#fluuuuuuuff

Of the three, it was the fear that was never ending, everlasting, that permeated and soured almost every relationship he might've sought before it had ever begun. The fear twisted people's intentions, corrupted their trust, when all he had done was just be.

There's a certain resentment that comes with living under that sort of pressure, something that all that power was not able to take away. It did the opposite, mostly. Helped it fester, helped make succumbing to his temper, to retaliation, all the more attractive. Revenge was sweet when he could not seek a sweeter brand of kindness. Not before the days of his inner circle.

It took a few decades for Rhysand to acknowledge that it was lucky, so lucky for himself and for everyone else that he had not been raised to take an eye for an eye; that his mother was the brilliant, kind, and disciplined female that she was to have instilled so early in him that sense of justice and honour that she did. For if Rhys had allowed himself to believe in a world where he should take an eye for an eye, the world would soon be out of eyes, and Rhys would still be needing to learn other ways to defend himself against the venom hurled his way.

So amongst the hate, the resentment, the fear... Rhys never imagined that there would be love. The kind of love that brought him to his knees, that made him want to cry, that made him want to roar until he brought down mountains.

Feyre frequently called him dramatic.

It was Feyre who he watched now, perched at the edge of her artist's stool, a brush balanced in her hand, a palette knife in the other. She was mixing whorls of paint on a palette board that had been clipped to the easel in front of her, and occasionally blotted in more paint from a different colour as she worked on building her current shade. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun that allowed curls to escape down the nape of her neck, and she wore a light, loose shirt with form fitting pants that cut off above her ankles. She was barefoot in her studio, the instruments that she would need for her current piece scattered around her, held by cups or hanging off hooks or tucked away in the small, wheeled, several tiered trolley beside her, nothing more than an arm's length away.

As usual, she had paint everywhere.

Rhys watched her for a while, and the simplicity of having her there before him, smiling and at peace, was enough to make his heart swell.

If it weren't for the bond, you'd probably startle me ten times a day with the way you lurk. It'd send me to an early grave.

Rhys smiled at the touch of her thoughts curling in his mind, relishing their presence there.

I imagine I'd go to an early grave if I weren't bonded to you too, Feyre darling.

She turned to him then, the soft light of the studio backlighting her, illuminating dust motes in the air and the gold in her hair. She frowned at him, a glimmer of concern in her eyes.

So serious, Rhys.

She showed him what she saw, her mind's eye. He stood silent as a shadow in the doorway, his eyes drowning in the dark as they remained fixed on her, the damper on his magic gone, content to be utterly himself. Comfortable with his power rolling off him in waves, curling off him like deep smoke, like so much dark bleeding from his skin into the space around him. Comfortable because he knew that she would be.

He strode to her then. He may have caused her attention to break, but he always hated physically interrupting her focus on a canvas. He took her shifted attention and lowered brush as permission enough for him to approach.

He cupped her face in both hands when he reached her, tipped her head back and leaned in for a gentle kiss. Feyre obliged, the abandoned brush sliding off her lap and to the floor with a clatter. He drew back slightly, just enough so that he could brush kisses onto each of her cheeks, before finding her lips again.

His touches drew a warm thrum of love from his mate through their bond, which pleased him to no end. But chasing it was still that glimmer of concern.

"I'm fine," he reassured her gently, drawing back. He thumbed a smudge of blue by her cheek before leaning in again.

She arched her brow, setting the palette knife down in a safer position before returning the kiss.

He smiled against her lips, the question she left in the air. I just... love you.

Her eyes softened, her smile brightened.

I loved you as I waited for you and I loved you as you fought for everything we hold dear and I will die loving you, Feyre.

"I love you too, Rhys," she said softly, with a quiet sort of assurance, almost determination, the glimmer in her eyes solidifying to shine with conviction. "I love you." Then mind to mind: With everything I am, with all that I have. Always.

His heart swelled, and his kiss deepened. He delved into her mouth slowly, again and again, one hand remaining on the side of her face as the other dropped to cup the back of her head, pushing his fingers up into her hair as he took his time laying her open.

Feyre made a soft noise, low in her throat, and her body shifted towards him.

