No plot whatsoever, just three short drabbles featuring River and the Twelfth Doctor that I've had stored up for a while (along with about 200 others~). I thought I would post them in celebration of the WONDERFUL news that husband and wife are to be reunited and River is to meet Twelve for the first time this Christmas! I hope you're all as happy as I am. Merry early Christmas, sweeties!
Twelve and River returning from a party : The Tardis~
They made their way back to the Tardis hand in hand, full of whispers and giggles as they crept upstairs to avoid waking Clara who, exhausted by her own birthday party, had wandered off some time ago to apparently find sleep in the console room chair.
"There, see? I told you it would be a good night."
The Doctor clicked the bedroom door shut behind them, slipping off his coat – the usual one, given that no amount of persuasion from neither River nor Clara could have made him change his outfit even for his best friend's party. "Debatable."
"Really?" River asked, raising an eyebrow at him as he hooked an arm around her waist to keep her balanced as she slipped off her crimson heels. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself."
"That might have been something to do with your being there."
Her lips curved into a smile. "Might have?"
"Mmm." He tilted her chin up now that she was distinctly shorter to press a delicate kiss to her lips, running his tongue over his teeth with a wince upon pulling back. "You're alarmingly champagne-flavoured."
"Well, something had to get me through watching you on the dance floor."
"Yes, Clara had a word with me about that." His hands slipped off his wife with some reluctance, letting his eyes trail over her back as she turned to the dresser before flopping onto the bed to unlace his shoes. "She was curious as to why you loved me."
"I imagine most people are." River chuckled as she slipped off her bracelet, seeing his features lapse into a sulky pout in the mirror. "What did you tell her?"
"I said, I think she loves me in no small part because she was conditioned not to."
"You think my love for you is an act of defiance?"
"Am I wrong?"
She just chuckled, slipping her diamond earrings off and placing them carefully on the nightstand. "Unzip me."
As always, it was an invitation. Her eyes fluttered shut, waiting for the weight of large hands to cup her shoulders. A contented sigh floated past her lips when his touch finally came; fingers ghosting over the lean muscles beneath the fabric of her dress, tracing the subtle bumps of her spine, before finally going to her zip.
"Did she ask why you loved me?" River asked quietly, eyes opening to find his reflection gazing at her pensively.
"I think that's fairly self-explanatory, don't you?"
"Transparent," she agreed with a haughty smirk, threading a hand into her hair to remove the pin holding it in its elegant twist and letting the corkscrews tumble onto her shoulders. She watched the Doctor watching her in fascination, and felt an unexpected warm tingle creep into her cheeks. "Sweetie, can you even see with your pupils that dilated?"
The sharp zing as he pulled her zip down cracked through the bedroom, and she felt the prickle of goose bumps along the newly exposed skin of her back. He gave her no answer, but by the way he pressed his eyes shut as he lowered his head to pepper a trail of chaste kisses from her shoulder to the nape of her neck she assumed that he didn't need to see. Cool hands slipped inside her open dress to encircle her waist, palms pressing against her warm stomach and holding her flush against him.
"I'm not just in love with you because I'm not supposed to be, you know."
"Is that right," he murmured into her hair. "Enlighten me, Professor."
River leaned back into his embrace, grinning at him in the mirror. "I can't have you getting complacent by telling you what you're doing right. I like to make you work."
His chuckle became lost against her skin, eyes tightly shut as if he was trying to drink her in; the tangy perfume she'd bought from that bazaar they'd visited, the silky flesh of her stomach pressing against his hands. Before, in the days when she'd feel the rough fabric of a bow tie pressing against the top of her spine, she might have turned around and demanded that he got on with it – firing off instructions, pushing him to his knees, slapping restraints around his wrists and chuckling at his nervous gulp. But she felt no need for that tonight in the arms of this older, wiser man who was more her husband than ever; the one who now knew what each and every look meant the instant it flitted across her face, as well as all of the secret pathways into her heart. For the first time in her life, she felt safe relinquishing control and simply letting herself be adored by the man who now worshipped her without question or hesitation.
Twelve and River in the morning: River's House ~
River groaned unintelligibly, yanking the blankets over her ears and stubbornly clamping her head down on the pillow. It didn't have the desired effect; she could still hear the shriek of the telephone that had disturbed her so rudely from a deep sleep, ringing persistently on the bedside table.
She watched as a large hand snaked around her, fumbling blindly on the table and managing to knock her alarm clock and just about everything else askew before finally gripping hold of the phone and shoving it violently; it clattered to the floor and fell silent.
"That's better," a gruff voice next to her ear muttered, the hand coming from its warpath on the bedside table to wrap snugly around River's waist.
"It could have been important…" Despite her feeble protest she didn't care nearly as much as she should have, pressed back cosily against her husband's warm chest as she was.
