Victorian Values

River and the Doctor are dancing at a Victorian ball, being scandalous. (PG)


They were waltzing in a Victorian ballroom, lights and crystal, candles and perfume scenting the air.

He pulled her close in a turn, his gloved hand large and sure on hers, his other hand low on her back, not quite on her bum, but close. There were shocked gasps around them.

River grinned. The Doctor grinned back, then put on a posh Victorian accent. "An innocent like you miss, should be leery of dancing with strangers."

She cast her eyes demurely downward, "That is true sir, I was warned to beware of rakes like you."

His chest puffed out at that and his nose rose haughtily. She grinned. He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye, pulling her a little closer, there were mutters of scandal around them.

"Do you, perhaps, have a handsome young gentleman who would protest?" He glared possessively, arrogantly, around the ballroom as if searching for a rival swain.

She started giggling. She hid her face in his chest.

He bounced her lightly in reprimand. "Really, madam," he said in his starchiest voice. "What would your guardian say?"

She stared up at him, her mouth fell open, her eyes went round. She had a sudden image of Rory, with muttonchop whiskers, bearing down on them from across the ballroom, eyes afire.

She threw back her head and pealed with laughter.

He turned her in a wide, swirling circle, gossip and outrage breaking out all around them. He shook his head at her in fond exasperation, dropping the act. "You are incorrigible."

She looked up at him, eyes bright. "Oh, yes," she dropped her voice to its sexiest register and leaned closer.

"Encourage me."