Texting And Scones
Title: Texting And Scones
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairings: River Song/The Doctor (Rory Pond)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 698
Prompt: River/Eleven - A date involving texting and scones. Posted at the Spoiler_Song Hell In Heels River Song Ficathon
A/N: River may have come out a tad snippy (possibly because I'm feeling awefully restless), but then this is young River and I doubt very much that she would tolerate being ignored by the Doctor for my than 5 seconds. And, yes, might have gone a tad OTT with the meaning of flowers, but it successfully distract me from the strange desire to do a 'Texting and Scones' cross stitch.. which, other than the fact I don't like Scones, would have been totally awesome.
Texting And Scones
She takes a sip of the tea he made her; sweet enough to make her teeth ache and silently apologises to the Tardis as she uses it to water a sturdy looking cheese plant (Affection beyond the grave).
As dates go it’s pretty ordinary and subsequently boring. She takes her second scone off the tiered stand and layers it heavily with cream and sharp Raspberry jam.
She waits patiently for something interesting to happen; a platoon of Judoon to suddenly appear amongst the burgundy Roses (Unconscious beauty) perhaps, but it seems as though everything is quiet on the Judoon front, unlike his incessant tapping.
“What are you doing?” River’s tea cup rattles as she bangs her fist down on the table.
His eyes dart up to her quickly and back down to the device in his lap, “Texting.”
River sighs, aghast. “We’re supposed to be on a date.”
“We are,” he answers bobbing his head up and down, grinning as the phone chimes.
She wipes her fingers on a soft white napkin embroidered with her name and a single white poplar leaf (Time), the Tardis was thoughtful like that, and her eyes narrowing at his giddy expression. “Who are you texting?”
“Rory,” he says quickly sending off another message and taking a sip of his tea.
She stares at him unbelieving for a moment before pushing for clarification. “You’re texting my father while we are on a date?”
“Yup,” he replies eyes darting back to the phone as the screen lights up and it makes another annoying chime. “It’s what one does on a date.”
She pulls a sprig of Lavender (Devotion and distrust) from the little crystal vase that graces the centre of the table and crushes the small flowers between her finger tips. “What do you know of dates?” River laughs.
“Plenty,” he replies, doing his best to look hurt, though she suspects she has done little more than gently drag her nails down his swollen ego. “I had Banana Daiquiris with Reinette Poisson,” he points out, quite clearly enjoying using a French accent, “and I’ve been to quaint alien infested village dances...”
“And I’m sure a lovely time was had by all,” she interrupts.
The Doctor refills their china cups with steaming tea and picks the phone up again. “Rory says ‘hi’ by the way.”
With a near growl River snatches the phone off him. She lifts the delicate lid off of the tea pot, drops his phone in and replaces the blue violet (I will remain faithful, I’ll always be true) and pansy (You occupy my thoughts) lid triumphantly.
“I take it you don’t want to say ‘hi’ back?” he asks hesitantly, fiddling with his bow tie.
River shakes her head. “You promised me a date.”
“And I delivered,” he gestured with a wide swoop of the arms, knocking his sugar bowl over with his elbow. “Texting and scones.”
River lets out weary breath and stopping short of dropping her head into her hands. “Sweetie,” she took his hand in hers ignoring his unconscious flinch as she calmly pressed her thumb into his palm and his long fingers wrapped around it cautiously. “Do I look like a texting and scones kind of girl to you?”
“Well, now that you mention it...” he unfolded his legs, looking out across the garden at the Spindle tree (Your charms, your image is engraved on my heart) with its leaves dipped in pink and leans forward with a confused smile, “Rory said...”
River smiles, her eyes suddenly filling with a tender annoyance, “Oh,” she laughs, “Oh, Doctor, my love, never take dating advice from the father of your intended.”
He dips his head his cheeks flushing the coppery red of an Austrian Rose (Thou art all that is lovely). “Duly noted,” he looks up at her bashfully, “Shall we start again?”
“Not at all,” she answers tugging on his hand as she slides out of her seat, her Cornflower (Hope in love) blue eyes trailing down to the bottom of the garden, “You can tell my father we had a lovely walk in the garden and found mistletoe (Kiss me) growing in the Apple tree (Let me tempt you).”
