Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

79(M)

                 Be A Lady Tonight

                         leiascully

The last person the Doctor expects to see at the Sands is River Song, who by all accounts ought to be in prison. That was where he left her, after all, not so very long ago. He certainly doesn't expect to see her leaning up against the bar, flirting with Frank Sinatra. Frank says something to her and she tips her head back and laughs, then puts her hand on his arm and leans up to whisper in his ear. The Doctor's blood begins to boil. He stalks through the crowd toward them, and then thinks better of it and pivots on his heel, finding an empty space at the end of the bar where he can glower in peace. It might be a fluke; after all, Frank flirted with him last time - the man can't seem to stop himself working a crowd. The Doctor orders a gin and tonic, excessively easy on the gin as in nearly-none-at-all, and watches.

River looks frankly stunning in something long and black and satiny and off the shoulder. He's never cared much for fashion, aside from what made him look cool, but he can definitely appreciate whomever came up with this. The dress accentuates her every curve and she's got plenty of them. The Doctor can't really blame Frank for chatting her up, but that doesn't mean he isn't Mister Grumpy Face about it, especially since River is still murmuring in Frank's ear. The Doctor mutters to himself about jazz men and the dubiousness of their morals, which earns him more than a few odd looks from the other patrons at the bar. After nearly an eternity, River leans back, squeezing Frank's arm one last time and shooing him off toward the stage. Frank gives her an extremely appreciative look as he saunters off, and River smiles into her drink.

The Doctor nearly storms over to her right then, but he forces himself to wait, sipping at his gin-scented tonic. River just stands there, drinking her whiskey and looking pleased with herself. The Doctor makes his drink last about twenty minutes, during which time three more men, two women, and a couple all try to pull his wife, at which point he really can't stand it anymore. He slaps his empty glass down on the bar, mutters "Too much gin" at the cranky bartender, and stomps around the length of the bar to stand right in front of River. Her eyes light up.

"Hello, sweetie!" she says, sounding delighted.

"Oh, yes, very nice," he says. "'Sweetie' me at a moment like this."

"What's wrong, my love?" she asks, her expression changing to concern. She sets her whiskey down and touches his arm. He'd find it more charming if he hadn't just seen her use the same move half an hour ago on his former friend, Frank.

"What's wrong?" he hisses. He sounds absurd, but he can't help himself. "What's wrong is that I just stood here watching my wife nearly pick up half the bar without even a hair out of place!"

"Is that all?" she says. She's clearly amused, and it only infuriates him more.

"That's more than enough!" he says. People are starting to look at them oddly, so he slips an arm around her sleek waist and leads her away from the crowd. It seems the most innocuous way of escorting her to a place where they can have an actual discussion. He's not having their first married fight in front of the entire population of the Sands - for one thing, Frank's recording tonight, and nobody wants bickering in the background of their hit record. For another, he's seen what can happen when River gets angry, and this building needs to be around for another couple of decades. He came to hear Frank sing, but he'd rather resolve this first. There's no enjoying jazz when you're worried your wife might truly be entranced by the next smoky-voiced crooner who wanders her way.

He presses his cheek to River's hair so that he can murmur in her ear as he leads her away. "You were in your cell, last time I saw you. You insisted, in fact, despite the fact that we'd just kissed the universe back into existence to seal our wedding vows."