Yowzah Oneshot Collection (1)

37(G)2

              Chapter-2

She stands outside his TARDIS, her hands on the doors, caressing them in a way that honest to bloody god makes him jealous of his ship for Christ’s sake. He’s out of breath, and annoyed by his wife who doesn’t seem to recognize him. Or want to even remotely flirt with him – he’s still not sure which one is more irritating to be honest. And more than that he’s discovered that she’s absolutely insane.

He’d been put out about the recognizing him thing, but he was on to a new set of regenerations. She clearly hadn’t met this him before now. Once he’d realized that, he’d been a bit delighted. He knew something she didn’t. Well over a thousand years of marriage and he’d honestly never been able to say that before. Sure there’d been moments when she was young and he’d known more to come – but those had never been savoured on account of the fact that the woman was a fucking handful young. Reckless and impertinent – even when he knew everything and she knew nothing, she’d still somehow get the upper hand on him. It was annoying as hell.

He’d figured he’d just observe her – on one of her own adventures, without him. It was covert – like he was invisible, right? Except he’d been mildly put out to say the least by how much she flirted with others, and how often she relied on that stupid bloody hallucinogenic lipstick to escape situations. Not on him though – oh no. She’d not even batted a bloody eye in his direction since Nardole had dragged him out of the very box they were now standing in front of.

“Perfect timing as always, my darling,” River all but purrs the words out and he huffs behind her.

But he can’t tell her the truth now. They’re being chased by a giant fucking robot and he has the decapitated head of her “husband” (a whole other factor to his rising levels of irritation, he’s sure) in a god damn duffel bag and they’ve somehow lost her henchman. To be fair – the boy wasn’t too bright, even if he did seem dedicated to the cause that was River. “Aren’t we fucking all?” he mutters under his breath and she turns to frown at him. He straightens and clears his throat – game face on then. “How the bloody hell are you planning to hide in a wooden phone booth?” He tetches at her, secretly delighting in her eye roll and long-suffering sigh.

“It’s not a phone booth, it’s a ship, Santiago,” she snipes back and he rolls his eyes then. He gets it – he’s old. The nickname isn’t cute – but she’s been calling him that ever since declaring that Basil Pink was a ridiculous name. Which it was, but she’d caught him off guard and he couldn’t go with any of his old standbys, now could he? She’d be on to him in a micro second. Irritatingly brilliant woman.

“Awfully tiny, but I’m all for cozier accommodations if you are.” He’d not thought it possible, but in his desperation to get her to just look at him he’d been reduced to flirting. Flirting. This body didn’t do innuendo – it did what the fuck it would have merely implied back when he was Bowtie. There was no talking around the concept, he’d discovered, much to his own surprise. There was simply a surprisingly strong desire to simply shut up about it and do the thing. He thinks she’ll really like that this go round – once he gets around to telling her of course. Which isn’t now.

She completely ignores the innuendo – when has River fucking Song ever ignored innuendo, seriously? – and turns to him with a smile. “It’ll be fine, don’t you worry.”

“Assuming it is actually a ship and not some rubbish wooden cuboid, wouldn’t whoever owns it lock it? I seriously doubt you brought two ships to this bloody planet.” Her face is actually so offended it’s priceless. He wishes he could somehow take an image of that face and keep it forever, but she huffs and the smug smirk slides back into place. Behind her the TARDIS whirs in annoyance and he winces, mentally apologizing to his ship even as River reaches behind her to stroke the wood gently.