fandom AU | team eleven, modern day crime drama
requested by such-heights
(i tried to get amy and rory in here too but they did not work. sorry!)
“I don’t need a partner.”
“Your last five partners have left-“
“Not my fault, by the way. I can’t help it if they can’t keep up. The last bloke couldn’t even make it past the crime scene.”
“You need someone to keep you in check, Doctor. Brilliant though you may be, you’re rubbish with the victims and I’ve found someone who-“
“I do the best thing possible for the victims! I find them justice. Now if that means I don’t have time to hold their hands or-“
“Your job Doctor is to provide security and protection. First and foremost - even while working homicide. Now I’ve found someone who I think can handle you.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“Transfer, Song. Effective immediately so you can drop those files off and pack your things. You’re going over to Homicide.”
“I know you’ve been gunning for it, Song.”
“But I don’t have the time in-“
“Your solve rate is excellent, and your work with the victim’s unit has been exemplary.”
“I’ve been begging for this posting for months and kept getting turned away. Why now?”
“Keeping this job depends entirely on you, River. Your partner is… well, he’s notoriously difficult, to be frank. Best solve rate in the entire city - but he’s short-tempered and doesn’t play well with others.”
“Sounds like a dream,”
“Well, you never know. Maybe he just needs someone who won’t take his shit. Can you be that someone?”
“I absolutely can. Who will I be working with?”
He was sat behind his desk, typing furiously and stopping occasionally to scribble on the notepad next to him. She glanced around his office - cluttered and messy - books everywhere and several crime scene shots pinned erratically around the walls. It looked a bit chaotic, but she smoothed her blouse and knocked on the door frame before entering.
He didn’t even look up. She walked in anyway - a little rudeness wasn’t going to stop her. “You must be the Doctor.”
He still didn’t respond. She narrowed her eyes at him, but he seemed completely engrossed in whatever was on his screen. She propped a hand on her hip and cleared her throat, loudly. Still nothing.
She waited a moment, before deciding he was just being plain childish, so she lifted her foot and kicked him under his desk. Hard. He glared up at her. “Oy! I am working here. Who the hell are you?”
“Well, if you’d responded when I knocked, or came in, then you wouldn’t be in this predicament would you?” She bit back, but inwardly she was cataloguing him - from his floppy brown hair to his square glasses to his loosened tie. He was actually quite good-looking in a floppy sort of way, she decided.
“Who’s being rude now? I asked who you were.” He pointed out, and she felt him glance over her just as thoroughly as she had him. She’d heard so much about him - brilliant mind, but anti-social.
“I’m your new partner.” He laughed out loud at that, and shook his head.
“No. No you’re not.”
“Why not?” He arched a brow and looked her over again.
“Look at you. I can’t have a partner with the-” he waved a hand over his hair and she glared at him in response. “You’re in a skirt.”
“I don’t dress like this for cases-“
“Oh so that bit’s just for me then?” He grinned and she flushed, her glare intensifying.
“Oh, I hate you already.”
“They all do.”
“There’s no common thread - nothing at all that ties the victims together!” He had papers spread all around them and a frown on his face.
“There has to be something.”
“Yes, well, as mightily helpful as that is, Song - unless you happen to magically know where our killer would be selecting his victim’s from - I really can’t see how that would-” She kicked him sharply under the table and glared at him. He looked shocked, and she felt shocked too - but something about him drove her mad. And to physical violence apparently.
“I hate you.” She glared and he shook his head with a sigh.
“Did you stay here all night?” She stood in the doorway, looking at him sprawled across the couch in his office. He rubbed his eyes and blinked wearily.
“Can’t go home. Too much to do.”
“You told me to go home, you daft man!” She walked further into the room, placing his coffee cup on the table as she shoved at his slim hip until he edged over enough that she could sit on the couch beside him. “You need sleep too you know. Proper sleep.”
“Six weeks ago you’d have kicked me in the shins and told me to get the hell up.” He pointed out, looking up at her with a slight grin.
“I’m still thinking about it.” She spoke dryly and he laughed.
“No, you aren’t.” He spoke with confidence and she hated him - because she knew he was right. Six weeks and three cases later and they were finally finding their groove. He was absurdly charming when he wanted to be, but also so seriously intent about his work that he came off as aloof. And he was brilliant. Really, genuinely so - she’d never seen anyone make the leaps and bounds his mind did.
“Drink your coffee, and shut up.” She spoke indulgently and he grinned, reaching his hand out and brushing it against her hip as he grabbed his cup and sat up. She closed her eyes for a moment, before opening them and watching him take a sip. “You need to take better care of yourself, Doctor.”
“Isn’t that what I have you for, Song?”
“Oh, I hate you.” She ground out, shoving him in the ribs and he grinned.
They always spun theories as they sat in his office, surrounded by photos of evidence and witness reports. Sometimes he would shoot hers down unceremoniously. Sometimes she caught him unawares - with a sheer moment of insight. Sometimes she shot his down in flames.
He was terrible at the small day-to-day details. He saw the larger picture, saw the crime and the players like little game pieces on a chess board - but he often lost sight of the people. She never did.
He was grinning, bursting at the seams with his latest insight of sheer brilliance and she was staring ahead, mulling his idea over in shock. It all made perfect sense.
“You’ve go that face on again, Song.” He grinned over at her and she stared at him warily.
“The he’s hot when he’s clever face.” He looked incredibly smug and she looked over at him, leaning in a bit.
“It’s my normal face.” She breathed the words out, and he glanced down at her, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her mouth.
“Yeah it is.”
“Oh I hate you.” She said it regularly enough, and his response was always the same. He knew. This time though, he leaned in even closer, looking her in the eye.
“No. You really don’t.”
She swallowed harshly in surprise. The room stilled around them, and he came closer and closer, until she could feel his breath on her cheek. She smiled suddenly and he frowned. She pulled him toward her with a laugh.
“Well, it’s about time you figured that out, boy genius.”
“You’re just squabbling like an old married couple”