[doctor who fic] how to snuggle with your time lady in five easy steps (2/6), pg
How to Snuggle with Your Time Lady in 5 Easy Steps
- doctor who
- river/doctor
- pg
- 2130
- for tenacious_err - happy (belated) birthday, sweetie!
- aka, five times river and the doctor cuddle, and one time they don't.
- i really wish this title weren't my fault. but it is. forgive me.
part one
"Okay. Right. Well," he says, "The good news is the TARDIS isn't that far, and if we make a run for it after the last rotation, we'll probably get there before morning and anyone finds out we're missing."
River tests the far wall of the cell, searching for weaknesses. "And the bad news?"
He turns, sonic in hand, and waves it over his shoulder toward the door. "Wooden lock."
"Seriously?"
"It's not my fault certain civilizations haven't embraced metal yet!" he almost whines, whacking the sonic against his palm in a vain attempt to get it to work. "Besides, we wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't shot the High Chancellor."
River scoffs, tapping her knuckles against an indented stone. "I barely scratched him."
"I think it's the intent they imprisoned us for," he returns hotly.
"They were going to kill her!" she protests, glaring at him heatedly. "I wasn't going to just stand there."
The Doctor sighs, running a hand through his hair briefly before he turns to face her. "We don't always have a choice, River," he says, as gently as possible. "Sometimes we have to just--"
She scoffs loudly and moves to another section of the wall searching the wall for crevasses deep enough to hold onto. "Coming from you?"
"I'm older. I've done…things like this so many times now, it's…it's not always the right choice."
She stops suddenly, and the surprise on her face and in her tone makes his chest tighten. "You wouldn't have helped her?"
"I never said that. I'll always help, however I can. Sometimes that means being patient, sometimes it means acting without thinking…sometimes it means making terrible, terrible sacrifices for the greater good."
He looks away guiltily, and her eyes widen in realisation.
"This isn't the first time they've done this," she says, barely a question. "You wanted to stop them, permanently." She looks down. "And I ruined it."
Shocked, the Doctor snaps his gaze to her and quickly shakes his head. "Of course you didn't. Why would you say that?"
River opens her mouth to respond - "I just figured…" - but the rest of the words die on her tongue. The Doctor smiles and steps closer, crooking a finger under her chin to lift her gaze.
"Nothing happened that can't be fixed," he assures her. "We'll still help, River. And you saved her, even when I might not have--"
She shakes her head, touching his shoulder briefly in comfort. "You'd have found a way."
She sounds so sure that for a moment, he almost believes it.
"So," she begins, stepping away and reconsidering the dank walls. "No way out?"
He grins, slipping his screwdriver back into his pocket. "There's always a way out," he counters, "Just not yet. We'll have to wait until morning."
"Are you going to fill me in this time?" she demands, hands on her hips, pouting just slightly. He tries not to laugh at the image. "I can't actually read your mind, you know. That little detail you mentioned would have helped immensely before I shot the king."
"High Chancellor," he corrects absently. She rolls her eyes. "But if I'd filled you in, you might not have saved the girl."
River narrows her eyes, suddenly defensive. "So you're what? Testing me?"
But the Doctor shakes his head, almost embarrassed. "No. You've proven yourself a thousand times over, River. I'm just…" He shrugs, hands fluttering aimlessly. "letting you find your own way."
He hesitates, then hazards a glance in her direction. Her shoulders are still tight, her stance tense, but there's a strange look on her face, somewhere between confusion and gratitude.
"Thank you," she murmurs quietly, a long, gentle silence stretching between them before the Doctor whirls suddenly, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
"Right then! We need a plan. Ooh, planning shenanigans, I love this part, this is the best part. And together!" He bops her on the nose. "Extra betterness."
River smirks in amusement.
The Doctor moves around her, pushing against the wall and pressing his ear against the stones. She's about to inform him she tried that already when he frowns, licks his finger and holds it up toward the high, barred window.
"Another thing I failed to mention," he starts nervously, scratching his chin. "The rotation of this planet's a lot slower than Earth's, due to the gravitational pull of the fourteen surrounding moons and a bit of a- a- a…sticky wicket, if you will…with a meteor about sixteen hundred years ago." He pauses and wrinkles his nose slightly in consideration. "Well, I say meteor, what I really mean is more of a sun that accidentally went supernova…and then collapsed into a black hole when I tried to redirect its course."
River arches an eyebrow at him, looking both amused and unimpressed. "Accidentally."
