The Twenty-Week Checkup
Cuddled and warm under the covers, River left her eyes closed when she felt the gentle brush of lips on her neck. His arms were already around her and his body was pressed against hers, his double-heartbeat gently drumming into her back. Softly, he trailed gentle kisses up the top of her spine and onto her neck, gently sucking a little spot just below her ear.
"Doctor," she mumbled sleepily, rolling to face him. He moved a little, accommodating her belly by curling around it and scooting up to meet her lips. His hands were beginning to wander with familiar eagerness. Gently, she took hold of his wandering hands, his caressing fingertips, and led them to her belly, resting them away from all the places they had been drifting to.
"Sorry sweetie; I know what you want but I'm really not in the mood right now."
He sighed a little, but nodded.
"I'm sorry, honey. But we're going to see my grandmother again for the checkup today and between that and the fact that my back is killing me, I just don't think I'm up for it. Maybe tomorrow, all right?"
He cuddled against her the best that he could.
"You don't have to defend yourself to me, love. It's all right."
Smiling, she cuddled closer to him and thought of the weeks that lead up to the point they were at.
She didn't take any medicines for the headaches and backaches that plague her more and more often. She relied on the Doctor's hands to work out the soreness and warm baths, naps, and tea for the headaches. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn't. He was more supportive than she imagined he would be. Who knew that pregnancy would teach her ridiculous, insane Doctor to grow up? She knew that he had been a father before, but it was so long ago.
They argued more. Generally playful, flirting banter, but as her hormone levels began their rollercoaster-ride, she snapped at him more often. He occasionally got short with her for being unreasonable. Shouting matches generally ended in them laying together on a couch or his bed eating jammie dodgers and muttering apologies before switching the conversation to High Gallifreyan. She got so much better at his language during this point that she began to read some of the novels he had in Gallifreyan, only occasionally asking what a word meant. They spent an increasing amount of time just lying together, enjoying being alone. The Tardis created a new room which River stumbled upon the week previous. Inside the pastel green and yellow walls, it contained a crib, changing table, rocking chair, and dresser. River smiled and didn't mention it to the Doctor, who despite his interest in how their baby was developing, seemed to grow anxious when the actual baby was mentioned in the context of no longer being inside of River.
"We should probably get up," she murmured into his ear and he smiled, sighing.
"It is a time machine…we could stay in bed all morning if we wanted to."
It was a tempting thought, just lying there in his arms, cuddled close and safe and loved. However, her stomach rumbled and she sighed.
"Looks like baby's hungry, and I don't trust you to cook again. That omelet was unrecognizable."
"I wouldn't say unrecognizable…"
"I would. Come on, we've got a big day ahead of us. It's the day I'm being proven right."
"I'd actually rather not know if it's all the same to you."
They had only briefly discussed whether or not they were going to ask about the sex of the child, and the conversation had been inconclusive. River realized that she didn't want to have one of them know and the other not know. And despite the fact that she really wanted to know whether or not the baby was a girl, as she suspected, she wanted this to be something that they could share as an experience.
"This is just so you can gloat, isn't it?"
"Maybe. I have a fifty-fifty chance of being right, you know."
"Well tell you what. If you don't want to know, I won't ask either. I'd be rubbish at keeping it from you."
"Liar; you seem to do all right with your spoilers."
"And I want this to be something we share."
She rolled over and got to her feet, muttering grouchily as she rubbed her back and put on a dressing gown. The Tardis rearranged the rooms for her so everything was a shorter walk. The Doctor found this amusing, only it only did the same for him if she was also there.
"The old girl likes me," River said, shrugging. "And she only does it on the days that my back really hurts."
The Doctor grouched anyway, despite the fact that he got to his toast five minutes before he usually would.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They arrived in the backyard in a rush and River's grandmother peered out the back door and smiled, bellowing back into the house,
"You were right! Happy?"
Laughter rang out from inside the house and her grandfather appeared in the doorway.
"Hello River," he greeted her as they met in the center of the lawn. After a series of hugs, her grandmother looked her up and down.
"How many weeks are you? I saw you for the first time….oh last year. And you delivered three or four months ago."
"Is the baby all right?" River asked in a rush, and her grandmother made a zipping motion above her lips.
"That mad husband of yours already explained that we're not to tell you anything. Have you got the data-drive? We've got some scans and tests to do. Oh, and the two of you are staying for the weekend. Did anyone mention that to you?
The Doctor opened his mouth to protest and Sophie held a hand up to his face,
"You don't do domestic. I know. Well you've got a baby on the way so it seems that you can manage a weekend with your family. Have you brought your toothbrushes?"
Tom chuckled as the Doctor sagged in defeat. The older woman had the same resolve as her granddaughter or was it the other way round? Either way, it was useless to argue.
"Excellent," Sophie said with a warm smile. "Now let's all go inside and have a bite to eat. You're much too skinny and you're going to set an example for my future grandchild.
