Disclaimer: I own nothing. The BBC and Steven Moffat maintain all rights.
River slowly opened her eyes, groggily blinking away the sleepiness that still clung to her, but started at the sight of a man's bare chest and the feel of arms tightening around her. Jerking away, she felt the arms tighten about her again as though they felt a sense of loss at the slight distance and River looked up at the face lying not an inch from her own.
The Doctor blinked his eyes open as he woke and a contented smile pulled at his lips when he met her analytical gaze and he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
River wracked her brains and her brows furrowed in confusion and thoughtfulness as she held his gaze, trying to figure it out. She did not return his smile and a part of her mind realized that she was probably scowling up at him, though she did not particularly mean to.
"What's the matter?" the Doctor asked, his grin pulling up more on one side and he studied her face searchingly.
"You're still here," River stated matter-of-factly—no nonsense.
"Of course I am," the Doctor replied, his own thin brows furrowing slightly and his grin faltered ever so slightly.
"Why?" River asked, genuinely curious and a nagging in the back of her mind told her that she should probably stop glaring at him and smile or…something. Wasn't that what people were supposed to do the morning after?
"Why wouldn't I be?" the Doctor countered, his smile fading away completely and River was surprised to find that she felt a loss as his smile turned to a grimace to match her own.
"Why would you?" River questioned again in return, unable to find an answer for his. She would let him handle this one.
"Well," the Doctor floundered and she could feel the hands that were wrapped around the small of her back shifting around uncomfortably and his expression told her that she should already know the answer. "I—I-I wouldn't want you to wake up alone in the morning after we…uh…you know. It would make you feel bad. And…well…because…well—I, uh…well, because I love you, River."
River simply stared back at him, her expression unchanging despite the fact that his words had set her mind into a whirlwind. He loved her? Well—that was certainly something new to hear. She'd never heard anyone tell her that they loved her before. Well, except for that one time when he whispered in her ear and told her to tell her future self that…but that wasn't really a direct statement. This was something completely beyond anything that she'd ever heard before. It was—strange.
"I…," River began, her brows furrowing even deeper as his deep green eyes bore into her light ones probingly. She didn't know what to say. Was she supposed to know what to say? She inwardly raged against herself for dithering around stupidly. "I'm hungry."
Well, they were not exactly the words that she had expected to finally find their way out of her mouth, but she could work with them.
"Yes," the Doctor answered after a beat, his hands pulling away from her back and leaving the spot where they had rested suddenly cold. He pulled a light grin but River could tell without a thought that it was false and there was an undeniable look of disappointment and sadness in his eyes that she suspected not just anyone would have been able to detect. "You always are in the mornings."
The Doctor untangled his limbs from hers and River watched him with the same analytical and curious expression as he sat up—waist and below completely covered by the duvet, but the rest of him bare to the universe—and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ran a hand though his mussed hair to push it out of his eyes. There was a strange familiarity in his actions that baffled her. Yes, he had explained to her a while ago when she had first found him after beginning her attendance at Luna University that he was from her future and that, from his perspective, he had known her for a very long time. But, did he have to seem so…comfortable? She had never given a second thought to nudity or shyness, but the Doctor had shyness and awkwardness written all over him from the first moment that she had laid eyes on him.
If he was from her future, why would he have acted so uncomfortable with her flirting in Berlin?
Her mind seemed to snap with an answer and she could not help the small smile that briefly graced her features when she realized the obvious answer to her own question. Ah…parents, she thought. We must do this quite a lot.
"So," the Doctor chirped brightly, his lighthearted demeanor reappearing as he pushed all of his forlorn thoughts aside. Clapping his hands together, he looked back down at her and smiled broadly. "How about some breakfast, dear? It's only…," he regarded the wristwatch that he pulled off of her bedside table. "Oh…well, I suppose that this would probably be considered lunch. Unless, of course, you want to just make a little backward time-hop to—."
"Lunch is fine," River answered, cutting him off and turning around under the duvet to throw her legs over the side of the bed, her back to him. Stretching languidly, she glanced down at her bare chest and thighs. "I'm naked," she stated simply, not for any particular reason other than she had just been reminded.
"So you are," the Doctor agreed and River could almost feel him smiling at her back.
With an unconcerned shrug of her shoulders, she let her feet fall to the cold wooden floor and she strode across the room to her wardrobe. Pulling open one of the doors, she chose her favorite ratty old flannel dressing gown over the silky frilly one that her old roommate had given her. She could feel the Doctor's eyes watching her every move and she was somewhat surprised to find that it did not bother her in the slightest, despite this not being a circumstance that she was accustomed to. Yet, she thought. She supposed she might as well go ahead and get comfortable if what the Doctor said about her future—his past—was true.
"So, eat out or just bring something back here?" she asked, turning back to find him still sitting beneath the covers, staring at her.
