and you knew what it was, he is in love
mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)
one}
When he shows up at her dorm an hour before midnight in the middle of finals week, River wants to slap him. He sits at the side of her bed in the dark, grinning down at her, bouncing just enough to jostle the mattress. When she opens one eye to glare at him, he giggles. “River, get up.”
“Go away.”
“But River -”
She swats at him. “Sleeping.”
“Are not.” He pokes her in the side and she silently awards him a few points for sheer stupid bravery. “Come on, you can’t sleep at a time like this.”
Grasping his wrist mid-poke and squeezing with just enough force for him to get her threatening message – stop now or face the consequences – she asks, “A time like what?”
Hastily wriggling his hand from her death-grip, he wheedles, “River, I am trying to be romantic. Come on, come on, come on.”
“Romantic?” She repeats sleepily, frowning. “What -”
Oh. It’s the middle of the night. He’s desperate enough to actually wake her up and try his best to coerce her into his TARDIS. He’s babbling about romance. It’s all starting to come together in a rather adorable, slightly pathetic picture. In the short time River has known him, the Doctor has never been very good at asking for sex.
With a sigh, River opens her eyes and pushes away her blankets, sitting up. “Alright,” she mumbles, rubbing at her face. “But then I need to sleep and you aren’t going to bother me, are you?”
He shakes his head, leaping to his feet to look down at her eagerly. “Cross my hearts.”
With a yawn, River follows him into his ship, parked at the foot of her bed. It’s only in the warm light of the control room that she realizes the Doctor is wearing a tux. She can’t deny he looks absolutely delicious in one – she thought so even when she was trying to kill him – but why he felt the need to dress up for a booty call is utterly beyond her. Most things about the Doctor are beyond her.
Shrugging, River rounds the console, following after the Doctor as he switches levers and presses buttons, sending them into the vortex. Wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, she nuzzles her cheek against his back and smiles when he shudders. “Where would you like me, sweetie?”
He hums. “Wardrobe.”
“Ooh, are we dressing up?” She tips her head back to meet his eyes as he turns in her arms, wondering if he’s finally agreeing to let her play the naughty nurse to his Doctor. He’s always so shy about roleplay, bless. “How exciting.”
He frowns at her. “Well, of course we’re dressing up. Don’t be silly.”
River gives a mental shrug. He must be a little older. “What should I put on?”
“Whatever you like.” He bops her on the nose with a smile. “You’d look lovely in a sack.” He hesitates. “But don’t wear one. The Belvegans worship sacks. You’ll insult them.”
“The Belvegans? What do they matter?”
“Because that’s where we’re going for dinner. Honestly, River. Keep up.”
She stares at him. “Dinner? Why would we go to dinner?”
“Because we need to eat? And it’s romantic?”
Laughing, River places her hands on his chest, swaying into him. “There’s no need for such ceremony, Doctor. Let’s just do it.”
He blinks at her. “Do it?” She hums in agreement, smirking as she reaches up to undo his bowtie. His adam’s apple bobs under her fingers as he swallows. “But -”
She tosses the bowtie away and pushes at his jacket. “I’m much too tired for foreplay, sweetie. Especially not three courses of it.”
His jacket hits the floor. “But River -”
Hand curling around the back of his neck, she halts his protests entirely by latching her mouth onto his throat. He chokes on his words, all of them leaving his mouth in an adorable little sigh as she mouths at his tender skin, nipping and licking. He tastes like what she imagines pixie dust would taste like – full of youth and magic and ancient wisdom. It makes her eyes flutter. She sinks her teeth into his collarbone and feels the Doctor’s leg kick out like a contented puppy getting his belly scratched.
Satisfied when his hands settle on her hips, long fingers curling around to hold her tight, River relaxes into his chest and slips her hands lower, flirting with the waistband of his trousers. The Doctor makes a noise, something all at once protesting and desirous, like he can’t quite make up his mind. River makes it up for him, snapping open the button on his trousers.
The sound of the zip as she slides it down is loud in the quiet humming of the control room and it finally jolts the Doctor out of his stupor. “No, wait. Stop it.”
