a woman's touch
title: a woman's touch
genre: fluff
paring: hinted Amy/Eleven
(Takes place during "Day of the Moon")
summary: Amy helps the Doctor get rid of his awful beard.
“Where'd the Doctor disappear to?” Amy asks, seeing half the crew standing in the console room. River is flying the TARDIS and Canton is sitting in the jumper seat, watching her, while Rory is leaning against the railings looking relaxed despite the hell they all just went through.
“He went to shave off that animal using his chin as a nest.” River says with a small smirk.
Amy has a small smile as she takes the steps two at a time.
The TARDIS helps her out and leads her right to the Doctor. She finds him in a bathroom with oblong mirrors and faucets that are a bright purple. He's leaning against the counter with his hip and examining his face covered in lather. His suspenders are pushed off his shoulders and his sleeves are rolled up.
“You're holding it upside down.”
“Eh?” He blinks at her.
Amy laughs, more happy to see him than anything else, “The razor. You'll cut yourself if you hold it like that.” She strides on over and takes it from him, flipping it around and placing it back into his hand.
“Ah.” He looks at the razor and then at her, “Thanks.” He looks at the razor again, his eyes unsure, and Amy bites her lower lip before smiling.
“Ever done this before?”
“...well yeah...uh. Maybe.”
Amy sighs and snatches the razor from him, “Scoot.” She orders and he takes a small step back. Amy hops up on the counter. “For the sake of saving the universe and looking good while doing it. I'll do this.”
The Doctor's lips quirk into a small grin. “Pond, you're marvelous.”
He stands in between her legs as she sits up on the counter, her thighs brushing against his, her knees touching his hips, and the Doctor clasps his hands behind his back and keeps his spine straight.
Amy starts with his left cheek, the razor sliding down slowly, and the Doctor's eyes flutter close. She twists around and washes out the razor in the sink before going back, her finger tips lightly guiding him when she wants him to tilt or turn his head.
Amy feels a twist in her stomach. It's extremely intimate-the Doctor probably doesn't realize that.
She gets to his throat, to shave underneath his chin and she stops with the razor hovering there.
“Trust me?” She asks and the Doctor peeks one eye open.
“Fish fingers and custard.” He responds.
The razor goes along his throat and under his chin getting rid of the awful scruff there. Scruffy Doctor isn't exactly 'save the world' material. Amy hits the razor against the side of the sink, getting rid of the extra lather, and continues with her little project.
She's careful, with one hand on the Doctor's shoulder, and the other moving steadily along his skin. The only noise is the sound of running water, the quiet sound of the blade running along his skin, and their combined breathing.
“There.” Amy breathes out, admiring her work, and the Doctor reaches up to rub his face.
He tilts his whole body to the side to look around her and see his reflection. “Not bad, Pond!”
He steps back and reaches out his hands so she can hold them as she jumps down off the counter. Not that she needs to-but any excuse to touch her.
“How do I look?” He gives her a toothy smile.
“Like a madman with a box.”
genre: fluff
paring: hinted Amy/Eleven
(Takes place during "Day of the Moon")
summary: Amy helps the Doctor get rid of his awful beard.
“Where'd the Doctor disappear to?” Amy asks, seeing half the crew standing in the console room. River is flying the TARDIS and Canton is sitting in the jumper seat, watching her, while Rory is leaning against the railings looking relaxed despite the hell they all just went through.
“He went to shave off that animal using his chin as a nest.” River says with a small smirk.
Amy has a small smile as she takes the steps two at a time.
The TARDIS helps her out and leads her right to the Doctor. She finds him in a bathroom with oblong mirrors and faucets that are a bright purple. He's leaning against the counter with his hip and examining his face covered in lather. His suspenders are pushed off his shoulders and his sleeves are rolled up.
“You're holding it upside down.”
“Eh?” He blinks at her.
Amy laughs, more happy to see him than anything else, “The razor. You'll cut yourself if you hold it like that.” She strides on over and takes it from him, flipping it around and placing it back into his hand.
“Ah.” He looks at the razor and then at her, “Thanks.” He looks at the razor again, his eyes unsure, and Amy bites her lower lip before smiling.
“Ever done this before?”
“...well yeah...uh. Maybe.”
Amy sighs and snatches the razor from him, “Scoot.” She orders and he takes a small step back. Amy hops up on the counter. “For the sake of saving the universe and looking good while doing it. I'll do this.”
The Doctor's lips quirk into a small grin. “Pond, you're marvelous.”
He stands in between her legs as she sits up on the counter, her thighs brushing against his, her knees touching his hips, and the Doctor clasps his hands behind his back and keeps his spine straight.
Amy starts with his left cheek, the razor sliding down slowly, and the Doctor's eyes flutter close. She twists around and washes out the razor in the sink before going back, her finger tips lightly guiding him when she wants him to tilt or turn his head.
Amy feels a twist in her stomach. It's extremely intimate-the Doctor probably doesn't realize that.
She gets to his throat, to shave underneath his chin and she stops with the razor hovering there.
“Trust me?” She asks and the Doctor peeks one eye open.
“Fish fingers and custard.” He responds.
The razor goes along his throat and under his chin getting rid of the awful scruff there. Scruffy Doctor isn't exactly 'save the world' material. Amy hits the razor against the side of the sink, getting rid of the extra lather, and continues with her little project.
She's careful, with one hand on the Doctor's shoulder, and the other moving steadily along his skin. The only noise is the sound of running water, the quiet sound of the blade running along his skin, and their combined breathing.
“There.” Amy breathes out, admiring her work, and the Doctor reaches up to rub his face.
He tilts his whole body to the side to look around her and see his reflection. “Not bad, Pond!”
He steps back and reaches out his hands so she can hold them as she jumps down off the counter. Not that she needs to-but any excuse to touch her.
“How do I look?” He gives her a toothy smile.
“Like a madman with a box.”