The air changed between them.

She made to stand the same time he broke the kiss to step closer to her. Her arms came around his neck the same time he straightened, his hand cupping her thigh as he hitched her up, his other arm wrapping around her waist as her legs wrapped around his. Her body had remained toned, as Feyre trained and kept in shape even though Cassian was no longer around to train with her, but against him and his Illyrian body, she was still so soft, her curves so warm and plush against the hard planes of his own frame. Rhys groaned as he tightened his arms around her, burying his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply his mate's scent, each draw of breath causing that roiling dark inside of him to rejoice.

Feyre turned her own head to him, a smile on her lips as she took his earlobe between her teeth, putting slight pressure on it before she let it slide free. Her legs tightened around his waist, her back arched, and she settled her arms more solidly around his neck as though she too was trying to maximise the contact between their bodies, to press herself closer because as they were now, it wasn't enough.

It was never enough.

A low noise rumbled from his chest, a possessive sound, one edged in arousal. Feyre curled a hand in his hair, tugging his head back away from her neck to kiss him again. This time it was her turn to delve, to probe and lick, her body writhing against him with each kiss in a way that drove him crazy.

She didn't pull back from his lips as he winnowed them, but she did to utter a breathless laugh when he let them fall out of the winnow and onto their bed.

"I thought you said you wouldn't interrupt me when I paint," she said, perched on top of him, amusement dancing in her eyes.

He rolled them until she was the one below.

"I didn't." He lowered his mouth to bite gently at the flesh of her throat. "I was merely watching you." His mouth tracked down, sucking her breast gently over her thin top, his tongue probing for her nipple. "It's not my fault you find me distracting enough to set down your work."

Feyre laughed again, even more breathless this time, even as she arched her back into his touch, pulling her fingers through his hair. "I can't imagine why anyone would find the High Lord of the Night Court distracting, especially when he's glowering in their doorway and leaking power all over them."

"I was not glowering," he corrected mildly against her navel, "And I never leak." He nosed underneath her top, licked a warm line across her belly, just above the hem of her pants.

"Oh really?" Her breath shallowed, sped up.

"I just am, and when I think of you Feyre, when I think of how you choose me, every single day of our lives, I cannot contain myself."

Feyre moaned then, either at his words or at the way his hands had slipped her pants down as he spoke, baring her sex, his head at just the right position so that his breath brushed over her, just so.

He liked these pants, Rhys decided as he discarded them. They were form fitting, but they were stretchy, and slipped down her legs easily without a fight.

He laid an open kiss to the inside of one thigh, and Feyre made a soft noise again, shifting so her legs could open for him. He shouldered one over his back, and pushed the other further to the side, nestling it in the crook of his elbow.

"You have no idea how hard it is to contain myself, much less around you," he murmured again, almost to himself, before bringing his mouth to her core.

He ran his tongue once up her centre, just the barest of touches against her lower lips, all the way up to curl once over her clit, before starting again and again, down up down up, each time pressing a little harder, delving a little deeper, until his tongue was buried inside her and Feyre was crying his name in earnest, until her fingers were vice tight in his hair and her hips were stuttering against his face. He coaxed her to find her rhythm, one hand squeezing her thigh and the other arm braced against the bed, his power rolling across her skin again and again, as though even it could not stand to be without her, not even for a moment. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as she rode his tongue, bliss bliss bliss, the taste and smell and sense of her all around him, inside him, and there was nothing Rhys would rather do, he could do this forever, the sounds of pleasure from his mate the only thing he ever wanted to hear, the fever pitch of her voice rising with her orgasm, the orgasm that he brought to her, that he would offer her again and again, for as long as she could bear it. He felt it gather like a wave before crashing into her, felt her body seize with it, bracketing his face within it as she shook and trembled.

"Rhys," she panted, her fingers tugging on his head that was still searching between her thighs. "Rhys, please."

He withdrew slightly, a devil's grin playing around the edges of his mouth. "Please what?"

Feyre's face was flushed, her lips red from her own teeth setting into them, her eyes bright. "Please fuck me," she breathed.