She moves away from his trousers but she certainly doesn’t stop touching him. He has the most oddly enticing belly, all soft and flat and utterly without muscle. She has no idea why she finds this lanky, ridiculous man so unbearably irresistible but she learned to stop fighting it somewhere between an empty dining hall in Berlin and date number twenty-three.
“I have plans,” he blusters, skirting away from her and her wandering hands. “Romantic plans. River, please let me be romantic.”
She follows him around the console, shaking her head fondly as she pins him against the controls once more. “I appreciate the attempt, Doctor, but it’s unnecessary.” She ducks her head, nipping at his chest with sharp little bites of her teeth. The touch is more feral Mels than the River she’s slowly learning how to be but the Doctor doesn’t seem to mind. “I’d much rather have you right here.”
One gentle but firm shove and the Doctor is sprawled across the console, blinking up at her. Oh, right where she wants him. With a wicked grin, River sneaks a deft, clever hand down his trousers and into his pants. Eyes widening at her touch, the Doctor yelps and leaps away from her, scrambling off the console to stumble his way to the jump seat.
River scowls at him, hand on her hip. “What is the matter with you? You came to me for sex and now that I’m trying to give it to you, you’re acting like a frightened virgin!” She studies him for a moment, suddenly unsure. “You’re not, are you?”
“Of course I’m not! And I didn’t come to you for -” He flushes, waving a hand about. “I was trying to woo you.”
She blinks. “Woo me?”
“Yes! That’s what you’re supposed to do on Valentine’s Day, aren’t you? Show the person you – care about how much you… care about them.” He huffs, running an agitated hand through his hair. “But you can never make things easy, can you?”
Still staring at him, River repeats, “Valentine’s Day?”
Growling low in his throat, he turns from her and sweeps something off the jump seat – a bouquet of bright, luminescent wildflowers. Shoving them at her chest, he mutters, “Picked them myself on the Eye of Orion.”
Clutching the bouquet, River watches him prowl around the console with a scowl on his face, muttering something like too bloody young. She swallows. Valentine’s Day. She hadn’t even realized. It’s just an old earth holiday. No one on Luna even celebrates it. Amy and Rory always did back in Leadworth but Mels never had anyone she cared enough about to celebrate with.
Lifting her eyes from the flowers in her hand, River looks at the Doctor. He’s still blushing and frowning all at once, avoiding her gaze as he fiddles with the console. He looks a mess, only half-dressed with his hair mussed and love bites on his chest. River feels something warm and foreign curl around her hearts.
Still clutching her bouquet, she bends to pick up the Doctor’s dinner jacket. Slowly rounding the console, she approaches him cautiously. He looks up, eyeing her with suspicion. She smiles, pushing his coat into his hands. “Get dressed.” Leaning up on her tiptoes, she presses her lips against the corner of his mouth and feels him smile. “We don’t want to miss your reservation.”
“Time machine, River.”
“Not the way you drive it isn’t.”
“Oi!”
two}
She tries everything.
She sneaks candy hearts into his jacket pockets with sayings printed on them like be mine and u r the one. She leaves chocolates on his pillow and strings paper hearts all over the control room. She gets the TARDIS to play the sappiest love songs imaginable at the loudest volume she can stand.
He eats the candy in his pockets without reading them, gives the chocolates to Clara because he doesn’t like chocolate this go round, and uses the paper hearts draped around the control room as trip wire for an alien on the loose, capturing it and escorting it back to its home planet with red and pink hearts tied around its wrists as handcuffs. He complains about the TARDIS music selection as he works beneath the console, looking for the off switch for the speakers.
At first, River is sure he can’t be so thick. He’s ignoring all the signs because he doesn’t want to celebrate. And that’s fine, really it is. His last regeneration adored the holiday. He loved any excuse to spoil River, to show her his devotion even if he couldn’t quite manage to say it. And River loved to be spoiled. Things are different now, that’s all. New body, new face, new hatred for Valentine’s Day. She’ll learn to live without it.
The Doctor looks up from across the console and catches her eye. He pops another candy heart into his mouth and his lips twitch into a faint smile as he looks at her. It’s a quieter sort of adoration than his last body’s grinning enthusiasm but she has learned to love it just as much.
