Notes: Originally posted on AO3 on Doctor Who's anniversary; I just couldn't make it in time to post here too. Still, a note: this is another one of my NaNo efforts. Two more chapters to follow; was going to just post it as one because it's a full story but it just got far too long for comfort and especially for something that was meant to be a PWP.
The Doctor - regardless Thirteen or Eleven - is majorly just referred to as the Doctor for no other reason apart from 'it's fun to guess which one is doing what'. I swear I'll ease off it a bit once I get to the smut, because thatwould be a little tougher to manage.
Title taken from Arctic Monkeys's Arabella, since this is forever my River Song theme, well, song.
Hope you guys enjoy it and feedback is always welcome!
"Finally," an altogether too familiar voice called out as soon as the TARDIS door swung open. "You couldn't have chosen a better time."
The Doctor didn't move, the stupor lasting for all of the single instant she needed to assess the situation. There were only so many surprises that a person could take and right now, there was plenty to take in. She'd identified the time and the place as one her memory from some time ago specifically avoided and she had thought she'd investigate. Now, as the memory in question started raising its head somewhere in the back of her mind, she was beginning to realise that there was probably a reason for that.
River had her back to her, hair let loose in its usual hectic state, but even glossier than normal, glistening under the lavish chandelier overhead. She was wearing a wedding dress.
It was, to put it mildly, an unexpected sight. She had been wearing that strange, shiny leathery suit during their first wedding and the second time, during the ceremony they'd organised on their own, her dress had been in deep red and pitch black; all feather-light satin that practically floated around her and stark contrasts to all the light colours she was made up of. Now, she was almost drowning in white, the sharp cuts of the dress holding her so still that she couldn't seem to turn around at all.
"Doctor?" She managed somehow, carefully adjusting the heavy, flowing skirts to look back at the TARDIS. "I'm really going to need— Oh, hello." She'd gone from the collected stress that the Doctor knew altogether too well to the curiosity mixed with amusement that she always displayed in the face of something new.
The Doctor took a quick, examining look at her. She was wearing that necklace, the bright red one with the absurdly large gemstones that she'd got as a thank you gift for a job well done by one planet or another somewhere around their eight year on Darillium, but the clothes – and the situation she was in, really – were entirely unfamiliar. The realisation brought on a mix of relief (she could tell her who she was, talk to her, even, and do it freely without disrupting anything in their timeline) and an inordinate amount of annoyance. Honestly, who was she marrying now?
"River!" It felt more like a rush of adrenaline taking form rather than an actual greeting. "Hello."
"Good, we've met before." She still couldn't turn around fully in whatever contraption she'd wrapped around herself in the form of a dress, but still seemed to relax somewhat. "I'm sure it was a lovely meeting. Now, I'm in a bit of a tight spot, so if you wouldn't mind—"
"I definitely wouldn't mind." The Doctor stepped away from the door and near her – not much of a feat in the cramped space around them. They were face to face in a second and she reached up – higher than she was used to, she noticed, River was taller than her now and it was a rather delightful angle, especially with the ceremonial paint glittering all over her features and her usual, distractingly red lips – cupping her face in her hands to bring her even closer. "River, it's me. It's me. What is going on this time?"
Her wife's expression turned tentative and then, as she spared her another, more careful look, comprehension dawned over her features. Once she knew, looks never seemed to matter – it was as if the changes in her barely even registered at all. "Hello yourself," she said instead of an answer, suddenly far more lively despite being weighed down by the ridiculous clothes. She'd never been good at staying still for too long. "Today's full of surprises. Any chances of helping me get out of here? I do have a lot of questions, trust me, but it's all rather delicate right now."
"I'm sure it is." She would get her out of here and River would tell her all about whatever trap she'd set for some poor unsuspecting tyrant of a distant galaxy and, and— "Oh, I've missed you."
River's eyes widened with something that, had the Doctor not known her better, she would have identified as panic.
"Doctor, no—" But it was too late. She'd stepped closer and pushed herself onto the tips of her toes until she could kiss her and just like that, everything had fallen into place. River's arms were cautiously wrapped around her as if she thought the Doctor wouldn't be able to stand on her own much longer and it was a fair enough assessment, honestly, with the way the world around them seemed to melt away, perfect and blinding and just a little too bright.
o.O.o
"—a man can't kiss his wife now without getting poisoned, is that it? Twice."
"Oh, be quiet, it wasn't even intended for you."