Night rippled out from him at her words, cradled them both in a star kissed embrace as he reared up to cover her with his body. His clothes were gone in an instant, then his chest was pressed up against hers, and her thin cloth of a top was the last barrier between them.

Feyre's arms and legs went around him again, and this time she rolled them, and he went with her, allowed her whatever she wanted to do with his body. He was hers, he's said as much to her, to the world.

She sat up, her bare ass resting on his belly, his cock brushing the small of her back. For a moment she just watched him, flushed and still breathing hard, her hands stroking from his chest down to his abdomen slowly. He let his eyes take her in, her tousled hair, her breasts tenting her shirt, her thighs on either side of his chest, her sex pressed against his skin, her own skin glowing softly against his night.

He had half a mind to pull her forwards until she was leaning on the headboard, until he was eating her out again.

"No," she said, reading the look on his face, despite desire darkening her own eyes. She leaned down, pressing warm, open mouthed kisses against his chest. "I want you inside me, Rhys." Her mouth reached just below his pectorals, her tongue finding the crease in his abs. Her ass shifted backwards as she bent over him, his cock nestling between both cheeks as she dipped her tongue further down. Gods she was flexible. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as he tracked her every move. "I want to feel every inch of you inside me. Right now."

He made some sort of noise, some small reflection of what she ignited in him as both hands went to her waist, lifted her, then slid her wet, tight body over him. She cried out at the unyielding intrusion, facing the sky, her thighs tightening around him as he entered her to the hilt, her inner muscles fluttering and squeezing at the sensation of him thrusting up side of her. Pleasure, hers and his own, burst like pinpricks of light behind his eyes, between their bond, glittering like starlight.

"Gods," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut as he lifted her. He sat up as he did so, abdominal muscles bunching as both hands stayed to guide her hip, the other squeezing her thigh, her ass, urging her to rise until she held just the tip of him inside her.

Just as Feyre had gathered herself enough to meet his eyes again, Rhys pushed her hips down, slower this time, and she tipped her head back and moaned. The sound made his balls tighten, made a similar noise roll out from deep inside of him at the sensation of her sinking back down over his cock. He raised a hand to fasten in her hair, brought her head forwards and tipped her into his kiss as she became fully seated on him again.

"So tight, Feyre," he groaned against her mouth. "So perfect."

She mumbled something incoherent, her hips rising and falling again without encouragement. He groaned again, pleasure racing up and down him with her movements, and he found that all he could do was watch her, try to keep pace with her as she rode him to another orgasm, this time with him inside her, the bond open between them, and he felt everything she did as she came with a cry, her pleasure shocking through her like so much lightning.

He devoured her with his eyes, drinking in everything she was, the pure satisfaction of making his mate come almost surpassing his own pleasure. He pulled her top off as she was still coming off her high, taking her breast into his mouth, this time unhampered by cloth. He bit and suckled the warm flesh there, until his teeth clamped lightly over her nipple. He bit down, didn't release her until she moaned at the pressure.

"Rhys," she sighed, her arms loose around his neck, sagging slightly against him.

"Yes, darling," he said soothingly, kissing his way up to her neck, his tongue lathing and lingering at certain areas along the way.

"Rhys," was all she said again as he lay her back down on the bed, loose and pliant.

He kept himself sheathed in her body as he slung one of her legs around his waist again, his hand staying to cup the back of her thigh. He leaned down to take her other breast in his mouth. Feyre moaned mindlessly as the press of his body brought him deeper inside of her, her head rolling back in the sheets. She was sensitive now, so much more sensitive, her thighs trembling and hips jerking every time he moved. He could feel her rippling with sensation around his cock, still pressed as deep in her as he could. He rolled his hips once, twice, his mouth still fastened on her breast, and each time drew a small, wild cry from her.

He drew back only after he'd sucked a mark into her skin, and rolled his hips a third time.

"Rhys."

"Feyre," he answered, his voice a croon. "I'm so sorry, you asked me to fuck you but I was terribly selfish and allowed you to do the honours first."

"Don't apologise," she snarled, her hands bunching in the sheets as he thrust again, her heel digging into his back. "Move."

