut in from herspot next to Susan. “We have to get the team, necessary staff, equipment,everything over to Seattle in time for the game on Thursday night, which isalready going to be off for us thanks to the two hour time difference. Ofcourse we have a slight reprieve in that the game should be preempted for EastCoast prime-time slots, therefore taking place at five in the afternoon, butwhen I say slight, I mean slight.That doesn’t even consider the stuff around here that needs doing…”

“We should be able to get the TARDIS ready in time for GamesThree and Four, so don’t worry about us,” Mickey Smith-Jones said. “We were switchinginto winterizing mode this week, but something tells me that out of my staff,few are going to complain about the extra hours on their paychecks.”

“Alright, so Mickey has the TARDIS covered, once Jack’s teamgoes through the official imagery from New York we can start cobbling togetherlogos and send things off to the printing company for both advertisement andmerchandise…” Susan counted off. “Jimmy? How’s the team responding? Hearanything yet?”

“It’s a mixed bag,” Stalkingwolf shrugged. He twisted hisseat from side to side, ready for the meeting to end so that he could dash offand start getting his prepwork done. “Pretty sure I’ve been called a bastard inthree different languages and our exclamation point quota is through the roof.”

“Sounds about right,” the Doctor said. He glanced over hisshoulder at his daughter sitting at the table that was set up for her duringsuch meetings, seeing that she was quietly reading a book with her teddy bearon her lap. “Albie? You ready for the big time? We need our morale coach morethan ever if we’re going to get the pudding brains through this without themmessing their pants.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “What about going to see Grandpa?”

“After the playoffs you’ll be free to go and spend as muchtime in Blackpool as your parents allow,” Susan promised. “What do you say?”The little girl grit her face into one of determination and nodded resolutely.

“Yes!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Seattle, Washington: where coffee reigns king and one cangather moss if they stop moving for long enough. With the Mariners being one ofthe Gallifreyans’ more frequent opponents, the city was nothing new to the staffor athletes coming in from the Mississippi River, though that did very littleto curb the chaos that was settling in that Wednesday afternoon near the shoreof Puget Sound.

“Where is Dominic?!” Clara shouted over the crowd that wasin the clubhouse. Her voice was drowned out by the mass of panicking players,unsure coaching staff, and the media lapping all of it up at once. Ever sincethe Gallifreyans held the press conference that confirmed they were acceptingthe playoff spot, barely anyone had a chance to take a dump without a sportsjournalist asking about this thing or that. Clara squeezed her way through thethrong of people and eventually found Alba standing in the catcher’s locker.The girl was wearing all the man’s protective padding, absolutely swamped inthe stuff as she and the player in-question giggled.

“Look, Mom! Think I can start?”

“Start in machine-pitch if we can ever get some peace andquiet around here,” Clara tutted. She took the facemask off her daughter andpatted down her wild helmet-hair. “Can you find Mr. Devries for me? There’s toomany people for me to move around—”

“…but I’m perfect!” Alba realized. She took the shin guardsand chest protector off and disappeared into the crowd.

“Your daughter’s a treasure, Mrs. Smith-Oswald,” the catchersaid. “I’m glad that she’s so comfortable with us here, because she’s such abright spot in times like this.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “Now if only I can get a hold ofeveryone I need to—it’s so noisy in here that no one can hear their mobiles…”The Doctor then appeared at her side, having ducked out of an interview soon ashe saw her, freeing up the catcher to ready for batting practice. “You readyfor this to be over too?”

“Yeah; always imagined that this would be insanity, but thepudding in here is thigh-high,” he frowned. An arm rested along his waist andhe responded with snaking his arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know if sportsjournalism is something I should ban Alba from or steer her towards,considering she’d be on a whole other level.”

“She’s on a whole other level from them now,” Clara chuckled.

“That’s right—Mam’s gene’s showing through,” the Doctorsmirked. He bent down and kissed his wife briefly, not caring if there werecameras around to see. “Speaking of the bairn, where is she?”

“Trying to find Dominic for me; trying to get through thiscrowd is almost impossible for me andhe won’t answer his bloody mobile.” She saw the look on her husband’s facedarken and her heart skipped a beat. “Oh no… what…?”

“Dominic’s cell phone should be turned off considering he’son a flight in from Phoenix. He’s not even in the state, Clara.”

“Oh, I’m going to kill…! JamesSagebrush Stalkingwolf! You said Dominic was here!” Clara then stormedoff, pushing her way through reporter and athletes alike as she went to findthe Doctor’s second-in-command who had mistakenly given her false information.Soon as she was gone, Alba popped back, tilting her head at the fact her fatherwas now there instead of her mother.

“I thought I heard Mom. Did she find Mr. Devries?”

“Sounds like Mr. Stalkingwolf miscalculated and Mam needs tofind a new man for ESPN to interview,” the Doctor said. “She’ll figure it out—shealways does.”

“Mom’s kinda bossy, isn’t she?”

“I wouldn’t want her to be any other way,” he smirked. “Sheneeds to be bossy to have her job, or else…” He mimed someone diving off acliff with his hand, giving off one long whistle until he clapped his hands infront of her face and grinned, “Splat!”

“Mom’s not the kind of person to go splat,” Alba agreed. “Dad?Can I have a Jelly Baby? Please?”

“Only since you asked nicely,” the Doctor said. He pulled abag out of his jacket pocket and allowed his daughter to take a sweet from it. “Hey,I think it’s time you got ready yourself. We need our Morale Coach out therewhile we practice and loosen up, or else we might not be ready in time fortomorrow’s game.”

“You got it, Dad,” she nodded.

Alba then scampered off towards the visiting manager’soffice, where her backpack full of things was waiting. She locked the door,drew the blinds, and began to get changed into her miniature uniform. Part ofthe rules for her to be allowed in the dugout and on the field with littlerestrictions was for her to wear a full Gallifreyan uniform (complete with thenumber 14, the year the club began). High red socks went on before her darkblue pants, and a long-sleeved red compression shirt went over her head, thentucked into her pants so she could put on her belt. Groaning in frustration, sheundid her belt just long enough to put on the uniform shirt and tuck that in aswell. Cleats shoved on her feet and she grabbed her hat and hair ties, ready togo. She unlocked the door and edged out of the office, glancing around to seeif she could spot either of her parents. It looked as though most of the mediacleared out while she was in the office, meaning that it was very easy to seeher parents as they sat in an oversized armchair together going over theirlineup options.

“I’m almost ready!” Alba announced as she ran up to them. “Ijust need my hair braided!”

“Alright, then c’mere,” the Doctor said. Clara slid off hislap and sat next to him, allowing their daughter to climb into his lap insteadand hand him the hair ties. He worked quickly with deft fingers, braiding thegirl’s hair into two pigtails, patting her atop her head when he was done. She hoppeddown to the floor and jammed her cap on her head, grinning ear to ear.

“Thanks, Dad! You and Mom get the best lineup together,okay? We can do it!” Alba then began to march about the clubhouse, shoutingcheerful and supportive things as she went.

“We’ve got a good one, Clara,” the Doctor murmured, leaningin to kiss his wife. She kissed him back, slipping out of her shoes in order totuck her feet beneath her legs and cuddle into her husband’s side.