Fic: The Doctor's Honeymoon (Eleven/River)
Oct. 7th, 2011 04:54 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carmen_ljTitle: The Doctor's Honeymoon
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Eleven/River
Summary: What happened after The Wedding of River Song.
The Doctor’s Honeymoon
“Normally I’m rubbish at weddings,” said the Doctor. “But I think that one went quite well.”
“Married at the top of a pyramid in an alternate universe with aliens trying to kill us?” River smiled. “Perfect. Now, I believe a dance is traditional.” She offered him her hand and he swept her out of her Stormcage cell, down the corridor and into the TARDIS, spinning all the way.
“Dancing done,” said the Doctor, as he closed the TARDIS doors. “What’s next?”
“Honeymoon,” said River, leaning in close and giving him a surprisingly chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.
The Doctor grinned. “Of course, but where?”
“Surprise me,” whispered River, her breathe tickling his ear.
The Doctor turned to look at her for a long moment, his eyes holding hers, and then a slow smile spread across his face. He nodded. “As you wish, Doctor Song. Prepare to be surprised.”
She was surprised. They both were. The TARDIS doors opened to reveal they’d materialised on a very small, very lifeless planetoid.
River pursed her lips as she stood in the open doorway, scanning the barren landscape. “How romantic,” she said.
“Of course it is!” said the Doctor, waving a hand upwards. “Look at all those stars, aren’t they magnificent? Have you ever seen quite so many beautiful, starry stars?” Before she could retort, he leaned forward and kissed her. His fingers wound through her hair as she grabbed his shoulders and pressed him closer.
River pulled away first, cupped his face in her hands. Her expression was gentle, the tension she normally carried within herself, that need for the constant awareness of the when and the who, had melted away. “Nice distraction,” she said.
“I thought so,” said the Doctor. His voice was low, his eyes dark. He leaned in for another kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
“Surprise me, I said.”
“I did!”
“A good surprise.”
“What about the amazing kiss I just gave you!”
“Not a surprise, my love, I’ve kissed you before.”
“Yes, but…” He shook his head, perplexed. Wasn’t she supposed to be chasing him? Somewhere along the line there’d been a subtle shift, one he hadn’t even noticed. He turned back to the console. “Right, old girl, let’s try this again.” He lowered his face to the console, his lips almost brushing against the visual stabilisers as he whispered, “Come on, gorgeous, I promise a nice long refit of the HAD system if you get this right.”
“Are you flirting with your ship again?” asked River.
-
Finally, they got lucky.
In the middle of the night, the Doctor and River giggled like children as they slipped past locked gates, stole a bottle of wine and two glasses from Le Jules Verne restaurant, and raced to the top of the Eiffel Tower. River teased him about taking all his dates to Paris but the Doctor didn’t care. He’d fallen in love three times in this city, and here he was again with this mad and brilliant and wonderful woman.
“You shouldn’t have to be in prison,” said the Doctor, as he poured the wine, handed River her glass.
“It’s not much of a prison.” She took a sip and gazed out at the city below, a million tiny lights marking out the streets and buildings. “They’re very lax with their security, I’ve found.”
“I don’t care,” said the Doctor.
She looked at him, her expression serious. “I’m doing it to keep your secret. Let me help you.”
“You’re not guilty.”
“I did kill you.”
“And saved me.”
“I broke reality.”
“And we fixed it.”
“I’m staying,” she said. She reached out to him, the back of her hand brushing his fingers. “I’m protecting you, whether you like it or not.”
He was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m leaving you a key.”
“Already have one.” She produced a shiny metal rectangle from a pocket.
“Where d’you get that?” he asked, half impressed, half irritated at being outmanoeuvred.
“I’m very good with my hands.”
He caught her eye, put his wine glass carefully to one side and smiled. “Prove it,” he said.
-
Back in the TARDIS, River took out her diary and began to write. She glanced up at the Doctor as he paced around the console, playing with co-ordinates.
