A Bright Sunshiney Day
Title: A Bright Sunshiney Day
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song
Words: 635
Summary: The Doctor and River have gone boating, on a lake, all by themselves, in a really small boat...
They were in a boat, rowing idly across the lake. Well, River was rowing, the Doctor was draped over the side of the boat goggling down at all the different fishes darting around under the water. Fingers poking.
He almost capsized the boat.
River lifted a dripping oar and smacked him on the backside.
“AH! What? River!” He flipped over and sat down, rubbing his bum.
“In case you didn’t notice, we’re in a boat, Sweetie. If I wanted to swim I wouldn’t have stolen the thing.”
He scowled at her. “We didn’t steal it, we just borrowed it.”
“Uh huh.” She slipped the oar back in its lock and continued pulling, sweat gleamed on her arms. A large floppy sunhat shaded her face, her curls boiled out below like launch steam about to launch it off her head.
He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He leaned forward and propped his face in his hands.
“What are you smiling about?” she demanded, throwing a look over her shoulder to check she was still aiming for the small green island in the center of the lake.
“You,” he said, grinning harder. She was wearing a flowery, flirty little sundress, the muscles in her arms and shoulders flexing as she pulled the oars.
Sunlight dappled the water, sending wavy highlights bouncing off her gleaming skin, off the underside of her hat.
She turned and stared at him, in his shirtsleeves and braces, leaning forward at his ease as she did all the work.
“Right. Here.” She shoved the oars at him. “Your turn.”
He fumbled and caught the oars in surprise. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Row, Sweetie.” River lay back in the sunshine and tipped her hat down over her face, trailing one arm in the water.
The Doctor stared at her. “Right. I can do this.” He started rowing, pushing the oars forward in the water. It was harder than it looked. The island mocked him from the center of the lake.
He lifted the oars and switched them, dripping water on River. She moaned at the cool droplets on her hot skin and he froze at the sound. He stared at her, blinking, his stomach tingling.
He hastily resettled the oars and tried to turn the boat around, shoving one oar forward, one oar back.
All he managed was to turn the boat sideways. The blunt stern of the boat was behind him, refusing to be aerodynamic. They drifted.
“This isn’t working,” he said irritably, vengefully shaking one of the oars, as if it was all their fault. “We need to switch places.”
River tipped up her hat and looked him over slowly. He looked hot and harassed. It was a good look on him.
She smiled a secret little smile. “If you say so, Sweetie.” She stood up languidly, as well balanced as an acrobat on a wire.
He shipped the oars to the sides and stood up. His arms windmilled and the boat bobbled. He shuffled forward, she slipped around him, both of them turning, front to front in the unsteady, confined space.
Her warm hand slipped down over his still stinging bum. He jumped. “River!”
The boat lurched. He yelped. She laughed and whirled him efficiently around and down so he was sitting on her former bench.
She draped herself elegantly down on his stern bench, dress flowing, one leg flung over the side, foot dangling comfortably in the water. She grinned at his outraged look.
The boat only wallowed slightly in the swells. She reached forward and snagged a bunch of grapes from the picnic basket they liberated with the boat.
“Start stroking, Sweetie,” she said naughtily, plucking a juicy red grape from the bunch with lush lips.
He blushed bright red.
She laughed merrily. Nightingales sang. The oars slapped energetically through the water.
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Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song
Words: 635
Summary: The Doctor and River have gone boating, on a lake, all by themselves, in a really small boat...
They were in a boat, rowing idly across the lake. Well, River was rowing, the Doctor was draped over the side of the boat goggling down at all the different fishes darting around under the water. Fingers poking.
He almost capsized the boat.
River lifted a dripping oar and smacked him on the backside.
“AH! What? River!” He flipped over and sat down, rubbing his bum.
“In case you didn’t notice, we’re in a boat, Sweetie. If I wanted to swim I wouldn’t have stolen the thing.”
He scowled at her. “We didn’t steal it, we just borrowed it.”
“Uh huh.” She slipped the oar back in its lock and continued pulling, sweat gleamed on her arms. A large floppy sunhat shaded her face, her curls boiled out below like launch steam about to launch it off her head.
He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He leaned forward and propped his face in his hands.
“What are you smiling about?” she demanded, throwing a look over her shoulder to check she was still aiming for the small green island in the center of the lake.
“You,” he said, grinning harder. She was wearing a flowery, flirty little sundress, the muscles in her arms and shoulders flexing as she pulled the oars.
Sunlight dappled the water, sending wavy highlights bouncing off her gleaming skin, off the underside of her hat.
She turned and stared at him, in his shirtsleeves and braces, leaning forward at his ease as she did all the work.
“Right. Here.” She shoved the oars at him. “Your turn.”
He fumbled and caught the oars in surprise. “What am I supposed to do with these?”
“Row, Sweetie.” River lay back in the sunshine and tipped her hat down over her face, trailing one arm in the water.
The Doctor stared at her. “Right. I can do this.” He started rowing, pushing the oars forward in the water. It was harder than it looked. The island mocked him from the center of the lake.
He lifted the oars and switched them, dripping water on River. She moaned at the cool droplets on her hot skin and he froze at the sound. He stared at her, blinking, his stomach tingling.
He hastily resettled the oars and tried to turn the boat around, shoving one oar forward, one oar back.
All he managed was to turn the boat sideways. The blunt stern of the boat was behind him, refusing to be aerodynamic. They drifted.
“This isn’t working,” he said irritably, vengefully shaking one of the oars, as if it was all their fault. “We need to switch places.”
River tipped up her hat and looked him over slowly. He looked hot and harassed. It was a good look on him.
She smiled a secret little smile. “If you say so, Sweetie.” She stood up languidly, as well balanced as an acrobat on a wire.
He shipped the oars to the sides and stood up. His arms windmilled and the boat bobbled. He shuffled forward, she slipped around him, both of them turning, front to front in the unsteady, confined space.
Her warm hand slipped down over his still stinging bum. He jumped. “River!”
The boat lurched. He yelped. She laughed and whirled him efficiently around and down so he was sitting on her former bench.
She draped herself elegantly down on his stern bench, dress flowing, one leg flung over the side, foot dangling comfortably in the water. She grinned at his outraged look.
The boat only wallowed slightly in the swells. She reached forward and snagged a bunch of grapes from the picnic basket they liberated with the boat.
“Start stroking, Sweetie,” she said naughtily, plucking a juicy red grape from the bunch with lush lips.
He blushed bright red.
She laughed merrily. Nightingales sang. The oars slapped energetically through the water.
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