direction
Title: direction [words 1270]
Pairing: 11/Amy
Rating: PG
Summary: Finding the swimming pool. (random drabble which didn't stop)
She was definitely lost.
She had deliberated over this possibility after wandering down the first corridor, was pretty sure after turning the third corner, and after ending up in a smaller corridor where all the bloody doors looked the same the possibility had become fact.
Earlier, running through a maze of tunnels chased by a security guard with far too many legs and a name she couldn't pronounce ("Earth languages don't have the variety of sounds necessary") on some obscure planet which the Doctor swore was friendly ("Lovely race. Never had a problem before. Invited me to dinner with their queen a few years ago. Nice. Though I remember the pudding being overcooked.") she'd had no problem remembering her way. She'd led by a clear fifty yards as they 'd emerged from the dark to a field where the ("Not quite, but very similar to") grass was long and blue and tickled her ankles as she ran laughing towards safety. (He finished a close three yards behind, she'd almost lost her lead on the final hill.)
And now she was here trying to find her room ("Do you remember where it is?" "Of course I do!") in no danger at all, and she was completely lost. Obviously her sense of direction only appeared under fear of death. Or when the area being navigated contained fewer corridors.
She remembers now, whilst wandering around in an area which may or may not be near her room because she has no way of telling, that there was a swimming pool promised. And a library. (Although, she'd much prefer the swimming pool.) She heads toward the nearest door with the thought that if she is lost, she might as well try and find something good out of it.
"Why are you heading in there?"
She jumps back in alarm, loses her balance and hits the floor. Remaining there for a moment to regret the inevitable bruising to her backside, she turns to see the Doctor watching her with a small smile, and decides that her pride has also taken a small battering.
She can't quite decide how best to get to her feet without looking completely ungainly (with added winces), and consequently is more than grateful that he walks over to her and offers a hand. Taking it gladly - his skin is cool and soft under hers - she scrambles to her feet, holding lightly to his other arm to steady herself as the soreness makes its presence felt.
He lets her hand go once she has regained balance. "I was trying to find my room," is her offering, by way of explanation as to why she falls away from doors and ends up on her arse.
There is a quirk of an eyebrow and a small smile. "So, you don't know the way."
"I do," she retaliates, unable to admit defeat. "Just not from this particular corridor."
"Which begs the question," he says with a full smile now - his eyes crinkle slightly when he does so, she finds it endearing - leaning closer in a gesture which humanity would definitely class as flirting, "as to why you ended up here?"
"Exploring," she says, and with a gesture of mock defiance crosses her arms. "I remember being promised a swimming pool."
Marvelling for a moment that he can travel the universe, span lifetimes, save worlds and still look abashed at not having a swimming pool on offer, she waits before saying "So where is it?"
He scrunches up the side of his face and runs a hand through his hair in a gesture which is so very human, she smiles without meaning to. "I haven't actually found it yet. But it's definitely not in the library."
She takes his hands back in hers and steps close enough to abandon pretence at flirting. To his credit he doesn't back down under such obvious feminine presence, and she is transfixed for a moment by the thought that in his eyes she can see worlds. But then he blinks and it is gone and she can sense him meaning to say something so she acts quickly; she smiles playfully and steps backwards, pulling him along with her. "Then we'll have to keep looking."
She forgets until she reaches the next corridor than she is lost. He, however, remembers, smiles, and motions her to a door to their left.
"I don't know where I'm going either." He admits just as she reaches it.
"Then why this door?"
She opens it, and there is a breeze which trails cool fingers at her neck and lifts her hair slightly. In the middle of an large room, there is a pool reflecting blue-green light shining down from the ceiling. It is not large, nor is it situated in a library, but she has waited fourteen years and refuses to believe it anything other than wonderful.
"It seemed a good door."