“Does everyone think you’re dead?” she asked. “I mean, absolutely everyone?”
“It’s now a well-recorded historical fact with plenty of very convincing evidence to back it up,” said the Doctor. “So, yes, I’d say so.”
“Including my mother?”
He hesitated. “Well…”
“Oh, Doctor.”
“I’m supposed to be dead. Everybody has to think I’m dead. That’s the plan, River. It’s a good plan. I like the plan.”
“I know you’re alive.”
“One exception. One.” He held up a finger as he spoke. She tried to stifle a laugh as he suddenly reminded her of one of her old archaeology professors. “River, this is serious,” he insisted. “I don’t want to be a legend or a monster or a prayer. At most, I want to be a story. A very old story that no-one believes anymore.”
“All right, sweetie, all right, but if Amy asks about you, I’m telling her. I won’t lie to her about this, about you.”
-
After stopping a royal assassination on Peladon, thwarting an Earth invasion of Mars, and solving the mystery of the Seven Dead Gods, they arrived at the lakes of Arian VI, where the Doctor solemnly promised he’d meant to land and it was definitely not another piece of luck.
They sailed out onto one of the vast silvery lake, their boat hovering a few centimetres above the water, not making the smallest ripple in the perfect mirror still surface. The lake was filled with giant fish striped in purple and blue and pink, and if they looked over the edge of their boat, they could see all the way to the bottom.
“It’s been a long time since I was married. On purpose, I mean. Got engaged a lot though.” The Doctor spun the wheel round, adjusting their course.
“I know,” said River, lounging on the deck, eyes half-closed, her face tilted up at the suns. “I have a list.”
The Doctor frowned. “A list of what, exactly?”
“Oh, just people. Who you’ve married, who you’ve divorced, who you’ve left at the altar and who’s carrying something of a homicidal grudge for said altar leaving. Where and when you’re still married, so we probably shouldn’t go, especially the places where they get a little tetchy about bigamy.” She shrugged. “That sort of thing.”
“I see,” said the Doctor, his eyes falling to River’s diary. “Maybe I should just take a quick-”
The diary vanished into River’s jacket. “Probably not a good idea. Though remind me to ask you about that ex of yours who thinks that blowing up planets is a good way to get you back into bed. He sounds-”
“Dangerous,” the Doctor interrupted. “And before you say anything, no, very much not the fun sort of dangerous. The awful sort. Anyway, he’s dead.”
“Would you like me to try that?”
“What?”
“Blowing up planets,” she said, her eyes widening innocently.
“No!”
“Just joking, sweetie.”
The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. “Right. Good.”
“Probably.”
“River!”
-
They were on a space station in the Alpha Draconis system where diplomats from the Earth Empire and Draconia were meeting to forge an alliance. Which was entirely irrelevant to the reason to the Doctor had landed there.
“River, did you start an interstellar diplomatic incident while I was getting the milk?” he asked, hurrying into the station’s arboretum.
She did look rather embarrassed. The Doctor would’ve thought it fetching if it hadn’t for all the very angry, war-threatening diplomats he’d just passed in the corridors. “There may have been a slight misunderstanding somewhere along the line,” she said. “Something about how weapons are banned on the station on account of the conference.”
He winced. “River, you have to stop carrying a gun.”
“You’re carrying a sonic screwdriver.”
“That’s completely different!”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is it?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor firmly, and affectionately. His hand dipping into his coat pocket to give the sonic a reassuring pat.
In the distance, they could hear the sound of booted feet.
“We should probably leave,” said River.
“Interstellar incident, River. You might have stared a war! We have to go fix it. Don’t worry, I’m a noble of Draconia, they’ll listen to me. Soon have this all sorted out.”
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she reminded him.
“Right…well… plan B: I don’t tell them who I am. I’ll just be some passing interested party, happy to muck in and help out.”
Some hours later, he’d finished helping out.
“You got shot!” said River.
