So this is me diving into DW fanfiction. For me this is an older Doctor who actually loves River (my OTP), but it can be taken in a different light. Criticism and comments welcome.

You've got all of that to come. You and me. Time and space. You watch us run.

That is what River Song had demanded of him. You watch us run.

She failed to mention all of the non-running they did together. The dinners, the long walks, the picnics, the cuddling. She also didn't mention this.

The Doctor held River close to him. Her head rested on his chest as they slowly moved around the TARDIS console to the slow music of Epsilen XII.

He liked this, the dancing.

Just the two of them, holding each other in silence. A sigh of contentment left his lips.

River slowed him down. When he is with her, he can stand the long way round. He can sit and talk. Around River, he's okay with slowing down. And he has no idea how she does it.

But he does, really. He had seen how broken she was at the end of her life. He had seen how determined she was to save the man she loved and the life she had with him.

Not those times.

He had to give her those times she had written in her diary. He had to fill those pages.

And if River wanted him to hold her close and dance with her around the TARDIS, he wasn't going to argue. Slow dances could be just as special as dangerous adventures.

He was going to give her everything he could. Every joy he could think of. With every adventure- slow or fast- he was giving her the memories she would have, the strength she would need, when he meets her in The Library. Her heart would still break, he knew that, but she would have something to hold onto. That little blue book would give her the strength to save him.

You watch us run.

He would. He would watch them run; be right at her side. And he would do the non-running things too.

Not one line; don't you dare.

He wouldn't. Not after what she did; what she gave him. He would do his best to make sure every line in that diary that sat on The Library's shelf was there.

"Not one line, River. Not a single line," he promised softly in Gallifreyan.

He knew she heard him, and that she didn't understand (not yet), but neither did she question it.

He would give her those lines.

He would fill those pages.

He would watch them run.

He would watch them slow dance in the TARDIS.

But mostly run.