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               Keeping With Tradition

                         hihoplastic

"The New Year's Planet! All New Year's, all the time! Every festival imaginable! Earth traditions, Silurian, Appalapachian - love the Appalapachians, they're just like us - two hearts! The more the merrier I always say. Actually I don't, that's an awful saying, just the wrong about of alliteration, not enough M's if you ask me, but you didn't and probably won't, so, right!

"Planet of the New Year's! Centauri, Ood, Racnoss - not my favorite, personally, but every dog has its day, eh? Well, spider. Well, half-spider. Half-human, half-spider, flesh-eating..." he trails off, throwing her a sheepish glance. "Anyway. Point is!" he declares instead, spinning around the console with a grin. "A million cultures from a million worlds all celebrating their own New Year at the same time all the time! It's like the Disneyland of fireworks and paper lanterns and big, strikey clock-like thingies! Except there're no rides or cotton candy or big, fuffy dresses and people dressed up like mice - what is it about that mouse? Really, I never understood it, personally, and seriously, if you ever decide to pop in on Walt just be sure you're...well, um..."

The Doctor looks her up and down, taking in her rather 'little' Little Black Dress, then scratches the back of his neck and turns away. "Okay! No visiting Walt, bad plan, bit of a control freak, not your type. Not anyone's type, really, including his wife, poor dear. So, actually, it's not really like Disneyland at all, forget the Disneyland, now where were we? -- New Year's Planet, here we come!"

He throws a lever and the ship jolts and River grabs onto the railing for balance. "Do you ever fly her properly?"

"I always fly her properly!"

As if in retaliation, the TARDIS jerks especially hard and tosses the Doctor to the floor. River arches an eyebrow.

"Ah, well, yes, sometimes a bit less than proper-properly, but really it's all a matter of interpretation!" His voice goes up an octave as the ship twirls again, and he scrambles for his footing.

River laughs and shakes her head. "I think she disagrees."

The Doctor rolls his eyes and stands up, straightening his bow tie. "You're both wrong. I'm a brilliant driver, always have been."

Reaching over, River presses a green button on the console and the ship stabilises, easing out of the Vortex gracefully. "What did you do that for?" The Doctor moans, "It's so boring, it's a green button of boringness almost as boring as the blue boringers and now you've gone and made everything, well...boring."

"At least you're standing now?" River offers with a smirk, pulling another lever without looking. The TARDIS lands softly and gives a low hum of approval that runs through River's veins. Despite himself - and his tiny, itty bitty, minuscule amount of jealousy at River's innate connection with his TARIDS - the Doctor smiles; she never looks quite so at peace as when she's in the TARDIS, and he's relieved that after everything he can at least give her that.

She catches his stare and frowns, still young and self-conscious, and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she looks away. It's so endearing he has to remind himself that while she probably wouldn't protest, jumping her in the middle of the control room is hardly his plan for a romantic evening. Not that he has a plan. Or plans. Or anything close to or resembling a plan-like idea involving kissing and touching and maybe other things that don't involve quite so many clothes - though he does like her clothes, especially this dress, it's knee-length and flowy and makes her look all soft and curvy and--

"Doctor?"

He blinks and clears his throat loudly. "Right! Yes! Planet! Big, cool, clocky planet!"

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