A/N: So I got a prompt on tumblr about Amy and Rory getting to take care of their grandson. Sonic shades were to be involved. I ended up with this. Please forgive me if I've stumbled across well-written territory, as I haven't dug into ficdom for anything like this before.

A Song for the Williamses

The house was quiet as Rory woke up, feeling that something wasn't exactly right. He sat up in bed and waited, his wariness justified when he heard a small, wobbly wail filter in from another room. Amy began to stir and he bent down to kiss her cheek.

"I got him," he said. She murmured incoherently and he took that as approval. Getting out of bed and shuffling down the hall to the nursery, Rory peeked in on his son, who was testing the limits of his vocal chords.

His son, he thought, picking up the baby and bouncing him gently. During the war, he had convinced Amy to adopt after peace treaties were signed and things settled down on the world stage, citing the incoming American economic boom that would create nearly the perfect environment to raise a child, and two months ago they had their chance. Anthony was a very happy, bubbly baby, generally speaking, whose adoptive parents were absolutely stunned by their second chance at parenthood his presence gave them. It was almost painful to take him from the hospital, knowing that another fifty or sixty years and his unwed biological mother would be the one raising him, though that was neither here nor there in the time period they found themselves in. It took all of five minutes and a well-timed distraction to keep the nurses and doctor out, yet they were able to leave the nineteen-year-old with their names, address, and a promise that not only were they were going love the boy, but that when she was ready—if she was ever ready—she could visit.

Rory wordlessly took Anthony downstairs and went into the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the icebox. He saw that the light was already on and braced himself, knowing that an unpleasant conversation was imminent. There, at the kitchen table with books everywhere, as predicted, was Marcus.

"What are you doing up?" Rory asked.

"Reading," the boy replied. If he had been only a few years older, there would have been some definitive sass applied to his voice, but luckily for Rory, Marcus was only eight and not yet near such things… that he could tell.

"It's the middle of the night."

"It feels like afternoon to me."

"No, it's definitely nighttime."

"Oh." He watched as Rory took a premade bottle from the icebox and began to feed Anthony. "Can I do that?"

"Feed him?"

"Yeah."

"Come with me, then." Rory and Marcus found the sitting room couch and sat down. Anthony was passed between them and soon the two children were staring at one another, neither completely certain the other was entirely safe. Rolling his eyes, Rory patted Marcus on the head, marveling at the boy's bouncy, brown curls.

"Do you think we can go to the park again tomorrow before Miss Amy goes away on her book tour?" Marcus wondered.

"Do you enjoy the park?"

"It's weird; I like it."

"You have to be careful who you talk to about things that are weird. Not a lot of people around here like weird things."

"Okay," the boy nodded. He kept feeding the baby, then scrunched his nose. "Mr. Rory? I think Anthony's nappy is full."

"Then give him here," he smirked. Marcus gave up the baby and looked at the hand that had been against the diaper, cringing. "Go wash your hands and head off to bed. We have a park to visit in the morning."

"Okay."

Marcus ran towards the stairs and soon Rory heard water in the pipes. He finished feeding Anthony and brought the baby back to the nursery. A clean diaper and the infant was asleep once again, laying peacefully in his crib as his father left the room and checked in on Marcus. The older child was in bed, though staring at the ceiling while still being wide awake.

"Mr. Rory?"

"Go to sleep, Marcus."

"Why isn't Mum coming back?"

"…because she can't, and leaving you with us was better than leaving you alone."

"I still miss her."

"I do too, trust me."

The boy was silent for a bit before croaking out a "good night," and covering his head with the bedspread. Rory stood by the door to make certain he did not hear any sniffling before closing the door and heading back to his room, where Amy was awake and waiting for him.

"Did I hear Marcus?" she asked.

"We need to do something," he replied, getting back underneath the blanket. "He misses River."

"It's only been three weeks, and we also miss her," she reminded him. Amy rested her head on Rory's shoulder and put an arm around his waist. "Give him a bit of time and he'll adjust."

"Does he want to though?"

"He has to, for his safety, just as we did."

