Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

27(M)

there was too much fire in your two voices

              areyoumarriedriver

He huffs quietly, kicking at the dirt in the path as he glares over his shoulder at the TARDIS, parked on the distant hill. Honestly –exiled from his own time machine, that has to be a first. Well... but that wasn’t the point. The point was you inhale a little psychic pollen and suddenly his so called friends felt a sudden urge for time alone.

Time alone together.

He’d not even been consulted honestly. One minute they were contemplating the nature of psychic pollen and the next Amy was declaring them knackered and dragging a completely willing Rory up the stairs with an intent look in her eyes.

The Doctor shudders at the mental recall. At the very least he is grateful she wasn’t training that look on him any longer.  Everything would have been fine, but for the .... noises. You know, for a dimensionally transcendental ship, it was in no way big enough at that moment. All those... humany noises – he makes a gagging sound and glares at the ship once more.

He’d parked them – he had to – had to escape somewhere and no part of his ship was allowing him to escape those wretched noises. Rory was quite loud – honestly, he’d have thought maybe Amy... but no.  At any rate, the first coordinates he could think of, he’d tapped in. A string of random numbers, and here he is on the garden planet of Ortus, renowned for its cultivated shrubberies – over five thousand varieties of shrubs alone – and sprawling gardens. There were no buildings on Ortus, but several converted caverns and tree houses. He’d found himself in the grotto section, lush greenery spilling everywhere, punctuated by splashes of bright flora – really if they ever finish, Amy and Rory would likely love this place.

“Too busy to enjoy it though,” he mocks them in a high pitched tone and grips his TARDIS key tighter. Honestly – how much longer could they be?! He huffs again and blows his fringe out of his eyes, pulling at his tweed, feeling overly stifled in the humid air.

He frowns and glares around him – there are surprisingly few tourists, so he figures they must have landed sometime during the 43rd century – during the planet-wide agricultural overhaul. Movement in the corner of his eye makes him turn his head, and he gapes, his hearts slamming against his ribcage as he fidgets, gripping the key tighter with an urge to run away.

Because of course he would land on the one planet, in the one time period where she was. Even from nearly forty meters away, River Song’s curls are utterly unmistakable as she exits a tiny cave, a bright smile on her face and dressed in practical khaki shorts and a vest. “Sod it, noises or no noises, we are leaving. I’ll re-park us in the 53rd century – they have the water gardens added then – much better,” he mutters to himself, watching her walk down the path, further away from him and not even noticing his presence, her steps hurried as she all but skips away from her dwelling.

For some odd reason, he is fairly certain he’s a bit miffed about that.

Shouldn’t she just know he is here? Sense his presence or notice the TARDIS or – or – “Well I didn’t want to see her anyway,” he sniffs, feeling himself flush. “Sodding humidity,” he grumbles, yanking off his tweed and tossing it down in the grass beside him. “Why is she even here anyway? This is an agricultural overhaul. She’s an archaeologist,” he spits the term out with distaste. “But no, she has her own sodding grotto on a closed planet during a historic overhaul. I wonder why she’s here,” he muses, and stops in the middle of the path, startled to find himself already halfway toward the cave she’d exited.

“She’d probably just cite bloody spoilers,” he grumbles, his feet moving once more, his boots kicking up a fine yellow dust as he traverses the path. “Maybe I just ought to figure it out for myself.” He nods as if he needed his own agreement, and he shoves the TARDIS key in his pocket, beside his sonic. “She invites herself into my TARDIS, turnabout is fair play and all that – surely she’d be happy to see me,” he quickens his pace as he mutters to himself.