~ The morning after the anniversary party; River wants to say something. ~
"Fish fingers and custard!" the Doctor exclaimed gleefully, diving into his seat with an impish grin.
"Amy?" he called through a mouthful.
"She's at work, sweetie. You know she has a job."
River's voice made him smile. The heaviness from it had disappeared, and there was a new sparkle in her eyes when she appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her hair was freshly washed, tied back in a bun with a few loose springy curls framing her face from which the shadows and paleness had vanished.
"You look better."
She hummed as she made her way over to the sink, getting some orange juice. "I feel better. I actually had more than three hours' sleep, for the first time in about a month. I even kept breakfast down. Well, I only had about four spoons of dry cereal, but it's a start."
"Did you make these?" he asked, nodding down at the bowl of custard.
"No, it was the magic elves. Of course I did." She smirked as she came to sit next to him.
"Why?"
"Can I not make breakfast for my husband now?" she asked innocently. "Think of them as my way of saying thank you."
"What for?" he asked lightly.
She shrugged, seeming to suddenly grow shy. "I was going to say for making me better last night, but… I suppose for everything. I never said thank you, did I?"
"You don't have to thank me for anything."
She smiled timidly. "You've been taking care of me."
"That's my job."
"No; it isn't," she said softly, studying him with an uncharacteristic degree of affection, brushing his hair away from his eyes. "That's so you."
He put the remaining half of a fish finger back onto the plate, looking a little defensive. "What is?"
"Saving the Universe, because you think anyone would. Helping people, because you think it's the right thing to do. Not everyone would have stayed; but you don't know that. You've saved so many lives in so many ways, yet you think you're nothing more than a madman in a box. And that is what makes you the man I fell in love with. That's what makes you the Doctor. You don't even know that, do you?"
He smiled sheepishly, caught off guard by such stripped-back love. "I'm not just here because… I think it's the right thing to do," he said quietly.
"I should think so." She grinned, leaning across him to pick up a fish finger.
"Try it with the custard. Just once."
"Absolutely not."
"It's really nice."
"Coming from the man who thinks fezzes are cool? I don't think so."
He scowled and she smirked as was their tradition with her mockery, but when she found his hand and twined her fingers through his he could feel her heartbeat mingle with his own.