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tellitslantTitle: every new verse
Author:tellitslant
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: River/Doctor
Rating: PG
Word count: 1000
Disclaimer: BBC. Transformative work. Etc.
Warnings: none
Notes: So![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beccatoria made me a lovely River/Doctor vidlet to Captain Tractor's "1000 Goodbyes" and I said I'd write a ficlet in return. This plays with themes of the song and the vid, so I suggest watching the vid first and then reading this! :)
Summary: For every hello, there's a thousand goodbyes.
for worse
"And what's a nice boy like you doing at the partnership ceremony of an intergalactic mobster?"
The Doctor spun around, shocked. "River!" he exclaimed, taking her in from the top of her elaborate and precarious updo to the tips of her glittering silver pumps and trying not to linger too long in between. How had he not realized she'd be here?
"You appear to have me at a disadvantage." She smiled, all charm and dimples. "I didn't get your name last time. In fact, I didn't know you'd gotten mine."
"Ah. Yes. Well. I asked around. After... last time." The Doctor swallowed, feeling thoroughly wrong-footed. Would River always get the best of him, even when the timeline was in his favour? "But, ah, you can call me the Doctor. Hello. Again." He stuck his hand out idiotically; she took it in hers before he could pull back.
"Well, the Doctor," she said, not letting go. "You never answered my question."
"Question? I – oh. Why am I here." The Doctor paused for a fraction of a second. He couldn’t tell her the truth: no one was supposed to know about the spacefaring Aztec civilization that had colonized the planet millennia before, much less what they'd left behind. "I'm – just here for the dancing."
River's eyes sparkled. "I love dancing."
Moments later the Doctor found himself on the dance floor. The band struck up a traditional tune; with only two feet, it was rather challenging to keep time. River, he noticed, had no such difficulty.
The next number was more sedate and the Doctor thought he did quite a good job of steering River around the floor. She seemed content to enjoy the dance, but he could only take so much silence before his thoughts tumbled out. "So what brings you here?" he eventually asked, admiring the way her skirts twirled as they turned.
"Tezcatlipoca," she replied.
He stopped dead, almost knocking into the crown princess. Grabbing River's hand, he led her off the dance floor and into a secluded alcove. "What do you mean, Tezcatlipoca?" he demanded.
River leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. "Oh, you know. Ancient Mayan deity, god of discord, master of deception. Alien. I'm doing a little on-the-ground research tomorrow."
"River, no," the Doctor protested, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Whatever you think you know, you cannot go out there tomorrow, it's not safe!"
She wrenched out of his grasp. "Listen, Doctor," she hissed. "A couple of dances don't give you the right to try and protect me. I have a job to do and I don't need you interfering. Goodbye." She ducked under his outstretched arm.
"Wait," he protested, "you don't understand – "
"I said goodbye," she said, and stalked off. He watched her go, despairing.
That night he went back a few centuries and methodically disabled all the potentially fatal traps in the hidden temples, just in case. (He left the merely dangerous ones, however. After those, maybe she'd listen to his warnings the next time.)
*
for better
"Where did you learn to dance like that?"
"Oh, hello," the Doctor said, depositing Amy, breathless from a vigorous schottische, back in Rory's arms and turning to River. "Decided to join us for the rest of the evening, did you?"
"I always cry at weddings," River said demurely. "And I had to take care of something during the ceremony."
The Doctor thought better of asking. She wouldn't do anything too illegal while he was there. Probably. Instead he held out a hand and led her onto the floor.
"How many weddings have we attended, River?" he asked, drawing her closer than the strict protocol of the era dictated. She went willingly, nestling her head against his shoulder.
"Spoilers," she whispered into his jacket.
"Really? Just the number?" They swayed in increasingly smaller circles. The Doctor could see Amy watching them from near the buffet table, her mouth open as she called over her shoulder to Rory.
"Oh, it's never just a number with you," River said, recapturing his attention. "First it's how many, then it's what about this one, and next we're wrapped up in a paradox and losing some of the best nights of our lives." She glanced up at him wickedly. "Hypothetically speaking."
The Doctor hummed in acquiescence and they danced in silence for a moment. "We do attend a disproportionate amount, though," he said. "Or is it just me? Maybe you spend loads of time at weddings and I only see the tip of the iceberg. Or I just haven't spent enough time with you to put it in proportion. Or maybe – "
River laughed. "Yes, Doctor, we do seem to be attracted to weddings," she conceded. "Are you getting ideas?"
"Would they be the wrong ones?" he asked, suddenly serious.
River stumbled, and he used the movement to steer them through the balcony door and out into the gardens. The house twinkled behind them as the Doctor took River by the shoulders. "I'm getting tired of not knowing," he told her.
"You can't," River said, breathless. "The timestream – "
"I don't answer to the timestream. The timestream answers to me." He stopped her laughter with a kiss. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Later, they walked back to the house, the Doctor's jacket draped over River's shoulders to keep her warm. They stopped just out of sight of the ballroom and River drew him down for another kiss. When she stepped back and shrugged off the jacket, though, the Doctor had a horrible premonition. "River – " he protested.
She only smiled at him. "Not yet, my love," she said, cupping his cheek tenderly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She pressed the jacket into his arms; he took it resignedly, watching as she rummaged in her evening bag and pulled out her vortex manipulator.
"Goodbye, sweetie," she said, and disappeared.
He pulled the jacket on, inhaling the spicy scent she'd been wearing. "Until we meet again," he murmured, and turned back towards the light.