"Yes, clearly, it was intended for me in the future!"
The Doctor finally gathered the strength to open her eyes – not enough for them to notice, she suspected, but enough to be able to see them. River was leaning over her, floating in a cloud of gold and dark, deep blue and a dress that seemed to move in every direction like sea waves, the halo around her face shining even brighter than the rest of it— or was that her hair? It was difficult to tell. Someone was touching her wrist, saying something about a pulse, and River pushed their hand away. "The TARDIS doesn't like it when you do that."
Another face came into view, with dark hair falling over eyes that seemed a little too green. That's not what they looked like in a mirror, she remembered faintly. "I'm just trying to see how bad it is."
"She'll be fine." Another brief struggle. "Seriously, if you keep touching yourself, I'm going to have to bring out the handcuffs."
Something about that particular wording brought on a response powerful enough for the Doctor to finally stir from her dreamlike state. River was the one to reach out now, her thumb rubbing soothing circles into the back of her hand. The green-eyed face was suddenly split by an enormous grin.
"Oh look," the Doctor said, the pitch of his voice high enough to make for an entirely new level of pounding in the Doctor's head, "I'm awake!"
In retrospect, staying unconscious might have been a preferable turn of events.
It was too late, though, they'd noticed, and if she didn't do anything to signal that she was fine, River would start fussing even more. They wouldn't want that, the Doctor knew, even though her thought processes still strayed and each and every direction. River fussing was a force of nature and, as admittedly enjoyable as it was, the Doctor had grown out of making her worry just to get her attention.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Might need you to give me a hand, though."
Well. She'd mostly grown out of it.
"I am so sorry." River pulled her to her feet and lingered afterwards, clearly not ready to let her go. The Doctor let herself be pulled into an embrace, closing her eyes as the warmth of River's presence enveloped her. "That's what you get for kissing people with no warning."
"How was I supposed to know?" The Doctor moved just enough for her voice to be audible, but her arms were still wrapped around River's waist, clutching at her as if she would evaporate like smoke between her fingers if she let her out of her sight for even a moment. Come to think of it, it wasn't really all that new as a feeling – the Doctor was watching her like a hawk over River's shoulder, something akin to jealousy in his eyes. It was a ridiculous notion, but an understandable one all the same; River had arrived here for him, after all, had extracted herself from their shared timeline of Darillium to go wandering in the past and even though she'd found the future as well, it still felt like a betrayal until she managed to remind herself that her wife had never really differentiated between her incarnations all that much.
Still, there was a difference between the person you'd first fallen in love with and the version you'd met for a minute or two before they'd fainted in your arms. The Doctor stepped back, feeling out of place despite the obvious invitation in River's eyes. She was in his TARDIS, come to think of it, and this had likely been a beautiful moment before she'd intruded. There'd been wedding dresses involved, even though she couldn't imagine herself encouraging her wife to wear anything like this no matter what kind of mindset she'd adopted after a certain regeneration, so it only made sense if—
"That's what I said too," the Doctor said. His arms were crossed over his chest and he looked about as wary and defensive as the Doctor felt. He had a reason to be, likely, although due to being unable to remember this specific instant, she couldn't be sure. He had always assumed that it was his last life; seeing a future version must have been a shock as well as more than a little suspicious. He could recognise himself well enough to know that she wasn't lying, but it wasn't enough to make him certain. He'd been rather suspicious at the time. "What kind of a vow renewal ceremony needs poison?"
"I told you, the kind that doesn't involve you. Listen," she said, turning to the Doctor again, a gentle hand on her shoulder as if she didn't want to startle her. It was as endearing as it was unthinkable, the idea that there was anything that River could do that would actually scare her after all of their time together. "This might not be a great idea. Your TARDIS was pulled out of your own time because of my signal and this could get messy. If it's all been a misunderstanding, you can just—"
"Maybe it hasn't been a misunderstanding." The Doctor felt vaguely sorry for herself for all of an instant – he would forget it all after they were done here, but it was still bound to be very confusing and feel just a little like betrayal. He'd always felt an intense sort of possessiveness over River, after all. "I came here because I could feel a gap in my memories, and now— now I'm starting to remember. I never will until I get here, I suppose, but it's enough for me."
"Then it's enough for me too. Doctor?" She'd pulled him closer to herself and it was only now that the Doctor noticed – a little too late, given everything that had already occurred – that River was far more capable of movement now. With a twinge of unfounded irritation, the Doctor realised that her past self must have been the one to unlace the nasty parts away from the top of her dress.
