Also, this is not exactly three lines. OOPS.
Sweets for the sweet, or: What not to do whilst battling aliens (unless you’re the Doctor or Dr. Song) -- Eleven/River, Amy/Rory, ~600 words, general season 6 spoilers
"Right," the Doctor says, hands an emphatic whirlwind, "I hope you don't think you're really going to distract me from an explosion -- an explosion! Could you be more unoriginal? Oh, don't tell me you're losing your edge -- with sweets, because that would be very stupid, and you, Dr. Song, are the very opposite of stupid."
"One," River responds serenely, "That explosion saved your life. (You're very welcome by the way, darling, it was no bother at all.) Two: it's orange. Your favourite." She waves the lollipop in front of his face like a magician with a coin that may very well vanish into thin air. And she waits. His eyeballs follow her fingertips.
"It's really not fair," he surrenders grumblingly, reaching for the lollipop. It's altogether more lingery than reaches tend to be, a fact that seems to bother River not a bit. "You knowing all of my weaknesses."
"Fun, though," she says, eyes bright.
"Ah, yes, ever so -- and speaking of fun, I think you singed my eyebrows off with that tasteless Guy-Fawkes-would-blush display back there."
"To be fair, you hadn't much to work with in that area in the first place."
"Oh, now that's just cruel."
"Oh, don't pout," she orders fondly, "You know I like your eyebrows."
"You like my eyebrows?" There's a doofy split-second where it would not be entirely surprising to see the Doctor's pupils replaced with cartoon hearts.
"Ah," she says, biting her lip, "maybe we haven't gotten to that yet. In that case: yes. I like your eyebrows." A wicked smile curves her mouth; she curves ever so slightly Doctor-ward. "Among other things."
"Ooh," the Doctor says with an answering grin, shimmying into her space, "do tell--"
"Sweets now," Amy says from ten feet away, her voice flat with disbelief. "Flirting and sweets. Because those are, of course, the priorities in the face of imminent death and destruction."
"Ah, give 'em a break," Rory says sagely; very sagely, in fact, for someone who is covered in space octopus ink. "They're young and in love."
Amy gives him the most potent of her Oh really? Really? faces.
"Or, uh," Rory mumbles, "something."
"If they decide to share that lollipop," Amy pronounces, raising her voice so she can be heard over the battlecries of the rapidly nearing Big Nasty Bipedal Space Octopus Army, "we're leaving them here."
Rory gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, then tugs it along so they can run like hell.
The Doctor and River take their time.
("This here's my friend River. Explosion's her fault, just so you know. I expect the reason you all are so grumpy's because -- well, let's face it, because you're a bunch of octopuses (that just doesn't have any ring to it at all, does it? Octopi's much nicer, ooh, octopi, I like that) with feet wandering about a desert planet, that mustn't be fun for any of you, must it? Why, it'd drive anyone to slaughter and mayhem; well, not anyone, I like to think that if I were in your position, I'd channel my frustration somewhere a bit less violent, maybe take up chess--" -- "Sweetie. We are on a bit of a schedule." -- "Ah yes, right! The point is, I expect you're all grumpy that she hasn't brought you any lollipops. To which I say, a) tough luck, she's my friend, not yours, and b) I'm the Doctor. She's River Song. It'd be best if you started running now.")