Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

20(G)

history will be kind to me for i intend to write it

               areyoumarriedriver

.

It’s not like they mean to do it, honestly.

River just has a thing for monuments in history, and having... well special dates on them. The sorts of dates where he makes sure he just wears braces and his overcoat, no waistcoats because – (far too much to take off sweetie) – well just because.

She loves the feel of time around them, history pressing into the skin of her back. It had started at Stonehenge (the second time, not the first. For him that is – it was the first for her) and she’d been so enraptured, so utterly and illicitly pleased that – well. How could he help himself?

River is irresistible at the best of times. It’s not like it was something new. His very first date with her in university, she’d been all brash smiles, her body pressing against his. My turn-ons include intelligence, wit, bowties, history, old things and men who trip over their own limbs. He’d flushed and wondered where he was supposed to put his hands when her everything was pressed all against him and she’d just laughed and pressed a bright red kiss to his chin. Oh. And big chins. Big hands too. Big other things aren’t so shabby either, sweetie.

So if their nights tend to include a lot of historical monuments, places and planets – well, that’s coincidence.

Really.

(he keeps a stack of history books by his bed to leaf through on nights when he can’t see her. It’s not like he has a list or anything. And if he does have a list it’s for his eyes only. There is no list though. Well. Not written down at any rate.)

ii.

“Do you smell something burning?”

Her nose wrinkles and he lifts himself off of her, his skin still sticking to hers as he grins down at her. He can’t help it – her nose crinkles and his hearts sort of do this tango in his chest when he sees it. He wants to smooth the skin on her nose, but he also never wants it to go away.  So he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose instead and his own wrinkles as he lifts his head.

He could smell smoke.

“I don’t think –” he pauses and she is already shoving him off of her and scrambling off of the heavy wooden table they’d just done rather unspeakable things on top of. She has ink from several scrolls smudged across her back, and he giggles – he can read her in bed later. “Is that fire?!”

“Where’s the sonic?” River starts digging through the papers on the table, her robe half undone and hanging from her body. He struggles to pull his trousers up as she fumbles with it. “Did we knock any candles over?”

“No. Well yes. Well not a candle precisely but that pole we stumbled into may have had a lantern?”

“Doctor!”

“Yes well, we knew it burned River, it’s a fact of history and really it’s your fault for wrapping your hand around my-”

“Doctor,” she stresses and he looks up to see their only exit to the room is blocked by flames, licking underneath the door.

“Right then. Window, my dear?” He holds out a hand and she glares at him.

(she saves as many scrolls as she can, and much later when they are back in the TARDIS, smelling of acrid smoke, she makes him write down what is written against her skin. She checks him over for any snippets of history as well. The last knowledge of Alexandria. It’s priceless you know. He runs his fingers over the words on her back and presses tiny kisses across her skin. So are you.)