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“Candles?”
“Yup.”
“Check. Fancy spoons?”
“Check.”
“Check. Fancy forks?”
Rory peers over the table at the five place settings, examining the silver with a scrutinous eye. “Check.”
John hides a smile and clears his throat, looking down at his list.
“Check. Flowers?”
Scrambling off the chair, Rory bounds into the kitchen and returns with a huge bouquet nearly half his size. It wobbles precariously in his arms, but he manages to hoist it onto the table, where John can put it between the candles.
“Did you write a silly card?”
“Oh! Good call, young sir.”
Rory giggles while John pats his pockets for a pen and note. “What should we say this time?”
Chewing his lower lip, Rory considers. “Do you know anything about dolphins? Mummy always smiles when they come on the telemision.”
John furrows his brow in dramatised concentration. “Oh! Did you know, dolphins use bits of sea sponges to protect their noses while they search for food! Like carpenters, only wet and—” He makes an elongated motion with his hand by his nose. “Kind of like your grandad.”
Rory laughs, holding a hand to his mouth as he nods furiously, and John grins, jotting down the note. Folding it carefully, he places it in the bouquet and returns to his list.
“Can I check it off?” Rory asks eagerly, and John smiles.
“It’s a very serious responsibility. You sure can handle it?” Rory nods, eyes wide, and John hands him the slip of paper and pen. “All right, then. What’s next?”
“Nana and PopPop?”
“Their plane came in about an hour ago, so they should be here soon.”
Rory frowns. “We can’t check them off yet ‘cause they’re not here.”
“Too true. Why don’t we hop over them, and see what else needs to be done?”
Nodding, Rory frowns down at the list. “Presents?”
“Ah!” John nods, whirling around as he beelines for the cabinet under the sink. Rory follows, peering over his shoulder as he pulls out an assortment of brightly wrapped presents.
Rory giggles. “Why are Mummy’s presents in there?”
Maneuvering the packages onto the table in the living room, John stacks them by size into a precarious tower. “It’s the one place your mum would never look,” he grins. “She hates cleaning.”
Rory snickers, poking at a box to straighten it. “They smell funny.”
John scratches the back of his neck. “Eh, might have been a bit of a Cif spill. Lemon fresh?” he asks hopefully.
Rory wrinkles his nose and shakes his head.
“Ah, well. We’ll find a new hiding place, eh? Maybe we can put them under your bed!” Rory stares at him, halfway between amused and confused, and John waves his hand. “Never mind. What’s next?”
“Dinner.”
“Check.”
“Check. Dessert?”
“Double check.”
“It can’t have two checks!”
John taps Rory’s nose. “Says who?”
Rolling his eyes, Rory adds painstakingly slow check marks to the boxes next to the items. “Are Auntie Donna and Uncle Jack coming?”
“Not tonight. They’re throwing a party for your mum tomorrow at Idris, but tonight’s just us and your gramps.”
As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Rory’s face splits into a wide grin. “Nana’s here, Nana’s here!” He scrambles for the door, and John quickly overtakes him, scooping him up by the waist and throwing him over his shoulder.
“Ah ah ah, you know what your mum says about doors, young sir!”
Rory squirms, laughing and slapping John on the back. “But it’s Nana!”
“We think it’s Nana—best be sure, eh?” He peers through the keyhole while Rory tries to wiggle around to see. “Let’s see—moon-like face, big ginger head—yup, it’s your Nana.”
Crawling down his waist to the floor, Rory unlocks the door eagerly, throwing his arms around Amy’s waist. “Hi Nana!”
Amy laughs brightly, looking younger than John’s seen her in years, bending down and scooping up the little boy. “There’s my boy! Gosh, you’re getting so big! Are you eating those magic beans again?”
Rory shakes his head emphatically. “Nu-uh. Mr. Principal John Doctor says beans are evil.”
Amy glares and John flushes, scratching the back of his neck. “Oh? And what does John Doctor recommend?”
“Custard!” Rory beams, high-fiving John from his perch on Amy’s hip.
John grins, but quickly schools his expression and ushers Amy and “Rory Senior,” as he’s taken to calling him, into the house.
They’re still living at his flat in London, but it’s evolved—River’s things are mixed with his things are mixed with Rory’s things, and there’s no longer a line between them. Her costumes are next to his suits are next to Rory’s old clothes, and the only thing he keeps in the floorboard under the bed are gifts Rory can’t find. River’s perfume is next to his mouthwash and he’s long since abandoned the hope that the vanity will be sparkle-free again. He finds glitter in his shoes and socks and sometimes in his hair, but he can’t complain—it’s steady proof that she’s still there, still his.