"I apologised!" he insists, waving his arms carelessly. "The point is, the seasons here tend to be a bit…well, manic…well, I say manic, what I really mean is…every, oh, forty-eight hours. Give or take."
"Forty-eight hour seasons."
"Yes."
"So when I commented earlier about the heat and you ridiculed me for it…"
"That was actually a reasonable observation, yes."
"Ah."
"The point is, the planet goes through seven seasons in approximately fifty-two hours and nineteen minutes, and we've been here twenty-six hours and-" he checks his watch. "-eleven minutes, in which case we have about six minutes before the season of Sclet begins."
"And Sclet is…"
"The coldest season recorded on every planet from here to Alvega within the last twelve centuries."
"Which would explain the lack of other prisoners or holding cells I noticed earlier."
"Yes."
"Another observation you insulted me for."
He sighs dramatically. "I was trying to distract you."
"From the fact that everyone who's ever been held captive here…"
"Froze to death."
"Ah."
"Precisely."
"Well."
"Yes."
She pauses, then adds in all seriousness: "That certainly is a sticky wicket."
The Doctor opens his mouth to respond, then notices the expression on her face - tight muscles, bright eyes, lips pursed in a barely contained smirk. He glares. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"
Her smirk turns into a wide smile, disproportionate to her consoling tone. "Just a bit, sweetie."
"It's a good word!" he protests, shaking a finger at her. "A perfect word, in fact."
"Actually it's two words."
"I know it's two words."
"I never said you didn't."
She's smiling, a soft, almost fond lift to her lips as she meets his gaze, and he can't help but admit that he's come to love that expression - not the coy smirks or teasing lilts, though he loves those too, but simply the free, relaxed expression she wears so rarely when she's this young. They're both young, an older version of herself had assured him, both young and just beginning and he can't help but marvel at that, their strange synchronisity.
He realises after a moment that he's staring, still smiling in return; she looks away when she notices, all her quick bravado crumbling in the intimacy of the moment, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously.
It's one of the most endearing, heart-warming sights he's seen in a long, long time.
A sharp gasp draws him away from his thoughts, and he suddenly notices the temperature - freezing cold and dropping rapidly. River's eyes widen and she instantly wraps her arms around her centre, curling in on herself. Frost covers the ground and stone and door in a matter of seconds, and he barely has time to cross to her side before she's shivering.
"Oh," she gasps out, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. The Doctor quickly pulls her into a corner of the cell and tugs her with him to the floor. "What are y-you doing?"
"We'll have to share body heat if we want to stay warm," he says, pulling off his jacket and forcing her into it despite her protests. River tenses under his touch, pulling away slightly.
"River?"
She swallows, torn between the warmth radiating from his body and the panic in her throat, the voice in her head telling her to stay far, far away.
The Doctor frowns, cataloguing his motions, his words, searching for a trigger. She shudders suddenly and he instinctively pulls her in, a hand curled around her upper arm and she jumps at the contact more than the cold.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, the words unbidden and hoarse.
She looks up sharply, eyes wide with guilt. "No -- no, Doctor, I know that," she assures him; she wants to touch him, but her hands are frozen and curled into fists. "No, it's just--" She shivers again, and her words dissipate.
The Doctor worries his lip and taps his foot against the icy floor. "River," he starts carefully, "You have done the Borous Islands?" She tilts her head up to look at him. "I mean. We have...you know...together...and, um..."
He looks so nervous that she can't help but smile, even though the cold burns her lips. "Yes."
The Doctor exhales in relief, then wrinkles his forehead in confusion. "Then…"
She shrugs, willing her body to relax, to move closer. "I don't know," she admits, barely above a whisper. "I've never…" she starts, then bites her lip. "I never stay - or stayed - I suppose, so I've never just…"
Nodding slowly, the Doctor presses a kiss to her forehead in silent acknowledgement of her confession. "Well, I'll have you know that cuddling, River Song, is the absolute best part of being in a relationship."
She laughs shortly. "Oh, really?"
"Absolutely," he says firmly, pressing her closer. She moves warily, slowly adjusting to his proximity, his arm heavy and warm around her waist. "Other parts are good too, of course, but cuddling is a wonderful way to show affection." Pause. "And, in this case, not die of hypothermia."
"There is always that." She sighs, shifting close enough to rest her head on his shoulder, their torsos and legs aligned. "I have to admit, I thought for a minute that this scenario fell under Rule One."
