@fearsasuperpower continued from here
It isn’t unusual for them all to drift off in the same (thankfully king-sized) bed, especially after the kind of day they’ve had: a broken nights sleep the previous night had left them with a grumpy toddler all morning, who somehow transformed into a hyperactive toddler the exact moment they arrived at the park, determined to race the dog across every stretch of grass and path available. Needless to say, they were all exhausted by the time they returned to the house, barely able to eat before collapsing into bed.
What is a little more unusual, though, is returning to the waking world half way through the ‘night’ because she’s only a few centimetres short of falling off the bed. Who knew a child so small could take up so much space?
In spite of her complaint, she can’t quite bring herself to agree to move her son. (Though the dog is another story, considering she never wanted it on the bed in the first place - she can deal with the guilt for a few days, but knows her husband probably can’t.) Gaze roams over blonde curls, tiny freckles, and parted lips that contentedly drool onto the pillow, eyes softening as she considers him.
A defeated sigh leaves her lips as River shakes her head in answer to the Doctor’s question, reaching over to adjust Sam’s little limbs to allow her more room. The movement, although gentle, is still enough to wake him, and bleary eyes gaze up at her for a confused moment before he cuddles close, returning his tiny thumb to his mouth where it was when he first fell asleep.
“There,” she breathes out, after shuffling them both a bit further onto the bed, knowing that’s probably as comfortable as she’s going to get if she won’t return Sammy to his bed. River has, without a shadow of a doubt, gone soft in her retirement.