Corndog - (11th Doctor, River Song)
Title: Corndog
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song
Words: 239
Summary: River's armed, she's annoyed, and not even the Doctor is immune from her wrath...
River hit him over the head with a corndog.
"Ah! What was that for?" he demanded, shaking his head and watching as cornbread husks fell onto the shoulders of his tweed jacket.
"Because you deserved it." River said, scowling at him.
"Why?" he asked plaintively. "No, wait, don't tell me. Spoilers," he guessed. "I haven't done it yet." He sighed, resigned.
"Not this time, Sweetie."
He frowned at her, she glared at him. "Look down," she said, her voice grated.
He stared down. He was standing on her toes. He grimaced, he was wearing his boots, and she was wearing open toed sandals with her toenails painted a lovely light pearlescent pink.
He quickly moved his foot. Her big toe was bright red. Grit stuck to her foot from his boot.
He dropped down on all fours and stared at her foot, carefully brushing the grit away. He peered at her bright red, creased, toe, concerned.
"Sweetie, if you kiss my toe, I swear, I'll..." her voice trailed off. He stared up. She had the most conflicted look on her face, half naughty, half annoyed.
He grinned, right there in front of the hot dog booth. "You'll what?"
She glared at him. "I'm not entirely sure," she mused. "But I'm fairly certain it will involve another crumpled corn dog."
He bit his lip. He looked down at her poor abused toe, then looked back up at her. And grinned.
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Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song
Words: 239
Summary: River's armed, she's annoyed, and not even the Doctor is immune from her wrath...
River hit him over the head with a corndog.
"Ah! What was that for?" he demanded, shaking his head and watching as cornbread husks fell onto the shoulders of his tweed jacket.
"Because you deserved it." River said, scowling at him.
"Why?" he asked plaintively. "No, wait, don't tell me. Spoilers," he guessed. "I haven't done it yet." He sighed, resigned.
"Not this time, Sweetie."
He frowned at her, she glared at him. "Look down," she said, her voice grated.
He stared down. He was standing on her toes. He grimaced, he was wearing his boots, and she was wearing open toed sandals with her toenails painted a lovely light pearlescent pink.
He quickly moved his foot. Her big toe was bright red. Grit stuck to her foot from his boot.
He dropped down on all fours and stared at her foot, carefully brushing the grit away. He peered at her bright red, creased, toe, concerned.
"Sweetie, if you kiss my toe, I swear, I'll..." her voice trailed off. He stared up. She had the most conflicted look on her face, half naughty, half annoyed.
He grinned, right there in front of the hot dog booth. "You'll what?"
She glared at him. "I'm not entirely sure," she mused. "But I'm fairly certain it will involve another crumpled corn dog."
He bit his lip. He looked down at her poor abused toe, then looked back up at her. And grinned.
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