The Doctor blinks in confusion. "Why would I lie about this?"
"I don't know," she manages, teeth chattering against each other. "I figured you were aiming for a conjugal visit or something."
"A what?" Pause. Splutter: "No! What-- no! River!" He lowers his voice to a hiss. "We can't do that, we're in prison!"
She tries to answer, but her body's shaking and her throat already hurts from the icy air. The Doctor repositions his arm around her under his jacket, running his hand up and down her side. He coaxes her carefully to slide her legs over his, initiating as much body contact as possible.
"A-aren't you c-cold?" she manages, face pressed into his neck for warmth.
"A bit," he lies, suppressing a shudder, "But I'm a Time Lord, my physiology's more advanced, more easily adaptable. You've got those pesky humany bits in you." He pauses. "Sorry about that."
He imagines her rolling her eyes, but she says nothing, just tucks her face into his neck. She's quiet a long time, and he keeps careful track of her breathing, making sure she doesn't drift off. It's a comfortable silence, but something nags at him, an uncomfortable knot in his chest that won't come undone; her words, vice-like around his hearts.
She seems to sense this, somehow, and nudges him with her shoulder. "Doctor?"
He remains silent, hesitant and unnerved. It's all still new, still strange and brilliant and beautiful and he doesn't want to wreck it, he finds, this fragile thing between them. But she's waiting, she's always waiting, and he owes it to her, if not this her than another her in time; he owes her honesty.
"I'd never ask you to leave, you know," he says finally, so quietly, just barely a murmur against her hair. "I'd never want you to."
She doesn't respond. The seconds stretch out, taught and wiry, and his breath catches in his throat and clings there. Her muscles tense and her shoulders draw back and in the minutes after that she doesn't move at all. He's made her angry, somehow; insulted her independence or her past or some hidden part of her he's still learning. He's ruined something; ruined at the very least the moment between them.
"River," he begins, trying to find a way to apologise, to back out; and then he feels it, soft against his neck, a single tear almost hot against his chilled skin. She doesn't face him or reply, but her hands snake under his shirt, one on his chest and one on his back and she curls herself into his side, lips fluttering a kiss over his pulse.
By the time the door opens the next morning and the guards come in, their skin has warmed and her lips aren't blue and when they make their escape, she grabs his hand as they run.
part three
- doctor who
- river/doctor
- pg
- 2130
- for tenacious_err - happy (belated) birthday, sweetie!
- aka, five times river and the doctor cuddle, and one time they don't.
- i really wish this title weren't my fault. but it is. forgive me.
part one
"Okay. Right. Well," he says, "The good news is the TARDIS isn't that far, and if we make a run for it after the last rotation, we'll probably get there before morning and anyone finds out we're missing."
River tests the far wall of the cell, searching for weaknesses. "And the bad news?"
He turns, sonic in hand, and waves it over his shoulder toward the door. "Wooden lock."
"Seriously?"
"It's not my fault certain civilizations haven't embraced metal yet!" he almost whines, whacking the sonic against his palm in a vain attempt to get it to work. "Besides, we wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't shot the High Chancellor."
River scoffs, tapping her knuckles against an indented stone. "I barely scratched him."
"I think it's the intent they imprisoned us for," he returns hotly.
"They were going to kill her!" she protests, glaring at him heatedly. "I wasn't going to just stand there."
The Doctor sighs, running a hand through his hair briefly before he turns to face her. "We don't always have a choice, River," he says, as gently as possible. "Sometimes we have to just--"
She scoffs loudly and moves to another section of the wall searching the wall for crevasses deep enough to hold onto. "Coming from you?"
"I'm older. I've done…things like this so many times now, it's…it's not always the right choice."
She stops suddenly, and the surprise on her face and in her tone makes his chest tighten. "You wouldn't have helped her?"
"I never said that. I'll always help, however I can. Sometimes that means being patient, sometimes it means acting without thinking…sometimes it means making terrible, terrible sacrifices for the greater good."
He looks away guiltily, and her eyes widen in realisation.
"This isn't the first time they've done this," she says, barely a question. "You wanted to stop them, permanently." She looks down. "And I ruined it."
Shocked, the Doctor snaps his gaze to her and quickly shakes his head. "Of course you didn't. Why would you say that?"
River opens her mouth to respond - "I just figured…" - but the rest of the words die on her tongue. The Doctor smiles and steps closer, crooking a finger under her chin to lift her gaze.
