✨️🥂"An Evening Out of Time"
The gala sparkled with lights that danced like stars caught in champagne. It was one of those evenings where the elite of the galaxy gathered—not to save the universe, but to toast its absurdity in style. The Doctor, looking deeply uncomfortable in a borrowed pinstripe jacket, fidgeted with a fork that was clearly meant for a species with three thumbs.
River, on the other hand, looked like she owned the room.
She leaned against him from behind, one hand possessively curled around his shoulder, the other cradling his chin like she was sculpting him from memory. Her dress—neon green and woven with crystalline strands—caught the light with every movement, like a living constellation. It was dazzling, scandalous, and completely River.
"You're tense," she whispered, voice rich with amusement. "Afraid someone might recognize you?"
"River," the Doctor said, not looking at her, "this party is hosted by the Galactic Ministry of Temporal Regulation. Half these people would love to dissect me."
She smiled and rested her chin on the crown of his head. "Then it’s lucky you brought your wife. I’m fabulous at misdirection."
The waiter approached with a tray of floating hors d'oeuvres that rearranged themselves into symbols of approval or insult depending on who reached for them. The Doctor reached—got a middle tentacle. River laughed, leaned in, and plucked one. Hers bloomed into a rose.
"Show-off," he muttered.
"Married one," she replied.
As the music rose, River dragged him to the dance floor with unapologetic flair. The Doctor stumbled after her, cheeks flushed, half trying to keep up, half trying not to smile. For a few hours, time didn't matter. The timelines could wait. Tonight was for glitter, for stolen kisses behind ice sculptures, and for dancing like tomorrow didn’t exist.
