The TARDIS brakes whirred and whistled as they landed her back on the scraps of River's destroyed coffee table.
"Seventh honeymoon, here we come!" the Doctor said joyfully, carrying a pile of boxes and bags out of the TARDIS and onto her kitchen table. "Gourmet chocolate-covered strawberries from Este Valley, 800-year-old vintage from Napa for River and some grape juice for me—"
"You're coming up on 2,000 years old and you pick Juicy Juice as a fine beverage?"
He frowned. "No strawberries for you, then. Ah, yes—macaroni and hummus if I get tuckered out later, and a fabulous chocolate gateau cake that the Princess of the Medusa Galaxy was so kind as to loan to us."
"When you say loan," River asked, putting down her shopping bags of 'borrowed' couture, "what exactly do you mean?"
"Well, when I took it, she said, 'What are you doing?! That's my wedding cake! GUARDS! GUARDS!' Roughly translated, I think that means, 'Oh, you're on a honeymoon with your fabulously cool wife? Go ahead and take this cake, old boy!' "
She giggled. "This is an awfully big celebration for our seventh honeymoon."
"I'm making up for our fourth honeymoon—I'm sorry they singed your hair off, by the way."
"It grew back, didn't it? Otherwise, what else would you tangle your fingers through when you're about to—"
"Okay, who wants strawberries?" he interrupted swiftly. "I know I do, unless I happen to be allergic to them."
"You're not allergic to anything, sweetie," sighed River.
The Doctor smirked. "Not yet."
They worked through the insane foods they'd picked up on their trip, leaning back when they were completely full. The Doctor took off his suspenders and patted his belly contentedly while River opted to take off her dress entirely and walk around in her black negligee and garters.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked as she pranced around.
"Necessary to rile my husband up enough to get him into my bedroom in the next few hours? Well, it shouldn't have to be."
They sat and talked for hours about random things: favorite moments in time, favorite colors, favorite songs…
"You can't just say I'm your favorite Song, that's cheating!"
"It's cheating to complement my wife? This wasn't in the rulebook!"
They eventually decided to make the night a total cliché and popped in a movie, beginning to watch it on the couch but slowly inching toward each other until River had snuggled into his lap and he rested his head on her hair, waiting for her to fall asleep.
Gene Kelly danced across the screen on a rainy city street while River whispered dreamily into the Doctor's chest. "Gene was such a gentleman."
"Very much the perfectionist—he expressed disappointment in my first tap lesson," he chuckled.
He knew that eventually she would fall asleep, and he would have to get up and leave. He could leave a note and say something came up—Cybermen kidnapping the Ponds, Daleks trying to exterminate a star… He would apologize and postpone the vacation, saying to send him a message via psychic paper when she needed him. That way, she'd send the message to his last regeneration when the time came.
This was his last chance to see River again, and he was content. Holding her as she fell asleep held the sadness for her impending death away for just a few more hours. As far as Gallifreyan intimacy went, this was even more potent and desirable than going to the bedroom: Time Lords looked for a unity of minds and souls, with bodies just an extra bonus.
He was at his most intimate and caring point with his wife, whom he now could freely admit that he really and truly—
"Stay the night," she mumbled sleepily. "Please."
The Doctor glanced at a clock. "I should go."
She grabbed at his collar clumsily. "Just for once—don't leave before the morning." She placed a kiss on his neck. "I'll make bacon and eggs for breakfast. I'll even have allergy medication on hand for my Doctor."
He smirked into her hair. "I'll pick you up after your meeting. We'll have plenty of time for medication."
She sat up a little straighter, angling to straddle him at the next possible moment. "Don't make me force you into staying."
"I'd like to see that."
River pretended to consider this, and after a minute, she sprang around to tackle him into the couch—
But he was ready for her, and instead of getting up to leave as she was prepared for, he was grabbing her as she turned and pulling her legs around his waist. Then he was standing, arms snaking up her back and tangling deeply into her curls, and he was kissing her, really and properly kissing her.
And he was walking with surprising ease to the bedroom.
"Are you serious, sweetie?" she asked as she pulled away breathlessly, with the Doctor removing one hand to slam the bedroom door shut.
He deftly moved them forward and gently pushed River on the bed, where she had already gone to work on the buttons. "Are you sure you want to ask that question? We can stop…"
"We're not going to stop," she said firmly, freeing the shirt.