"Nothing happened that can't be fixed," he assures her. "We'll still help, River. And you saved her, even when I might not have--"
She shakes her head, touching his shoulder briefly in comfort. "You'd have found a way."
She sounds so sure that for a moment, he almost believes it.
"So," she begins, stepping away and reconsidering the dank walls. "No way out?"
He grins, slipping his screwdriver back into his pocket. "There's always a way out," he counters, "Just not yet. We'll have to wait until morning."
"Are you going to fill me in this time?" she demands, hands on her hips, pouting just slightly. He tries not to laugh at the image. "I can't actually read your mind, you know. That little detail you mentioned would have helped immensely before I shot the king."
"High Chancellor," he corrects absently. She rolls her eyes. "But if I'd filled you in, you might not have saved the girl."
River narrows her eyes, suddenly defensive. "So you're what? Testing me?"
But the Doctor shakes his head, almost embarrassed. "No. You've proven yourself a thousand times over, River. I'm just…" He shrugs, hands fluttering aimlessly. "letting you find your own way."
He hesitates, then hazards a glance in her direction. Her shoulders are still tight, her stance tense, but there's a strange look on her face, somewhere between confusion and gratitude.
"Thank you," she murmurs quietly, a long, gentle silence stretching between them before the Doctor whirls suddenly, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
"Right then! We need a plan. Ooh, planning shenanigans, I love this part, this is the best part. And together!" He bops her on the nose. "Extra betterness."
River smirks in amusement.
The Doctor moves around her, pushing against the wall and pressing his ear against the stones. She's about to inform him she tried that already when he frowns, licks his finger and holds it up toward the high, barred window.
"Another thing I failed to mention," he starts nervously, scratching his chin. "The rotation of this planet's a lot slower than Earth's, due to the gravitational pull of the fourteen surrounding moons and a bit of a- a- a…sticky wicket, if you will…with a meteor about sixteen hundred years ago." He pauses and wrinkles his nose slightly in consideration. "Well, I say meteor, what I really mean is more of a sun that accidentally went supernova…and then collapsed into a black hole when I tried to redirect its course."
River arches an eyebrow at him, looking both amused and unimpressed. "Accidentally."
"I apologised!" he insists, waving his arms carelessly. "The point is, the seasons here tend to be a bit…well, manic…well, I say manic, what I really mean is…every, oh, forty-eight hours. Give or take."
"Forty-eight hour seasons."
"Yes."
"So when I commented earlier about the heat and you ridiculed me for it…"
"That was actually a reasonable observation, yes."
"Ah."
"The point is, the planet goes through seven seasons in approximately fifty-two hours and nineteen minutes, and we've been here twenty-six hours and-" he checks his watch. "-eleven minutes, in which case we have about six minutes before the season of Sclet begins."
"And Sclet is…"
"The coldest season recorded on every planet from here to Alvega within the last twelve centuries."
"Which would explain the lack of other prisoners or holding cells I noticed earlier."
"Yes."
"Another observation you insulted me for."
He sighs dramatically. "I was trying to distract you."
"From the fact that everyone who's ever been held captive here…"
"Froze to death."
"Ah."
"Precisely."
"Well."
"Yes."
She pauses, then adds in all seriousness: "That certainly is a sticky wicket."
The Doctor opens his mouth to respond, then notices the expression on her face - tight muscles, bright eyes, lips pursed in a barely contained smirk. He glares. "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"
Her smirk turns into a wide smile, disproportionate to her consoling tone. "Just a bit, sweetie."
"It's a good word!" he protests, shaking a finger at her. "A perfect word, in fact."
"Actually it's two words."
"I know it's two words."
"I never said you didn't."
She's smiling, a soft, almost fond lift to her lips as she meets his gaze, and he can't help but admit that he's come to love that expression - not the coy smirks or teasing lilts, though he loves those too, but simply the free, relaxed expression she wears so rarely when she's this young. They're both young, an older version of herself had assured him, both young and just beginning and he can't help but marvel at that, their strange synchronisity.
He realises after a moment that he's staring, still smiling in return; she looks away when she notices, all her quick bravado crumbling in the intimacy of the moment, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously.
It's one of the most endearing, heart-warming sights he's seen in a long, long time.
A sharp gasp draws him away from his thoughts, and he suddenly notices the temperature - freezing cold and dropping rapidly. River's eyes widen and she instantly wraps her arms around her centre, curling in on herself. Frost covers the ground and stone and door in a matter of seconds, and he barely has time to cross to her side before she's shivering.
