Repairs and Maintenance - (11th Doctor, River Song)
Title: Repairs and Maintenance
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song
Words: 413
Summary: River is doing maintenance on the Tardis; the Doctor disapproves.
“River! Get your hands out of my Tardis!”
River looked down from where she was rewiring the navigational sensors underneath the console deck. The Doctor stomped up and pulled her oily hands down. He glowered at her and lightly bit her knuckle with an exasperated twinkle in his eye.
Her eyes twinkled back. He was so cute when he was huffy.
“I was just realigning the navigational buffers, Sweetie. They’re too lax.”
“I like them lax, it’s more fun that way!” he protested, waving one hand expressively up at the console.
“That’s because you don’t care where you end up. I like knowing I’m going to get where I’m going,” River pointed out.
“Boring,” he sing-songed.
“Yes, I know you think so, Sweetie. But there is a time for promptness.” She gently withdrew her hands from his, although she did love the warm grip of his long fingers. She wiped her hands on the rag she had tucked in her waistband.
He plopped his hands on his hips and leaned forward. He tapped her on the nose. “Time machine.” He pointed out. “We can always be prompt, it just sometimes takes a few tries.”
“It wouldn’t have to take a few tries if you maintained proper maintenance,” River said, arching a finely drawn eyebrow.
“Ah!” he gasped in shock at that unfair accusation. “I am always working on the Tardis!”
“Yes, yes,” she patted him on the cheek, leaving a smudge of oil. The Tardis hummed around them. “But how much of that is actual maintenance and how much is just fiddling about?” she gave him a wide eyed, pursed lipped look.
His eyes fell wide in indignation. “I do not fiddle about!”
She grinned at him, a thoroughly naughty, dark eyed grin. “Yes you do, Sweetie,” she said in a husky voice. She gave him a slow, soft kiss.
He blushed crimson. He flapped his hands. “We aren’t talking about that!”
Truly, if he went any redder his ears would explode.
She grinned, she liked him flustered.
“I will have you know I am constantly doing maintenance on the Tardis, there is not a circuit or system I haven’t repaired over the centuries!”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really!”
She crouched down and picked up the micron shunt out of the toolbox. She looked up at him slyly. “Chameleon circuit?”
He stared at her, appalled. He quickly jumped sideways in front of the dimensional controls, arms outstretched protectively. He stared at her in horror.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
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Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, River Song
Words: 413
Summary: River is doing maintenance on the Tardis; the Doctor disapproves.
“River! Get your hands out of my Tardis!”
River looked down from where she was rewiring the navigational sensors underneath the console deck. The Doctor stomped up and pulled her oily hands down. He glowered at her and lightly bit her knuckle with an exasperated twinkle in his eye.
Her eyes twinkled back. He was so cute when he was huffy.
“I was just realigning the navigational buffers, Sweetie. They’re too lax.”
“I like them lax, it’s more fun that way!” he protested, waving one hand expressively up at the console.
“That’s because you don’t care where you end up. I like knowing I’m going to get where I’m going,” River pointed out.
“Boring,” he sing-songed.
“Yes, I know you think so, Sweetie. But there is a time for promptness.” She gently withdrew her hands from his, although she did love the warm grip of his long fingers. She wiped her hands on the rag she had tucked in her waistband.
He plopped his hands on his hips and leaned forward. He tapped her on the nose. “Time machine.” He pointed out. “We can always be prompt, it just sometimes takes a few tries.”
“It wouldn’t have to take a few tries if you maintained proper maintenance,” River said, arching a finely drawn eyebrow.
“Ah!” he gasped in shock at that unfair accusation. “I am always working on the Tardis!”
“Yes, yes,” she patted him on the cheek, leaving a smudge of oil. The Tardis hummed around them. “But how much of that is actual maintenance and how much is just fiddling about?” she gave him a wide eyed, pursed lipped look.
His eyes fell wide in indignation. “I do not fiddle about!”
She grinned at him, a thoroughly naughty, dark eyed grin. “Yes you do, Sweetie,” she said in a husky voice. She gave him a slow, soft kiss.
He blushed crimson. He flapped his hands. “We aren’t talking about that!”
Truly, if he went any redder his ears would explode.
She grinned, she liked him flustered.
“I will have you know I am constantly doing maintenance on the Tardis, there is not a circuit or system I haven’t repaired over the centuries!”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, really!”
She crouched down and picked up the micron shunt out of the toolbox. She looked up at him slyly. “Chameleon circuit?”
He stared at her, appalled. He quickly jumped sideways in front of the dimensional controls, arms outstretched protectively. He stared at her in horror.
“You wouldn’t dare!”
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