Rory natters on in Amy’s ear about the surprise and how long they’ve been planning and how John let him check off the list even though it’s a lot of responsamility.
“Looks good,” Rory Sr. offers, appraising the room as he sets down his own huge bag of gifts and begins unpacking them. “You got the wine?”
John nods. “In the kitchen.”
“Tickets?”
John pats his tweed pocket.
“All right.” Rory exhales, then turns and wraps his arms around John, clapping him on the back. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Mr. Pond. Thank you.”
Rory pulls away with a frown. “For what?”
“For coming here. I know it’s not exactly around the corner, and—”
Rory snorts. “She’s our daughter, of course we’re bloody here.”
“Ten p in the jar!”
John laughs as Rory scrambles down from Amy’s arms and runs into his bedroom, returning moments later with a heavy jar full of coins. When Rory Sr. stares at him blankly, his grandson sighs.
“You said a bad word.”
“Oh. Right.” Foraging around in his pocket, he pulls out a coin and drops it in, and Rory beams, grabbing his grandfather’s hand as he drags him into his bedroom. “Mummy says I get to keep the Bad Words money if I do all my chores and I’m good then when it fills up I get to spend it on whatever I want and this year I’m gonna buy a pony!”
“A pony, eh?”
“Defernately. It might have to be a fake pony because I don’t know how much ponies cost but even a fake pony would be awesome. Do you like ponies, PopPop?”
“Uh…”
Amy and John listen to the conversation from the kitchen for a moment, both casting the other surreptitious glances.
“Well I’m not gonna hug first.”
“Nor am I.”
Amy looks down at her fingernails for a moment, then back at John, then down, then back, before they both smile, meeting halfway.
“Oh, you stupid git I’m so happy to see you,” Amy says, her voice muffled in his shoulder.
John laughs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Missed you, too.”
Pulling back, Amy sniffs, then punches John as hard as she can in the arm.
“Ow! What was that for!”
“That was for lying to us for a year.”
“You already punched me for that!”
Amy raises her chin. “Yes, and I reserve the right to punch you once per visit for the rest of my life for keeping my daughter from me.”
“Amy—”
“For a year.”
John sighs, holding his arm. “Fine, fine, I suppose you’re entitled,” he grumbles, pouting. Amy seems unmoved, but she does smile at him, and if her forgiveness comes with a few Scottish jabs, he’ll take it.
“Do you have the tick—”
“Yes.”
“Just checking.”
John glowers, but his retort is short lived when he hears the key in the lock, and he scrambles to turn out the lights. “Quick, quick in the living room everybody!”
Rory grabs his grandfather’s hand, tugging him behind the couch, and Amy crouches down next to John.
“This isn’t going to scare her?”
John grins, gleefully. “It’s going to scare the pants off her.”
“Ugh.”
“That’s not what I meant!” he whispers harshly, then falls silent as he hears the door open. The hall light flicks on, and he can hear River dropping her bags.
“Rory? John?”
She sounds exhausted, and for a moment John worries about this plan, but then she pads into the living room and Rory leaps out from behind the sofa.
“Surprise!”
River starts, a sharp inhale that might have been a squeak, and Amy tosses John a look that says oh, what the hell before she pops out, too.
River does shriek this time, a hand clamping over her mouth as her father and mother pop up in the dark from behind the sofa, and John stands, grumbling about timing.
“You were supposed to wait for the light to turn on.”
Rory, clinging to his mother’s waist, frowns. “Oh. Oops.”
John huffs, and River stares at them all with wide eyes. “What—?
“Happy birthday!”
River gapes, a hand on Rory’s back and the other over her mouth for a long moment. Amy and Rory Sr. fidget, and John approaches her cautiously. “River? Are you all right?”
She faces him, expression stunned for a moment before she reaches out and punches him in the arm. “You bloody bastard!”
“Ow!”
Amy laughs loudly and Rory grins. “Twenty p in the jar, Mummy!”
“You scared me half to death!”
“How do you know it was my idea?” John whines, nursing his bruised arm.
River arches an eyebrow neatly.
“All right, fine, it was my idea, but looks! Parents!”
At that, River softens, her face lighting up as she crosses the room to hug her mum and dad in turn. “What on Earth are you doing here? When did you get in? How—”
Her father chuckles. “John called us a couple months ago. Wanted to surprise you for your birthday.”
Amy weasels her way between them, taking over the hug. “Did you think we were going to miss our first birthday with you?”
“I—I mean, I hadn’t thought—”
Rory snorts, shaking his head fondly, and Amy clings to River’s arm. “We’ve missed quite enough birthdays, young lady—from now on, you’re stuck with us.” There’s a hint of question in her voice, and River nods, eyes watering.