The Doctor grunted, nuzzling into her sleep-ruffled curls. "Who cares?"
"I care." Her eyes were already slipping closed, and his response drew a drowsy chuckle from her.
"No you don't."
His hand slid across the soft skin of River's stomach as she flipped over to let her eyes roam over him; one cheek flushed from its resting place on the pillow, hair sticking up in comical tufts and eyes screwed obstinately shut no matter how many times she danced her fingernails along his ribs in an attempt to make him laugh.
"Stop the tickling. Stop – River." He opened one eye to scowl at her when she pressed feathery kisses along his jaw, growling as he attempted to pull the duvet over his head as a makeshift shield.
She lifted her head to grin at him when he gave up with an indignant sigh, brushing their noses together where his just peeked over the top of the sheets. "I'm so glad you're not a morning person this time around."
He wiggled away from her. "Shush. Sleep cycle still in progress here."
She buried a smile in the crook of his neck. "You used to wake me up at the crack of dawn, convinced that you'd invented a new hat in your dream. Bouncing all over the place like a puppy until you woke me, you ridiculous man; I think you were allergic to lie-ins."
"Not anymore," he mumbled, glaring at her through hazy eyes. "Not as young as I used to be. Are you going back to sleep now?" It sounded more like a demand than an inquiry. River smoothed his silvery hair adoringly, making his lips purse. "Do I have to throw you onto the rug too?"
She purred, arching her back to curl against him tightly. "Yes please."
The Doctor shook his head without bothering to lift it from where it was nestled in the pillow, pushing against her feebly. "It's too early for you."
Twelve visiting his wife ~
"In here, sweetie."
He stopped dead in the doorway, eyebrows vaulting up his forehead as he drank in the sight of River; not a scrap of make-up, hair like a fluffy bird's nest on her shoulders, and dressed in an oversized pair of blue polka-dot pyjamas.
She threw up her hands with a scoff before his gaping mouth could formulate any words. "Look, I know. But it's been a long week, I'm up to my neck in marking, and I really just need to relax. I'll make it up to you next time you drop in – silk, lace, heels, the whole shebang. Ok?"
The Doctor finally shifted from the doorway, a coy smile on his face. "Or – you could stay exactly like this."
"Why, is it working for you?" she asked cynically, sighing irritably when the brush became tangled among her curls. Sensing an opportunity, he crossed their bedroom to prise the brush out of River's hands.
"Very much, as it happens," he admitted, face twisting into a half-grin when her eyes narrowed at him in the mirror. "Oh, this hair… I don't know why you always lose your temper with it. It's spectacular," he remarked, sliding the brush through her curls.
"You're good at that," River remarked pensively. "I may have to employ you full-time. Why haven't I asked you to do this before?"
"You did, once, when I was young. Well, young in terms of our relationship. But I believe my levels of patience and co-ordination back then left a lot to be desired; as you know. That particular endeavour led to you throwing the brush at me and giving me a formal warning against ever touching your hair again, after around thirty seconds of what you described as physical torture."
River chuckled. "I remember that. In all fairness, I think if I'd let you carry on I would have ended up needing a wig."
"That's true." He ran the brush gently through her hair, teasing the tangles out with his fingers. "I'm better at it now, though, look."
"You're better at most things now; like a fine wine, you improve with age. Could you put it into loose bunches, sweetie? Stops it getting in my face when I'm asleep and, you know, suffocating me," River smiled.
"What a way to go." He deftly fixed her hair in her desired style and placed the brush down to wrap his arms around her waist, making her silky pyjama shirt bunch up under his hands. She hummed happily, leaning back against him with closed eyes, and he nuzzled into her hair with a contented smile. "I like you like this," he decided, murmuring the words into her warm neck. "Well, I always like you."
"I should think so too." She grinned at him in the mirror. "But seriously, darling, when I'm in the middle of final dissertation season? I'm… dilapidated."
He made a little half-hearted grunt of sympathy, sliding a hand beneath her shirt to press his palm to her warm stomach. "Do you need pampering?"
"If you can get your motor running with me looking like this." She sighed heavily, squinting at herself in the mirror. "You may have to use your imagination."
He nudged at her ear with his lips. "This self-doubting lark doesn't suit you, wife."
"No?"
The Doctor hummed, swivelling her around in his arms and pressing her hips up to his. "No. And my motor is running just fine, thank you very much."
Without warning he dipped down and tucked his hands under River's knees, flipping her straight off her feet. She yelped as she landed back on the bed with a bounce, the springs creaking in protest as the Doctor crawled over her. "See?" he breathed against her mouth, waiting for her to stop laughing before dipping his head to leave a lingering kiss on her lips.
Hello Sweetie: Christmas Day, 2015. Get ready!