A/N: Just a little something I felt the need to write.

Crash Course

"No, no, no, no, no. This was not supposed to happen! This is not…I don't even know where I am!"

"You mean where we are?"

The Doctor ran his hand through his wild hair, causing it to spike up in odd angles as he stared down at the control panel on the TARDIS. "Yeah, that too."

River Song gave an exaggerated sigh as she moved towards the windows of the TARDIS. "I thought you knew how to fly this thing."

"I do! It's not my fault that she sometimes takes me where she wants to take me. I fully intended on taking you back home."

"I have exams in the morning you know. I can't miss those! You are going to get me back home, aren't you?"

"Of course I'm going to get you back home-"

"On time?"

"I'm a Time Lord," he answered in rebuttal.

"That's not an answer."

"Time bends at my will."

River frowned, unimpressed. She slowly pushed the door open and the rich sounds of a 1940's orchestra rushed in, followed by the smooth liquor of man's voice in the distance. She clicked her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she stepped outside. "That sounds like Frank Sinatra," she mused, her eyes lighting up. "Did you know I have all of Sinatra's songs? Are we really…" her lips curved as she rotated her head on her shoulders to look at The Doctor. "…you really brought me to see Frank Sinatra?"

"River-" The Doctor stretched out his hand, but she was already out the doors. "Bollocks!" He tore around the central console, down the ramp, and out the doors after her. "River Song, you stop right there!" He rolled his eyes as the words came out of his mouth. Even though this time he was ahead of her in their time stream, she was still the same old River Song he'd met in The Library, albeit much younger and not in a bulky spacesuit.

She rounded a corner up ahead and came to a stop, staring out at an ocean of people all dressed in elegant 1940's attire. A crisp smile drew up the corners of her mouth as she heard The Doctor's trainers squeak up along the floor behind her and felt a woosh of air as he attempted to weave and not run into her. "It looks like a party!" she grinned. "A nineteen-forties party!"

"I hate to disappoint, but we're not in the nineteen-forties."

"Then why are we and why do I hear Frank Sinatra?"

"I'm not exactly sure where we are," he admitted a little too lamely. "But I can tell you when: the fifty-first century."

"Wait, we're in my own century but in the forties?"

"I think they're just throwing a themed party, where ever this is."

"A huh." River nodded her head, her eyes still stuck on the swirling party-goers still dancing in front of her. "So can we go?"

"I don't-"

"You can dance, right?"

"Of course I can dance! I'm over nine-hundred years old, thank you very much. And that's not even counting my years on Gallifrey. Of course I can dance!"

"Well then prove it," she smirked. She edged towards the dance floor. "Dance with me!"

The Doctor slipped his arm around her waist and yanked her back. "Oh no you don't!"

"Why not!"

"Because you're wearing jeans and a sleeveless blouse, that's why not."

"Oh, what?" she barked, causing an elderly woman in a wintergreen evening gown to look her way and scowl over her champagne glass. "My attire not good enough for you? Not as smashing as your pinstriped suit and gaudy trench coat, huh?"

"Gaudy!" he huffed, hauling her back down the corridor towards the TARDIS. "And no," he grumbled. "If I'm going to get caught up in this scheme-"

"Scheme? Scheme? You're one to talk about schemes, you big alien bloke! You're the one who crash landed your big ol' box right onto my phosphorus patch!"

"How many times do we have to go through this?" he groaned. "That wasn't phosphorus, it only looked like phosphorus. It was an army of-"

"I know, I know," she sneered. "An army of rouge Yreka Zzzyx."

"And you shouldn't still be dwelling on that anyway," he added as he pushed her into the TARDIS. "I took you to see the Phosphorus Carousel of the Great Magellan Gestalt! Very VIP, if I might add. Not many humans get to see that! And if I remember correctly, you loved it too. You'll probably impress the knickers off your Professor with the paper you dissertation you write after analyzing that phosphorus. Real galactic gold, that stuff is," he rattled off, "in a manner of speaking."

"And don't forget getting chased back into your ship because of that little theft!"

"And I apologized for that by taking you to Asgard! A picnic in the apple orchard, eating the fruit of the gods? What else do you want before you can accept an apology?"

River folded her arms smugly across her chest. "A dance?"

The Doctor released a nasally noise from the back of his throat and pointed his finger down a narrow corridor off of the central platform. "First left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, fifth door on the left."

"And there I'll find what, exactly?"

"You see. Pick anything you like, but only from the section marked nineteen-forties."