What lay underneath looked far more like something the Doctor might have enjoyed, whatever incarnation was involved – the dress was still white with a hint of gold, but the skirts flickered and fluttered with every minute movement, the hard, spiky shell that had clutched at her before removed in favour of a corset that bared her shoulders and collarbones, the material soft and supple and drawing attention to that general area in a way that was most definitely purposeful. Whether it had been intended for whoever she was baiting or the Doctor had yet to be seen – unless she had been trying to bait the Doctor, that was.
Apparently he'd come to the same conclusion. "I'd like to know how we all ended up here to begin with."
River's expression was her most insincere replica of innocence this far. "Vow renewals, remember? It was your idea. You sent me the coordinates."
"No, I sent you a different set of coordinates." He was all up in her personal space again, one arm sneaking around her waist in a hold too tight to be casual. "And then you brought me here. And her, apparently, because you sent a distress call, which I caught but which her TARDIS also picked up, and—why were you even in need of a distress call, come to think of it, Doctor Song?"
"How many times?" River's wedding dress was just slippery enough for her to slide away from his grasp, but she didn't stray far. "It's Professor now. Just so you know, I got to the coordinates you sent me and then there was a little— misunderstanding where the wedding was concerned because it happened to be the wrong time and the wrong place and I didn't know that yet, but from what I've heard, you do. I ran into someone I knew—"
"Oh, so it's my fault you go around messing with every piece of history you can find." The Doctor sounded more fascinated than truly angry and although it would have been confusing in everyone else, the Doctor was fully aware of what he was experiencing: a mix of exasperation and admiration usually reserved solely for her wife. "Noted. It's just that, you see," he poked her gently in the shoulder, "I hadn't planned on getting involved into a paradox when I called you today, especially not one that raises so many questions. Don't you have any questions, River?"
"Not as many as you'd think." She'd crossed her arms over her chest, which did wonderful things for the chest in question if not for the Doctor's concentration on the strangely peaceful argument unravelling in front of her. Her past self stepped closer again, clearly proficient at River's attempts to evade him. She didn't seem to particularly mind.
"Would you like to share why with the rest of us?"
"With you, you mean." The Doctor didn't respond, but the fact that he'd turned the entire power of his pleading expression in her general direction was answer enough. River's determination softened somewhat. "You know I can't do anything of the sort."
"Of course." There was a sardonic edge to his voice now; acid dripping through the resignation. "Even now."
"Especially now." It pained her, the Doctor could see, to hide anything from him – she had done it more than enough while hopping through his timeline and even if he had definitely been doing it for far longer with her, she had always loved him a little too much for her own good. "Don't pretend you don't know how this works. You'll find out on your own soon enough."
They spent the better part of a minute staring at one another, stuck in a wordless conversation and, just as the Doctor's patience started running out enough for her to consider bringing their attention to her once again, her past self gave a sharp nod to River's statement, his lips twisting into a smile that had missed friendly by about thirty light years. "I suppose I'll just have to trust your judgement, then."
"It's saved your life enough times, don't you think?" Just like that, the majority of the tension had seeped out of River's frame and she was touching him again, one hand cupping his cheek until the Doctor leant into it like a cat chasing after a caress. "You still have a lot ahead of you, you know."
"And you?"
"Well, I'd hope so." River's smile widened. "I've got two of you on my hands now."
It was enough to swiftly redirect his attention away from her and towards the Doctor, she had to give her that even if it was a lie (she had three of them on her hands and the fact that she'd never mentioned any of this during their time on Darillium was telling) and it was only vaguely disturbing to remember that she'd fallen for tricks like this one far too many times already. For all of her talk about monoliths and sunsets, River had learnt how to play every chord of her mind and various bodies ages ago. The Doctor cleared her throat.
"Maybe it would be best to just leave you to it." Whatever it was, seeing as she had no recollection of them ever making these particular plans. "It's a sensitive balance; we should know better than to disturb it."
"Oh, I think we can manage." River had rushed over to her in the blink of an eye in a flurry of satin and lace, her smile more inviting than challenging now. The contrast was as startling as it was welcoming and the Doctor felt herself give into the half-embrace that followed as her wife pulled her closer by the lapels of her coat. There was no more kissing – she'd been rather careful with it ever since they'd ended up in the TARDIS, the Doctor had noticed – but the implication in her eyes was there all the same. It wasn't just an implication, either; not when she knew River well enough to realise exactly where she would eventually go with this. "I'm quite sure it's happened before, in fact."
