River Song was getting used to civilian life.
It certainly was no great adventure, going out for groceries and managing bills, but it was better than prison. Besides, it certainly was a nice house she'd managed to get on Garetha-12. The planet was another one of those suburban Earth models, and her house was a sweet little nook on the end of the street, with normal things like a mailbox and a chimney and a tomato garden in the back with the real Venus de Milo sitting pleasantly in the middle.
Venus was a gift from her sweetie. He'd promised her that no one would miss it.
Her sweetie. Her Doctor. She hadn't seen him in a full year. When she'd been released from Stormcage, paroled after her work on the Byzantium, they'd put a tracker under her palm to make sure she didn't violate it. Not that River was one to abide by the rules—she'd tried to teleport out to the Doctor the second she got to Garetha—it was just that her vortex manipulator had been acting up, and she didn't want to risk losing her nose just to end up in the wrong time and place. So she'd waited.
Her mother was the girl who waited. Couldn't she have picked up one trait from her marvelous mother?
So, River had waited for the day the Doctor would come to call. It wasn't easy, the waiting. She'd tried sending psychic paper messages, going to all the museums on the planet and leaving jokes in Gallifreyan on exhibit walls just in case, even once planted an elaborate trail leading to her in messages all over cyberspace, but it still wasn't big enough for her husband to come and pick up his wife.
Having to wait on that archaeology trip team list didn't make it any easier.
Lucky for her, the two things she wanted most arrived at her home on the same day.
On one beautiful, blessed day, River Song retrieved her mail from her ordinary mailbox, went inside her ordinary house to read it, and got the letter she'd been waiting on.
Dear Dr. Song,
We are pleased to extend to you, having shown excellence in your field, the honour of joining our expedition to the Library…
"Hi, honey, I'm home."
She gasped, dropping the letter and the rest of her mail on her rug. She'd been so shocked by the letter—she hadn't heard the noise—how could she have missed that noise?
River gulped. "Hello, sweetie. What sort of a time do you call this?"
"Too late?" he shuffled his feet. "Aren't you going to let me in?"
"You already are in. You materialized on top of my coffee table."
"That would explain the splinters."
River was aghast. Here he was after a year, a whole year—a year that meant nothing to a Time Lord, but meant a lifetime to the woman in love with one. Here he was, finally, finally, FINALLY—in her living room, hands behind his back, wearing a suit and a top hat and of course a black bow tie, looking cheeky as ever.
"Oh!" she cried, running forward into his arms. The Doctor stood awkwardly for a moment, arms stuck to his sides, but then he automatically wrapped his arms around her waist in a friendly hug.
Then, not even knowing what he was doing, he held her more tightly, locking her in the embrace and ever so slightly pressing his face into her shoulder, where he could faintly smell her ridiculous hair.
He had missed River. So, so much. Had he even realized how much he'd missed the mad woman? His mad woman?
"You were gone for a year—I was shell-shocked. I'm sorry, my love," she explained. "I was just surprised. Let me look at you."
"No, not just yet," he whispered. "I'm working on something. I'm trying to pinpoint your scent."
"What? Like a bloodhound?" she asked, realizing he was still holding her tightly. "Are we acting like dogs now? We can always take this to the bedroom if we are…"
He let her go. "River, be serious. I'm trying to work on my sense of smell-locating. I can find you if you're in a half-mile radius of me, now. I do it with all my companions, of course."
She rolled her eyes. "You be serious. Someone was clearly trying to cop a feel, and for once it wasn't me."
"End of discussion, Song. What happened in one year? You're no longer in Stormcage?"
Her eyes lit up. "Spoilers! Let's get out the journals!" She pulled out her TARDIS journal seemingly from her cleavage and started flipping through. "Demons Run?"
"Did you just pull your journal—from your—"
"Bigger on the inside, sweetie. Demons Run?"
He thought back. "Yes—are we married yet?"
She sat down on the couch. "Yes, we've been married. I just left the Byzantium a year ago. You hardly knew me. Everything up until then."
"That's nearly two hundred years worth of breaking out of prison that we're up to, then," he said, smiling. "Have I ever told you how fantastic it is to have a companion that I get to have around forever? You're actually my longest-standing companion, you know."
"That's what you love about me. Longevity. Also, I am a tiger in the bedroom."
He cleared his throat. "River, let's not go there."
"Oh, come on, you remember our sixth honeymoon on Arcthuress. Might I say, you are very creative when it comes to incorporating zero-gravity into foreplay."
The Doctor's cheeks turned red. "Erm, so has it really been a year? A full year? I'm sorry, River, I was tied up. Lying low, you know. I went to Stormcage and they said you'd been paroled. The TARDIS had a hard time finding you; it took me to meet C.S. Lewis first. Brilliant man, Lewis. I took him for a trip in the TARDIS, it's where he got the idea for the wardrobe, you know."
River stretched out on the couch, and he settled into an armchair. "He was a flirt, as I recall."
"Be serious, River."
"I am serious. He's almost worse than you. Not to fear, though—I stayed faithful to my good fellow, open marriage or not. How's Madame de Pompadour, by the way?"