River smiles back at him and decides she’ll try one more time.
She entrusts the TARDIS with keeping Clara busy for a while and lines the corridor leading to their bedroom with rose petals. She puts on her favorite red lipstick and fluffs her curls just the way he likes it. She perches in the middle of their bed in her sexiest, sheerest red negligee. She waits.
Eventually, the Doctor comes looking for her.
“River?”
“In here, sweetie,” she calls out.
“What is all this rubbish in the hallway? It smells bloody awful.” He pokes his head into their bedroom, takes one look at her and stops talking entirely. He stares at her instead, blue eyes wide and that new thin mouth gaping. Much to River’s smug satisfaction, it takes him a few attempts before he manages a full sentence. “Is it my birthday?”
Refusing to let her smile fade just yet, River shakes her head. “Try again.”
His expression shifts from delighted surprise to blatant unease. “You’re not talking about our anniversary, are you? Because that is literally every day in the history of the universe. You can’t fault me for missing a day now and then.”
“You seriously don’t know what day it is?”
He shakes his head. “Should I?”
Huffing River lets her smile drop and scoots angrily to the edge of their bed. “How can you not remember?”
“I don’t remember a lot of things.” He glances down at himself with a shrug. “I’m old now in case the gray hair didn’t clue you in.”
She scowls. “Don’t you dare. I know exactly how old you are and you still look a hell of a lot younger than you should.”
“Rude,” he mutters, frowning at her. “And you’re not even Scottish.”
“I’m half Scottish.” River hops from their bed and snatches up her robe. “And forget it. I only cared because you always did anyway. It doesn’t matter.”
The Doctor’s eyes widen. “OK, I may be a tad rusty about this marriage business but I definitely remember when you said something didn’t matter, it mattered quite a lot.”
“Yes well, gold star for the old man with memory loss,” River snaps, wrestling into her robe and tying it shut hastily.
“Oi! What’s the matter with -”
“I’m going for a walk.” She pushes at his hand when he tries to stop her, skirting past him with a bitten off, “Happy bloody Valentine’s Day, you oblivious sod.”
It’s only when she’s wandered into the heart of the TARDIS and hidden herself in her old bedroom – the one she used when the Doctor was still trying to convince himself they weren’t going to ever sleep together – that River lets herself admit that it does matter. This stupid, human holiday she never even cared about before the Doctor matters to her. Somewhere, some past version of her idiot, floppy-haired husband is giggling to himself.
“Why didn’t you just say so?”
Of course he followed her. His last self would have gone off to sulk. This version of her husband is a touch more confrontational.
“Remind my husband that it’s Valentine’s Day and I’d like chocolates and dancing?” She scoffs. “Every girl’s dream.”
He sighs through his nose, that noise he makes now when he’s trying to be patient. Either with her or himself, she can never tell. Hands in his pockets, he crosses the room and settles next to her on the edge of the bed. As she moves to make room for him, he catches her hand, pressing something small into her palm. River glances down, opening her fingers to reveal a pink candy heart.
I’m yours, it says.
River smiles.
He shifts, refusing to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry,” he says gruffly. “You know, that I’m not the romantic sap you married.”
He looks like a tetchy greyhound compared to his previous youthful contrite puppy expression. She melts anyway. “You’re still romantic. It’s just different now. Smaller gestures instead of the grand, Stevie Wonder in 1814 sort of gesture.”
He harrumphs, frowning at his knees. “I forgot Valentine’s Day.”
River closes her fingers around her candy heart and leans her head on his shoulder, ignoring the way he stiffens. “Yes, but you remember my birthday. You shout at Strax when he calls me Big Head.”
“Well, it’s rude,” he grumbles.
“You never eat the pistachio ice cream because you know it’s my favorite,” she continues softly, growing more sure of herself and this new him the more she speaks. “You don’t ever say the L word.” She hears him swallow and lifts her head, smiling a little as she touches his cheek. “A thousand years and you never loved another.”
He blinks hard at the note of tears in her voice she can’t quite hide. “I was busy.”
River grins. “Happy Valentine’s Day, old man.”
Turning his head to let his nose nudge her curls, the Doctor sighs against her temple. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my wee psychopath.”