Yowzah Oneshot Collection (3)

105(G)

I feel like this is the beginning (though I've loved you for a million years)

               coffeesuperhero

It's her birthday. When the guards bring her breakfast tray, she greets them with no small degree of enthusiasm, and they sidle away from the bars as quickly as possible, peering suspiciously at her all the while. One of them rubs his hand across his lips, checking for traces of hallucinogenic lipstick as though he'd remember if she'd used it, and she just laughs and waves them on.

"No chance of escape right now, boys," she says, cheerfully peeling the skin from the fruit on her plate. "A girl deserves a quiet breakfast on at least one of her birthdays. Unless you feel like singing?"

They shake their heads nervously.

"No birthday song duet? Shame. I'll have to write another memo," she jokes, and they march away. "I expect cake with my dinner!" she calls after them, and at least one of them has the grace to chuckle.

After breakfast, she waits. He'll show up, sooner or later, and sure enough, after lunch, she hears the familiar whirring sound of the TARDIS, brakes definitely on. It materializes in front of her cell and the Doctor saunters out to sonic her cell open. She doesn't have to ask where they are in their respective timestreams, she just takes the lingering kiss that he gives her before he even bothers to say hello as conclusive evidence that he knows her, knows who she is, knows what she means to him, what he means to her.

"Hello," he says, in that warm, wonderful tone of his, the tone that has always made it clear to her that this one simple word is so much more than just a greeting. It's practically its own little term of endearment, the way he says it: it's a profound expression of love and trust and a promise to always come when she calls.

She smiles up at him then, smoothing the front of his jacket with her palms, and says her own, "Hello," an affirmation in one word.

He bends down to press a kiss to her forehead before pulling away just enough to beam down at her, and she notices for the first time that he's not wearing his usual get-up.

"What in the name of sanity are you wearing around your neck?" River asks.

"It's a cravat," the Doctor says, and his face takes on a faraway look for a moment. He laughs down at her suddenly, and she frowns up at him.

"What's so funny?

"D'you know, that's one of the first things you ever said to me?"

"What?"

"You asked me what I wearing 'round my neck," he replies. "You told me it was ridiculous. I endeavored to explain to you that bowties are cool. Well. My exact words were, 'No it's not, it's cool,' but I feel like that was enough explanation. You're quite bright, always have been. I thought you could extrapolate my meaning--"

"I don't remember any of that that," River says, interrupting what might otherwise turn into a twenty-minute monologue on the Doctor's neckwear throughout time and space and her (undoubtedly wrong, from his point of view) opinions thereon.

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about it, Doctor Song. You were quite young at the time, it's not surprising that you don't really remember. Of course, you are another year older today, so perhaps your memory has started to go," he teases, running his fingers playfully through her hair.

"I hate you," she says, swatting at his hands.

He gives one curl of her hair a gentle tug and grins at her. "No you don't."

"No, I don't. But it's still a hell of a way to wish your lover a happy birthday," she points out. "So why are you wearing that?"

"Cravats are cool," he defends, adjusting his neckwear primly, without the slightest hint of self-consciousness. "Or at least, in 1814, they're cool."

River raises her eyebrows. "Is that where we're going, then?"

"Yes, but first we have to make a short stop off in London, in February of 1974. Or maybe it was January. No matter, we'll let the TARDIS sort it out. There's someone I'd like to bring along."

"I didn't know you got a plus one on a date, my love," she says, but her eyes are bright as she slips her hand into his and walks with him into the TARDIS.

"Are we on a date, River Song?" he asks, closing the door of the TARDIS behind them just as the alarms of Stormcage begin to sound. "Good I have you around to tell me these things. How did you figure it out?"

"The kissing was something of a clue," she says wryly, then reaches up and pulls him close, pressing her lips to his. "See?"

"You make an excellent point," he says, his fingertips absently drawing little circles on her shoulder. It takes her a moment to realize what he's doing, and she wonders if he even realizes it himself, if he knows that he's drawing tiny concentric words of love in Gallifreyan on her skin. She lets him go on for a few moments more, closing her eyes against the unbearable, sublime beauty of it all, and just when she's about to reach up and wrap her fingers around his, he kisses her again, softly, just so, and it's like coming home at the end of the longest day.

Maybe it's the love that she has for him, maybe it's the whimsical way he waltzes through her life, but every time they go off on one more adventure it still feels like they've just begun, like they fall in love all over again with each new journey through time and space. It's an odd way to live, she supposes, but it's theirs, it's what they have, and she would not forsake this strange love story for even the shortest moment of anything ordinary.

She steps back from him with a sigh and smiles up at him, at her extraordinary Doctor, and says, "Well? I believe we have a birthday party to attend."

He wiggles his eyebrows at her and skips up to the TARDIS console. "Yes! Birthdays! Your birthday, in point of fact. I've been planning this one for years, you'll love it. And if for some reason you already know where we're going, please don't say. I think it's a rather wonderful surprise I've got planned for you."