A pause.

"You know, if I was told on our wedding day that we'd raise our grandson, this is far from what I would have imagined."

"Yeah; me too."

They said no more, instead choosing to go back to sleep. Memories of the last time they saw River flooded their vision as they tried attempted getting a little bit more rest; nothing about this was easy.

"Amy, Rory, I want you to meet Marcus," River said, presenting the boy in the foyer. He was looking around curiously, an anachronistic pair of sunglasses perched upon his nose despite them all being indoors.

"Aren't you a cutie?" Amy grinned. "I bet you're clever too."

"I am," Marcus beamed. "Mum says I might even be cleverer than her!"

"Now that I doubt," she laughed. "There's biscuits in a jar on the kitchen table; help yourself."

"Thanks!" He scurried off and all three adults looked at one another with serious faces.

"Why?" Rory wondered. "You know it's dangerous to come here."

"It's more dangerous for me not to come," River frowned. They walked into the living room and sat down, glad for the distraction of biscuits. "You might be able to guess that Marcus is the Doctor's son."

"Aye," Amy replied. "Where is he? I know he can't come here, but…"

"He's off, doing his own thing in a face you haven't seen," River explained. "We were living happily for a while, but he left before we realized I was pregnant."

"That doesn't mean we cannot threaten him," Rory added.

"No, the split was mutual—we both needed time away from the other," she said. "If I wanted him around that badly, I would have found him by now. You know how he handles domestic… I was surprised we could do it for as long as we did."

"…which then begs the question: Why here and why now?" Rory wondered. He and Amy watched as their time-displaced daughter take a deep breath and close her eyes, bracing herself for what she was about to say.

"I need you to take Marcus."

Morning broke and both boys were up again, Anthony for his bottle and Marcus for eggs and toast. Amy attempted to multitask in feeding both children at once, but by the time Rory arrived from his shower, the eggs were burnt and his wife was sitting grumpily at the table, her front covered in spit-up.

"Go ahead, I got him," he said, lifting the feeding baby from her arms. He concentrated on making sure Anthony didn't try to suck down too much formula at once while Amy went and proved to herself that a simple dish of scrambled eggs was still in her repertoire. The older three were soon eating their breakfast, not bringing any attention to the fact there had been attempts at it.

"Miss Amy?"

"What, Marcus?"

"Mr. Rory said that we could go to the park today. Can we?"

"If Rory said we could, then yeah, I think we can fit that in—we could even make a picnic of it."

"I'd like that." The boy shoveled some eggs on his toast and shoved the food in his mouth. "Mum used to take me to the park back home."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Rory scolded. Marcus swallowed hard and drank some milk.

"I'm sorry."

"Just be careful, yeah?" Amy said. "If you hurry, you can help me pack the basket."

"Okay!" The boy finished the rest of his food quickly and rushed out of the kitchen, leaving the adults and baby to themselves. They were able to finish up the rest of their breakfast in peace before Marcus returned, bouncing up and down as he waited impatiently for their new task to begin.

Within the hour, the picnic basket was packed, Amy and Rory were dressed in what were decidedly not pajamas, and everyone was nearly ready to go. They made their way out the door, with only Marcus lagging behind, lingering warily in the foyer.

"Come on," Amy insisted. "Let's go to the park like we planned."

Stepping out into the sunlight, the boy put his sunglasses on and grinned as he looked around. Being indoors was fine and all, but it was so bright and sunny that the sun's light proved to be too much for a lad who spent the first eight years of his life in twilight. He never left the house without them and, his new guardians noticed, it was thankfully much easier to spot him that way.

"Can I push Anthony's pram?" Marcus asked. Rory eased the stroller down the steps and settled it on the pavement.

"I don't see why not. Amy?"

"Sure." She placed her son down and tucked him into place, the baby napping peacefully. "Let us know when you get tired."

"Okay!"

