Girls' Night Out, River/Doctor (Lumley), PG-13 (Romance)
Pairing: River Song/Doctor (Joanna Lumley) with Doctor/Master overtones
Challenge: 60 Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I suppose this counts for AU, crack, and other things. Oh, and watch out for the mentions of het (but not really, except that it appears gender is wibbly wobbly, too.)
Spoilers: Up to and Including “Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead” as well as Steven Moffat’s not-canon-but-should-be “Curse of the Fatal Death." You don't to have seen the latter; I've summed up the important bits within the fic.
Girls' Night Out
River was just putting the final touches on her report from the Atlantis dig when the door burst open and a woman charged in. She looked upset. River quickly ran through all the people she’d traded words with that day and came up with several people who were not blonde, lipsticked, or . . . wearing a very low-cut top. River was fully aware she was staring, and the woman who burst into her office knew, too, but with a top like that, she was asking for it. The stranger smiled a wide grin and leaned down over River’s desk.
“They are nice, aren’t they?” The woman nodded down to her chest, then frowned. “He doesn’t seem to think so. Which is exactly my problem and why I came to you.” She pulled up a chair, tossed the papers that had been piled on it to the floor, and sat like she was perfectly at home.
“I need womanly advice, from a woman,” the stranger continued. “You were the first person I thought of, considering the area of expertise I need. I suppose I could have gone to Jack, but there is one can of worms I just don’t want to open. So I thought ‘female Jack’ and you came to mind. This century is bad for some things, but perfect for others. And at this point, I think we can talk about anything. Oh! How rude of me, rambling on like this before a proper hello. How are you doing, River, my dear? Still digging up anachronisms I planted to trip you up?”
The words “Should I know you” were halfway out of River’s mouth before she realized that she knew that smile (on slightly different lips,) those eyes (without the makeup,) even that self-satisfied slouch and those uncrossed legs (with radically different shapes.) Most importantly, she knew the only person arrogant enough to burst through the door while she was in the middle of the most important dig of the century and toss her papers on the floor.
“Doctor,” she admonished because he just waltzed in without first letting her consult her diary. River was on uneven turf in the time-space continuum, and she hated feeling out of the loop. And this was a pretty big loop to be left out of. She went to open her drawer where she kept the blue book for safekeeping, but the Doctor told her to never mind that old piece of junk. She wouldn’t need it.
“All right, fine,” River said as she rose and walked around to the other side of her desk, “You know, I remember that one time where you wore that little red number to get into the sultan’s harem, but I think this is taking your cross-dressing habits to new heights. I was unaware that regeneration could affect gender.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later,” the Doctor waved her hand and crossed her legs. “Care to help?”
“If you’re asking me to buy you a few drinks downcity in which time you will tell me everything, then yes, I believe I can fit you in to my busy schedule.”
“You were always so kind to me, Professor Song.”
It turned out that the Doctor was past his regenerative limit, but regenerated anyway into his current female form. His fiancé (who was his companion, the lying sack of “I don’t sleep with companions”) left him after he became a her (“But we’re still good friends.”) and from there, she (he?) and the Master had a bit of a thing (“Yes, he’s still alive. I’ll explain later,”) and now they’d hit a bit of a rough patch (again) and the romance was dead (“as a doornail, no, a coffin nail!”)
“And to make matters worse,” the Doctor moaned over her seriously pink and glittery drink, “He says he preferred the old me.”
“Your previous regenerations?”
“Yes, of course, what other me is there? Oh, don’t tell me that thing escaped again. I swear, you turn your back one minute on a parallel world and wham! the impenetrable walls spread open like some back alley tart.”
“You’ve a bit of a foul mouth this time around,” River laughed around the rim of her glass.
The Doctor raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Problem?”
“No, sir,” River smirked. “I quite like it.” She lifted her legs up on the chair beside her. Face turned towards the Doctor, she studied her old friend. “How do you want me to help you?”
“Oh, I think what we’re doing is quite enough.” The Doctor smiled, but River could sense there were words behind her tongue that she was keeping down. “I just would like to go out with a dear friend and have a drink. Forget a silly little argument and move on.”
“So you and him are through? For good?”
“Yes. No. Well, I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
River caught the Doctor staring down at her own chest for the fortieth time that night. She watched as the Doctor hitched up her top a little higher. She observed her smacking her lips, licking the gloss straight off them. It was the Doctor, yes, but at the same time, it wasn't. River watched these habits, and she began to get the idea. “I’m going to tell you what your problem is,” River told her after another round of drinks. “And then you’re going to sort yourself out.”
“Pushy,” the Doctor frowned at her.
“You like it rough, sweetie.” River shot back at her with a smile on her face. “You look in the mirror and see a beautiful woman. Strong bone structure, a gorgeous smile, beautiful blonde hair. It’s a woman with curves, hips and breasts thousands of girls want and thousands of lovers crave. It’s a woman’s body that dons all the right clothes and wears all the right makeup. How long have you been wearing her?”
“About a month now,” the Doctor answered.
“Then you’re trying too hard.”