He walks in behind her, looking thoughtfully about the room; inspecting through a surveyor's eyes. She has more pressing matters and eagerly pulls off her boots, jogging to the edge of the pool which ripples invitingly. She dips in a toe before realising she should have taken her tights off, but that doesn't matter because the water is so warm - and would it be completely rude if she were to jump in fully clothed?
He has his back to her staring avidly at the ceiling, which is no doubt a modern wonder - she thinks it very beautiful - but there is pool which is warm, and she needs a shower anyway, and she is preoccupied with thinking 'what the hell?' and 'why not?' Her jacket flies into the air and lands near the side of the pool at roughly the same time as her legs hit the water. And this, she decides, is why you should always be spontaneous because she is swimming under the water staring upward and the water above is reflecting blue and green ribbons of colour which drape themselves around her as she rises to the surface.
He is sitting on the edge of the pool with water seeping up his trousers as she swims over him, unashamed that her hair is flat across her face and she has never been a particularly elegant swimmer at the best of times, let alone in a denim skirt.
"Hey," she says eventually, clutching the at the side.
"I assumed you could swim," he says quietly and glances at her with a look that is somewhere between exasperated and tired. "Otherwise throwing yourself into the pool didn't really make sense."
"I can," she confirms with a smile. "Can you?"
He stands up at the side of the pool, towering over her, and she can sense his mood lighten. He gifts her a grin to make her heart skip, and she wonders if she can convey that she would gladly keep jumping in pools forever if he'd respond the same. "If I couldn't swim, Amy Pond, why would I have a swimming pool?"
She grins back instinctively. He is standing very close to the pool - the water has climbed as high as his knees, which must be uncomfortable - and he is no longer looking at the ceiling, so he really should have seen it coming. (Any human would have done, she will point out with some mock condescension later)
He hits the water all legs and arms, and it is satisfying to see him, for once, the more ill at ease as he turns underwater and surfaces a couple of yards away, his chin dripping with droplets of greens and blues beneath eyes wide with shock.
"Well," she says seriously. "You can swim, then."
---
This was only supposed to be a couple of hundred words - it just wouldn't stop. It still doesn't actually feel finished!
Pairing: 11/Amy
Rating: PG
Summary: Finding the swimming pool. (random drabble which didn't stop)
She was definitely lost.
She had deliberated over this possibility after wandering down the first corridor, was pretty sure after turning the third corner, and after ending up in a smaller corridor where all the bloody doors looked the same the possibility had become fact.
Earlier, running through a maze of tunnels chased by a security guard with far too many legs and a name she couldn't pronounce ("Earth languages don't have the variety of sounds necessary") on some obscure planet which the Doctor swore was friendly ("Lovely race. Never had a problem before. Invited me to dinner with their queen a few years ago. Nice. Though I remember the pudding being overcooked.") she'd had no problem remembering her way. She'd led by a clear fifty yards as they 'd emerged from the dark to a field where the ("Not quite, but very similar to") grass was long and blue and tickled her ankles as she ran laughing towards safety. (He finished a close three yards behind, she'd almost lost her lead on the final hill.)
And now she was here trying to find her room ("Do you remember where it is?" "Of course I do!") in no danger at all, and she was completely lost. Obviously her sense of direction only appeared under fear of death. Or when the area being navigated contained fewer corridors.
She remembers now, whilst wandering around in an area which may or may not be near her room because she has no way of telling, that there was a swimming pool promised. And a library. (Although, she'd much prefer the swimming pool.) She heads toward the nearest door with the thought that if she is lost, she might as well try and find something good out of it.
"Why are you heading in there?"
She jumps back in alarm, loses her balance and hits the floor. Remaining there for a moment to regret the inevitable bruising to her backside, she turns to see the Doctor watching her with a small smile, and decides that her pride has also taken a small battering.
She can't quite decide how best to get to her feet without looking completely ungainly (with added winces), and consequently is more than grateful that he walks over to her and offers a hand. Taking it gladly - his skin is cool and soft under hers - she scrambles to her feet, holding lightly to his other arm to steady herself as the soreness makes its presence felt.