Rhys grinned outright now, her frantic desire delicious on his tongue.

"Anything for you, Feyre darling."

His power exploded around him as Rhys set a furious pace, his grip on her thigh tight and his other hand on the curve of her hip, fingertips digging into her ass as he hauled her body forwards to meet each thrust of his hips. He felt Feyre beneath him, tight as a bowstring, her mouth open in a silent cry as he drove with abandon into her. Stars winked in and out of existence and time drew out and out in the space between them, until his world narrowed to an endless joining of their bodies, exactly what he wanted, exactly what he wished for, he wanted for nothing else but this to go on and on and on, to lose himself inside of her because what better place to be? But somehow the moment still came when he was powerless, powerless to stop it, powerless to do anything but come with a roar that shook the foundations of the house around them as his pleasure somehow reached a peak for him to fall from. His release barrelled down their bond, washed over Feyre, enough to tip her over the edge of another orgasm, and nothing nothing nothing felt better than this, when they came together, when he came inside her body and still she welcomed everything he had and asked for more.

He collapsed wordlessly into the cradle of her arms, eyes closed, didn't move an inch until Feyre laughed and shifted her hips, just enough so that he slipped out of her.

A gentle hand on his face.

"I can't believe I get to do this with you for the rest of my life."

Rhys turned his head, the only movement he could manage for the moment, and pressed a kiss into her collarbone.

At first, you didn’t recognize him.  He wore a midnight blue chiton under a chlamys pinned to his left shoulder.  There was no denying he was a handsome man, even beautiful, with sea green eyes you could drown in and a dazed smile that fascinated you in its crookedness.  He seemed tired though, as one looks when they carry something heavier than they should.  And what you could see of his left arm appeared to be made entirely of some metal.

“I’m sorry, Lady, I don’t mean to spy,” he said, remembering himself and suddenly abashed.  The sudden change in his posture drew a quick laugh from your lips.

“Not to worry,” you said, “This is, after all, outside, so to speak.”  Your words brought the smile back to his lips.

“It’s not everyday that I meet someone quite so lovely, outside or no.”  You blushed hard, hiding your giggling face in your hand.  When you brought yourself to look at him again, you saw the lines etched into his face.  What troubles could he bear?  Existence had barely begun.

But looking at him, you could not help but smile sweetly.  “I’m Persephone.  But you can call me (Y/N).”

“Ah,” he whispered, nodding, “There has been talk of a spring-bringer on Olympus.”  He bowed low, never taking his eyes off you.  “Hades is my name.”  (Later in your life, you tease him about this moment, saying  “Hades is your name and maintaining the underworld is your game.”)

He continued to watch you, waiting for you to recoil.  Everyone does at some point.  He waited, and waited for a few heartbeats more.  Confused, but a bit hopeful, he rose again to his full height.

Unsure, you asked, “If I can know your station, may I know your name?”

“Oh, yes.  Well,” he sputtered, “Anyone that cares to know calls me Bucky.”

“Have you ever seen a fawn born, Bucky?”

“Not that I can recall.”

You reached for his hand.  “Come with me; it’s almost time.”

For perhaps the first time in his life, Bucky recoiled from someone else.  The hurt written on your face broke his heart as you withdrew your hand, afraid you’d offended him.  “I-I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean- It’s just,” he let out a heavy sigh, “I’m god of the dead.  I don’t think I need to explain why my presence at a fawn’s birth would be problematic.”

You nodded, disappointed, “I suppose you’re right.”  Then, you squared your shoulders and said, “But I am goddess of spring.  I need to go.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Oh, I imagine so,” you said, smiling, “I wander here often.”

He met your smile with a dazzling one of his own.  “Until then, (Y/N).”

After that chance meeting, you wandered there often purposefully, never explicitly to see him, naturally.  But you were always happy when you did, and disappointed when you didn’t.

Moons passed, as moons do, and your bond with Bucky grew stronger, as bonds do.  On days the sun was out in all its might, you found hills to roll down, your path greener and Bucky’s drier than before.  On days Zeus brought the rains down, you found mud to play in.  Those were Bucky’s favorite days.  They were yours too; you weren’t ignorant to the subtle changes in his demeanor when he would see even the minor destruction left in his wake.  But the mud was already dead, and the way you laughed when a glob of it hit him brought his own bubbling from his chest.