River pinched her lips together as she studied The Doctor, then a sideways grin gradually lengthened along her pink lips. "Fine. I'll be right back!"

The Doctor leaned against the control panel as he watched her dash down the corridor. When the echo of her shoes was gone, he pushed himself off forward and followed her path down the corridor, but turned at the first right instead of the left. A few doors later, he entered what looked like a normal bedroom and pulled back the double doors of a closet, where a simple penguin tux – very James Bond if he had to admit it – hung for just such occasions as this.

As he shed his brown suit, he considered how lucky he was to be part of the masculine sex. Tuxes and suits in general were pretty standard, whereas he figured River's head must be spinning with all the choices she had down in the wardrobe. He zipped up the smooth black slacks, tucked in the crisp pressed shirt, turned to the mirror to adjust the black bowtie, and then slipped on the jacket and crossed his arms to make sure he had adequate arm room. After all, he hadn't worn the suit since at least a few regenerations back. Satisfied, he left the room, positive he'd still have at least ten or fifteen minutes before River was ready.

As The Doctor walked out of the corridor, he found River waiting by the doors, as cool as the morning breeze. She wore a stunning Saturn blue chiffon evening dress, styled after the dresses of the ancient Greek Goddesses. The bodice of the dress was sheeted with overlapping strips of fabric, which drew out into a swishing floor length swaddle of layered skirts which defined River's curves like a sculpture.

River slid her hand to her bare neck, for her bushels of auburn curls had been drawn up into a vintage bun, with soft waves along the sides of her head. Simple diamonds dangled from her earlobes and made a soft tinkling noise as she nervously scratched at her skin. "Well I was going to ask if it was too much," she then motioned her opposite hand to him, "but it looks like I'm not the only one."

"You look…scintillating."

"Oh?" A blush crept into her cheeks, accentuating her attire. "That's a – an impressive adjective, thank you. You look," she motioned her hand, "venerable." Her head inclined, moving from his eyes down his body. "Except for those dirty ol' trainers," she laughed, sounding like a bell in the breeze.

"What?" The Doctor looked down, only then realizing he'd forgotten to put on dress shoes. He couldn't help but chorus in River's laughter. "I could-"

"Don't bother. I want to dance! You'll do." She winked and shoved open the doors, holding one open for him.

"Shouldn't that be my job?"

"I'm not into gender roles," she announced airily. As if to prove her point, she adjusted her arm as soon as he stepped past her, beckoning him to take it. When he did, she gave a little smirk of approval and began to lead him down the hall towards the sound of the music. It still sounded like Sinatra, but the song had changed. "Oh!" River gasped, her eyes practically glowing saucers. "This is my favorite Sinatra!"

The Doctor tilted his head, catching the lyrics. "'Fools Rush In,' that is a good one. You know, I met Frank once, in fact-"

"You did not."

"I did! He's a fine bloke, lovely man, really. In fact-" He shifted abruptly as River's slinky hand slipped around his waist. He squirmed and adjusted, moving his hands to embrace her as she led their dance. He was used to leading, but of course, this was River Song he was with. "You always have to be first," he said out loud, without thinking about it.

"Got a problem with that, Sweetie?" She looked up at him with a condescending smirk.

"Sweetie?" The Doctor tasted the nickname. It was the first time she'd called him that. Well, second time, technically, but not as far as she knew.

"You like that, huh?" River mused.

"I don't know if I like it, but-"

"I think it suits you."

"Why's that?"

"Shhh," she replied, closing her eyes and allowing the music to move her feet. "This is the best part: 'When we met, I felt my life begin…'" She leaned her head against his chest as they churned on the dance floor.

The Doctor felt the vibrations of her voice between his beating hearts as she hummed along with the melody. When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine she was saying those words to him. But he had to remind himself that this was still the early days. He'd only barely met River Song and there was no way she felt about him yet the way she had in The Library. "You have a scintillating voice too," he murmured so softly he was sure she probably couldn't hear him. If she did, she made no move to show it.

As the song faded out, River lifted her face from his chest and released her grasp around his torso. "I'm thirsty," she announced, eyeing the refreshments table across the room. "Bubbly?"

"Sure." The Doctor watched amusedly as she sauntered off towards the table. "Definitely not into gender roles," he repeated. He ran his hand through his hair and began to tap his foot while he waited. The Frank Sinatra impersonator on stage was handing over the microphone to a woman and the dancers were beginning to scatter or change partners before the next number. He began to head towards the stage with the goal of a song request in mind. Three steps forward, however, his shoulder met with someone else's. "'Scuse me!" he quickly chirped. "So sorry!" He caught only a flash of blonde as he brushed his shoulder off.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetie."