"You're right," he said with a wicked smile before leaning down to kiss her again, "we're not going to stop."
The buttery yellow streams of morning light filtered through the blinds, slowly waking River up. She opened her eyes to the pillow next to her and saw exactly what she'd expected.
He was gone. He'd left sometime after they fallen asleep in each other's arms, somehow disentangling himself from her sleeping form and leaving in the blue of a wonderful night.
River sighed, willing herself to fall back in time and relive the beauty of the evening. She could smell him on the pillow next to her, where she faintly remembered him kissing her forehead as she drifted off.
"You're so lovely," he'd whispered, stroking her hair.
She'd snuggled close into the hollow under his neck. "Stay with me."
"Go to sleep, my love. I won't be far behind. I'll never be far behind."
"You've never…called me that…"
"First time for everything."
Morning had truly broken through, bothering River by blasting brightly behind her eyelids, so she pulled the Doctor's pillow over her eyes for a few seconds before throwing herself off the bed and grabbing a robe.
Coffee was already brewing, and a plate was plastic-wrapped and left on her kitchen counter. Both of which had bright pink post-it notes on them.
On the plate:
Oswin called—Cybermen invasion or something or other.
I'm sorry I couldn't be here for breakfast with you. You know I wanted to.
However, I did make this rather fabulous meal to the best of my ability, so enjoy it, dear, with my fondest affections. Pay particular attention to the eggs—I'm working on a new recipe including chocolate and macaroni with scrambled eggs and you're my first taste-tester!
River began to take off the three inches of plastic wrap he'd applied to the plate as she read the second note on the coffee maker:
Not quite sure if I timed this right—or what this is—but I think I got it right.
"That impossible man," she laughed to herself, "just can't give up." And at least he'd made her breakfast. That was almost as good as sticking around.
She went about her morning in the normal way, with only the slightest hint of melancholy. She'd known he was going to leave. He'd never promised her he'd stay. Still, she couldn't shake the tiniest pinch of sadness that her wonderful, impossible man, the husband that was finally hers, couldn't even stay for breakfast.
Well. Such was the life of a time-traveler. Relationships were a privilege, not an expectation. And she was so, so blessed to have a chance to be important to the Doctor—and even more blessed that he chose to let her in.
River sipped her coffee and preemptively threw away all but one bite of his eggs, tasting the disgusting thing for a moment so she could at least say she had.
She could at least say honestly that she wasn't jealous of the Doctor's various connections with his companions through time, even his romantic ones. She was aware of them all and had met them all at some point or other. The only thing she worried about was the Doctor himself. A man who lived for thousands of years and met millions of people, even falling in love over the course of several lifetimes with different people…their time together seemed special to River because it was special, but to the Doctor…
Simply put, how could she be sure that the Doctor would even remember her? After all, one day, a long time from then, River and the Doctor's adventures would be over. When that time came, the Doctor's brilliant brain would have to make room for new memories and new affections. What if, on the horrible, black day of the Doctor's death, he closed his eyes one final time and there was no trace of the woman who loved him most on his mind?
River shuddered to think about it: both the idea of the Doctor ever being gone, not just from her, and the idea of not being remembered were both too frightening to think about.
She shook the unwanted thoughts away and grabbed her journal, which she'd left on the counter the night before, and prepared to write down her latest adventure.
And then she noticed a bright pink post-it note on the front cover.
Terrified that he'd looked at her spoilers, she seized the book and scanned the note:
RIVER!
Don't panic! I didn't peek.
Do me a favor when you get the chance—I left a message for my cool wife on the last page. Read it when you get the chance.
Oh, and good luck with your meeting!
Oh, and—you know.
River's heart jumped at the prospect of a message—a clue, a trail, a mystery, a game, anything left to entertain or inform her from her Doctor. She briefly considered saving the message until she was really missing him, but quickly decided against it, just in case it was an imminent message.
She flipped through every page for his handwriting until she arrived at the very last one, and there it was at the end, in his cramped and sloppy handwriting.
River,
Dearest, mysterious River. I know you didn't want me to say it last night. Not because you didn't want to hear it, because I know you did, but because you knew I would have trouble saying it. You know a lot of words come easily to me, but those three words are probably the least accessible. You actually cared about whether or not I'd have a hard time saying something, so you saved me from myself at your own expense. It's one of the universe of things that are remarkable about you, River Song.