“Yes, but at least now they all just want to kill me instead of each other,” he said, looking absurdly pleased with himself as they stumbled back to the TARDIS, the Doctor cradling his wounded arm.
-
They were supposed to have materialised on the near the rings of Saturn, instead they were in the middle of the Cheematak Forest riding giant snails up the vast trunks of thousand year old trees.
“Fertility rites,” the Doctor had muttered after he’d come back from speaking with the town elder, looking awkward as hell.
“What has climbing a tree on a giant snail got to do with fertility?” asked River.
The Doctor shrugged. “They’re quite insistent. Very, threateningly insistent. Something about divine retribution and fire pits if we don’t go along with it.”
“And this is why you shouldn’t tell random aliens that we’re just married,” said River.
“But I like saying it. It’s different, and new, and I won’t get to say it for very long.”
“If you keep saying it,” said River, “I’m going to start introducing you as Doctor Song.”
At the top of the tree, the trunk split and flowered outwards, interlocking with other trees to form a platform strong enough to stand on. The Doctor and River unharnessed themselves from their snails, and let the great gastropods move away to graze on the soft bark.
River took his hand as they walked across the canopy. “I have to go back,” she said.
The Doctor looked at her, uncomprehending. “We just got up here. I mean, we don’t have to…you know, but it’s a lovely view.”
“To Stormcage, Doctor. I’ve got to go back. Tomorrow morning.”
He shook his head. “Why tomorrow? Why not next week? Next month?”
“Or next year?” she said. Her smile was soft, and sad. “It’s been a week. That’s long enough. If I don’t draw a line somewhere, then I’ll just keep making excuses, and I’ll never go back.”
“River…”
“We still have today,” she said.
“And tonight.”
Her smile warmed. “And after that, I’ll see you again soon, I promise.”
-
“Normally,” said the Doctor, “I’m even worse at honeymoons than I am at weddings. I think, all things considered, that went well.”
River slipped her arms around him and pulled him back down to the bed. It was still a few hours until morning. “Incredibly well,” she agreed.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Eleven/River
Summary: What happened after The Wedding of River Song.
The Doctor’s Honeymoon
“Normally I’m rubbish at weddings,” said the Doctor. “But I think that one went quite well.”
“Married at the top of a pyramid in an alternate universe with aliens trying to kill us?” River smiled. “Perfect. Now, I believe a dance is traditional.” She offered him her hand and he swept her out of her Stormcage cell, down the corridor and into the TARDIS, spinning all the way.
“Dancing done,” said the Doctor, as he closed the TARDIS doors. “What’s next?”
“Honeymoon,” said River, leaning in close and giving him a surprisingly chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth.
The Doctor grinned. “Of course, but where?”
“Surprise me,” whispered River, her breathe tickling his ear.
The Doctor turned to look at her for a long moment, his eyes holding hers, and then a slow smile spread across his face. He nodded. “As you wish, Doctor Song. Prepare to be surprised.”
She was surprised. They both were. The TARDIS doors opened to reveal they’d materialised on a very small, very lifeless planetoid.
River pursed her lips as she stood in the open doorway, scanning the barren landscape. “How romantic,” she said.
“Of course it is!” said the Doctor, waving a hand upwards. “Look at all those stars, aren’t they magnificent? Have you ever seen quite so many beautiful, starry stars?” Before she could retort, he leaned forward and kissed her. His fingers wound through her hair as she grabbed his shoulders and pressed him closer.
River pulled away first, cupped his face in her hands. Her expression was gentle, the tension she normally carried within herself, that need for the constant awareness of the when and the who, had melted away. “Nice distraction,” she said.
“I thought so,” said the Doctor. His voice was low, his eyes dark. He leaned in for another kiss, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips.
“Surprise me, I said.”
“I did!”
“A good surprise.”
“What about the amazing kiss I just gave you!”
“Not a surprise, my love, I’ve kissed you before.”
