Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

115(G)

Her body molds against his in such a way that it feels like if it were possible to get beneath his skin, she would to just that, just to be that much closer.  He can’t say that he would mind, because suddenly all he craves is her touch.

Lifting her so that her thighs wrap around his waist and her arms cling to his neck, the Doctor manages to carry her to their bedroom without stumbling once, something that he’s rather proud of considering he never accomplished that in his last regeneration.

“Stop looking so smug,” River speaks in a warm, fond tone as he gently lays her on their bed.

“I think smug rather suits me this go ‘round, thank you very much, wife,” the Doctor quips, briefly sending a silent thanks to his ship as he notices that the room is spotless despite him having not entered in centuries.

“You think that with every regeneration, sweetie.”

His hearts catch in his throat at the name, refusing to let the term of endearment he hasn’t heard in so long bring tears to his eyes.  River’s smirk softens as if she knows, and knowing her, she probably does.  When she extends her hand to him, he takes it without question and allows her to pull him into bed.

Sometime later he is still there, lounging against the pillows and listening to the light sound of running water as his wife showers.  Normally, he would join her and ensure that the whole process would be for naught, but this isn’t normally.  They haven’t seen each other in far longer than either of them care to admit, and they both need time to process.

Except by the time the shower stops running he finds that he hasn’t used the time to process at all.  All he can think about is the feeling of River in his arms again, and he finds that he longs for her touch even though she is only as far away as the adjoining room.  Maybe processing is something that has to be done together.  His hearts constrict as he thinks about ‘hiding the damage,’ and wishes this would have been something he learned a lifetime ago.

River steps out of the bathroom, and his lips quirk slightly at the sight of her wrapped in a fuzzy pink towel.  All this time has made him forget that River Song- his darling psychopath and hell in high heels- enjoys the color pink.  At least when it comes to things like towels and dressing gowns and knickers.  Resisting the heat coming to his cheeks at the last bit (he didn’t even know this body could blush), he thinks that somehow, that color fits her and her need to be consistently unpredictable.

The Doctor watches as she fluffs her curls with a separate towel, and extends his slightly tremoring hand to her once she’s finished.  The answering smile she gives him causes his hearts to stutter, and before she places her hand in his, she notes, “You’re shaking.”

He gives pause, considering how to answer to her statement before slowly replying, “I’m happy.”

Her palm settles in his, her neat fingers twining with his own longer ones, and he realizes that he can feel her shaking as well.  It isn’t something visible, but he can feel the tremor under her skin, in her bones.  When he meets her eyes, he finds her smiling knowingly at him.  “So am I.”

Quickly, the Doctor pulls her into him, forcing her sit with her back against his chest before there’s the chance of her seeing him cry like a sodding teenage earth girl.

“Hair tie,” he states gruffly, holding out his hand because he knows she has one on her.  He still remembers that she can’t stand to sleep with her curls free.

Briefly, River wings a brow at him over her shoulder before plopping the elastic into his waiting palm.  “The last you didn’t know how to plait hair,” she states in a simple observation as he concentrates on separating her damp curls into three sections.

“Consider it a hidden talent,” the Doctor mutters.  Somehow, without even having to see her face, he can tell that she’s smiling.

Slowly and methodically he twines her curls together into a single plait, tying it with the elastic at the end.  After he’s finished, he swipes the plait over her shoulder and leans in to press a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck.  He makes the mistake of deeply breathing her in, taking in the fresh smell of jasmine somehow mixed with that of time and dust.

Tears sting his eyes at the familiar smell he has missed so much, and he is again reminded that his wife is here and real.  Pressing another kiss to her skin, the Doctor promises to himself that this time he will be more worthy of the title husband, and that there will be no next time when it comes to letting her go- this time they’re going to run forever.