He lets her hand go once she has regained balance. "I was trying to find my room," is her offering, by way of explanation as to why she falls away from doors and ends up on her arse.
There is a quirk of an eyebrow and a small smile. "So, you don't know the way."
"I do," she retaliates, unable to admit defeat. "Just not from this particular corridor."
"Which begs the question," he says with a full smile now - his eyes crinkle slightly when he does so, she finds it endearing - leaning closer in a gesture which humanity would definitely class as flirting, "as to why you ended up here?"
"Exploring," she says, and with a gesture of mock defiance crosses her arms. "I remember being promised a swimming pool."
Marvelling for a moment that he can travel the universe, span lifetimes, save worlds and still look abashed at not having a swimming pool on offer, she waits before saying "So where is it?"
He scrunches up the side of his face and runs a hand through his hair in a gesture which is so very human, she smiles without meaning to. "I haven't actually found it yet. But it's definitely not in the library."
She takes his hands back in hers and steps close enough to abandon pretence at flirting. To his credit he doesn't back down under such obvious feminine presence, and she is transfixed for a moment by the thought that in his eyes she can see worlds. But then he blinks and it is gone and she can sense him meaning to say something so she acts quickly; she smiles playfully and steps backwards, pulling him along with her. "Then we'll have to keep looking."
She forgets until she reaches the next corridor than she is lost. He, however, remembers, smiles, and motions her to a door to their left.
"I don't know where I'm going either." He admits just as she reaches it.
"Then why this door?"
She opens it, and there is a breeze which trails cool fingers at her neck and lifts her hair slightly. In the middle of an large room, there is a pool reflecting blue-green light shining down from the ceiling. It is not large, nor is it situated in a library, but she has waited fourteen years and refuses to believe it anything other than wonderful.
"It seemed a good door."
He walks in behind her, looking thoughtfully about the room; inspecting through a surveyor's eyes. She has more pressing matters and eagerly pulls off her boots, jogging to the edge of the pool which ripples invitingly. She dips in a toe before realising she should have taken her tights off, but that doesn't matter because the water is so warm - and would it be completely rude if she were to jump in fully clothed?
He has his back to her staring avidly at the ceiling, which is no doubt a modern wonder - she thinks it very beautiful - but there is pool which is warm, and she needs a shower anyway, and she is preoccupied with thinking 'what the hell?' and 'why not?' Her jacket flies into the air and lands near the side of the pool at roughly the same time as her legs hit the water. And this, she decides, is why you should always be spontaneous because she is swimming under the water staring upward and the water above is reflecting blue and green ribbons of colour which drape themselves around her as she rises to the surface.
He is sitting on the edge of the pool with water seeping up his trousers as she swims over him, unashamed that her hair is flat across her face and she has never been a particularly elegant swimmer at the best of times, let alone in a denim skirt.
"Hey," she says eventually, clutching the at the side.
"I assumed you could swim," he says quietly and glances at her with a look that is somewhere between exasperated and tired. "Otherwise throwing yourself into the pool didn't really make sense."
"I can," she confirms with a smile. "Can you?"
He stands up at the side of the pool, towering over her, and she can sense his mood lighten. He gifts her a grin to make her heart skip, and she wonders if she can convey that she would gladly keep jumping in pools forever if he'd respond the same. "If I couldn't swim, Amy Pond, why would I have a swimming pool?"
She grins back instinctively. He is standing very close to the pool - the water has climbed as high as his knees, which must be uncomfortable - and he is no longer looking at the ceiling, so he really should have seen it coming. (Any human would have done, she will point out with some mock condescension later)
He hits the water all legs and arms, and it is satisfying to see him, for once, the more ill at ease as he turns underwater and surfaces a couple of yards away, his chin dripping with droplets of greens and blues beneath eyes wide with shock.
"Well," she says seriously. "You can swim, then."
---
This was only supposed to be a couple of hundred words - it just wouldn't stop. It still doesn't actually feel finished!