If it had, the Doctor had no recollection of that either, but perhaps it wasn't about this specifically because, "Clones are different," the Doctor interjected from where he was leaning against the console, but she couldn't be fooled – there was definite interest in his eyes. The Doctor wouldn't have expected anything less. "But you're right; I wouldn't mind sticking around or, as a matter of fact, perhaps having a word or two. It could be," that wide smile again, this time even more unnerving than before, and the Doctor could distinctly recall doing this on purpose, "enlightening."
Even without the memories, the Doctor could already guess what kind of questions he might have – and what kind of answers he would be looking for. Not ones that she could give him, perhaps, but would it really matter? Instilling some hope into herself in what were some of her darkest times just so that she could help herself get to where she was now? It couldn't hurt, considering that he wouldn't even know and perhaps – just perhaps – it would make everything a bit easier. Maybe it already had made it a bit easier; he was here now, after all, and even with the meeting erased from his memories, it had to have happened for her already. Even for a Time Lord, it was quite the complicated concept to consider.
"It can be as enlightening as you like, sweetie, you're not going to remember any of it." River kissed him on the cheek and repeated the gesture with the Doctor before turning towards the corridor to her right and patting the corset of her dress absent-mindedly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get this thing off. I suspect there might be a tracker in it and we've got a lot to talk about without being tracked."
"Works for me," he shrugged as he watched her leave, a small smile still playing on his lips, warmth finally taking over the suspicion from before. River turned around a moment later as if she'd felt it linger as she left. It was understandable – the Doctor had always felt the undercurrent of psychic energy that ran between them when they allowed it and the two of them had definitely decided to rely on that for now; had probably established the link between their minds while she'd still been unconscious. Two paranoid time travellers in a single TARDIS rarely made for an easily trusting couple, even when encountered with themselves from a different time period.
"Oh, and Doctor?"
"Yes?" They'd both turned towards her, but she was looking at him again. Which pleased him inordinately, the Doctor could tell. It shouldn't have mattered and yet somehow, it did.
If River had noticed the strain in the console room, she didn't show it with anything but another delighted smile.
"Get us back into the Vortex. This won't end too well otherwise."
With a manic grin to match his wife's, the Doctor latched onto the controls again.
o.O.o
With River gone, the console room had gone eerily quiet again, as it tended to be on most days when neither she nor Clara occupied it. He had reluctantly started getting used to it and it shouldn't have been much different, really; even before, Amy and Rory had taken their time off and had wandered around in their linear little pocket and he'd thought—
Well, he'd thought wrong.
Another thing he'd thought had been that River responding to his message meant that she was actually available, but the nervous presence he felt behind his back every time he moved proved otherwise. That was how he'd found them, actually – she'd sent her distress signal, far more urgent than her previous response, and the Doctor had arrived at the coordinates she'd given him, only to find her dressed in something that must have hurt her in about a hundred different places and a woman in her arms that had at first appeared unconscious but that had actually turned out to be very, very drugged – or at least enough to not recognise either of them.
"I'll explain later," River had snapped as soon as they'd managed to get the stranger in a position that could help them bring her back into the TARDIS, "but she needs help."
The explanations, when they had come, had been scarce and as unclear as anything River had every said to him before Berlin, but they'd sufficed on a surface level. The fact that there was somehow more left – more of him, more future to be dealt with – was so absurd and unbelievable that it had pushed everything else to the side and the knowledge that he wouldn't remember any of this had only served to make it worse, but there was nothing to disprove what River had told him. The woman standing in front of him was the Doctor, one way or another, and sooner or later, he'd have to do something to acknowledge that she was still here.
She couldn't wait that long, apparently.
"Do you actually think there's a tracker in that dress?" There was a moment of silence and then a sigh, as if she'd guessed that he wouldn't respond. It was more irritating than it had any right to be. "Or was she just giving us time alone?"
"Both." They were safely in the middle of nowhere and nowhen now and the Doctor felt secure enough to turn around and face her. The TARDIS had allowed them to coexist so far, but it was still best to take her away from her duplicate somewhere back on the planet where she'd initially found River. "She'll expect us to join her soon."
"And you just know that?"
There was a hint of nostalgia in the question, sadness, even, with just a pinch of envy. It could easily turn into resentment if she let it, but the Doctor didn't know her quite well enough to be able to tell whether she would. How many lifetimes had it been? How much had he changed? It was nothing for him to realise while he was still living in the moment.
