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The Doctor, the Bar, and the Birthday Girl

                wedonttalkaboutit
            (BalthTheChaoticGood)

“I don’t drink!” the Doctor protests. His weak attempt to fight off River who drags him into a bar is pointless of course. “I don’t drink and you should know that, because you keep telling me you know everything about me.”

River just shrugs, tugs him to a bench in the corner and tells him, “From now on you’re going to drink. Also it’s my birthday.”

The Doctor pouts. “Yeah, about that. Last week when you called you told me it was your birthday, too. You made me eat apple pie. I hate apples!”

River laughs and orders cocktails for them. “Last week I lied,” River smirks and winks at him.

“Oh you…” the Doctor begins, but doesn’t know what to call her. He still knows so little about her.

They get their drinks and the Doctor is surprised. The one in his glass is pink and has cream and a strawberry on top of it, and River has a green and yellow one with two straws in a funny looking glass. They look pretty harmless.Why not? the Doctor thinks and shrugs. He liked cocktails before.

So he takes a sip.

It takes only a second before he bounces up and down on his seat and shouts, “This is delicious! Another one of these. Or maybe two.”

River smiles and leans back. She knows the ones with the strawberry are the Doctor’s favourites and she knows how delightful the Doctor gets when he drinks a few of them. This is going to be an amazing evening, she’s sure.

The Doctor really drinks three of the pink ones, and later he decides that it would be unfair not to try some other drinks as well. By then he’s already beaming with joy, flushed cheeks and tousled hair, and he sings old shanties. He hasn’t danced on the table yet but River is pretty sure it’s going to happen at some point.

“River,” the Doctor proclaims, “you’re a good friend. A reallyreally good friend and I like your funny hair. Will you do me the compliment of rocking the dance floor with me?”

And before River can say anything the Doctor has pulled her to her feet, and then he sonic-s the sound system of the bar to get some loud music and dances the most ridiculous version of foxtrot that River has ever seen. There isn’t even a dance floor, the Doctor just takes all the free space he can get to shake his limbs in every direction and River laughs and joins him, even though she knows that everybody stares at them. Or maybe just because of that.

“Come here, River!” the Doctor rasps and pulls her very close suddenly. He points his screwdriver to the radio again and the music changes, gets slower and more quiet.

“Slow dance, Doctor, really? Is that how you try to impress a girl?” River smirks, but her heart beats fast and loud. This is the song that played when the Doctor kissed her for the first time, but he can’t possibly know because he hasn’t even done it yet. She tries to stay calm, but how could she with the Doctor drunkenly slow dancing with her? So she lets herself feel like a teenage girl at prom night and giggles as the Doctor complains that he’s not able to put his head on her shoulder because there’s too much of her hair.

They dance for hours and the Doctor is ridiculously giddy and happy.

When the bar closes and they get thrown out (it's a miracle that nobody has thrown them out earlier, because the Doctor really did dance on a table after all), River takes him to the park. They sit on a bench and River shows him all the stars she still wants to visit with him, and the Doctor listens and rests his head on her shoulder.

“River,” he says quietly, “you’ve been a very good birthday girl. But I didn’t even get you a present. How very rude of me.”

River laughs. “Oh Doctor, I’m sorry. I lied again. It’s not really my birthday.”

And that’s also a lie, she thinks. The Doctor doesn’t need to know everything. Also she doesn’t want a present. All she wanted she got tonight and everything else not even the Doctor can give to her.

The Doctor lifts his head and looks at her, surprised but not quite able to focus. Maybe River should have told him that the green cocktail always makes him a little befuddled.

“Oh,” the Doctor says. “Well, never mind. It was nice though.” And then he rests his head on her shoulder again, a sleepy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Just now, River wants to kiss him, but she knows she can’t.

Instead she ruffles his hair and says, “Oh my dear Doctor, you get ever so clingy and cuddly when you’re drunk.”

“It’s unfair,” the Doctor mumbles. “I bet you knew. You took advantage of me. Unfair.”

River laughs gently.

“And you enjoyed it,” the Doctor adds, trying to sound grumpy, but his small, gentle smile is betraying him.

River leans her head against his. “And so did you, sweetie.”

The Doctor doesn’t protest and River watches him fall asleep at her side. She thinks about the evening when the Doctor first kissed her and wonders if he remembered the song they once danced to.

The Doctor, her miracle man.

The one who fell into her life with his blue box and his bow tie and all the things he promised her.

She’s going to let him sleep just for a little while longer and then she’s going to get him into the Tardis, into one of his beloved bunk beds. And maybe when he’s fast asleep she’s going to steal a kiss from him.

Too bad she knows that this is going to be the last time she takes him out for a drink.

But there are still other things to do, other places to run to, other memories to make.

River smiles down at the man who is going to be her husband and doesn’t know yet. “Time to go home, sweetie,” she says and lets her hand run through his hair.

The Doctor blinks and looks at her, confused but so very trusting. “Whatever you say, honey”, he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep and sugary alcohol.

River is happy. This is her life and it’s the life of the Doctor and it’s her birthday and they danced.

So the Universe is not on their side – so what?

As long as they have each other they’re going to be fine.

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