To be read with a grain of salt. Debatable timeframe. No specific era or season, with respect to the Eleventh. Standalone one-off.
Written for the sake of my personal in-characterisation improvement and for the sake of OTP (as always). A study in interactions between the Doctor and Professor River Song. Criticism welcome.
The TARDIS library is, at least in the eyes of Professor River Song, undoubtedly the most comfortable and pleasant place in all the galaxies. There is nowhere in all of time and space she would rather spend a quiet night in than curled up with a beloved copy of one of her favourite Sherlock Holmes novels. The strange scent that is the congealed result of ancient pages, bottled stories, and chlorine from the swimming pool comforts her. Even the hideous sofas in the library are a symbol of peace to her (the Doctor's taste in furniture, as you can imagine, is somewhat unique).
When River first began to sporadically travel with the Doctor, he had quite the time keeping track of her. She came and went like a spirit, a ghost whispering through the TARDIS as she pleased. She was there for a night, and then off before breakfast, and back the next day. There was absolutely no chaining her, as one might anticipate. Of course, he'd attempted many times to convince her to stay a bit longer, a bit more regularly, more routinely. He liked having her around, though he'd never admit it of his own will. But that's what she was: a ghost. She haunted the TARDIS and the Doctor like she was damned to do it for eternity.
(And the TARDIS herself, of course, was of no help to him, always changing around rooms and corridors in River's favour and showing false reports of who was in the ship and where. She was perfectly concealed whenever she wanted to be.)
But it was quite a surprise, one day, when he happened upon a certain devilish woman casually lounging on his most favourite sofa, poolside, a paperback in hand (The Five Orange Pips). He'd thought he'd been alone in the TARDIS that day. Oh, he should know better, shouldn't he? He had been planning to do a few laps in the pool before popping off to negotiate the price of an old something-or-other with the black marketeer Dorium Maldovar (pre-decapitation, of course). He was wearing only his swimming costume, and had a dark blue towel shrugged around his shoulders.
He had tossed the towel aside as he stood a good distance from the pool. He began to prepare for his running start. He crouched into a sprinter's stance. Unnoticed, River could hardly contain her laughter as she watched from afar. A serious expression graced his features, and his muscles tensed.
Unable to be unnoticed any longer, she exclaimed, "Oh, what fun!" just as he was about to begin his dash to the pool.
Surprise overcame him, and he nearly fell over. His eyes were impossibly wide, and his mouth dropped into that characteristic ovalish shape it assumes when he's surprised. He covered his bare chest with an arm hastily, and turned his body to the side ashamedly. "Good lord!" he cried, not meeting her eyes. "River Song, I'm almost naked, for God's sake! You can't just sneak up on me like that! Damn it, River!" River looked on with amusement, a tiny, gleeful smile adorning her lips. Still covering his chest uncomfortably and womanishly, he began to search frantically for his towel.
"Over there, Sweetie," River called idly, pointing.
"Ah, thank you, dear." He snatched it from the floor and wrapped it around himself. Looking rather ridiculous with it up around his underarms like it was, he approached her awkwardly, trying to shake the previous moment's embarrassment.
He drew the TARDIS blue towel a little closer as he looked down at her. "Professor River Song," he addressed her somewhat suspiciously. "Hm… Who let you in?"
She smiled and put a finger in her book to keep the place and looked up at him. "Why, I let myself in, Sweetie. Just thought I'd pop by for a bit. Maybe say 'hullo' to my favourite Time Lord."
"Well, uh…" The Doctor seemed uncomfortable, unsure. He squinted at her, trying to determine something. "I don't have my diary with me at this moment, but when are we, exactly?"
"Oh, just sod all that. I'm getting much too old for that routine." She stood, facing him closely.
"But River—"
"Shhh," she hushed him, placing a finger to his lips. He shifted his towel gracelessly. "None of that, dear. Spoilers, Sweetie." She winked at him.
She peeked into her paperback to check the page number and let it fall to the sofa cushion. She drew nearer to him in a tight spiral, a tigress stalking her prey.
"Well, then. Um, since you're here, er, I was about to do a few laps. Would you…" his brow furrowed, "care to join, Song?" He nodded to the swimming pool
She laid a hand on his upper arm. "Oh, don't ask so bloody nicely, Doctor. Get in there, you fool. I'm right behind you."
He grinned, still somewhat surely. "Alright, er, I think the wardrobe is just through that door over there, down a hall, to the right, first left you see, another three or four lefts, up two flights of stairs, and down another hall. Or wait. Hang on, don't go anywhere yet. Maybe it was a corridor rather than a hall. Or—"
"Quite alright, Doctor." She took his hand a patted, a faux attempt to comfort him. She smiled criminally. "I think I'll just," she winked at him cheekily, "wing it." She dropped his hand and began undo the first button of her top.
The Doctor's eyes widened, and he slapped his hand over them as if to spare any purity River had not been able to extract from him on previous occasions. He took a step backwards, closer to the pool, and gulped. "Oh. Ah. Um. Okay. Well. Actually. Not okay. Well, it is, but you, um, I mean, I've already got my trunks on—"
"Oh, please, Doctor." River's voice was so very close to his ear. There was the sound of fabric dropping to the floor. She whispered, "You're very young, aren't you? Well, you'll learn soon enough, dear." He could hear her step away. "Let's not play this game, eh? Skip the preface," she said. He could hear the grin in her voice, evil and triumphant. "Besides. Too late now, anyway."
He gulped again and took another step backwards.
"Guess you'll just have to live with it, eh?" He felt her begin to finger the towel he had been clutching so dearly around himself. His hearts began to beat at a more furious pace at her touch, and his palm pressed more firmly against his eyelids.
A weak protest: "River Song, now what would your mother—actually, scratch that. What would your father—"
Her mouth captured his fluidly. She kissed him deeply. "Oh, shut up, Doctor," she muttered carelessly between pokes at his lips. "I'm done paying polite."
In his surprise, his grip loosened from his towel, which fell to the ground, and his hand slipped from his eyes and began to wave about in confusion (he still wasn't very used to River's amourous abruptness). All he saw, however, was the ceiling of the TARDIS library falling away as an intense sense of vertigo overcame him. There was River's thrilled, mischievous laughter and a massive splash. A moment of confusion and a mouth full of water later, and the Doctor was sputtering at the surface of pool as he began regain his bearings.
He gasped and spit the chlorine-flavoured water from his mouth. He shook his head to peel his hair, which had plastered itself to his forehead, from his eyes.
River was nowhere to be seen (a very dangerous thing indeed), but a disembodied voice feigned disappointment. "I give it… a three-point-six. Very poorly executed, Doctor. You'll have to try harder next time, I suppose." A devious warning: "Here. I'll show you how it's done, Sweetie."
Chlorinated pool water still blurred the Doctor's vision. He blinked, trying to clear his eyes.
The pattering of bare feet running on the library floor, a flash of light a dark, River's joyful shout, and a brilliant splash that was much too near to him succeeded each other rapidly.
Thank you so much for your time.