1.
They start with the obvious.
It's been so long since he's seen her, and she has yet to experience the full extent of his newer body, so there's not a doubt in their minds what is going to happen first thing after their dinner reservations.
It's dreamy and sweaty and different and perfect.
Completely perfect.
They lie together afterwards, his arm wrapped lazily around her. Her hand rests on top of his chest, cheek on top of his shoulder. She's softly smiling, growing steadily more weary as time goes by.
His hand moves to stroke her unruly hair, his lips to kiss her forehead, and her smile grows.
"Twenty-four years." Her voice is hushed, as if she's uttering a secret. "You weren't kidding about that one, were you?"
"Of course not." His reply is nearly as quiet as her words. "I would never lie about something like that, River. Never."
"Twenty-four years." She repeats, moving so that they're chest to chest and placing a hand on his cheek. "And you're saying I get you for the entire time?" He nods at that, and she beams, but doesn't expel extreme joy, doesn't overdo it.
That's something that he'll always love about her.
"So," He begins again, rather gruffly, adjusting to place both hands behind his neck. "How do you like the new body, now that you've had a go at it?" She laughs, nearly giggles like a little girl.
"I have to say, it's rather magnificent." Her reply is classic, cheeky River, and it makes him want to hold her tightly, forever.
She had said that he didn't love her, that she was completely in love with him but there was not a chance that he would do something so foolishly human as to fall in love.
In reality, she had no idea how wrong she had been.
He's loved her for so, so long, and he doesn't know how he deserves to have her.
There's something in the back of his mind that keeps reminding him how short their time is together, that reminds him how short life can really be.
He can't quite put a finger on why the sting of the thought is so painful. He doesn't remember why it seems to relevant to the present.
But he's trying to focus on now, on the present, on his impending twenty-four years with her, and it's enough to brush the worry and pain from his mind.
She kisses his cheek, settles back down into his arms and pulls the duvet up closer to her collarbone.
"Goodnight, Doctor." He smiles back at her, watches as her words fade into a yawn.
"Goodnight, River."