Author:
tellitslantFandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: River/Doctor
Rating: PG
Word count: 1000
Disclaimer: BBC. Transformative work. Etc.
Warnings: none
Notes: So
beccatoria made me a lovely River/Doctor vidlet to Captain Tractor's "1000 Goodbyes" and I said I'd write a ficlet in return. This plays with themes of the song and the vid, so I suggest watching the vid first and then reading this! :)Summary: For every hello, there's a thousand goodbyes.
for worse
"And what's a nice boy like you doing at the partnership ceremony of an intergalactic mobster?"
The Doctor spun around, shocked. "River!" he exclaimed, taking her in from the top of her elaborate and precarious updo to the tips of her glittering silver pumps and trying not to linger too long in between. How had he not realized she'd be here?
"You appear to have me at a disadvantage." She smiled, all charm and dimples. "I didn't get your name last time. In fact, I didn't know you'd gotten mine."
"Ah. Yes. Well. I asked around. After... last time." The Doctor swallowed, feeling thoroughly wrong-footed. Would River always get the best of him, even when the timeline was in his favour? "But, ah, you can call me the Doctor. Hello. Again." He stuck his hand out idiotically; she took it in hers before he could pull back.
"Well, the Doctor," she said, not letting go. "You never answered my question."
"Question? I – oh. Why am I here." The Doctor paused for a fraction of a second. He couldn’t tell her the truth: no one was supposed to know about the spacefaring Aztec civilization that had colonized the planet millennia before, much less what they'd left behind. "I'm – just here for the dancing."
River's eyes sparkled. "I love dancing."
Moments later the Doctor found himself on the dance floor. The band struck up a traditional tune; with only two feet, it was rather challenging to keep time. River, he noticed, had no such difficulty.
The next number was more sedate and the Doctor thought he did quite a good job of steering River around the floor. She seemed content to enjoy the dance, but he could only take so much silence before his thoughts tumbled out. "So what brings you here?" he eventually asked, admiring the way her skirts twirled as they turned.
"Tezcatlipoca," she replied.
He stopped dead, almost knocking into the crown princess. Grabbing River's hand, he led her off the dance floor and into a secluded alcove. "What do you mean, Tezcatlipoca?" he demanded.
River leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms. "Oh, you know. Ancient Mayan deity, god of discord, master of deception. Alien. I'm doing a little on-the-ground research tomorrow."
"River, no," the Doctor protested, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Whatever you think you know, you cannot go out there tomorrow, it's not safe!"
She wrenched out of his grasp. "Listen, Doctor," she hissed. "A couple of dances don't give you the right to try and protect me. I have a job to do and I don't need you interfering. Goodbye." She ducked under his outstretched arm.
"Wait," he protested, "you don't understand – "
"I said goodbye," she said, and stalked off. He watched her go, despairing.
That night he went back a few centuries and methodically disabled all the potentially fatal traps in the hidden temples, just in case. (He left the merely dangerous ones, however. After those, maybe she'd listen to his warnings the next time.)
*
for better
"Where did you learn to dance like that?"
"Oh, hello," the Doctor said, depositing Amy, breathless from a vigorous schottische, back in Rory's arms and turning to River. "Decided to join us for the rest of the evening, did you?"
"I always cry at weddings," River said demurely. "And I had to take care of something during the ceremony."
The Doctor thought better of asking. She wouldn't do anything too illegal while he was there. Probably. Instead he held out a hand and led her onto the floor.
"How many weddings have we attended, River?" he asked, drawing her closer than the strict protocol of the era dictated. She went willingly, nestling her head against his shoulder.
"Spoilers," she whispered into his jacket.
"Really? Just the number?" They swayed in increasingly smaller circles. The Doctor could see Amy watching them from near the buffet table, her mouth open as she called over her shoulder to Rory.
"Oh, it's never just a number with you," River said, recapturing his attention. "First it's how many, then it's what about this one, and next we're wrapped up in a paradox and losing some of the best nights of our lives." She glanced up at him wickedly. "Hypothetically speaking."
The Doctor hummed in acquiescence and they danced in silence for a moment. "We do attend a disproportionate amount, though," he said. "Or is it just me? Maybe you spend loads of time at weddings and I only see the tip of the iceberg. Or I just haven't spent enough time with you to put it in proportion. Or maybe – "
River laughed. "Yes, Doctor, we do seem to be attracted to weddings," she conceded. "Are you getting ideas?"
"Would they be the wrong ones?" he asked, suddenly serious.
River stumbled, and he used the movement to steer them through the balcony door and out into the gardens. The house twinkled behind them as the Doctor took River by the shoulders. "I'm getting tired of not knowing," he told her.
"You can't," River said, breathless. "The timestream – "
"I don't answer to the timestream. The timestream answers to me." He stopped her laughter with a kiss. She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
Later, they walked back to the house, the Doctor's jacket draped over River's shoulders to keep her warm. They stopped just out of sight of the ballroom and River drew him down for another kiss. When she stepped back and shrugged off the jacket, though, the Doctor had a horrible premonition. "River – " he protested.
She only smiled at him. "Not yet, my love," she said, cupping his cheek tenderly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." She pressed the jacket into his arms; he took it resignedly, watching as she rummaged in her evening bag and pulled out her vortex manipulator.
"Goodbye, sweetie," she said, and disappeared.
He pulled the jacket on, inhaling the spicy scent she'd been wearing. "Until we meet again," he murmured, and turned back towards the light.
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Date: 2011-01-11 01:41 pm (UTC)