"Will you never get over that? It was ONE DAY, and I hadn't even met you yet."
River laughed out loud, relishing the easy banter. This was what she lived for. Of course, there was the thrill of running for your life, of meeting an alien, of crashing somewhere gloriously dangerous—but the hopeless romantic in her lived for the days when there was no danger ahead, just hours of talking about past, present, and future with the love of her existence.
She reached out, touching the back of his neck. "You got a haircut. And a new suit. They suit you. Pun intended."
He swallowed as she didn't let go of the back of his neck, stroking the shorter hair and never wavering in her straight gaze. "I really missed you, you know." She smiled. "You and your stupid hair."
"If anyone here has 'stupid hair'…"
"Shut up."
And she was kissing him, reaching out gently and being careful to not push him away or frighten him, and he was kissing her back. It was awkward at first, as it always was and always would be, and he wiggled his fingers a little desperately as she softly put her hands around his face, but eventually his hands settled amicably on her back.
And then they tightened and pulled her close.
When it came to intimacy with River, the Doctor had known it was coming, either because she had suggested it would come because it was true or because she wanted him to think it was true. At first he did it because she wanted it and deserved it so much, and he certainly enjoyed it because he enjoyed River: the flirtation, the hair, the smile, the mystery. Then he did it because he cared about her and wanted her to be happy, and still he enjoyed it. Then he did it because he really started to want it.
Time Lords certainly don't need sex. But some can grow to want it. And some can grow to really, really want it with some particular part Time Lord madwoman with insane hair and a gun.
Then he did it because they were married and why not?—it was socially acceptable and the sex was incredible.
And now…suddenly it wasn't River who was pulling him in. It was the Doctor who was threading his fingers through her hair, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her onto the chair with him, reaching for more…
"Wow," he said, stopping the onslaught. "That's interesting."
"What's interesting?" she asked, a little impatient. After all, the Doctor never just grabbed women and pulled them on top of him.
He shook his head with a smile. "Nothing. Come on, I'm starving and all the TARDIS has been making is pasta. I've had nothing but pasta for eight weeks, angel hair, fusilli, tagliatelle, ditalini, manicotti, rigatoni…"
River disentangled herself. "If I make you dinner, do you at least get to be dessert?"
"Go make me a sandwich, woman."
"Go fix my vortex manipulator, and don't call me woman unless we're doing a Tarzan thing in the bedroom."
The Doctor laughed, running to fetch the fizzled-out vortex manipulator from the side table. "What's wrong with it?"
"Miniature helmic stabilizer gone wonky again. I was trying to see you, but it wasn't taking me anywhere close."
"You were trying to violate parole for me? Naughty thing. Maybe I will be dessert."
River poked her head inside the fridge, grabbing sandwich materials. "Is that a promise?"
"It's a joke. And done!" he said triumphantly, tinkering with the cuff for a moment before it sparked to life. "It's almost as if you weren't trying."
"We can't all be brilliant. Some of us only have the capacity to make sandwiches," she retorted, putting a newly made meal on the counter of her kitchen. "Come and get it, sweetie."
The Doctor hopped over and took one bite before spitting it out. "River, are you insane? I'm allergic to mayonnaise! What would possess you to put such a vile substance on my food? What kind of wife are you?"
"You're not allergic to anything!"
"Well, I should be!" he said indignantly, throwing the sandwich into the trash bin. It was then that he noticed the pile of letter on the floor. "You've got mail, it seems."
"Oh!" she gasped to herself, gathering up the sheets of paper. "It's my letter from the Lux Expedition Corporation! Did I tell you on Barterda that I was applying for an expedition to the Library?"
She stopped, not recognizing the unfathomable expression in his eyes. "What is it?"
This is the day, then, isn't it? thought the Doctor in horror. Her last day. Our last day.
She's going to the Library.
He blinked the thought away. "You didn't mention it. Brilliant planet, the Library. Did you know they actually have the original manuscript of the first comic book in the universe?"
River smirked, still a little perturbed. "Do they now?"
" 'Course they do. I wrote it. When do you leave, then?" he asked nonchalantly, trying not to crumple the acceptance letter.
"Next week. We're leaving for a briefing and a simulation of the expedition to get our objectives, of course, and then the real flight. Some of my friends from the university are going—are you quite all right?"
The Doctor smiled. "Of course I am. Just jealous. I haven't been to the Library since they built it—things to do, you know."
"Universes to save. I got it."
He smiled cheekily and dropped the letter. "Well, a week, then? Brilliant! Let's get a move on! There's something I want you to see!" He tap danced merrily though the coffee table splinters and snapped his fingers to open the TARDIS door. "Get your coat, grab your gun, and bring your sexiest underwear!"
"I'm already wearing it, sweetie. Why do I need it?"
He stopped for a moment and shrugged. "It will make you feel better. Get in the TARDIS this instant, woman. I need an able sidekick to drive."
"I am NOT your sidekick, and I can drive her better than you!"
"Of course you can, I'm currently inebriated. This is why you should never feed me mayonnaise, River, Time Lords can only get sloshed on mayonnaise, it's Rule 56."
"No, it's not!"
"No, it's not. Quickly now!"