“I’m glad,” she murmurs, and Amy sniffs.
"Good. Now. Dinner? We're starved, and plane food, ugh."
River laughs, ushering Rory Sr. and Amy I to chairs around the table while she sends Rory to wash his hands. In the kitchen, John is pulling a roast out of the oven, and as soon as hems set it down she hauls him close by the neck and kisses him. He squeaks, arms pinwheeling, but recovers quickly, settling his hands at her waist.
"Happy birthday," he whispers against her lips.
"You impossible man."
The reverence in her voice, the love in her eyes still makes him beam, even after two years, and he hugs her fiercely before bringing the food to the table.
Dinner passes in a haze of laughter and warmth and River keeps her hand on his thigh, much to Rory Sr.'s disapproval. Rory giggles and avoids his peas and River doesn't make him eat them, just this once.
They take their dessert and wine and juice and chocolate milk (“And cookies?” Rory gasps, eyes wide with hope and glee at River’s nod) into the living room, and River balks at the number of presents on the table.
Some are for Rory, and he delights in his new pink shirt and Hulk watch and comic books, and River’s eyes sparkle at the jewelry and scarves and ancient pottery, blue and white and, if she’s not mistaken, painted with the word Yowza on the front. She arches an eyebrow at John, who simply winks and gets them refills and it isn’t until the last present has been unwrapped and Rory is wearing all the ribbons and bows that John turns to her, hands wringing together in his lap.
“There’s one more thing,” he says, sparing a hesitant glance at Amy and Rory Sr. They both nod, and River frowns, and after rooting around in his pocket for a moment, John proffers her the tickets. “I know what you’re going to say, but we’ve got it covered—Amy and Mr. Pond are staying for three weeks, and they can watch Rory. Jack’s offered to take over at the school for a bit, so you don’t have to worry about your teaching, and I’m on summer hols—I know it’s a bit last minute, but I’ve got everything worked out—we’ve got a hotel, and I’ve a friend who can give us tours if you want, and Rory knows someone who works at the museum, so we can do that—the rest is up to you. We can stay in Cairo, or take a trip down the Nile—Aswan’s amazing, and we can stop at the temples on the way, and you aren’t saying anything.”
River stares at him and then the tickets and then back at him, lips parted. “Egypt?” she whispers. “You bought me a trip to Egypt?”
“Well, us, but yes, I thought, you know, all your archaeology drive—stuff! Archaeology stuff, and you mentioned it a few times, and—”
“I—”
“If you don’t want to go that’s fine, or if you want to take someone else, or—or—or—”
River starts, leaning forward to kiss him soundly. Rory makes a noise of disgust from the floor where he’s reading his comics and Rory Sr.’s eyes narrow, but Amy nudges him in the side with a watery smile.
“It’s perfect,” River whispers, fingers running over the airline tickets reverently. “It’s more than perfect, it’s—” She turns to her parents. “Are you sure you want to—”
Amy huffs. “Please. A week to spoil our grandson without one ‘Oh, no, Mum, you shouldn’t have.’”
John snorts, covering his laughter as Amy imitates River’s voice.
“Rory, you’re okay with staying with Nana and PopPop for a week?”
Rory nods, abandoning his comic book to sit in Amy’s lap. “Nana said we could bake cookies and go for drives in the country and go to all the bookstores.”
Cradling him to her chest, Amy grins. “See? Everybody wins.”
“We’re uh,” Rory Sr. clears his throat. “We’re actually thinking about moving back. Here. Well not here, but to the UK. We grew up in Leadworth, so we thought we might check that out, if that’s…” He shifts nervously.
River gasps. “Oh, no, I mean—that would be amazing, that would—but your house, all your friends, in New York, you—”
Amy shakes her head. “We don’t need that house anymore, River,” she says softly. “And as for friends, well—our family’s taking precedence this time.”
“So, what’d you say, Song?” John asks softly, reaching for her hand. “Want to climb a pyramid with me?”
River laughs, her eyes bright and wet and full of joy. “Oh, sweetie,” she murmurs. “I’d do anything with you.”
John grins, cheeks stretching and Rory Sr. grumbles something about too much information. Amy laughs and smacks his arm and Rory demands they bring him back a ‘big blue bug’ like his friend Myra’s dad brought her when they came back from Egypt last year.
River sits close, nestled in John’s side, occasionally looking down at the tickets in her hands and smiling to herself.
“So,” she murmurs, too low for the rest of them to hear. “If we do climb a pyramid—which I believe is illegal—” Her eyes sparkle a bit too much at that. “What do we do at the top?”
Pressing a kiss to her temple, John smiles. “Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs, absently fingering the thin, silver ring through his pocket. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”