"Has it been long enough for you to forget? There's no way I wouldn't just know that."
"I'll never forget." Clearly taking his inclination towards talking as an invitation to join him by the console, the Doctor seated herself in his chair. "Even if it had been that long, I still wouldn't forget. But seeing this – her – it's just—" She looked lost, suddenly, almost betrayed, and the first tendrils of empathy started taking root in the Doctor's hearts before he'd made the conscious decision to let them in. "It's not something I expected, that's all."
The Doctor leant against the console again, letting himself relax just enough to be able to put himself in her position. He would forget all of this the moment he left and it wouldn't matter, none of it would make a difference, but the need to know burned brighter than the indifference.
"How much longer do I have?"
A quick glance around the room and at him was all the evidence the Doctor needed. "Not much longer. You do have some time left with her, though."
"But it's not me."
"No." She was quieter now, fully understanding what he'd meant. She'd been over this before, he knew, as had he; every little death weighing a little heavily with the mark of all the people left behind. "It's not going to be you. You'll see her again."
"But?"
The corner of the Doctor's moth lifted into a barely noticeable smile. "Why must there be a but?"
"Isn't there always?"
The only reaction he got was a raised eyebrow. "Was I always this suspicious?" She didn't smile this time around. "There is a but. I can't tell you much about that, though. Even if you'll forget— it can't be told, really. You'll have to see for yourself."
"The long way around."
"Now you're getting it."
"She's further down the road than I am," the Doctor said before he could stop himself. It was true, but not necessarily something he wanted to spill in front of himself – in front of a version of him who appeared to be, if not happy, then at least content with her present. Maybe even happy now that she'd arrived here, and a little less careful for it despite the delicate situation they'd found themselves in. "Again. It's funny; I was so sure that for as long as we both lived, she wouldn't have to hide anything more from me." He looked up to face the Doctor again, but her otherwise expressive face had turned into a carefully constructed neutral mask now. Still the same old Doctor, then; mismatched clothes and half-told truths and everything. No wonder River had stuck around long enough for her to kiss her. "I suppose you couldn't help me with that either, but you must know where she is."
"Afraid not." It was a flippant refusal, but there was something apologetic enough about it for the Doctor to be able to keep his temper in check. "You'd never forgive me if I told you."
"Better not to ask, then." He'd started fiddling with one of the manual breaks to the side just so that he could busy himself with something that didn't involve thinking. "It was good, though, wasn't it? She was good. It's written all over your face."
"I know it is." River would always be brilliant, that had been a given, so it only made sense that she hadn't given him a straight answer. "And you'll come to love it one day, as I already know." Now the Doctor was refusing to look at him too, which was just as well – he wasn't particularly eager to look her in the eye either. "But you'd hate me for it now."
"It wouldn't be the first time." Not her specifically, perhaps, but he'd been angry at himself too many times to count in the past; it wasn't particularly surprising that he wouldn't understand from his current viewpoint. He'd learnt that much, at least. The Doctor took a long, critical look at her: she was small and gentle, at least at a first glance, with warm brown eyes and long-ish hair. Honest face, slightly shifty expression. Short, too, which was newer – come to think of it, she had left that impression when next to River. It was a good angle, he could bet, especially if River was the one taking it into account. His wife definitely wouldn't consider herself tiny by any means, but she'd always felt so in the Doctor's arms even with the assorted types of protective gear and/or heels she'd been wearing in his presence. Not that he'd ever tell her that – it would be a grave offence and he'd never know how to say it anyway – but it was comforting to be able to engulf her in his arms despite the clear knowledge that she could defend herself quite well on her own. It made a strange sort of sense that River would be drawn to him like this, too, but he couldn't bring himself to trust her just yet. "But if it makes her happy—"
"It does." There was something unspoken there; a white lie rather than reassurance this time. Another but hidden between the slices of history that he hadn't made himself familiar with. "You do."
It wouldn't last forever and maybe it wouldn't be entirely perfect, but they still had now – the three of them, here, with River bound to come back any minute now. And if they'd both somehow found her in a place in her time stream where she was happy with an asterisk, whatever that meant in the future, then perhaps it couldn't hurt to stick around a little longer. He'd come all the way here for a date, come to think of it, and the Doctor had come to resolve the mystery of her missing memory and really, neither of them seemed to have any inclination to give up yet.