One day, you lay head to head on the sand by a shore of some rocky island.

He turned his face towards you and said, “(Y/N)?”

Your eyes were closed in comfort, but you hummed in response.

“Do you want to see my home?”

“You mean the underworld.”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to show me?”

“Yes.”

You opened your eyes and turned towards him, eye to eye, a shameless grin on your face.  “I would like that very much.”  He grinned and jumped to his feet, offering you a hand up.

As you walked together, your hand, but its own volition of course, reached once more for his.  Only your fingers brushed at first, his own curving out to meet you as a small smile spread across his face.  Eventually, though, you intertwined your fingers and continued your journey close together.

He led you in a comfortable stillness, the both of you speaking infrequently about trivial things.  He led you, and you followed, to the door in the cliff face.

Bucky turned to you, concerned, when he felt you stiffen.  “(Y/N)?  Have you changed your mind?”  His voice was soft and gentle.

Demeter warned you about this.  Though she hadn’t told you why, and you hadn’t seen her in more moons than you could count.  But, when you turned to face him and give an answer, you felt as safe as with the fields.  Smiling, you shook your head, “No.”

One hand on the small of your back, he pushed the door open with the other, whispering, “Do not be afraid.”

The first thing you noticed was the chill in the air.  After all, the dead don’t need the sun.  They don’t need anything, really.  The second was the low growling in the direction of a soft light emanating from afar.

“What’s that?” you asked, apprehensive but curious.

“Ah, yes.  That would be Cerberus.  He’s, well, you’ll see.”  Your hand found his again and you continued towards the light.

As your eyes adjusted, you began to see a creature, huge and pacing.  It sniffed the air and turned its three heads toward you.

“Bucky?”  He gently moved you behind him.

“Rus!” he called out.  “I’m home!”  The creature barked excitedly and broke out into a full run.  You moved out of the way as the creature tackled its master, all three huge heads licking his face.  “Okay, okay, okay.  You crazy hellhound,” he said, muffled from the fawning beast, and pushed him off.  “Rus, I’ve brought a friend.  Be nice.”

The beast turned to you and your eyes went wide.  It appeared to be a dog.  A normal dog, just with three heads and the size of a small temple.  It strode up to  you, tail wagging and you let out a small whimper.

Bucky reappeared by your side, hand on your back, “Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” you admitted, avoiding eye contact with all the heads.

“I mean, okay, but he only eats the ones-”

“He eats people?!”

“Only the ones that try to leave.  Do you know how disastrous it would be to have spirits wandering about the mortal realm as they wished?”

“Alright, fine.  Where am I supposed to pet him?”  He smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back.

“The left one likes ear scratches, middle guy likes it when you tickle his nose.  The right one I haven’t quite figured out yet; he’s a bit of a loose screw.  But they all like belly rubs.”

You addressed the dog-creature-thing, “How about it, Rus?  Belly rub?”

The thing seemed to understand because it flopped onto its back in a hurry, shaking the floor.  You had to climb on top of the thing to even reach its belly.  When you did though, it panted and wagged its tail excitedly, hind leg hitting the floor as you enthusiastically rubbed its stomach.  For a building sized dog, it was pretty cute.

“It’s nice to meet you, you giant, scary, adorable thing.”

Bucky helped you off of the dog, who promptly rolled onto its stomach, panting contentedly.  “Shall we continue?”

“Yes,” you said, brushing your hands off on your hips before taking his hand again, “But would you mind warning me if we’re to encounter any more of your pets?”

You followed him deeper into the underworld, Cerberus following happily behind, and a thrum of rushing water that grew clearer by the moment.  Eventually, the river came into view, as did a multitude of figures wandering along its shore.  Most of them weeping.  One hooded figure stood on a raft, impossibly still, holding a staff lantern.

“Master Hades,” said the figure, “you’re home early.  Ah, you’ve brought a guest.”  He paused.  “You usually don’t like the other gods coming down here.”