"Oh," she gasps out, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. The Doctor quickly pulls her into a corner of the cell and tugs her with him to the floor. "What are y-you doing?"
"We'll have to share body heat if we want to stay warm," he says, pulling off his jacket and forcing her into it despite her protests. River tenses under his touch, pulling away slightly.
"River?"
She swallows, torn between the warmth radiating from his body and the panic in her throat, the voice in her head telling her to stay far, far away.
The Doctor frowns, cataloguing his motions, his words, searching for a trigger. She shudders suddenly and he instinctively pulls her in, a hand curled around her upper arm and she jumps at the contact more than the cold.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he says, the words unbidden and hoarse.
She looks up sharply, eyes wide with guilt. "No -- no, Doctor, I know that," she assures him; she wants to touch him, but her hands are frozen and curled into fists. "No, it's just--" She shivers again, and her words dissipate.
The Doctor worries his lip and taps his foot against the icy floor. "River," he starts carefully, "You have done the Borous Islands?" She tilts her head up to look at him. "I mean. We have...you know...together...and, um..."
He looks so nervous that she can't help but smile, even though the cold burns her lips. "Yes."
The Doctor exhales in relief, then wrinkles his forehead in confusion. "Then…"
She shrugs, willing her body to relax, to move closer. "I don't know," she admits, barely above a whisper. "I've never…" she starts, then bites her lip. "I never stay - or stayed - I suppose, so I've never just…"
Nodding slowly, the Doctor presses a kiss to her forehead in silent acknowledgement of her confession. "Well, I'll have you know that cuddling, River Song, is the absolute best part of being in a relationship."
She laughs shortly. "Oh, really?"
"Absolutely," he says firmly, pressing her closer. She moves warily, slowly adjusting to his proximity, his arm heavy and warm around her waist. "Other parts are good too, of course, but cuddling is a wonderful way to show affection." Pause. "And, in this case, not die of hypothermia."
"There is always that." She sighs, shifting close enough to rest her head on his shoulder, their torsos and legs aligned. "I have to admit, I thought for a minute that this scenario fell under Rule One."
The Doctor blinks in confusion. "Why would I lie about this?"
"I don't know," she manages, teeth chattering against each other. "I figured you were aiming for a conjugal visit or something."
"A what?" Pause. Splutter: "No! What-- no! River!" He lowers his voice to a hiss. "We can't do that, we're in prison!"
She tries to answer, but her body's shaking and her throat already hurts from the icy air. The Doctor repositions his arm around her under his jacket, running his hand up and down her side. He coaxes her carefully to slide her legs over his, initiating as much body contact as possible.
"A-aren't you c-cold?" she manages, face pressed into his neck for warmth.
"A bit," he lies, suppressing a shudder, "But I'm a Time Lord, my physiology's more advanced, more easily adaptable. You've got those pesky humany bits in you." He pauses. "Sorry about that."
He imagines her rolling her eyes, but she says nothing, just tucks her face into his neck. She's quiet a long time, and he keeps careful track of her breathing, making sure she doesn't drift off. It's a comfortable silence, but something nags at him, an uncomfortable knot in his chest that won't come undone; her words, vice-like around his hearts.
She seems to sense this, somehow, and nudges him with her shoulder. "Doctor?"
He remains silent, hesitant and unnerved. It's all still new, still strange and brilliant and beautiful and he doesn't want to wreck it, he finds, this fragile thing between them. But she's waiting, she's always waiting, and he owes it to her, if not this her than another her in time; he owes her honesty.
"I'd never ask you to leave, you know," he says finally, so quietly, just barely a murmur against her hair. "I'd never want you to."
She doesn't respond. The seconds stretch out, taught and wiry, and his breath catches in his throat and clings there. Her muscles tense and her shoulders draw back and in the minutes after that she doesn't move at all. He's made her angry, somehow; insulted her independence or her past or some hidden part of her he's still learning. He's ruined something; ruined at the very least the moment between them.
"River," he begins, trying to find a way to apologise, to back out; and then he feels it, soft against his neck, a single tear almost hot against his chilled skin. She doesn't face him or reply, but her hands snake under his shirt, one on his chest and one on his back and she curls herself into his side, lips fluttering a kiss over his pulse.
By the time the door opens the next morning and the guards come in, their skin has warmed and her lips aren't blue and when they make their escape, she grabs his hand as they run.
part three