River Song: Hello Sweetie

Only If For A Night

Only If For A Night

The stars are shining, stark against the pitch black of space, all seems still. Except for one floppy-haired man who goes by the name Doctor and is perched underneath the floor of his Tardis, tinkering. He mumbles as he works, preferring any sound to overflow the deafening nothingness of silence. "It's just you and me tonight, Old Girl." He taps the glass panels lightly with a wrench, the orange of the Tardis's lights seem to glow warmer. "We should really redecorate you." The Tardis doesn't respond, the Doctor sighs. "Not tonight." He yawns, a fist covers his mouth as he stretches. "Not tonight." He murmurs again. His eyelids grow heavier, they flutter shut... And jerk open again in a start, because the Tardis has landed with a jarring thump, causing the Doctor to fall unceremoniously on his rear. With a frown, he stands up and walks to the monitor. "We weren't flying, Old Girl. Where've you taken me?" The screen stays blank. He huffs and walks to the doors, throwing a glare over his shoulder at the offending console. "Fine." He opens the door, eyes squinting as a glaring light bursts through. When his eyes adjust, he simply stares. The Tardis had taken him to Luna University. "No no no. I don't want to be here. I will not be here. You take me away right now, before I see..." He drifts off, as he finds what he was trying his hardest not to. A woman, her hair glittering gold in the sunlight, her pink dress making her look almost innocent, though the Doctor knows she's anything but. "River." It comes out strangled, not a word, but a yearning. "River." He says again. His legs react of their own accord, weaving around hurrying students, dodging the fast and flustered. She turns as he approaches. One smile and he's done for. He throws his arms around her legs, close to her bum, and spins her around, high enough to be off the ground but low enough to not to catch the attention of anyone else. She laughs, a musical note of surprise, catching the attention of everyone anyway. He doesn't mind. "Doctor." She says as he puts her down. "River." They're both smiling, not quite breathless, but almost. He kisses her. She tastes the same. He tries not to cry. She pulls away first, her knuckle lightly running down his cheek. "Hello Sweetie." She knows him enough to know he likes that greeting, he realizes, but she doesn't quite understand why. It sounds different, a passing fancy on her tongue. He smiles, she laughs again and turns around, grabbing his hand. She chatters about when she last saw him and classes and what they're going to do today, he grins and blushes like a schoolboy when she says something particularly naughty. Internally, he weeps. 

-

"Well, what do you think?" "No." "River, you're not being very nice. I happen to like this outfit, it's new." "No." The Doctor pouts. "I'm wearing it." "You are. But if you should, that's another thing entirely." "Why shouldn't I?" He asks, indignant, and River huffs in exasperation. "For one thing, this grass is very green." "And?" "And, your suit is white." "Hmph. I think I look rather dashing." "Of course Sweetie, but it's not very practical, especially as you have a tendency to trip." "Since when have you been so practical? And I do not have a tendency to trip!" "Yes dear." "Fine, I'll show you." The Doctor turns an awkward cartwheel, long limbs flying, though he doesn't fall. River claps twice sarcastically, he bows. "In your honor." "Such an act of skill, you talented man, who never, ever trips." She dead pans. He scowls and plops down next to her on their shared blanket. "When did I ever ask for your endless stream of sass?" "When you married me, Sweetie." He smiles and bops her nose. "I suppose so." He kisses her. She tastes of the strawberries they'd picked earlier that day. She hums, pulls away from him and pats his cheek. "I get the last of the strawberries." She declares. "You wish." "I'll bet you for it." "What are you betting?" The Doctor asks, a competitive gleam in his eyes. "I bet I can hold a longer handstand than you." He wrinkles his forehead, bemused. "Why handstands?" River fakes a sigh. "Well, if you can't do it." "Now hold on one strawberry-picking minute! I'll take that bet, and I'll win!" They spend the rest of the afternoon laughing, doing handstands, so happy they don't realize the rocks they occasionally trip over are actually gravestones.