~ Emma ~ 23 ~ UK ~

I should probably just change all this to say this is an Alex Kingston appreciation blog because she is basically everything I reblog/post lol. Although I do write fic, mostly Mattex rpf, but Doctor/River is my OTP so occasionally I write that too. :) Also expect Matt Smith to pop up, and various Doctor Who bits and bobs, and sometimes completely random things too. My rules of tagging are that I tag anything that isn't Alex/Who related. And if you don't want to see any of that... there isn't much point following me :D

~ The beautiful gif up there ^ was made by areyoumarriedriver :) :)

Can you imagine those two as parents? 

So I just read this quote, and oh look timebaby fic happened :)

“River.. River! River!”

“What!?” River answers, very disgruntled as the Doctor shakes her into full consciousness. She groans at the sound of high-pitched wails and turns over, yanking her duvet over her head.

“River! He won’t stop crying!”

“It’s your turn!” River answers crossly from beneath her duvet.

“I know that!” He says back loudly over the sound of the baby’s cries, yanking the cover away from her head. “But it’s been twenty minutes and he won’t stop!”

She makes a very annoyed sound, hauling it back over her ears. “He probably needs changing!”

“I already changed him!  And – and I tried feeding him but he wasn’t hungry and he doesn’t want any of his toys and he won’t tell me what’s wrong he just – keeps – crying – River!!”

“Well sing to him then!” She yells from her bundle of duvets.

“I tried that! River! You have to help me!” He exclaims, his voice taking on a hysterical note and River sits up, flinging the covers down and looking thoroughly dishevelled and sleep-deprived.

“Don’t look at me!” She yells back over the screams, “You’re the one who’s supposed to have done this before!”

“Yes well – that was over a thousand years ago!” The Doctor yells even louder as the child’s cries rise in volume. “Excuse me if I’m a little rusty!”

“For the love of - !” Letting out a cry of frustration River flings her feet over the side of the bed and gets up, marching over to where her husband is desperately attempting to bounce their screaming baby to sleep in his arms to take him off him.

“There, there sweetie, what’s the matter?” She coos over the cries as she takes over the bouncing. “What’s your idiot daddy trying to do to you hmm? Tell mummy what’s wrong.”

The Doctor practically growls as he throws his hands in the air. “I was trying to stop him crying!”

“Well you weren’t doing a very good job were you?” River snaps back. “Go and make yourself useful and warm up another milk.”

“But I already tried that!”

“Just do it!”

Grumbling some choice words that River luckily doesn’t hear over the sound of their child’s cries, the Doctor slopes out of the room. When he returns five minutes later with a fresh bottle of hot milk, the first thing he notices when he approaches the door as that there seems to be wonderful, sweet silence inside.

Pausing to lean on the doorframe and breathing a sigh of relief at the blissful quiet, he smiles at the back of his wife’s head where she is sat on the floor opposite her son, cooing softly to him.

“River Song you are magnificent,” he says in a soft, lowered voice, and she turns to face him with a smile.

“I know.”

He smiles back at her, and with her now leaning back on her hands he has a clear view of their son and immediately gets to find out exactly how she had quietened him…

“River!!”

She jumps as he flails his arms about in a  panic, gesturing to their child.

She looks at the baby and then back at him and blinks. “What?”

“You – you - !!” Crossing the room in three quick strides he throws himself onto his knees before him and grabs the offending object out of his hands to wave it crossly at his wife. “You gave him a gun!?”

Hands suddenly empty, the baby howls.

Angrily, River snatches it back and quickly passes it back to him before the screams can escalate; he ceases immediately. “It’s not loaded Doctor, honestly!”

More arm-waving. “That’s not the point! Well – of course it’s a point – a very good one but – but the point is you should not be giving our three month old son guns to play with!”

River rolls her eyes. “Sweetie you know with his genes he’s mentally closer to a year by now.”

Red in the face, the Doctor waves his arms so wildly he nearly accidently smacks her in the face. “Still missing the point! Guns are –“

“You gave him your sonic screwdriver last week – un-disabled – and the Tardis is still mourning over the missing half of the left wing so I really don’t think you have a leg to stand on with this lecture honey.” He opens his mouth to argue but River plunges on. “Not to mention when you sat him on the console and decided to give him an early flying lesson that nearly resulted in us being flown straight into a black hole. The Tardis is still cross about that one too you know.”

He closes his mouth crossly. “Yeah well. I told him not to press the green button three times in a row – he has a rebellious streak. He gets it entirely from you.”

“He’s three months old,” she says patiently.

“I know! Imagine what he’s going to be like at three years!”

Chuckling softly, River places a tender hand on her husband’s cheek. “He’ll be fine.”

She leans over to press a fond kiss to his pouting lips and, reluctantly, the Doctor smiles back, taking her hand in his own as they turn to watch their son, already sitting up, play on the floor in front of them , bashing a part of the gun he had managed to completely disassemble on the floor.

His tiny little forehead creases  in a frown of concentration, and River tilts her head and the Doctor gapes as they watch their child with his tiny chubby fingers, quickly and perfectly reassemble the weapon. He holds it up for them to see with a delighted smile.

“Bang!” He says, and laughs in amusement.

River grins in delight and reaches forward to proudly ruffle the sparse curls already forming on top of his head with a fond, “That’s my boy!”

The Doctor drops his head into his hands and shakes it. “God help me.”

Still grinning, River pats the Doctor’s back soothingly as she scoops up her son and gets to her feet. “Don’t worry sweetie,” she tells him, bopping her son affectionately on the nose as she carries him over to his crib. “I promise not to teach him to shoot if before he’s at least a year.”