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                         Turnabout

                         TakeMeOut

It’s only when the others are safely back home and the Doctor’s alone in the Tardis that her manic energy deserts her. She sends the Tardis into deep space and, gripping the edge of the console like it’s the only thing holding her down, drops her head between her arms. Another set of lives lost on the battlefield; another set of companions put in danger. The latter is her fault, again, and she remembers how recently she questioned whether she could carry on doing this.

She sighs heavily, but her reverie is interrupted by the Tardis doors crashing open. The Doctor looks up, startled and faintly alarmed. “Why do I feel like I’m being bossed around?” she grumbles into thin air. Despite her indignation, the Doctor’s intrigued about what the Tardis is up to, so she mutters darkly and stalks out of the door.

She finds herself in a market on a planet she doesn’t recognise, filled with vividly coloured produce and largely humanoid inhabitants. There’s no immediately obvious reason why the Tardis has brought her here, so she sets off to explore. After ten minutes she’s well and truly lost, but as she rounds a corner into a quiet alleyway everything suddenly becomes clear, because there’s River, dressed in a white shirt and brown slacks and rummaging urgently in a bag in a way that suggests she’s up to no good.

The Doctor gapes inanely for a moment, and for the first time in this body she’s struck dumb, but by the time River notices her, she’s pulled herself together. It feels like both her hearts are being pulled out of her chest, but when River looks up the Doctor’s hands are on her hips, mouth set; she looks, as always, ready to take on the universe single-handed. She’s ready to dissemble, to walk away from this impossible situation the Tardis has put her in. She shouldn’t be here, she knows that.

But River’s not so easily fooled, not this time around, and she knows immediately. “Oh, Sweetie,” River breathes, and then her arms are round the Doctor and her face is in the Doctor’s neck, and she’s so warm, so solid, so real, that the Doctor’s arms float uncertainly in mid-air while her brain tries to catch up.

The Doctor’s babbling now, long strings of words that are something to do with timelines and regeneration and diaries. River gives her an indulgent smile, before cutting her words off by the simple expedient of kissing her.

For a moment, the Doctor freezes, her eyes wide and slightly crossed as she attempts to focus on River’s face. But then River’s strong, supple fingers slide up between her legs and begin to rub against the seam of her trousers; the Doctor’s eyes fall shut and her lips and tongue begin to respond as River’s warm exhalation trickles down her face.

The Doctor’s all nerve endings and sensory input, and her respiratory bypass nearly kicks in as she focuses on processing what’s happening. River seems to have more than two hands, and they’re everywhere at once; sliding her coat onto the floor; pulling the Doctor’s braces down over her shoulders; ghosting over her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples with the lightest of pressure.

“Love the new look, Sweetie,” River mutters, her lips travelling over the Doctor’s collarbones and up her long neck, her tongue trailing along the chain rising up the Doctor’s ear. “Where’s the Tardis?” she asks, breaking into a crafty grin. “I’m intrigued to see what your bedroom looks like this time around.”

For a moment the Doctor’s face flushes slightly, then River sees - with delight and the faintest hint of alarm - a familiar sly expression crease the Doctor’s eyes. Suddenly, River finds herself flipped around and pinned firmly against the wall by wiry arms.

The Doctor’s eyes are narrowed slightly, her lips only millimetres from River’s. She looks, frankly, entirely dangerous and River feels a rush of wetness between her legs as the Doctor asks, “Are you a screamer yet?”

River laughs deeply, and pulls the Doctor's hips closer to her own. “Never mind me, Sweetie. Let’s find out whether you are.”

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