“Never mind that, Charon.  This is Persephone, will you take us across?”

“Of course.”  He held his hand out to you, helping you onto the raft.  Cerberus let out a short whine and resumed his pacing along the shore.

It was slow going, crossing the Acheron.  From the raft, you could still hear the mournful sounds of the figures.

Shivering, you asked, “What are they?”  Bucky clenched his jaw, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Charon answered, “Those are the spirits who could not pay the toll to cross.  They will wander that shore for one hundred years, then I shall take them across.  There are a few, there, who’s time is almost up.”

You nestled into Bucky’s side, shivering only partly from the cold.  “That seems rather cruel.”

“We didn’t make the rules, kid.”

You turned your eyes to Bucky.  “Who did?”

He sighed.  “Titans.  They were here first,” he said with some measure of contempt.  You only hummed in response.

The raft reached the opposite shore eventually; Bucky held your hand as you hopped off and thanked the ferryman.  

As you followed him further in, you asked the question you’d been thinking of for some time, “What do mortals see, when they look at the door to this place?”

“Nothing,” he replied, “Well, nothing but the unbroken cliff face.”

“If none can see it, and none know it’s there, why is it so high?”

“Just in case.  If a mortal enters here, they lose their claim on the mortal realm.  They’re trapped here forever, with the dead.  And, Cerberus, well, he can’t really tell the difference here.”

“Ah,” you said.  Really, you weren’t surprised that he took such care, knowing him as you did.  

You came upon a tall tower jutting out from the stony ground and followed Bucky up the stairs spiraling around it.  The top of the stair emptied into a brightly lit room.  Bucky removed his cloak, setting it on a table next to a bowl laden with pomegranates and offering you an unobstructed view of the angry-pink scar connection his metal appendage to the rest of him.

He felt your gaze and said, “I believe you have another question.”

“I-I don’t want to be intrusive.”

“You wouldn’t be.”  He raised his eyebrows, eyes patiently watching you, making you blush.

“What happened to your arm?”

Bucky nodded.  “When Cronus ate my sibling gods and I-”

“He ate you?  Why does everything want to eat everything else?”

He couldn’t help but laugh.  “It was more of a stomach imprisonment than actual eating.  Demeter never told you these stories?”  You shook your head.  “Well, she was there too, perhaps she did not want to relive it.  We were trapped for years before Zeus reached manhood and overthrew him, freed us.”

“And that is why he is king?”  Bucky nodded.  “And your arm?”

“I lost it close to the end of our confinement.  Five fully grown gods in one stomach tends to prove a tight fit, and you can’t imagine what other nonsense that behemoth decided to swallow.  Hephaestus made this one for me, I still owe her a favor.”  He would say no more of his time confined.  “Come, there is one more thing I would show you.”

He led you once more, out of the room and onto a balcony big enough only for the two of you.

The sight took all your breath, but the sounds confused your heart.

“What is this?” you asked quietly, stiffly gripping the railing.

“This is the underworld, in all its terrible glory,” he said, standing beside you.  “There is the Isle of the Blessed, then Elysium, the Asphodel Meadows, and the Mourning Fields.”  His pointing swept across realms in decreasing senses of pleasantness.

Past them all, there appeared to be some abyss swallowing every spec of light. To this you gestured and asked, “And that place?”

Again, he clenched his jaw.  “That is the way to Tartarus - the abyss, where Zeus banished Cronus, and the rest of the Titans.  There have been a few souls added to that happy number since.”  As if to punctuate his point, a faint cry found its way out of the abyss.  It fascinated you - here, this was the ultimate punctuation of the life you nurtured, and in a way it was terrible and in another it was captivating.

After some silence, you turned to him and asked, “Why did you bring me here, Bucky?”

He glanced down at you and replied softly, “Because I’m falling in love with you.  And I want you to know me.”  A tingly warmth spread through your gut because, though you had no way to know for sure, you were certain you were falling too.

