Hell in High Heels ('Trouble' Entry)

[but_can_i_be_trusted]

Title: Hell in High Heels
Rating: G
Genre: Gen/Introspection
Word Count: 322
Pairings or Characters: Eleventh Doctor/River Song
Spoilers: Nothing specific; essentially, any episode featuring River.
Warnings: None
Summary: He knew that's what she was from the very start. Trouble with a capital T...

He knew that's what she was from the very start. Trouble with a capital T...not to mention R, O, U, and the rest. Whatever else she was, that one topped the list.

Everything else was just wrapping. On a ticking package. With a label that read, "Do not open until Xmas on pain of death." With fine print directing the recipient to the nearest hospital in the sector...provided the recipient lived that long.

She knew everything about him. Well, practically everything. Anyway, she knew enough: The one thing no one knew. His Name. And no one who knew that much could be safe to associate with. Even without that whole customized-psychopath thing. Which was just annoying and inconvenient.

The proficiency with weapons was somewhat disturbing, of course. But he knew that she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t as though she’d ever asked to become an efficient killing machine; that decision was made for her before she was even born.

Still, there was something intriguing about her. Something he couldn't help but be drawn to. She was intoxication personified. Even when he wanted to, he knew that he couldn't keep away.

Her kisses tasted like fine Kyrvhelian wine: Rich and spicy, with just a dash of Deadly. Her hair--that glorious lion's-mane tangle that framed her flawless face--smelled like oleander and minute traces of cordite. The I-know-something-you-don't-know aura she had about her was as tempting as it was frustrating, and those shivers her smoky-sweet voice sent down his spine were becoming difficult to ignore.

And she loved him. Well...it could be worse, perhaps. She could loathe him, and that wouldn't do anyone any favors. Well, okay, to be fair, it would do favors for his enemies--but who needed that kind of aggravation?

Trouble? Yes; there could be no doubt about that. She was like that old Cole Porter song: Delightful, delicious, delovely...and dangerous.

And he couldn't imagine her any other way.

Comments

[luorescence.livejournal.com]

And she loved him. Well...it could be worse, perhaps. She could loathe him, and that wouldn't do anyone any favors. Well, okay, to be fair, it would do favors for his enemies--but who needed that kind of aggravation?

I absolutely loved that part. The whole thing is lovely, though the part about wine disturbed me a little because Eleven isn't really fond of alcohol (but he could be talking about a fond memory from another regeneration).

Anyway, well done!

[but_can_i_be_trusted]

Thanks! :)