"We could just scrounge something up in the TARDIS kitchen and bring it back out here, if you like," the Doctor answered after a moment, his eyes breaking from hers and scanning the surfaces of her dormitory. The large room was darkened with the tall drapes pulled closed against Luna's white reflective daylight and a chill hung in the air. River watched the Doctor's roaming eyes carefully as they went from wide—taking everything in—to narrowing suspiciously when they took in the massive scenic windows, the tall bookshelves that made up every wall, and the large wooden furnishings that filled the room with papers and books of all sizes covering nearly every available surface. "And…how exactly did a you manage to get a dormitory like this?"
"Don't worry, I didn't sleep with anyone to get it," River joked with a sly grin, pulling a knot around her waist and stepping towards the door of the TARDIS that was parked right in front of the door to her room. "All of the other dormitories were already taken up and, since I look older than the other students, they offered me the spare professors' quarters. I've grown rather attached to it, so I wonder if they intend to place me elsewhere next semester."
"Oh, I'm certain you'll find a way to keep them," the Doctor replied as he followed her—hopping and skipping as he dressed while he walked—into the TARDIS, his tone sly, but with a fondness that beguiled her.
Stopping at the console to let him pass her and lead the way to the TARDIS kitchen, River noted that he had only bothered to pull on his pair of TARDIS blue pinstriped pants, an undershirt, and socks. Well, she supposed she wasn't exactly dressed either, so she shrugged and followed him down one of the many corridors off of the main console room.
"So, what do you feel like, River?" the Doctor called back to her over his shoulder before spinning around to face her on the balls of his socked feet. "The TARDIS can supply for anything that you could possibly want…or, well, we could always just go and get it from anywhere and any-when. But never mind that! Anything you want! Go ahead and choose! Try me," he dared her, rubbing his hands together and smiling down at her with narrowed eyes as she followed him as he walked backwards down the dimly lit corridor.
"Alright, how about chips?" River suggested, trying and failing to smother a grin at the Doctor's antics.
"Chips?!" the Doctor demanded, scandalized, and he came to a full stop not a foot in front of her. He seemed positively affronted as he looked down at her and bopped her nose with a finger reprovingly. "I offer you any food or beverage from anywhere in all of time and space and you want chips? Oh, no, no…that's unacceptable. River Song would never want chips. Try again."
Though she knew that he meant no harm in his words, River could not help the twinge of hurt that gripped at her stomach as she met his eyes again. She was River Song, or…she was becoming River Song. How was she supposed to know what River Song would want if she didn't know?
"Well, what would River Song want, then?" she asked after a moment, her tone sounding quieter and more defeated than she would have liked. She smiled brightly in an attempt to cover it up, but the Doctor's expression fell and softened as he looked down at her. Suddenly, River was much more aware of the rise and fall of her own chest as she crossed her arms in front of her stomach, breathing shallowly and there was a strange clenching feeling in her throat. "I don't know yet, so you'll have to tell me."
But the Doctor did not answer immediately. Instead, River forced herself to hold his gaze for as long as he wanted to hold hers with those maddeningly deep green eyes that were suddenly filled with a guilty look of concern. She would never be certain if the Doctor was even aware of doing so, but he stepped towards her ever so slightly so that her folded arms brushed his stomach and his fingers gripped her elbow lightly.
"Chips," he finally answered then slowly leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before he continued, his lips brushing the flesh of her hairline. "River Song would want whatever River Song wanted and if she just so happened to want chips then River Song would want chips. And you, dear sweet Melody Pond, are River Song."
"Well, I'm working on it," River replied, swallowing the sharp pain down her throat and lifting her head to meet the Doctor's eyes. "Sorry if I get a few things wrong."
"No," the Doctor breathed heavily, correcting her firmly. "You already are River Song. You don't have to work at it, you don't have to try to be River Song—it's really not something that you could possibly fail at…River Song is you and you are River Song. I'm sorry, that was stupid of me to try and make you be who you are in the future. I want you to be who you are now."
River swallowed hard again, suddenly finding his penetrating gaze hard to hold as she felt his hands wrap around the warm fabric of her baggy sleeves. Her hearts clenched in her chest and a strange panic began to rise up inside of her at the entirely unfamiliar feelings that his words invoked inside of her.
"Does that mean that I can have chips, then?" she asked over the lump in her throat, desperate to lighten the atmosphere once more.
"Of course it does!" the Doctor smiled jovially, his brows rising happily as he took her hand in his and interlaced their fingers. Spinning on his heel, he pulled her alongside him down the corridor and towards the kitchen as the TARDIS began to hum with satisfaction around them. "You, my dear, want chips and I'd be a fool to deny you what you want."
A grin crept up on her face, despite herself, and River silently breathed a sigh of relief. The Doctor had obviously caught on to her desire to move on and he covered up the discomfort beautifully.
When they reached the oversized kitchen, River momentarily stood in awe of the magnitude of it. The high walls, ceiling, cabinets, and counter tops were all such a stark white color that they almost appeared to meld into each other. Every kitchen appliance that she had ever heard of—though she admitted she hadn't the slightest idea how to use—sat in various places among the surfaces, their stainless steel faces shining her reflection back at her and the black and white checkered floor was startlingly clean.
