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quirkysmuseFandom: Doctor Who
Title: Our Precarious Dance
Author: Paynesgrey
Word Count: 230
Characters/Pairings: River Song/Eleventh Doctor
Rated: PG
Genre Romance
Spoilers/Warnings: Current to Season 6. No warnings.
Notes: Written for the "Light" contest at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
who_contest.
Summary: When he kisses her, he always sees light.
When he kisses her, he sees nothing but light. Always, like the universe changing and forming all over again before him. Backward and forward, he feels it when he holds her - the impact of matter, the surge of fire and the swirling of dust before it all explodes anew.
He doesn’t know why, or how. He’s been with others, but it was never like this. He can’t put his finger on the safety in it. There is no completion where he can weigh his thoughts, no assurance there is a middle between this beginning and end.
I’ve seen you die, River, he thinks automatically when he meets her eyes. It’s a fixed point he cannot (nor wouldn’t) change. The end result is clear, but the journey - well, it never is, nor ever will be.
Drawing him back, she kisses him again as his thoughts engulf him like a flare.
There is still time, he thinks - too optimistically. How many times are left for them? There are possibilities, and the risk in it, the allure of them fills his chest with hopeful warmth.
So many in-betweens and sideways, a complicated and precarious dance all over the web of time.
Pulling her closer, tighter - she smiles into his lips.
If that’s the case, he muses through a joyful haze. Better not waste another second of it.
Title: Our Precarious Dance
Author: Paynesgrey
Word Count: 230
Characters/Pairings: River Song/Eleventh Doctor
Rated: PG
Genre Romance
Spoilers/Warnings: Current to Season 6. No warnings.
Notes: Written for the "Light" contest at
who_contest. Summary: When he kisses her, he always sees light.
When he kisses her, he sees nothing but light. Always, like the universe changing and forming all over again before him. Backward and forward, he feels it when he holds her - the impact of matter, the surge of fire and the swirling of dust before it all explodes anew.
He doesn’t know why, or how. He’s been with others, but it was never like this. He can’t put his finger on the safety in it. There is no completion where he can weigh his thoughts, no assurance there is a middle between this beginning and end.
I’ve seen you die, River, he thinks automatically when he meets her eyes. It’s a fixed point he cannot (nor wouldn’t) change. The end result is clear, but the journey - well, it never is, nor ever will be.
Drawing him back, she kisses him again as his thoughts engulf him like a flare.
There is still time, he thinks - too optimistically. How many times are left for them? There are possibilities, and the risk in it, the allure of them fills his chest with hopeful warmth.
So many in-betweens and sideways, a complicated and precarious dance all over the web of time.
Pulling her closer, tighter - she smiles into his lips.
If that’s the case, he muses through a joyful haze. Better not waste another second of it.
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