Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

67(M)

Unspoken

leiascully

When River gets bored, she likes to dress up. This party, as lovely as it is, isn't really her scene, and she's doubly glad she made an effort, because her outfit is the only thing amusing her at the moment. When everyone else went inside for some sort of singing event, she stayed out here by the pool. But the weather is nice and the house really is beautiful, absolutely glowing and packed to the gills with beautiful people. She's not badly off even all by her lonesome. Besides, it's not for her that she put these coordinates in her vortex manipulator. She's just here to mind the Doctor, who did invite her, after all, in what might be some kind of penance for sending her back to prison some time she hasn't even lived yet. She's not quite sure; sometimes messages come through the vortex at odd intervals nothing to do with their sending. She only had a moment to talk to the Doctor earlier - he's doubling up making up to her with some Ghost of Christmas Present act, trying to melt someone's heart, as if that sort of thing isn't bound to blow up in his face sooner or later. Bless. At least someone's looking out for the rest of history, but it's a rather slow night, waiting for disaster.

So she's just waiting here, dabbling her toes with their bright red polish in the water. Her hair is temporarily bleached a shade lighter than usual and she's coaxed it into soft wavy curls around her face. The hem of her white dress hangs just above the water, the very edge of it soaked by the splash of her feet. She looks like a movie star. Literally. It was intentional. She picked one who appealed to her and found a suitable costume. If you're not going to fit in (say, in 1950s America, practically the middle ages as far as she's concerned), you might as well stand out. At least the plunging neckline sets off her décolletage.

"River?" His voice floats out over the water.

"Over here," she calls back.

"Sorry to neglect you," he says, taking off his socks and shoes and rolling up the cuffs of his trousers so he can sit next to her. "I was only trying to make certain that everyone was happy, but they told me to go away. There's no accounting for people these days."

"I'm sorry, my love," she says, her voice rich with amusement.

"Well, I'm here now," he says.

"And very handsome you look, too," she tells him, stroking his arm. "What a nice white coat that is."

"Isn't it?" he says, tugging at his lapels and sounding pleased with himself. "The TARDIS did rather a good job with the wardrobe."

"She does love a party," River says.

"She does indeed." They sit, looking out at the lights glistening on the water. She leans against his shoulder with a happy sigh and he puts his arm around her, somewhat tentatively. It's sweet how inexperienced he acts after all his years of living, but then again, he's young still, for this time around. She strokes his thigh idly and swishes her toes through the water. There's someone singing inside the house in a very fine voice indeed. It is, River thinks, a rare and lovely moment of peace for the two of them, sitting here in the soft warm perfumed air. Here she sits with the love of her roundabout life, listening to jazz and the lap of the water against the tiled walls of the pool. No one's even made a gesture towards shooting at them. It's odd how nice that feels.

"We should leave," he says abruptly.

She stares at him. "Leave? Why? Everything's going well, isn't it? At least in theory?"

"No, yeah, they're all getting along swimmingly, enjoying themselves to the pinnacle of entertainment." He waves one hand. "I'm just having a bit of a situation, myself."