"I'll go check on River," the Doctor said at last, already retreating towards the hallway she'd disappeared in what felt like a short eternity ago. He really, really wasn't good at being alone with himself. Not in this most literal sense of the expression, anyway. "Don't touch anything."
He didn't wait around to hear the response; not when he could already guess what its general spirit would be.
o.O.o
River was, as usual, easy enough to find once he decided to check the wardrobe. She was dressed in yet another one of her flowing, long dresses, this time black and lacey around the sleeves. It was a fitting thing to wear, he supposed, considering that she was standing by the fireplace and watching her wedding gown burn to a crisp.
"I take it there was a tracker in there?"
"There might have been." She didn't turn around even once he wrapped his arms around her, so the Doctor took it upon himself to brush a finger against her jawline and make her look in his general direction. "I wasn't very thorough, but I did actually hate it with a passion."
The kiss, when it came, was just enthusiastic enough to make him wonder just how long it had been since they'd last met from her point of view. How long had it been since Manhattan? She'd promised to visit from time to time, but she'd been avoiding him, he knew – so much for whenever you like, considering how often she got around on her own – and now, everything about her seemed much lighter than he had ever imagined it could be again. Happy-but-something was better than devastated from her parents's loss, of course, but that didn't make the gap between them any smaller and he was already trying his best to remedy that via as much physical closeness as he could manage. She was bound to notice, but it still happened sooner than he'd expected, with a laugh and a twinkle in her eyes that seemed almost teasing.
"What's got into you? Is this because of the Doctor?"
"I am the Doctor."
"There's no doubt about that." She kissed him again, slow and deep and gentle if not for the ounce of bite she put into it as a reminder to not get too defensive – or likely, too possessive as well. He'd never been sure whether she thrived on or got annoyed by that particular trait of his, but it was always a pleasure to try and test it out. "But you also happen to not be the only one here right now, so a bit of consideration might be in—"
"Where are we, River?"
The Doctor could practically see her closing up; could pinpoint the exact moment when the amusement melted away from her expression, quickly replaced by something far colder. Not in the way it usually was when he'd overstepped in one way or another, no; more in the way she adopted when she was throwing an unnecessary amount of effort into keeping something from him.
"Don't do this," she said after a short pause, pleading disguised as an order. "Not right now."
"River, I need to know—"
"You already know everything you might need to know." Her hands were on him again; one on his shoulder and the other kneading its way into his hair as she brought him closer to her in something like a half-embrace, comforting and distant all at once. "I'm sorry, but it has to be enough."
"It is, but what I meant," they were a breath's distance away from one another one, but he couldn't let her come any closer until he'd at least tried to make her understand, "I thought we were still going linear. That's why I never said anything and why we weren't doing diaries, right? I thought that we were on the same page for once."
"We were the last time I saw you. The last time in— every way you can imagine, really." River looked troubled, as if she'd suddenly realised how many timelines she was juggling at once and a small, vicious part of the Doctor was glad for it. No one could get away with this much haphazard time and space travel without getting in trouble with their own past eventually. "I wasn't trying to deceive you, if that's what you're saying."
"No, of course I'm not saying that." She looked so hurt by the mere implication (the indistinct admission of I just missed you too floating somewhere in the back of her mind) that the Doctor pulled her into a hug likely tight enough to make her feel a little as if he was crowding her. It never failed to be comforting for her, he had found, as if the closer she got, the better she felt. It was a strange phenomenon to witness when considering how independent she always was, but he was quite sure that he'd never get tired of it. "It was just a surprise." She hadn't protested in any way yet and the Doctor took it as an invitation to press them even closer together with a quick kiss to her cheek, his forehead resting on her shoulder until the cool fabric of her dress and her warm curls were the only things in his immediate surroundings. "I'm not big on surprises that involve you, you know."
"We both know that's not true, Doctor." She'd recognised the meaning behind the works, but she'd opted to comfort him with a joke instead and the Doctor was as miffed about it as he was grateful. "We're here, that's where we are. Can you make that work?"
"Is that a challenge?"
"Always."
"Then let's return to the console room, dear." He offered her his hand, still mildly surprised when she actually took it, back into the territory of complete ease she'd displayed before. Whether it was an act or genuine affection, the Doctor could never tell, but he didn't feel the need to explore the possibilities just now. Instead, he just held on as they turned to leave, already trying to evade the thought of the moment when he'd have to let go.