The four of them then began to walk towards the park, keeping together on the sidewalk. It was plain to see, at least to the adults, that they looked like a family—cohesive and whole—and it was already considered a miracle that none of the neighborhood wives were questioning them and their sudden extra child. Anthony's adoption was no secret and now Marcus's existence only added to the mystery. The Williamses were a strange couple, now a strange family, and it was only a matter of time that someone took interest in that.

Soon they were at the park and parking the stroller under a broad, leafy tree. Amy spread out the blanket while Rory took Anthony from the confines of his blanketed existence and let him see the world around him. The boy's brown eyes grew wide as he looked around, completely entranced by the place.

"Why don't we go to the playground?" Amy suggested to Marcus. There were no kids on it yet, as school was still in session and no other families had made it to the park so far that day, making it the perfect opportunity to show him.

"Yeah! What are those things, anyhow?!" Marcus asked excitedly. He pulled Amy towards the nearby play area and pointed at the monkey bars. "Is this public art?!"

"Uh, no, it's something you play on," she explained with a laugh. "Jump up and grab onto one of these, and then see how many you can grab onto." She tried not to snicker as Marcus tried to jump and do as instructed, only to miss by half an inch. She lifted him up and allowed him to get a good grip before letting go. He dangled for fifteen seconds before dropping to the ground. "Harder than it looks?"

"Very much so." He pressed a finger to the side of his sunglasses and it whirred softly. "There is no strategy listed for optimal playing methods."

Amy attempted to keep a straight face as she stared at the boy—this was definitely the Doctor and River's son. Movement caught her attention, however, and she was glad for the distraction. "Hey, those look like some kids your age. Why don't you go see if they want to play?"

"Are you sure…?"

"Yeah—the only sure way to find out is to go do. Now go make some friends."

"Uh… okay…" The boy walked away from his guardian and towards the small group of children that were entering the far end of the park. Amy leaned on the monkey bars for a moment and watched as Marcus approached the kids. Hopefully he would eventually start making friends and try to be as normal of a kid as possible, but with the genetics he was working with, "as possible" was the key phrase. She glanced over at Rory waving a rattle over Anthony's face, smiling at the sight before turning her attention back towards Marcus…

…only to see one of the other boys hit her grandson right on the nose.

"Oi! What do you kids think you're doing there?!" she shouted angrily, purposefully turning up the Scots in her voice. "Get your hands off my wee bairn there!"

"Ha, his mommy has to come and help him," laughed the boy that punched Marcus. The other three children were backing away, getting ready to run, while their ringleader stood defiantly with all the cockiness his nine-year-old self could muster. "See? Baby needs his mommy."

It took a split second to see that Marcus was not seriously hurt, which left Amy free to grab the attacking boy from the shoulder of his shirt and lift him into the air, bringing his face more towards hers.

"How about if I make it so that you have a talk with your mam, yeah?" she threatened. "We all talk, us mams, so if you ever touch my son again, I will make sure that not only does your mam know, but also that all your friends' mams know, and then who would you be allowed to run with? No one. You'd have to be all alone with no one to boss around, and a bully without cronies is a sad, pathetic thing indeed."

"…are we threatening children now, Mrs. Williams?" Amy looked to see a familiar police officer standing on the pavement, not entirely certain if he should intervene. "Why aren't these kids in school?"

"We go to Holy Innocence!" one of the scared boys offered. "The nuns are on a retreat and we have the week off! We're not skipping! Honest!"

"Then what did you do to make Mrs. Williams here so upset? Don't you know better than to make a Scottish woman upset?"

"This one," Amy said, letting go of the boy's shirt, "hit my son and broke his glasses."

"I thought I heard you have two of them now; guess it's not rumor after all," the police officer nodded. "Now run off you kids, and don't go hitting anyone else, or not only will your mothers all know, but I'll tell Sister Stephen on you as well."

The youngsters all scurried off and the officer shook his head. "I'm going to have trouble with that bunch in about ten years. Just have your boy steer clear of them and he'll be fine. Good day, Mrs. Williams."

Soon as the policeman began to walk away, Amy turned her attention back to Marcus. His glasses were broke in half, sparking idly from the exposed wires at the nose bridge, and he was curled into a ball next to them, sniffling as he kept his eyes wrenched shut. She stroked his hair and tried to move his head so that she could see the damage done.

