Yowzah Oneshot Collection (3)

100(G)

The Doctor rolled his head to the side, finally looking at her from the same angle. She turned her head towards him, her cheek resting on a pillow of the soft curls he'd longed to touch since the moment he'd met her. He wondered, every now and again, what they felt like. But it frightened him that he knew if he tried to touch them, she'd let him. He wasn't ready to know just what she was willing to let him do; just yet.

"Yeah, I can feel it." He smiled adoringly as he turned his eyes back up to the ceiling. "But you're right, she does feel restless."

"It's Sunday," She grinned again. "You know how she gets."

The Doctor paused for a moment, knowing that she'd looked up but that she'd turned back to study the side of his face. For a brief moment he wondered what she saw when she did that. Wondered which face she hoped to see. Sometimes he wondered if this one was her favourite; wondered if she had a favourite at all. But then he mentally stopped himself from wondering, because it leaned to pondering the importance of her having a favourite and why that would matter to him. Why it should matter in the slightest.

"I do know," He said quietly, turning back to meet her river-green eyes. And with eyes flickering from her left to her right, studying the depth of the blue-ish-blue that wasn't quite green, he noticed the irony in that. "But I've wondered for a while, how you do."

River smiled that smile and he knew what was coming. He knew what she was about to say before she said it and he had to bite his lip to stop from punching the floor in agitation. "Spoilers." And it annoyed him all the more that she knew exactly what that did to him. A part of him loved her for never saying what she clearly could if she wanted to. But she was his curiosity's worst nightmare, in the body of a beautiful woman. Which made her intoxicatingly interesting.

"Fine," He grumbled and caught the amused expression on her face as he turned away again. "So what are we doing on the floor?"

"I was attempting to soothe her."

Dumbfounded and confused - his annoyance forgotten - he turned back to her. "I beg your pardon, River?"

"I was trying to soothe her. Before you came in; we were singing together."

He blinked. "Singing?"

"Yes, honey, singing."

He blinked again. "Oh," He nodded. "right. Why did you stop?"

"Because you came into the room."

He looked down his nose, across the room to the door through which he'd entered. "You knew I was here, the moment I came in?"

"I always know when you're here, honey."

"Right," He coughed and looked back up at the ceiling. Declaring the ceiling the safest place to point his eyes; if the low-cut of River's night-gown was any indication of dangerous territory.

"If you don't mind," She smirked, knowing exactly what was going on in his head. And that infuriated him to no end. "We’d like to get back to our song. She was starting to relax."

"So you were singing to her?"

"Yes, but she was humming along."

"Sure," He cleared his throat, straightening the lapels of his jacket. "Carry-on then. Don't mind me."

"Oh," River rolled onto her side, pressing a small warm hand to his chest where his jacket had fallen away. He could feel it right through his shirt and down to his bones. "We don't." She breathed. And he tightened up when she shuffled closer. He saw in the corner of his eye, the soft material of her night-gown ride up her knee as she moved, exposing the expanse of bare leg before it reached her boots. She didn't touch him beyond the hand against his chest. But the simple fact that she'd moved closer to him, unnerved him a little. She lay on her side, face inches away from his ear and her body so close he could feel the warmth radiating from not only the floor anymore.

She didn't try and move any closer. She didn't try and over-step the bounds he set in place. He appreciated that. But he'd be lying if he didn't admit each time he pushed her away, he saw something inside of her break. Her heart, her spirit, he wasn't sure. But it was cracking. So he let her stay there. He listened to the melodious sound of her low, rich voice mixing with the hum of the Tardis to the tune of an old Gallifreyan lullaby; and he pondered the complexities of the universe. Pondered why exactly fate would punish this woman. Why anyone would?

Her voice was thick like warm honey and as the lights dimmed around them, he started to feel the pull of his eyes to close; she was lulling him to rest along with the Tardis. He didn't even need to sleep but the sound of her song filled his soul with a warmth he hadn't felt in a great long time. So he reached his arm out, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her against him.

She relished the allowance.

She pressed her cheek to his chest, laughing as he fussed and blew at her curls to get them out of his mouth. He allowed her to snuggle closer, giving her free reign to reach out as far as she would, given half the chance. She wrapped her arm around his middle, tucking her hand between his hip and the floor of the Tardis as one leg, gloriously bare to mid-thigh, curled its way over his.

She continued to sing, the harmonious sound of the ancient words he'd thought dead along with his people and he didn't question how she knew them or how she knew that particular lullaby. He didn't question how she knew it was exactly the right song to sing to the Tardis to soothe her.

He just pressed his eyes closed; and listened.