"It's very," River began, searching for the words as she paused in the doorway and the Doctor released her hand, awaiting her reply with a childlike eagerness. "Clean."
"Yes, I suppose it is," he answered, seeming somewhat disappointed at her lack of enthusiasm.
"She must not let you in here a lot," River joked, smiling slyly to give him something to react to.
"Oi!" he demanded with affront, pointing a finger at her, but his expression soon changed to thoughtfulness to begrudged agreement and he dropped his finger and shrugged. "Well, technically she considers this your kitchen, anyways."
"Really?" River grinned, striding towards the tall refrigerator and pulling a door open to reveal every kind of food that she could imagine.
"Chips won't be in there, dear," the Doctor called to her back from the other side of the room and River turned, bottle in hand, to see him punching some buttons into some sort of appliance set into the wall.
"No, but condiments are," River replied smoothly, taking a seat at the tall circular black table, setting the ketchup down, and propping her chin in a palm as she watched the Doctor eye the machine as though they were having a disagreement.
"This is where you tell her what you want," the Doctor continued to explain, choosing not to reply to her comeback, and waving a hand about as he spoke. "You just key in whatever you like and she…sort of...well—materializes it."
"Like magic?" River asked sarcastically, purposefully getting under his skin when she knew that he did not actually know how exactly the TARDIS could come up with anything that he wanted.
"No, it's just—," the Doctor argued pettily, turning back to face her and River grinned at him smugly. "Shut up!" he huffed, turning back to the machine and River laughed.
It took several minutes—in which River suspected that the TARDIS was purposefully messing with him—but the Doctor was finally able to scrounge up the chips and he presented the plate piled high with them proudly, setting them on the table between them. Munching two of them at a time, River had to admit that they were uncommonly good and she did not even use the ketchup. The Doctor obviously thought so, as well, despite his previous repulsion at the suggestion of chips.
He was downing several at a time and River smirked at the traces of salt and oil on his chin and cheeks.
They ate in relative silence, neither one feeling the need to speak, nor even really having anything to say. The Doctor chomped away casually, his expression light as he quirkily examined every chip before eating them and River watched him in silence.
It was so very strange. She felt so much for this man, but she could not seem to explain why. The sensation was so new to her, but, then again—it felt like she had always felt this way, at the same time. She knew that she loved him. The minuscule non-psychopathic part of her mind had known that in Berlin—after all, that's why she had not been able to help saving him after she killed him. Yet, she still could not seem to understand the impossible pull that his every action, or word, or look had over her. His very essence—childlike timelord or dark god, whatever he just so happened to be at any given moment—just drew her in and she was helpless to keep herself from falling.
Especially when she had woken up that morning to find herself pressed so intimately to his body, nothing but a sticky layer of sweat between them. It had startled her—astounded her, even—to wake up and find him still there. The previous night, he had dropped in to visit her, as he did from time to time, and she was not ashamed to admit that she had initiated the kiss that had led to a night of sweaty, needy lovemaking and her missing her morning classes just that morning.
But…she had never expected him to stay. He hadn't stayed the last time. He had left, hurried and angry with himself, but—thinking back—she could understand why. The last time had been her first time and, apparently, he had not been aware of that little fact, and he had not been particularly gentle. She could remember the look of devastation on his face when she had reflexively gasped sharply in pain and told him that it hurt as though it had happened not a moment ago—that look of self-loathing had haunted her ever since.
Yet, the night before had been so very different. It had not been nearly as painful the second time and she would be lying through her teeth if she were to say that she had not relished every single second of it. The Doctor had been gentle, but passionate—eager and heated, but tender and careful and soft. It was nothing like the first time and River nearly dropped the chip in her hand to the floor as she suddenly realized something.
He had not done that yet. Her first time—him taking her innocence and accidentally hurting her and raging against himself—that had yet to happen for him. Yet, the night before had been such a contrast and River realized that that must be what it was typically like for them—good and enjoyable, true love-making…not hard and rough, all take and little give.
The sharp pain in her throat suddenly returned and River unconsciously rubbed at the knots that her hearts seemed to have formed in her chest. Something had caused him to be that way that night, such a while ago now, and he had yet to experience that. He still had that pain, whatever it may be, to come and her hearts both broke for him and swelled within her chest as the enormity of just how much she did love him and how much he loved her came crashing down around her, drowning her and making it hard to breath.
"You alright, River?" the Doctor asked suddenly, breaking River's train of thought as she met his wide-eyed and concerned gaze. There was such an expression of perfectly innocent and pure adoration behind his eyes and River's hearts melted. The Doctor dropped the bunch of chips in his hand back to the plate and reached across to her, one of his hands covering hers over her chest and while he lay the other palm flat against her, just above her breasts, feeling her heartbeats. "What's the matter with your chest?"
"Nothing, Sweetie," River replied, suddenly smiling at this man that she adored. "It's just…I just wanted to say—I love you, too."