“Yes, but…” He shook his head, perplexed. Wasn’t she supposed to be chasing him? Somewhere along the line there’d been a subtle shift, one he hadn’t even noticed. He turned back to the console. “Right, old girl, let’s try this again.” He lowered his face to the console, his lips almost brushing against the visual stabilisers as he whispered, “Come on, gorgeous, I promise a nice long refit of the HAD system if you get this right.”
“Are you flirting with your ship again?” asked River.
-
Finally, they got lucky.
In the middle of the night, the Doctor and River giggled like children as they slipped past locked gates, stole a bottle of wine and two glasses from Le Jules Verne restaurant, and raced to the top of the Eiffel Tower. River teased him about taking all his dates to Paris but the Doctor didn’t care. He’d fallen in love three times in this city, and here he was again with this mad and brilliant and wonderful woman.
“You shouldn’t have to be in prison,” said the Doctor, as he poured the wine, handed River her glass.
“It’s not much of a prison.” She took a sip and gazed out at the city below, a million tiny lights marking out the streets and buildings. “They’re very lax with their security, I’ve found.”
“I don’t care,” said the Doctor.
She looked at him, her expression serious. “I’m doing it to keep your secret. Let me help you.”
“You’re not guilty.”
“I did kill you.”
“And saved me.”
“I broke reality.”
“And we fixed it.”
“I’m staying,” she said. She reached out to him, the back of her hand brushing his fingers. “I’m protecting you, whether you like it or not.”
He was silent for a moment. “Fine,” he said, “but I’m leaving you a key.”
“Already have one.” She produced a shiny metal rectangle from a pocket.
“Where d’you get that?” he asked, half impressed, half irritated at being outmanoeuvred.
“I’m very good with my hands.”
He caught her eye, put his wine glass carefully to one side and smiled. “Prove it,” he said.
-
Back in the TARDIS, River took out her diary and began to write. She glanced up at the Doctor as he paced around the console, playing with co-ordinates.
“Does everyone think you’re dead?” she asked. “I mean, absolutely everyone?”
“It’s now a well-recorded historical fact with plenty of very convincing evidence to back it up,” said the Doctor. “So, yes, I’d say so.”
“Including my mother?”
He hesitated. “Well…”
“Oh, Doctor.”
“I’m supposed to be dead. Everybody has to think I’m dead. That’s the plan, River. It’s a good plan. I like the plan.”
“I know you’re alive.”
“One exception. One.” He held up a finger as he spoke. She tried to stifle a laugh as he suddenly reminded her of one of her old archaeology professors. “River, this is serious,” he insisted. “I don’t want to be a legend or a monster or a prayer. At most, I want to be a story. A very old story that no-one believes anymore.”
“All right, sweetie, all right, but if Amy asks about you, I’m telling her. I won’t lie to her about this, about you.”
-
After stopping a royal assassination on Peladon, thwarting an Earth invasion of Mars, and solving the mystery of the Seven Dead Gods, they arrived at the lakes of Arian VI, where the Doctor solemnly promised he’d meant to land and it was definitely not another piece of luck.
They sailed out onto one of the vast silvery lake, their boat hovering a few centimetres above the water, not making the smallest ripple in the perfect mirror still surface. The lake was filled with giant fish striped in purple and blue and pink, and if they looked over the edge of their boat, they could see all the way to the bottom.
“It’s been a long time since I was married. On purpose, I mean. Got engaged a lot though.” The Doctor spun the wheel round, adjusting their course.
“I know,” said River, lounging on the deck, eyes half-closed, her face tilted up at the suns. “I have a list.”
The Doctor frowned. “A list of what, exactly?”
“Oh, just people. Who you’ve married, who you’ve divorced, who you’ve left at the altar and who’s carrying something of a homicidal grudge for said altar leaving. Where and when you’re still married, so we probably shouldn’t go, especially the places where they get a little tetchy about bigamy.” She shrugged. “That sort of thing.”
