A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to update; I kept being unhappy with what I tried writing (plus I lost a couple tries due to not saving smartly). This whole thing has gone an entirely different direction than I originally intended, and as a result, progress has slowed.

Also, I have a feeling this entire thing might go through a rewrite, partly because I don't like the beginning anymore since TNOTD aired, and partly due to the fact that I just found out I'm pregnant. I don't know for sure that being pregnant myself will make me change anything, but it could.

(Fun fact: husband and I are actually considering River for a girl's name).

(Another fun fact: husband is entertaining himself by blowing bubbles in our bedroom, hence the inspiration for this chapter).

Bubbles

Being married to the Doctor was sometimes like being married to a child, River thought fondly as she stepped out of her heels she'd worn to the wedding – Craig and Sophie's wedding, to be precise. They had finally decided to make the leap, because in reality, it did mean more than 'just a piece of paper', and of course the Doctor wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Of course, he had almost missed it; the TARDIS had landed in the church vestibule about ten minutes after the ceremony had started, he and River had entered arguing about coordinates, and the entire congregation had craned their necks back to look at them as they entered; Craig and Sophie just stood at the front, trying to suppress their grins, and two-year-old Alfie in his tiny tux had to be stopped from running down the aisle towards them.

The reception had been lovely, although at twenty weeks pregnant, River was irritated that she couldn't drink the champagne, especially since her husband seemed to be imbibing more than his share ("River, why don't we drink more champagne? It's much better than wine!" / "We have mimosas at breakfast fairly often, sweetie." / "...mimosas have champagne in them?"). Still, they had laughed and danced until only a few guests remained, and River had wearily dragged her husband to the hotel room Craig had booked for them. It was for the best; letting him fly the TARDIS in this state was probably not an ideal plan.

"River! River, let's get married more," the Doctor was exclaiming as River wordlessly turned her back and indicated for him to unzip her, which he did without thinking.

"Sweetie, we've already been married fifteen times on eleven different planets. Sixteen if you count the first, which wasn't even in this reality," River responded, sliding the dress down to the floor and stretching with a soft groan.

"But we've never had bubbles at any of our weddings!" he responded, waving a miniature tube of bubbles at her for emphasis. They had been given out as favors at the wedding; thankfully, the Doctor had managed to not notice them until towards the end. Eyeing the tube in his hand, he quickly uncorked it with the air of a scientist about to make a great discovery, then held the wand up to the light. "There isn't nearly enough bubble-blowing in the universe."

"Mmm-hmm," River murmured, stretching out wrong-ways on the bed to rest her stocking-clad feet on the pillows. The Doctor blew experimentally at the wand, sending a cascade of bubbles whirling, drawn by the eddies of air made by a fan spinning lazily in the fixture overhead.

"River! In all my life, I've never been to a planet full of bubbles. D'you think there could be a planet MADE of bubbles?"

"Bubbles are made of soap, dear. The planet would pop." Another whirl of bubbles spun round in the air, and she lazily reached a hand up to bat at them.

He paused, lips pursed; she couldn't help but love him in all his alcohol-induced silliness. "But it could be a different kind of bubble," he insisted after a moment's thought, then concentrated on his bubble wand again; he seemed to be trying to blow as big of a bubble as possible, but the air from the fan was hindering his efforts.

"I'm sure it could, sweetie," River replied, barely stifling a yawn. The bed shifted as he climbed onto it; she peered down to see him crouched beside her, apparently attempting to blow a bubble that would match the size of her swollen belly. "Oi!"

"What?" he asked, glancing up and looking genuinely confused as to what he'd done wrong. "Oh, don't worry, I've got more if this runs out," he reassured quickly, reaching into his pockets; at least a dozen bubble tubes spilled out.

"Good lord, did you take all of them?" she exclaimed, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Don't be silly, River. I just took all the ones that hadn't been claimed yet. We were the last ones on the dance floor," he reminded her, and she sank back down on the bed.

"Yes, sweetie, I'm well aware," she murmured tiredly, but he was already blowing bubbles up at the fan again. A few moments of peaceful silence passed, broken only by the steady whir of the fan, the soft plastic click of the wand dipping back into the soap, and a quiet whoosh of air every time he exhaled another round of bubbles.

Suddenly, River propped up on one elbow, her other hand flying to her stomach; the Doctor instantly sobered. "River? What is it, what's – "

"Shhh," she interrupted, wide-eyed. She was silent in concentration for a long moment; he corked the bubbles up and deposited them on the nightstand, eyeing his wife with concern. A slow grin began to spread across her face. "Here," she whispered, taking his hand and placing it where hers had been.

After a moment, a faint flutter moved under his hand; he raised his eyes to hers, and a matching grin stole over his features. Gently, he moved his face to her belly, resting his cheek against the spot where the movement had been. "Hello, baby," he murmured quietly before planting a kiss against her skin.

Smiling softly, she drew him up to lay beside her, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her as close as he could, bubbles forgotten.