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairings: River Song/The Doctor (Rory Pond)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 698
Prompt: River/Eleven - A date involving texting and scones. Posted at the Spoiler_Song Hell In Heels River Song Ficathon
A/N: River may have come out a tad snippy (possibly because I'm feeling awefully restless), but then this is young River and I doubt very much that she would tolerate being ignored by the Doctor for my than 5 seconds. And, yes, might have gone a tad OTT with the meaning of flowers, but it successfully distract me from the strange desire to do a 'Texting and Scones' cross stitch.. which, other than the fact I don't like Scones, would have been totally awesome.
Texting And Scones
She takes a sip of the tea he made her; sweet enough to make her teeth ache and silently apologises to the Tardis as she uses it to water a sturdy looking cheese plant (Affection beyond the grave).
As dates go it’s pretty ordinary and subsequently boring. She takes her second scone off the tiered stand and layers it heavily with cream and sharp Raspberry jam.
She waits patiently for something interesting to happen; a platoon of Judoon to suddenly appear amongst the burgundy Roses (Unconscious beauty) perhaps, but it seems as though everything is quiet on the Judoon front, unlike his incessant tapping.
“What are you doing?” River’s tea cup rattles as she bangs her fist down on the table.
His eyes dart up to her quickly and back down to the device in his lap, “Texting.”
River sighs, aghast. “We’re supposed to be on a date.”
“We are,” he answers bobbing his head up and down, grinning as the phone chimes.
She wipes her fingers on a soft white napkin embroidered with her name and a single white poplar leaf (Time), the Tardis was thoughtful like that, and her eyes narrowing at his giddy expression. “Who are you texting?”
“Rory,” he says quickly sending off another message and taking a sip of his tea.
She stares at him unbelieving for a moment before pushing for clarification. “You’re texting my father while we are on a date?”
“Yup,” he replies eyes darting back to the phone as the screen lights up and it makes another annoying chime. “It’s what one does on a date.”
She pulls a sprig of Lavender (Devotion and distrust) from the little crystal vase that graces the centre of the table and crushes the small flowers between her finger tips. “What do you know of dates?” River laughs.
“Plenty,” he replies, doing his best to look hurt, though she suspects she has done little more than gently drag her nails down his swollen ego. “I had Banana Daiquiris with Reinette Poisson,” he points out, quite clearly enjoying using a French accent, “and I’ve been to quaint alien infested village dances...”
“And I’m sure a lovely time was had by all,” she interrupts.
The Doctor refills their china cups with steaming tea and picks the phone up again. “Rory says ‘hi’ by the way.”
With a near growl River snatches the phone off him. She lifts the delicate lid off of the tea pot, drops his phone in and replaces the blue violet (I will remain faithful, I’ll always be true) and pansy (You occupy my thoughts) lid triumphantly.
“I take it you don’t want to say ‘hi’ back?” he asks hesitantly, fiddling with his bow tie.
River shakes her head. “You promised me a date.”
“And I delivered,” he gestured with a wide swoop of the arms, knocking his sugar bowl over with his elbow. “Texting and scones.”
River lets out weary breath and stopping short of dropping her head into her hands. “Sweetie,” she took his hand in hers ignoring his unconscious flinch as she calmly pressed her thumb into his palm and his long fingers wrapped around it cautiously. “Do I look like a texting and scones kind of girl to you?”
“Well, now that you mention it...” he unfolded his legs, looking out across the garden at the Spindle tree (Your charms, your image is engraved on my heart) with its leaves dipped in pink and leans forward with a confused smile, “Rory said...”
River smiles, her eyes suddenly filling with a tender annoyance, “Oh,” she laughs, “Oh, Doctor, my love, never take dating advice from the father of your intended.”
He dips his head his cheeks flushing the coppery red of an Austrian Rose (Thou art all that is lovely). “Duly noted,” he looks up at her bashfully, “Shall we start again?”
“Not at all,” she answers tugging on his hand as she slides out of her seat, her Cornflower (Hope in love) blue eyes trailing down to the bottom of the garden, “You can tell my father we had a lovely walk in the garden and found mistletoe (Kiss me) growing in the Apple tree (Let me tempt you).”