“I see,” said the Doctor, his eyes falling to River’s diary. “Maybe I should just take a quick-”
The diary vanished into River’s jacket. “Probably not a good idea. Though remind me to ask you about that ex of yours who thinks that blowing up planets is a good way to get you back into bed. He sounds-”
“Dangerous,” the Doctor interrupted. “And before you say anything, no, very much not the fun sort of dangerous. The awful sort. Anyway, he’s dead.”
“Would you like me to try that?”
“What?”
“Blowing up planets,” she said, her eyes widening innocently.
“No!”
“Just joking, sweetie.”
The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. “Right. Good.”
“Probably.”
“River!”
-
They were on a space station in the Alpha Draconis system where diplomats from the Earth Empire and Draconia were meeting to forge an alliance. Which was entirely irrelevant to the reason to the Doctor had landed there.
“River, did you start an interstellar diplomatic incident while I was getting the milk?” he asked, hurrying into the station’s arboretum.
She did look rather embarrassed. The Doctor would’ve thought it fetching if it hadn’t for all the very angry, war-threatening diplomats he’d just passed in the corridors. “There may have been a slight misunderstanding somewhere along the line,” she said. “Something about how weapons are banned on the station on account of the conference.”
He winced. “River, you have to stop carrying a gun.”
“You’re carrying a sonic screwdriver.”
“That’s completely different!”
She raised her eyebrows. “Is it?”
“Yes,” said the Doctor firmly, and affectionately. His hand dipping into his coat pocket to give the sonic a reassuring pat.
In the distance, they could hear the sound of booted feet.
“We should probably leave,” said River.
“Interstellar incident, River. You might have stared a war! We have to go fix it. Don’t worry, I’m a noble of Draconia, they’ll listen to me. Soon have this all sorted out.”
“You’re supposed to be dead,” she reminded him.
“Right…well… plan B: I don’t tell them who I am. I’ll just be some passing interested party, happy to muck in and help out.”
Some hours later, he’d finished helping out.
“You got shot!” said River.
“Yes, but at least now they all just want to kill me instead of each other,” he said, looking absurdly pleased with himself as they stumbled back to the TARDIS, the Doctor cradling his wounded arm.
-
They were supposed to have materialised on the near the rings of Saturn, instead they were in the middle of the Cheematak Forest riding giant snails up the vast trunks of thousand year old trees.
“Fertility rites,” the Doctor had muttered after he’d come back from speaking with the town elder, looking awkward as hell.
“What has climbing a tree on a giant snail got to do with fertility?” asked River.
The Doctor shrugged. “They’re quite insistent. Very, threateningly insistent. Something about divine retribution and fire pits if we don’t go along with it.”
“And this is why you shouldn’t tell random aliens that we’re just married,” said River.
“But I like saying it. It’s different, and new, and I won’t get to say it for very long.”
“If you keep saying it,” said River, “I’m going to start introducing you as Doctor Song.”
At the top of the tree, the trunk split and flowered outwards, interlocking with other trees to form a platform strong enough to stand on. The Doctor and River unharnessed themselves from their snails, and let the great gastropods move away to graze on the soft bark.
River took his hand as they walked across the canopy. “I have to go back,” she said.
The Doctor looked at her, uncomprehending. “We just got up here. I mean, we don’t have to…you know, but it’s a lovely view.”
“To Stormcage, Doctor. I’ve got to go back. Tomorrow morning.”
He shook his head. “Why tomorrow? Why not next week? Next month?”
“Or next year?” she said. Her smile was soft, and sad. “It’s been a week. That’s long enough. If I don’t draw a line somewhere, then I’ll just keep making excuses, and I’ll never go back.”
“River…”
“We still have today,” she said.
“And tonight.”
Her smile warmed. “And after that, I’ll see you again soon, I promise.”
-
“Normally,” said the Doctor, “I’m even worse at honeymoons than I am at weddings. I think, all things considered, that went well.”
River slipped her arms around him and pulled him back down to the bed. It was still a few hours until morning. “Incredibly well,” she agreed.
