He watched from the doorway. She'd been in there for hours. He wasn't allowed in her room right now. Not while she was writing that novel. Yowzah. He thought belatedly, grinning at its heroine from behind her head. She sat facing away from him, her amazing hair still put back, an amazing mess. Still in that black dress. He heard the clicking of the antique typewriter as she wrote. Hair illuminated by the antique lamp she had in her room on the TARDIS. It was more of a suite really. The TARDIS did spoil her child, he thought briefly.

A very familiar voice broke the silence, "Just because you're being quiet for once doesn't mean that I don't know that you're there."

"Alright, am I bothering you? If I am bothering you I'll go." The Doctor offered unsure of his own seriousness. He certainly didn't want to go. He leaned into the room further, taking a few steps into River's room.

River replied somewhat stiffly, "Just no peeking honey. I'm doing my best to make this novel helpful." She turned slightly allowing their eyes to make contact for a moment.

The Doctor smiled, "Not just helpful dear. Yowzah!"

"I'll do my best dear." River replied impatiently.

"No need. It will be as yowzah as it's heroine."

"I'm happy you find fictionalized me so appealing dear, now will you please let me finish?" River snapped back at him.

"River what is wrong? First your wrist and the lies, and the slapping and now this? What could be so wrong that you couldn't tell me?" The Doctor stepped closer, not like he hadn't read the beginning of the story already.

"I always slap you." River mumbled out moving her hands away from the typewriter at last.

"But not for kissing you. Slapping for kissing. Kissing then slapping. It hurt! I thought you liked the kissing. I rather like the kissing. And the rest of it." The Doctor rambled contentedly, looking at River. She looked beautiful by the lamplight. Absolutely yowzah! Even angry at him.

River finally stood to look at him, "You know what I told you."

"Yes. Ageless God, twelve-year-old face. Hurts. The wrist too." The Doctor repeated half-heartedly.

"Do you want to take a break, go somewhere? We could dance at the opening party of the first human space cruise ship. The Vista Prime." The Doctor's hand went to her wrist.

"Husband shut up!" River shouted.

She heard the noises of her Vortex Manipulator. She was still wearing it

and then they were elsewhere.

"Sweetie where are we?" River asked. As her husband swiftly removed the Vortex Manipulator and stuck it into his pocket. She glanced around what looked like an luxury room on a cruise ship. Taking up a large amount of real estate in the main room was a king-sized canopy bed with extra pillows. Two bedside tables, a large dresser and a small couch. A screen was built into the wall. This was obviously not 2012 anymore.

He replied rubbing his hands together eagerly, "I told you, opening night, Vista Prime. Amazing party. Live band. Dancing. Almost as good as a wedding."

"What about the TARDIS?"

"Parked safe and sound in Central Park. Nobody will bother it until we get back." The Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and absentmindedly scanned around for anything that might cause trouble later on this evening.

"I thought you hated Vortex Manipulators. Cheap and nasty time travel wasn't it?. And we don't even have the wardrobe. And whose room is this? Won't they notice we're here?" River questioned her husband exasperatedly.

Doctor reached for card on the bedside table and handed it to his wife, "It's our room, see right after we zap back to the TARDIS I am going to go and reserve us a luxury cabin on this cruise. With extra pillows. As for wardrobe you look fantastic."

"I haven't even showered sweetie, not since New York." River replied taking the card from her completely mad husband's hand. It read The Doctor and Mrs. River Song.

The Doctor smiled, "Well if you want, wife, we can take a shower and get redressed. Or I can arrange to pop here before we get here with the TARDIS and load the dresser with whatever you like." His tone was delightfully eager.

River sighed, "Oh come off it, you want to go dance? Let's go." And with that she pulled her husband out of the room and towards wherever the damn ballroom was. All she had to do was follow the faint sound of music.

When they reached the dance floor the orchestra was slowing into a slow song. Some dancers left the floor in droves for the bar. Others paired off and continued to dance.

The ballroom stretched out like a soccer field. Beautiful tables sat around the edge of the dance floor. The large bar occupied one corner staffed by ten bartenders hurried fixing and fetching drinks.

Servers walked around with trays of snacks and fancy pastries. Everyone was dressed impeccably. Some of the women wore the craziest fascinators upon their heads. Everyone was eating and laughing and drinking and dancing in the dim light.

A huge skylight was above their heads, showing off incredible views of the stars outside.

It was perfect, the Doctor thought. Exactly what his beautiful but cranky wife needs.

"So you just going to stand there staring or are we going to dance?" River asked pulling him onto the dance floor and into her arms.

His hand went easily to River's waist, the other joining hers. They danced somewhat formally.

An uneasy smile met River's eyes. Finally she relaxed somewhat. For a few blissful moments it was the music, his wife's eyes meeting his, a beautiful smile coming to her lips as they danced contentedly.

The music was classical Earth fare, the Doctor twirled his wife and spun her around the dance floor making her laugh. Her eyes crinkled at the edges. More so than Amy's he noticed. He supposed they always had, since she'd regenerated in Berlin for her what must have been all those years ago.

He pulled the curly haired woman a little closer letting his hand slide down lower on her waist, resting on the curve of her lovely behind. River tensed somewhat but then relaxed into the dance again.

The song ended. And they like everyone else in the room turned and clapped for the orchestra who were taking a short water break by the looks of things.

"I'll go get us some champagne. It's the really good stuff here. Fizzy things and fireworks to follow!" The Doctor whispered moving himself towards the nearest server carrying a tray of champagne flutes.

He collected them quickly. People milled about chatting. Some were staring at him or his wife and whispering. Must be the tweed jacket, the Doctor thought to himself. He should have had the sense to change into his tails first. And his top hat he really loved his top hat.

He strode back towards his wife only to find her being chatted up by a silver-haired male stranger on the dance floor.

"And is this your son?" The stranger asked politely extending his hand to the Doctor.

"She's my wife." The Doctor stated, not angrily but firmly.

"Oh." The stranger turned and walked away.

"What was that about?" The Doctor handed a champagne flute to River and began to sip his own.

River downed hers quickly and returned it to her husband's hand, "An old man who's convinced that I'm rich and interesting. Nothing unusual."

The Doctor joked pleasantly, "Do I have competition? I wonder why he thought I was your son. I don't really look twelve you know."

River's voice was finally wavering and no longer harsh, "Have you looked at us honey? Really looked? Have you seen the lines on my face? What are you going to do when my hair's gone completely gray? When people start to wonder if I'm your grandmother instead of your mother? It's started you know-"

The Doctor pushed his champagne glasses back at the nearest tray as quickly as possible. "I am looking at you," he said as pulled River into his arms.

"Stop it, they're staring at us." River said quietly but not pulling away from his embrace.

"Let them stare," The Doctor pulled her closer, "I'm holding my beautiful wife."

River smiled half-heartedly, "Looks like the orchestra is starting up again." She attempted to distract him

His silly, beautiful, mad, impossible wife. He looked at her face again wondering at her insecurity at being human, at aging. She didn't know what he knew. That she'd never live to grow old.

He pressed the fingers of one hand into her hair, "My mad, clever, beautiful, impossible wife." He whispered and then leaned in and kissed her.

The orchestra started up again. People stared, wondering at their connection. But the Doctor and Mrs. River Song didn't care, for a moment lost in each other.

TBC