Eleven was strolling down the hallways of the TARDIS when he heard it: humming. It was strangely familiar, the sound. He couldn’t quite place the tune, but it was definitely a humming sound, and not coming from the TARDIS. He grinned widely at the small mystery and began walking down the corridor towards the noise. Despite being intimately acquainted with the TARDIS, he was not fool enough to think that he knew her inside and out. Every now and then he’d stumble into a room that appeared new to him, and perhaps it was. The TARDIS changed the console and other rooms, it stood to reason that she would create new ones as she felt the need. Once, he had found a room accessible through a trap door in the floor, completely filled with custard, his very own pool of it. He’d enjoyed it for a full two days: swimming around, “floating” in it with a bowl full of fish sticks next to him as he read one of Amy’s books, and rather enjoying himself until River caught him.

River. Those humming noises were definitely familiar. Somehow she must’ve snuck onto the TARDIS without him noticing, rude. The corridor was longer than he thought, but he picked up his pace until he knew he had found the right door. And it was closed. He huffed a bit under his breath, before reaching for the handle.

Zap. It was only a small pulse, nothing too painful, but at the same time, he felt the TARDIS shout, “Out!” inside his mind. “Oi! Cheeky!” he said, warily inspecting the door, before buzzing his sonic over it. Hmm…nothing seemed to click or change in the door, and if the TARDIS was involved in whatever plot was afoot, it was unlikely his sonic would fix the problem. He reached toward the handle again before thinking better of it and knocking.

The humming inside stopped abruptly, there were a few footsteps, and then River opened the door just enough to fit her head and shoulders through. “Yes, Sweetie?”

“You’re here!” Eleven replied, more focused on trying to peer around River or over her bloody hair to see what was in the room behind her, to no avail.

“Obviously, dear. Can I help you?”

Huffing again, he pressed forward, “River, what’s in there?”

“Nothing,” she replied plainly, giving him a sly smirk, “It’s just my room. My own space.”

“But you have a room. Our room. You have River-things in there and a closet and everything. And we have a library with all your books and a pool and a hundred other rooms. What else could you possibly need?”

“Those are our rooms, Sweetie, but this one is mine. And just mine.” She leaned forward to give him a quick peck on the nose before slipping back inside and shutting the door.

Eleven harrumphed loudly before knocking again on the door, calling out, “But River! Won’t you at least come out here? We could go for a swim in the custard, or maybe find ourselves a new planet?”

He was met with only silence. Frowning, Eleven walked back toward the console room, muttering to himself under his breath. “And you,” he grumbled at the TARDIS, “Don’t think I can’t see what’s going on here. Building River her own special secret room. Just because she’s the ‘Child of the TARDIS’ doesn’t mean you should play favorites.” He tweaked some of the knobs on the console and pulled the screen over, wondering if he should go on an adventure of his own. “Besides, she may be your child but you’re my TARDIS.”

Zap. Another small shock from the monitor he was holding sufficed to chastise him properly. True, he couldn’t properly claim ownership over her being. Eleven murmured a humbled, “Right, sorry,” but it still did nothing to cheer his mood. Sure, River could own a room, but he…

And then it came to him. He ran over to grab a book off his shelf, something he had read once in an Earth law book one day. Humans, always so concerned with owning everything and being tied down to some little small patch of dirt. It wasn't worth being tied down, he'd rather explore the whole universe than own own tiny corner of it. But in this case, it might be just the thing to help him…and even if he wasn’t successful, it might amuse River enough to coax her out for an adventure.

He flipped through the whole book, absorbing it quickly, before picking up the next. It was three books before he found what he was looking for. Quickly, he grabbed a few sheets of paper and a pen and began scribbling words across the paper, reading it over carefully to make sure everything was in order, and scratching two lines at the bottom for signatures.

Marching back down the corridor to River’s room, he tentatively knocked on the door again. “River! I have a proposition for you!!”

She opened the door with a smirk, “A proposition?" she leered. "Mmm, I hope it’s an interesting one, Sweetie,” and she winked at him in that way that was oh-so-River and made his stomach fluttery while turning his face a dozen shades of red.

“No, no…I mean, not right now,” he spluttered, before practically shoving the paper into her hands.

“Ow!” she hissed as the paper nicked her finger. “Paper cut,” she explained as Eleven looked at her with wide eyes.