"Amy? What happened?" Rory was now next to them, holding the babbling Anthony in his arm.

"Some wee shite punched Marcus," she explained. She picked up the glasses and helped the boy stand. "I'm going to take him home and get some ice on his face before it swells."

"Shouldn't I do that? I'm the nurse."

"Yeah, but I'm not the one holding the baby," she said, giving him a wink. "Come on, Marcus; let's go. There's a bag of frozen peas in the icebox with your name on them."

Silently, Amy and Marcus went home, with the former leading the latter due to the fact he kept his eyes closed the entire time. He did not, in fact, open his eyes until he was sitting down on a kitchen chair, a dishcloth-wrapped bag of peas being shoved in his hands.

"Ow… it hurts," he whimpered, touching his right eye.

"Close it and put this on it," Amy instructed gently. She guided his hands as he settled the cold pack on his face. "That should keep the swelling down."

"Why did you do that?" he asked. Amy kissed Marcus atop the head before ruffling his hair.

"…because that child is a nasty little boy who needed to be scared," she replied.

"No… you said I was your son…"

"Oh, that." She pulled another chair over so that she could sit close to him, putting an arm around his tiny shoulders in a hug. "You're staying with us now—far as anyone needs to know, Rory and I have two sons now."

"…but I'm not…"

"Yes you are—now you are—and don't think Rory and I will treat you differently than we're going to treat Anthony, because we won't, and wouldn't even if this was a time where openly raising children other than your own wasn't looked at as being odd. River left us with you because she knew that about us… she knew you needed to be part of our family."

Marcus went quiet for a bit before leaning into Amy's hug. "I know Mum's not coming back, but I'm not even related to you. Why did she leave me here?"

"We are related," she said. "We were going to explain it all when you're a bit older, but… you know how time travel does weird things to people?"

"Yeah…?"

"Rory and I are your mam's parents—River was our daughter—but something happened where we couldn't raise her like we wanted to, and we knew her as an adult instead."

Marcus dropped the dishcloth. "Really…?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, but yes, I'm technically your granny, and your granny wants so badly to take care of you and keep you safe that she's willing to threaten someone else's child in front of a police officer." She picked up the dishcloth and rolled around the peas before replacing it on Marcus's face. "I'm not really lying when I say you're my son… just leaving out a technicality."

"…my glasses though…" Marcus looked at them sitting on the counter. "They're broken."

"I'll get you a non-sonic pair and when you get clever enough, you can fix them," she said. "How's that?"

He nodded.

"Good." The front door opened and shut, followed by Rory pushing the baby carriage into the kitchen. "Clean everything up alright without me?"

"Yeah; now let's see that eye," he said. Rory passed Amy Anthony and crouched down in front of Marcus, easing the dishcloth away from his face for a moment. "You should be fine."

"He knows, by the way," Amy added.

"Knows what?"

"That we're really Gran and Granddad." Rory rolled his eyes at that.

"Don't call me that," he insisted.

"That would be weird," Marcus agreed. "I don't know if I can now, but maybe… Mum and Dad…? Maybe when Anthony's a little older?"

"We'd like that a lot," Rory said. He patted Marcus on the shoulder before standing. "You know, it's a shame to waste such a nice picnic—how about if we have it in the back garden?"

"We can do that?" Marcus asked, scrunching his nose.

"Why not?" Amy added. She looked out the window and grinned. "Plus, I see some thicker clouds coming—it won't be too sunny for you after all."

Half an hour later, the sky was overcast enough—and Marcus's face had been iced enough—for everyone to move their picnic out to the backyard. They understood each other a little better now, and that was alright. They laid out a blanket over the grass and ate sandwiches while still being able to hear the stereo from inside the house. It was near a complete success, with the only thing souring the entire situation being Marcus going wide-eyed in a mixture of horror and confusion while they were cleaning up the dishes.

"Wait… does this mean that Anthony's my uncle…?"