River Song (
hell_in_highheels) wrote2009-04-26 09:02 pm
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[oom] New Moon
She's standing at the window, looking out over the Scottish landscape, watching the night sky. The moon is new, and without the competing light, the stars are spectacular. River kneels up on the window seat and touches the controls that bring the opacity down to zero. Starlight isn't as bright as moonlight, but it's still enough that she can make out the horizon. The landscape is stunning.
She settles back, sitting on her heels, arms crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms, smiling up at the night sky.
He said yes.
He said yes.
She can't help but wonder... What comes next?
She settles back, sitting on her heels, arms crossed over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms, smiling up at the night sky.
He said yes.
He said yes.
She can't help but wonder... What comes next?
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"I'm fine, love."
Her face is serene, contented. Her fingers stroke along his jaw, trying to soothe the concern from his face.
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Doesn't mean they shouldn't take care of that bite. He...has no idea what to expect. The only infection he's seen is his own, and that was on a full moon. Will this scar in a few hours? Or will it take longer than that?
Is she even infected at all? She still smells human. How long until they know?
"How're you feeling?"
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She taps the side of her nose.
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"Not yet," he amends. Carefully he rolls them onto her good side so as not to place any more strain on her shoulder.
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She rolls with him, holding her hand between her breasts to keep the arm from moving. Still, there's the tiniest wince. She covers it, looking up into his face with soft smile.
"And if it doesn't take, we -- try something else."
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"There are live werewolves here. We could ask." He's not exactly keen about making a request of the two he's thinking of. Nor is he certain they'd grant it.
"Or you can just punch one of them in the teeth."
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"If not a warm cloth for you back, then -- perhaps for my neck? It still stings."
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He sticks his head back through a moment later.
"Do you care which wash cloth I grab?"
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Living with a werewolf meant all the linens were dark shades, enough to cover the inevitable blood stains.
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He comes back in and sits on the bed, gently applying it to the bite mark. "How's your arm?"
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"It's stiffening up a bit, but it'll be fine come morning."
There's a long pause as she looks up at him.
"Thank you."
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He quirks an eyebrow at her. "For what?" As far as he can tell she's dealing with a lot of pain for a possible profit. Really, he should be thanking her for being willing to go through all this.
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He really doesn't know.
How does she answer that question? For standing your ground? For trusting me? For bringing me into your life and for sharing this with me? No, none of that contains the full measure of her gratitude.
"For being you," she answers quietly. She trusts his nose will smell the rest.
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"I just hoped this worked."
'All for nothing' is not something he's fond of hearing.
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This could never be 'all for nothing'. She knows he wants this, too. He knows she trusts him, and to what extent. The gesture alone binds them together.
Her hand cups his cheek and she leans in to kiss him.
"I hope it worked too. But if it didn't, we'll try again."
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"What are your ideas?"
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"Hadn't got that far," she confesses.
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"Fair enough. I'd only the two myself."
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He can tell neither of these options is much to her liking.
"Or I could bite the bullet and talk to Harry again. He seemed like a nice enough fellow."
Again, not her preference.
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"Harry."
When did she get on a first name basis with Wells?
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"Sergeant Wells, I mean. I've only met him the once. And that was in passing. I told him I was your mate and he accused me of being a psychic vampire." She cocks an eyebrow at him in question. "He was called away before I could get the rest of that story."
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Oh.
Oh. Whatever he'd been about to say got swept away by that.
"I suppose that's as good a name for it as any," he says, focusing on her throat again. An wash cloth. How fascinating.
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"He didn't mention any details, so your secret is safe, love."
Though she's dying to know more, he's not one to be pestered about such things. If he wants to share the story, he will, in his own time.
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"I don't think this'll need stitches, just a bandage should do." He carefully pulls back the cloth to peer at it.
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"Because I love the way you bite me," she teases, grinning broadly.
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