“Trying too hard for what?”
“To be a woman.” River took advantage of the floundering Doctor, sliding her drink away and taking both of the Doctor’s hands in her own. “You’ve faced the most heinous creatures the universe could throw at you: Cybermen, Daleks, Ice Warriors, Sea Devils, traffic jams in New New York. You’re the bravest man I know, the one that I would trust without a moment’s hesitation. But if there is one thing you cannot face, it’s women. Mother’s especially, but I don’t think either of you are ready to talk children. Let me tell you something, Doctor. You’re not a woman. Biologically, you are one fine female specimen. Psychologically, you’re one hell of an emotionally retarded male. Most are, don’t worry. You have to stop trying to fit your new body and start using it. You’re still you, Doctor, just with . . . different bits.”
The Doctor grinned. “Fun bits.”
“Very fun,” River agreed, “I’ve been wanting to cop a feel all night.”
The Doctor batted River’s outstretched hands away. “Don’t take advantage of a woman on the rebound.”
“You’re not a woman. I mean that. You have to stop thinking in terms of biological imperative. You’re the Doctor. Now that the newness of your new body has worn off everything, your sex life is waning and you’re getting grumpy. You've probably spent most of your time in the bedroom, which means little time spent doing Doctor-y things. Now that your significant other has flown the coop, you're left being the Doctor, which you haven't got accustomed to yet in your current state." River leveled a look at the Doctor, “If you came to me to ask fore advice on how to spice up your love life, you’ve probably come to the right source, but I won't be helping you get back together with him. On the other hand, if you’ve come for a night of dirty dancing, then I have to ask: Doctor, what took you so long?”
The Doctor’s upper lips quirked, and was followed by the twitch of the corner of her mouth.
“I’ll show you all sorts of fun things, and then I can write about them in my journal. It’s high time that old book saw itself some action.”
The Doctor finally laughed. “You fifty-first century types. The first sign of a gorgeous sentient being and you’re all after the same thing.”
“Ah, Doctor. Modest as usual, I see. If there is one thing your habit of changing faces has taught me, it’s that you fall in love with a person, not a body. I want you to get back on your feet.”
“You’re just after me for my new breasts.” The Doctor snatched back her drink.
“I admit, they’ve struck my fancy.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“Yours certainly is, or you wouldn’t have come to me for a girl's night out. That is one thing I'd never thought we'd have together. Not the part about you being a woman, but more the fact that you actually had a love life to lose in the first place." River nudged the Doctor's shin with her foot. "Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll have you forgetting all about him by night’s end.”
“And just how do you plan on doing that?”
River sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I’ll explain later.”
Challenge: 60 Romance
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: I suppose this counts for AU, crack, and other things. Oh, and watch out for the mentions of het (but not really, except that it appears gender is wibbly wobbly, too.)
Spoilers: Up to and Including “Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead” as well as Steven Moffat’s not-canon-but-should-be “Curse of the Fatal Death." You don't to have seen the latter; I've summed up the important bits within the fic.
Girls' Night Out
River was just putting the final touches on her report from the Atlantis dig when the door burst open and a woman charged in. She looked upset. River quickly ran through all the people she’d traded words with that day and came up with several people who were not blonde, lipsticked, or . . . wearing a very low-cut top. River was fully aware she was staring, and the woman who burst into her office knew, too, but with a top like that, she was asking for it. The stranger smiled a wide grin and leaned down over River’s desk.
“They are nice, aren’t they?” The woman nodded down to her chest, then frowned. “He doesn’t seem to think so. Which is exactly my problem and why I came to you.” She pulled up a chair, tossed the papers that had been piled on it to the floor, and sat like she was perfectly at home.
“I need womanly advice, from a woman,” the stranger continued. “You were the first person I thought of, considering the area of expertise I need. I suppose I could have gone to Jack, but there is one can of worms I just don’t want to open. So I thought ‘female Jack’ and you came to mind. This century is bad for some things, but perfect for others. And at this point, I think we can talk about anything. Oh! How rude of me, rambling on like this before a proper hello. How are you doing, River, my dear? Still digging up anachronisms I planted to trip you up?”
The words “Should I know you” were halfway out of River’s mouth before she realized that she knew that smile (on slightly different lips,) those eyes (without the makeup,) even that self-satisfied slouch and those uncrossed legs (with radically different shapes.) Most importantly, she knew the only person arrogant enough to burst through the door while she was in the middle of the most important dig of the century and toss her papers on the floor.
“Doctor,” she admonished because he just waltzed in without first letting her consult her diary. River was on uneven turf in the time-space continuum, and she hated feeling out of the loop. And this was a pretty big loop to be left out of. She went to open her drawer where she kept the blue book for safekeeping, but the Doctor told her to never mind that old piece of junk. She wouldn’t need it.
“All right, fine,” River said as she rose and walked around to the other side of her desk, “You know, I remember that one time where you wore that little red number to get into the sultan’s harem, but I think this is taking your cross-dressing habits to new heights. I was unaware that regeneration could affect gender.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain later,” the Doctor waved her hand and crossed her legs. “Care to help?”