I didn't peek at anything else in the journal, as per instructions, but I did want to make sure you have this with you for the rest of your life. I want to have a record in history where you have everything I feel about you written down, and this way I don't have to say it and you get to hear it.
You are quite possibly the most incredible woman I've ever met, and that is truly saying something. All violent, gun-related tendencies aside, it has been a pleasure to watch you literally grow, even out of order, from a psychopath bent on murdering me to my most trusted companion and wife. You know I never planned on getting married again, River, but I am so glad—so, SO glad—that it was you. You, with your crazy hair and huge heart and expectations for people. I am so proud of you, and I really mean it.
And I know there are a million beautiful things in this universe. There are stars that burn cold and shoot sparks of gold, there are lakes that stay completely still and catch the sunlight, and there are towers that can sing. I won't lie and say that you are more beautiful than these things, but I will say that when I see something beautiful in this insane universe, I smile and think of you. Of course, you clearly rank on my list of most beautiful sights, but you know that I don't see the value of appearance—that is, until their soul proves to be equally gorgeous. And your mad soul is a precious and beautiful thing that means more to me than any star.
You achieve something rare enough by actually managing to impress me (sometimes), but River, you do something far more rare and incredible without even knowing it. River Song, my dear, you make me proud of myself. We both know that I am one of the guiltiest people in the universe, with a long list of names of people I owe and have hurt. I seem to cause suffering wherever I go, whether I mean to or not, but you make me feel like it's worth it to keep trying. Somehow, you don't just make me feel that way, you actually believe it yourself. I'm not Father Christmas, honey, so maybe believing in me all the time no matter what evidence there is to the contrary is a little childish…but if you ever stopped, I honestly don't know what I'd do. I'm not alone when I'm with you: all my past disappears for a few hours and it really is just us. Do you have any idea how relaxing that is?
And now, here's proof for you, River Song:
I love you.
I knew you were important from the beginning, and I knew that eventually we would probably end up together somehow. I definitely anticipated being in a relationship with you, and I fought it a bit, and I played with the idea a bit, but I'll fully admit that I never anticipated falling so deeply in love with you that it scares me to even say it out loud. I'm sorry that I can't admit it out loud, but the things I love I lose, and you cannot be lost.
I never guessed that I would feel calmer just by knowing you'd be somewhere, how I'd think of you at the strangest times. When I'm alone in the TARDIS and the space is silent, I catch myself thinking of you. And I love everything about you, River. I love the fact that you can't control your trigger finger (or so you say), and I love that you are the biggest flirt in the galaxy. I love being called sweetie—why do you think I let you call me that? No one else does… I love how unbelievably amazing it is to make love to you, even if I'm out of practice and you have to be patient with me. I love that you believe in me and wait for me, that you can't stand any music from the 1970s, that you never once wavered when you had to go to Stormcage for me, that you can go on your own adventures, and the fact that you are you, even without me.
I love you, River Song.
I'm sorry I had to leave last night. I didn't want to, TRUST ME, I didn't want to leave.
Should you ever bounce around in time and meet a past me, let me just apologize in advance for being an enormous git. You know the walls I put up then, and the ones I have yet to push down, my love. Forgive me, and have mercy—a me from the past probably will not be able to keep up with someone as brilliant as you. DON'T tell anyone I said that. Especially me. I'll never forgive me for being so whipped.
Send me a message via psychic paper if you ever need me, River. And keep the sonic around. And remember me, because no matter how many years I'll live, I'll never forget the likes of you.
I love you.
P.S.—You should also know that given the choice, you will always be my favorite dance partner.
He didn't sign it; he didn't need to. What was the point?
River blinked at the message, not quite absorbing the gravity of the emotions he'd put into it. She read it a few times more, lingering on the times he said the phrase, THE phrase, and didn't realize she had started to cry.
They were the best kind of tears, filled with joy and relief, and the slightest tinge of foreboding, as if something bad was going to happen in the future and the Doctor had wanted her to know…he'd wanted to make sure she knew before it happened, exactly how he felt…
The moment of premonition was over as soon as it had begun, and River wiped away her happy tears without a care for the future, because she was loved by an impossible man...
Thanks for reading, wonderful 11/River people! I hope you've enjoyed! Happy Thanksgiving :D...