Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

9(M)

sex is like Chinese food

She woke with a gasping breath, her hearts racing as she struggled with the darkness for a moment. Over the years in Stormcage, she’d grown accustomed to the constant presence of at least some light. So upon her release she’d naturally sought to remove all reminders of prison from her new home.  She painted every wall a different colour, stuffed too much furniture into too-small rooms simply because she could, and she slept in the absolute dark.

Of course, a side-effect of this was that she often felt confused if she woke in the night. It took a moment for her brain to remind her where she was. “Time.” She mumbled the word sleepily and her alarm clock by her bed lit up at the request. Eleven minutes after three – she groaned, rolling over and only then did the noise register. The constant electronic sound of her door buzzer. She sighed, putting her feet on the floor and standing as she stumbled over to pick up her gun from the dresser before she made her way to her front door.

She didn’t need the gun. The closer she got the louder the buzzer became but she could hear him calling her name incessantly over the noise of it. Throwing the weapon on the hall table, she turned a lamp on and huffed in irritation before yanking the door open.

“River! River! Rive- oh!” He was leaning on her buzzer, a ridiculous grin on his face as he dragged the syllables of her name out again and again. His bow-tie was crooked and his face flushed, and he had a plate in his one of his hands while the other was waving his sonic screwdriver about. “There you are –took you long enough, you know. I was getting really impatient. And really hungry. River. River. I brought you biscuits.”

He shoved the plate under her face before standing and finally stopping the sound of her buzzer and she sighed softly, taking the plate from his hands before he dropped it. He walked through her door to stand next to her, his pace uneven and weaving slightly. “Doctor, what are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know! Isn’t it romantic? I brought you exactly eleven jammie dodgers – I thought you’d like the symbolism you know – and look! Look!” He waved his hands over the plate, narrowly missing smacking her in the face with his sonic as he looked at her expectantly. “Look what it says!”

She glanced down at the plate in her hands, on which the biscuits were laid out carefully in a heart shaped pattern. Or what she assumed was supposed to be a heart shaped pattern – one side had slightly more biscuits than the other, resulting in a rather wobbly looking heart. “It’s a heart.” She spoke finally and he clapped in excitement.

“Yes!” He glanced down, finally noticing the sonic in his hand and he frowned. “What was I doing with that? Oh I remember. Sonicing and entering. Not the same as breaking and entering at all. Wonder why I forgot what I was doing? Oh, yes, I know! I got distracted by the jammie dodgers. Because – River, River are you even listening?” He’d tucked his sonic away as he spoke and removed his tweed coat, looking around until he spotted the coat tree. He tossed his coat in that general direction and laid a hand heavily on her shoulder, shaking her slightly. The biscuits slid across the plate precariously.

“I’m certainly trying to listen.” She muttered before moving out of range and putting the plate down next to her gun on the hall table. She closed the door and jumped when she turned around because he was following very closely behind her. “Sweetie, when are we for you?”

“Oh I don’t know, I’m sick of that diary. I don’t care.” He pouted a bit before brightening. “Aren’t you going to eat them? The jammie dodgers? I brought exactly eleven you know-”

“Yes, you said that. Are you drunk? That’s not even possible is it?” She frowned up at him and he leaned in closer, sliding one finger down to the tip of her nose and grinning.