The Doctor's head bobbed up at the voice. He could feel his eyes nearly ballooning from their sockets as they met the same eyes he'd been looking into on the dance floor. Well, the same being relative: they were the same, but so much older. Older than present but younger than he remembered. "What!"

"Nice shoes," she commented slyly, glancing down at his dirty trainers.

The Doctor looked her up and down: slinky black evening gown, same luscious pink lips, and – "Blonde hair?"

"You like?" she asked, mock daintily striking a pose with her hand on her pulled up blonde curls.

"What!" he yelped. Panicked, he spin in a circle and as he turned back to her, he shook his head. "What are you doing here!"

"It's a complicated story, Sweetie. I'd fill you in on the details, but I'm on a bit of a deadline." She glanced across the room with narrowed eyes.

Instinctively, he followed her gaze and saw a rather angry looking older looking James Bond wannabe speaking with a couple of men in black berets. As the older man began to turn his head, he felt River's hand grab his face and suddenly pull his face towards hers. For a moment, he was certain she was going to kiss him, until he felt her breath on his ear.

"I'll leave the coordinates on the box."

Before he knew it, he was watching her black dress whip behind her as she marched away in a pair of impossibly high ruby platform heels. He had no idea what her message meant, but he did know one thing: "River!" As he turned around with the destination of the refreshments table in mind, he ran right into her, causing the champagne glass she was holding to spill all across his white shirt. Without explanation, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her in the other direction.

"What are you doing!" she yelped indignantly.

"We've got to go!"

"What? Why!"

"Because…" he pressed his lips together, refusing to tell her it was because she couldn't meet her future. In fact, he figured that would probably only make her want to stay more. "…it's not safe here. I'm sorry. Look," he announced as they rounded the corner, "I'll make it up to you, I promise-"

"That seems to be a theme with you!"

"I know and again, I'm sorry, but you just have to trust me on this." He snapped his fingers and the TARDIS doors swung open before they even reached it. The Doctor impatiently ushered her inside and strode straight to the controls, where he began to push in some random buttons and pull various levers. The TARDIS jerked as it took off.

"What is it with you?" she demanded, holding onto the railing for support as the ship hurdled through the time vortex. "You can't even have a danger free dance!"

"Technically, we did have a danger free dance. A short dance, but a dance all the same." The TARDIS wheezes and groaned as it landed with a grinding thud. "Besides," he spoke as snapped his fingers and watched the doors open. "You have exams, remember?"

The opened doors revealed a sign in the distance. The entire text of the sign couldn't be seen from her vantage point, but she could make out the illuminated word University at the end. She folded her arms, disappointed to be home.

"You can get changed before-" He blinked as she stomped out the doors, still dressed in her 1940's attire. "-you leave." The Doctor tossed his hands into the air. "Or not. Fine then, have it your way!" He moved to the doors and watched as she stomped across the lawn towards the dorm rooms. Several motion detecting lights burst on, casting her into the spotlight and he could see her diamond earrings reflecting the light from where he stood. When she had safely entered her sorority house, he finally pulled the doors closed and leaned against them in silence.

"'I'll leave the coordinates on the box'? What in Skaro is that supposed to mean? Box? What box?" He lumbered up the ramp, mulling over all the possibilities in his head. They were endless. "Obviously she thought I knew what she was talking about. Must'a thought I was further along in her timeline than I am." He ruffled his hair, wondering if he should try going back the blonde River. The problem was: "I don't even know where we were!" Taking a chance, he began to spin a few dials and pull couple gears, hoping the TARDIS would work her magic to take him to exactly where he needed to be.

And from the window of her bedroom, River watched at the navy blue police box faded out of existence. She hadn't said a word to him when she'd left and she still wore the same scowl he'd last seen her with. Truth be told, she really hadn't wanted to leave, but she had a temper and a pride not to be trifled with, which often ended up working against her.

As she picked up the champagne glass he'd spilt, she wondered if she'd ever see him again. The past day she'd spent with him – if it had been a day, she really had no idea – almost seemed like a dream now, or better yet, a childhood fairytale. If she wasn't still dressed in the clothes from his wardrobe, if she didn't still have the glass in hand, she was almost sure she'd believe it wasn't even real. Then she noticed a faint, frosted color on the bottom of the glass. Turning it over and holding it up to the dim light, she noticed the words, Courtesy of the Byzantium.