He muttered a soft, “Sorry!” before gently handing over the pen.

“It’s alright,” she smiled, sucking on her finger before she turned her eyes to the paper to read through whatever ploy her lovable, clumsy, sulking Doctor had come up with this time. “An easement?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, yes. Very human-y, and you know how I love that part of you.” River snorted out a laugh before Eleven continued, “And it’s just a simple thing. You see, this is technically your room, and the other rooms are ours, but these hallways are mine. Now, I will be happy to allow you the use of these hallways for as long as this room exists…”

“In exchange for…favors?” she purred.

Eleven paused to consider it for a moment, but his curiosity over the room-containing-probably-wonderful-things-that-he-wasn’t-part-of got the better of him. “No, no…in exchange for letting me see the room. Very quid pro quo.”

“Mmmmhmmm….” she laughed again. “So, basically if and when I use this corridor…your corridor, I have to let you into my room?”

“Yes,” he replied quickly, hoping that River wouldn’t choose to not sign the easement and just stay in her room forever. “Seems like a pretty good deal to me…you know, because you wouldn't want to be cooped up there all the time...” he added when she didn’t reply.

“Fine, Sweetie,” River sighed, before placing the paper against the door and signing it with a flourish. She handed the pen back to Eleven for him to sign, but when he placed the paper against the wall of the hallway, she spun around and closed the door behind her.

“It’s still valid, you signed it! C’mon, River, you can’t stay in there all day!” he pouted against the door. He finished signing the contract anyways, just to make it all official, figuring that she’d get bored eventually. He hoped. Who knows what was so interesting in that room that wasn’t him.

He wandered back to the console room, dejected. Looking up, he was taken aback by the curly-haired vixen currently adjusting [back] the knobs and looking at the monitor. “Alright, so where do you want to go, then?” she said, looking up at him with a smile. He stared, but no, she was wearing the same outfit and everything, and she even had the small paper cut on her finger from a few seconds ago.

“River? But…how?”

“Sweetie, if the TARDIS could build me a room of my own, didn’t you think she could build me a hallway to the console?” she chuckled. “Now stop pouting. Where shall we go?"

Eleven frowned, both at being outwitted and at the way his wife and his TARDIS were plotting against him. This certainly did not bode well for the future. Suddenly the TARDIS started sounding her noise, and Eleven looked up at River, “Wait, the brakes? Have you landed us somewhere already?”

River’s eyes sparkled as her chuckle turned into a loud laugh, the rich and throaty sound of it mixing with the *vwooorp vwooorp* of the TARDIS. And it was then that Eleven realized what was happening: the TARDIS was laughing. At him.

Despite himself, he smiled. His girls, laughing together, even if it was at his expense. And even though he hadn’t succeeded in getting a peek in her room today, he knew there were more days and more tactics left to try. And right now, here was River, with him in the TARDIS and ready for an adventure, and maybe that was all he really needed after all.

========================================

He found himself at a standstill as if it was a rip in time things had been frozen. 'Lets look back at it. these past few months' Daniel had smiled and looked down at the writing on the paper, pages occasionally folded.

He had stared over at  Chaerin who was being lazy playing pokemon on her DS in the lounge room then back down at the diary, looking through it's contents then stopping to stand and walk back into the room. plopping down right next to her on the couch.

"You're such a child." Daniel just goes to nudge at her only having her make a small aigoo when she forgot to use a repel to ward off any weaker pokemon.

Ignored. Daniel was ignored. That was a surprise if he could call it that.

Walking around the room he tried to get her attention, even dancing. And Daniel never dances. It kept failing. 'This girl!' was what he had screamed in his head.

Stopping his dancing he begins sulking when he sits back down. "Jagiya~"  Chaerin finally goes to give him some attention a big grin on her face. "Were you dancing???"

"No"

"But I saw you~"

He begins getting pouty at his lover as if he was randomly putting on Aegyo. "If you don't kiss me I won't forgive you for ignoring me for pokemon." 

A bigger smile appears on Chaerins face when she places the handheld console down and pounces on the vampire to kiss him, Laughing. "I love you. Pabo."

"I love you too, Ms. ignores me for pokemon."