“If you’re asking me to buy you a few drinks downcity in which time you will tell me everything, then yes, I believe I can fit you in to my busy schedule.”
“You were always so kind to me, Professor Song.”
It turned out that the Doctor was past his regenerative limit, but regenerated anyway into his current female form. His fiancé (who was his companion, the lying sack of “I don’t sleep with companions”) left him after he became a her (“But we’re still good friends.”) and from there, she (he?) and the Master had a bit of a thing (“Yes, he’s still alive. I’ll explain later,”) and now they’d hit a bit of a rough patch (again) and the romance was dead (“as a doornail, no, a coffin nail!”)
“And to make matters worse,” the Doctor moaned over her seriously pink and glittery drink, “He says he preferred the old me.”
“Your previous regenerations?”
“Yes, of course, what other me is there? Oh, don’t tell me that thing escaped again. I swear, you turn your back one minute on a parallel world and wham! the impenetrable walls spread open like some back alley tart.”
“You’ve a bit of a foul mouth this time around,” River laughed around the rim of her glass.
The Doctor raised her perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Problem?”
“No, sir,” River smirked. “I quite like it.” She lifted her legs up on the chair beside her. Face turned towards the Doctor, she studied her old friend. “How do you want me to help you?”
“Oh, I think what we’re doing is quite enough.” The Doctor smiled, but River could sense there were words behind her tongue that she was keeping down. “I just would like to go out with a dear friend and have a drink. Forget a silly little argument and move on.”
“So you and him are through? For good?”
“Yes. No. Well, I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
River caught the Doctor staring down at her own chest for the fortieth time that night. She watched as the Doctor hitched up her top a little higher. She observed her smacking her lips, licking the gloss straight off them. It was the Doctor, yes, but at the same time, it wasn't. River watched these habits, and she began to get the idea. “I’m going to tell you what your problem is,” River told her after another round of drinks. “And then you’re going to sort yourself out.”
“Pushy,” the Doctor frowned at her.
“You like it rough, sweetie.” River shot back at her with a smile on her face. “You look in the mirror and see a beautiful woman. Strong bone structure, a gorgeous smile, beautiful blonde hair. It’s a woman with curves, hips and breasts thousands of girls want and thousands of lovers crave. It’s a woman’s body that dons all the right clothes and wears all the right makeup. How long have you been wearing her?”
“About a month now,” the Doctor answered.
“Then you’re trying too hard.”
“Trying too hard for what?”
“To be a woman.” River took advantage of the floundering Doctor, sliding her drink away and taking both of the Doctor’s hands in her own. “You’ve faced the most heinous creatures the universe could throw at you: Cybermen, Daleks, Ice Warriors, Sea Devils, traffic jams in New New York. You’re the bravest man I know, the one that I would trust without a moment’s hesitation. But if there is one thing you cannot face, it’s women. Mother’s especially, but I don’t think either of you are ready to talk children. Let me tell you something, Doctor. You’re not a woman. Biologically, you are one fine female specimen. Psychologically, you’re one hell of an emotionally retarded male. Most are, don’t worry. You have to stop trying to fit your new body and start using it. You’re still you, Doctor, just with . . . different bits.”
The Doctor grinned. “Fun bits.”
“Very fun,” River agreed, “I’ve been wanting to cop a feel all night.”
The Doctor batted River’s outstretched hands away. “Don’t take advantage of a woman on the rebound.”
“You’re not a woman. I mean that. You have to stop thinking in terms of biological imperative. You’re the Doctor. Now that the newness of your new body has worn off everything, your sex life is waning and you’re getting grumpy. You've probably spent most of your time in the bedroom, which means little time spent doing Doctor-y things. Now that your significant other has flown the coop, you're left being the Doctor, which you haven't got accustomed to yet in your current state." River leveled a look at the Doctor, “If you came to me to ask fore advice on how to spice up your love life, you’ve probably come to the right source, but I won't be helping you get back together with him. On the other hand, if you’ve come for a night of dirty dancing, then I have to ask: Doctor, what took you so long?”
The Doctor’s upper lips quirked, and was followed by the twitch of the corner of her mouth.
“I’ll show you all sorts of fun things, and then I can write about them in my journal. It’s high time that old book saw itself some action.”
The Doctor finally laughed. “You fifty-first century types. The first sign of a gorgeous sentient being and you’re all after the same thing.”
“Ah, Doctor. Modest as usual, I see. If there is one thing your habit of changing faces has taught me, it’s that you fall in love with a person, not a body. I want you to get back on your feet.”
“You’re just after me for my new breasts.” The Doctor snatched back her drink.
“I admit, they’ve struck my fancy.”
“And they say romance is dead.”
“Yours certainly is, or you wouldn’t have come to me for a girl's night out. That is one thing I'd never thought we'd have together. Not the part about you being a woman, but more the fact that you actually had a love life to lose in the first place." River nudged the Doctor's shin with her foot. "Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll have you forgetting all about him by night’s end.”
“And just how do you plan on doing that?”
River sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. “I’ll explain later.”