Sometime's He's Wrong
He was oddly traditional, for a man who had been everywhere and everywhen there was to be. He went through a period of courting her, careful to do it in the right order, and they had been together for centuries or a few years, depending on how you added up the times they'd been to, when he asked her to stay in the Tardis with him. Only it wasn't an offer as it was to other companions. It was a soft request, shouted in the heat of battle when they were both almost certainly going to die. He had a ring. She said,
"In a moment, sweetie," and stood, shooting down their well-armed and very homicidal pursuers, before dropping back to her knees behind the crate with him and kissing her acceptance so deeply that he could still taste her for hours afterwards.
She wore the ring; it was a star-gem and the closest thing he could get to the Gallifreyan stones that traditionally set his people's jewelry. They planned the wedding the day of; the beauty of time travel was that they could get it all together and then show up, having every appearance of forethought. The Doctor insisted that they didn't need any gifts. River registered them at a little-known knick-knack shop, and a weapons supply depot. Needless to say, both of them received more-than-pleasing wedding presents. His vows were taken in High Gallifreyan, with the traditional words of his people. Much to his delight and astonishment, so were hers.
Everyone was invited. Friends, her family, strangers, and even a tin dog attended the ceremony and reception. He wore a tuxedo and a fez for a few moments, before she disintegrated it. Only River Song would carry a gun to her wedding. She wore a white dress, startlingly traditional, and unbeknownst to everyone but her, hand-made by a friend who had declined to attend the wedding. They ate cake and danced and his gift to her was the attendance of her favorite character of history. Hers to him was a pair of handcuffs and a mischievous smile.
After the party had ended and everyone had been carried home in his little blue box, they were alone. It was then and only then that smiling, he took her by the hand and led her into the back of the Tardis, a part she had never been in before. The door was plain, dull and unpolished wood, unremarkable except for a slight metallic sheen to it. The other side of it was anything but unremarkable.
The Doctor's bedroom was a magnificent place; for of all the traits he displayed, magnificent was certainly one of the most prevalent. His bed alone was enormous, with sheets softer than silk and blankets of a hundred colors. The rugs on the floor softly enveloped her feet; they were so thick and deep that she swore she would just sink into one and vanish. A Victorian-style couch took up one corner, and several doors took up another wall. He pointed each one out to her.
"Wardrobe. Bathroom. Library. They're all one-way. And they only work going from here to there, not the other way around."
She opened her mouth to ask how, but he placed a finger over her lips, amused.
"I promise to explain later."
She nodded slowly and looked up at him, no longer overwhelmed by the room. There was only him and he was all that mattered. Because of all the complications of their lives, of all the strangeness of time and space and them, this one thing that they had was simple. Marriage. He was now and forever hers.
Slowly, carefully, she untied the black bowtie, letting her hands linger on the cloth, rubbing it between her fingers. She slid the jacket from his shoulders, never breaking eye contact. She undid each button with agonizing slowness.
One.
By.
One.
His shirt came off. It was not a new sight to her, but this time she did not have to pretend not to look or to shield her appreciation with jokes and mockery. He was hers now, to look at and love any way she pleased. He watched this ritual, her undressing him, with fascination, smiling as warmth hummed in his belly and slowly slipped lower. As she began to unfasten his trousers, she looked up at him, momentarily distracted from her task. Of all the times that they had almost gotten to this point, she had never once asked…
"Doctor, I never asked. Do you…I mean…can we…?"
He laughed and kissed her, sliding his hands along her sides before he whispered tantalizingly into her ear,
"I've got everything you need, River."
His warm breath on her ear. The new, husky tone to his voice. The sheer fact that he was here with her, no more limits or unspoken rules between them. She wanted him. By the ruins of Chelrii Seven, she wanted him.
His trousers were removed faster, followed by what else was left.
He took his turn, removing her layers of veil and dress and slips and underclothes. Smiling and eager, she helped him, seeing as he couldn't seem to manage the tie at the back of her dress, or the hooks of her underclothes. They stood before each other completely uncovered, just drinking each other in. She reached up to brush his face with her fingertips, and he was gone, giving up at the slowness as he covered her hot mouth with his.
It did not take long for things to begin to take their natural course. They moved towards his bed, piled high with blankets and pillows and everything soft and comfortable to sleep with. As they took turns being dominant, it was she who landed on the bed first, the softness giving way under her weight. She lay on her back and as he made his way onto the bed, she put a hand on his warm, bare chest. It took every ounce of self control in her body not to stop him from coming closer, just for that moment.
"Wait," she began, breathless, "Do we need…do you need…can we…"
"Humans and Time Lords can't reproduce."
"Oh."
Whether or not this was a disappointment to either of them was unclear, as the question was immediately banished from their minds, its place taken by something much much nicer.
It was only hours later when they lay snuggled together on his bed, that she pressed her lips to his shoulder blade and asked,
"So how are the doors only one way?"
He laughed and answered by kissing her. When his mouth had removed the idea from her mind, he told her a secret. Something he had never told anyone before and never would again. Something that she would one day sadly whisper back into his ear, knowing that for him, this glorious night had not yet occurred. And once he had told her, she held him forever…or at least until they chose to leave his—their—room.
They adventured and ran and were. They were River Song and the Doctor and they travelled and did all the things that people in love did. They visited faraway places and went to old familiar ones. They made memories and took pictures and—in River's case—did an awful lot of unnecessary shooting. They made love, and not just physically. They told each other stories and secrets and fears. They flirted as though they were courting. They tempted and teased and gave in to temptation. They were a they, and it was delightful.
6 months later
She was out of breath as they stumbled into the Tardis, laughing with fear and triumph, having saved the world—a world—again. His hair was caked in dirt and a little blood. Her leg had a nasty plasma burn on it. Thinking practically, River let the Tardis look after the Doctor first, and instead chose to use the medical scanner in the little room where the Doctor could actually play doctor, what with all the medical supplies it contained. She ran all the usual tests as she bandaged her own leg. When had plasma burns fazed her? Very few injuries fazed her; to her own body anyway. His was a whole different story.
The scanner blipped a positive identification and she turned to see which injections she would be required to give herself.
The positive identification would not require an injection. It was a newly acquired condition, only a few weeks. It would, however, require a whole lot of planning to explain, seeing as she hadn't once strayed, and he said….well it appeared that sometimes he was wrong.