Tom emerged from the living room with a basket covered with a blanket. Underneath the basket were the unmistakable shapes of toys.
"You brought the baby over a few days ago. We hadn't picked up the toys yet." After this brief explanation, he carried the basket away to some other part of the house. River could see the Doctor's mind picking out all the shapes of the toys, trying to guess what was under the blanket. She smacked his arm.
"Sweetie, no. Spoilers."
Rolling his eyes, he waltzed into the kitchen where there was food sitting on the counter in the open.
"I don't know how you manage to do it, but whenever we arrive you're both here and there's food waiting."
"We're very good," Sophie said with a smile, and the Doctor eyed her suspiciously, but was quickly distracted by the presence of a cherry pie and a plate full of sandwiches.
"Have you got ham salad in here? I love ham salad." He picked one of the sandwiches apart, which got his hand smacked lightly with a spoon.
"Don't play with your food," Sophie ordered, cutting him a slice of pie. "The ham salad ones are on wheat bread. The white bread has chicken salad."
Pouting a little, the Doctor selected several sandwich triangles and put them on his plate next to the pie.
"Raspberry fizz for the Doctor and peach juice for River?" Tom asked, already pouring the aforementioned drinks into glasses for them.
"Thanks grandpa."
The Doctor was staring at his raspberry fizz with a mixture of awe and confusion.
"How did you—" he began, but Tom merely smiled. "I'm clever," he remarked, and helped himself to a sandwich. After giving the raspberry fizz a tentative taste, he enthusiastically downed the glass in several gulps.
"You really don't want to do that…" River began, but the Doctor had already finished the glass. It took all of eight seconds for his stomach to begin making weird noises. Fascinated, he looked down at his middle.
"Is this what pregnancy is like?"
River was laughing so hard that she nearly missed the Doctor lurching forward to nearly vomit into the garbage can next to the counter. He caught himself and raised a finger, his face a little green.
"Do you have an antacid or something?"
River sighed and fetched a bottle of antacid tablets from the medicine cabinet and dropped them into her husband's hand.
"You've never had raspberry fizz before, have you?"
"Of course I've had raspberry soda before, River."
"That's not what I asked. I asked if you had ever drunk raspberry fizz."
"Not specifically raspberry fizz, no."
"If you don't dilute it," she shot her grandfather a glare, which he calmly ignored, "and drink it too quickly, the fizz upsets your stomach and you throw up. Or in your case, nearly throw up."
"And it's still on the market?"
"It's a fantastic drink if you dilute it," she said, directing the meaningful tone at her grandfather, who shrugged. "He always has raspberry fizz undiluted."
"Well from now on, he doesn't. Or he drinks it slower," the latter part of the statement was directed at her husband, who was still looking mildly green. He nodded, looking rather sick.
"Why don't you go lay down in our room, all right? Grandpa, which room are we staying in?"
"The one you and your cousin Lori always stayed in."
River's expression grew dour. "Very mature, Grandpa."
The Doctor looked at her and stage-whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"
"Not yet you haven't," Tom muttered.
"Wonderful," he remarked grouchily. River led him to their room, still scowling and muttering about not being a little girl anymore.
Once they got to the room, the Doctor understood why River was unhappy with the set-up. In the room were two beds, both meant for one person. They were in opposite corners of the room and all the furniture separated them. River and Lori had never really gotten along as children, but they had been forced to share a room because the room was the one of the few furnished for children. The Doctor lay down on the bed closest to the door, curling up on his side, knees to his stomach. River sat on the bed next to him, running her fingers through his hair, massaging his skull. His eyes closed,
"That feels lovely," he murmured, still sounding rather sick.
She smiled and continued her stroking.
"I'm sorry my grandfather did that to you. I really don't know what's gotten into him."
"It's entirely possible that I do drink it undiluted, love. I wouldn't want to ruin the flavor and now I know not to gulp it down. It's really not his fault."
"But he put us in this room instead of one of the ones with a bed for two people."
"To be fair, he did say that I haven't done it yet. It's entirely possible that I did something rude the last time they saw me."
"Grandma was fine."
"Sophie went straight to the lab with our data-drive. You don't know if she's angry at me or not."
"Doctor," she began, but he reached out and took her hand.
"Let's not fight, all right? I already feel awful."
River silently gained another measure of respect for his self-control. He hated being sick. Especially because he was very rarely sick, so the idea of being in bed all day both bored and frustrated him. The fact that he had the self-control to realize that he was unhappy because he was feeling ill and not to redirect it spoke measures about him in River's book; her metaphorical book and later in the little blue diary where she noted their adventures.
She continued petting his head for a while until he sat up slowly.
"I think I'm all right now; I don't really feel like—" And that was precisely when he threw up all over the rug.
River looked over at him.
"Better?"
Red-faced and uncomfortable, the Doctor nodded.
"Do you want a glass of water to rinse out your mouth?"
He nodded again.
"I'll go fetch one then. Just stay there, all right? I'll be right back with your water and the cleaner-bot."
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