The TARDIS had lots of rooms. It's not as if you could count them, what with the rooms shifting around like that. When River Song had first married the Doctor, and come to stay on the TARDIS, it had offered her a choice of eight rooms.

She'd taken the one with the big wardrobe, and the bathroom you can't believe.

The doctor, he didn't have a room. He didn't use a bed that often. Time lords, they're light in the sleep needs department. An hour or so a night, and he's well rested unless he's just regenerated or caught the flu. What sleeping he did, he did in a chair, or standing if he got caught in a particularly boring conversation.

He didn't have a room, and so the things you normally kept there - clothes, and keepsakes, and valuables - were either kept on him at all times, or didn't exist.

River Song had a room, even though in the beginning she didn't use it that often. He stayed in it whenever she traveled with him. Or at least, he stayed as long as he needed to sleep, and then he wondered off.

He filled the room with things she likes, or rather the things that he likes that she likes: hallucinogenic lipstick, and high heels, and pistols.

At first she thought that he only came when she did.

Then she started to notice things he'd left behind. Novels and bowties and fezzes.

He came in here without her.

Marriages across all of space, and time, they were complicated. They weren't what you called stable or predictable.

She liked the thought of him lying in this bed without her. She liked the thought of him missing her. She liked the fact that the most amazing man in history could be affected by her.

As the stuff gathered, she began to pity him. He was over a thousand years old, and he'd never really had a home.

There was a barn that he'd cried in, an academy he'd conquered, the TARDIS he'd stolen, all of time and space that they had wondered through. None of them home, until she made this little room feel like home to him.

Then the collection grew even more.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that you are a hoarder," she mentioned to him one day when he was rooting through a collection of left socks.

"It's a big universe, I can't help it if some of it follows me home once in a great while."

It was when the strange multi-dimension giant firefly came to live in their room that River Song put her foot down.

"You have a whole TARDIS! I don't see why all of your things have to come and reside in his room."

He looked all sad and despondent for a little bit, and sulked off.

She worried about it until the next night she came to stay. There was a new wardrobe. Bigger on the inside. "Time Lord technology," he'd said with a shrug.

There was a chair too, because he really didn't like sleeping in a bed.