fic: slightly singed
title: slightly singed
author: saywheeeee
pairings: eleven/amy
genre: fluff/angst. flangst?
rating: PG for some light swearing.
word count: 1335
summary: a morning, a misunderstanding, and sofa cocoa. set sometime between vincent and the doctor and the lodger.
Amy wakes up and crawls bleary-eyed out of her bed, throws on the first items of clothing that catch her eye, and then wanders out barefoot down the cold metal corridor. She spends ten minutes trying to find the bathroom, which has an annoying habit of moving. The TARDIS seems to notice her irritation and very kindly warms up the toilet seat for her by way of apology. “Mmrphl,” mumbles Amy in thanks.
She can’t find her toothbrush, so she brushes with the Doctor’s. Then she switches off the light and heads down to the control room, still in a haze of sleep.
“…morning,” she mumbles to the Doctor, who is already wide awake and scampering around the console with a smile on his face. “Morning, Pond!” he calls cheerfully. There is a very small explosion followed by a series of loud curses.
Amy drags herself up six stairs and into the kitchen. She downs three cups of tea and starts feeling alive again. There is an English muffin and a fried egg sitting out for her on the counter: she devours both. Scavenging in the pantry leads her to a couple of ancient-looking Mars bars and an apple, which go into her jacket pocket for later. She returns with a bit more of a spring in her step to the control room. The Doctor, now slightly-singed, catches sight of her wildly unbrushed hair and bursts out laughing. And then they go and save the world.
Now they’re standing in the grass looking out at a shining lavendar forest beneath a mint-green sky, where the carnivorous moon of the Republic of Saturn used to hang until about an hour and a half ago when they stopped it from eating the planet and it fled to another galaxy in defeat. Amy glances at the Doctor. His face is peaceful. She leans sideways against him and wraps her arms around his waist, and he gives a little laugh and kisses the top of her head fondly.
“Come on,” says Amy, thinking of the sofa in the TARDIS’s library and the packet of hot cocoa mix that she remembers seeing in the kitchen. “I wanna go home.”
She feels the Doctor go very still, and he doesn’t say anything. There is a long moment before she pulls away to look at him. His face is blank, and she frowns.
“Hey. Come on.”
He clears his throat. “Why?”
Amy laughs. “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, this is great…” She gestures at the forest below them, sparkling in the wind. “But I’m gettin’ kinda tired.”
She wonders what it would take to persuade the Doctor to join her for sofa cocoa, and a little smile tugs at her lips.
“Come on,” she insists again, grabbing his sleeve and pulling.
He doesn’t move. He’s staring at her.
“Doctoooorrr…”
“Right,” he says at last, swallowing. “Okay.”
Amy lets go of him and turns around, walking back through the grass to where the TARDIS is parked a few hundred meters away. She hums a little, her arms swinging at her sides. Her TARDIS key is around her neck, and she pulls it out and unlocks the door. It makes a little click. She grins. “Hey you,” she murmurs, patting the bright blue wood. “Thanks for waitin’.”
She steps inside, and holds the door open for the Doctor. He’s lagging behind, hands tucked into his pockets and gaze downcast, and Amy rolls her eyes in impatience. “Hurry up,” she groans as he approaches.
“Amy,” he says quietly, stopping in the doorway.
She whips off her scarf and tosses it onto one of the guardrails. “Be right back,” she smiles, patting him on the chest before running up the steps into the kitchen to grab the hot cocoa packet. There’s a couple of leftover English muffins too. Perfect, she thinks. They can get hot water from the bathroom-for some reason the kitchen sink hasn’t been behaving lately. Snacks in hand, she trots back out, trying to think of a good attack strategy. Something like Hey Doctor, you know what we haven’t done in a long time? NOT BEEN IN HORRIBLE DANGER.
He’s bent over the console when she comes back into the room, and she walks up to him and gives him a nudge. “Hey, get us out of here, will you? Do your…TARDISy thing. I found us some-”
“Amy, please don’t go,” he says in a low voice.
She stares at him. “Go where?”
He looks up at her, and there are tears in his eyes, God help her, and she feels her heart thud. “Doctor?”
“You-” His voice catches, and he stops. “Why are you holding hot cocoa?”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not-”
They stare at each other.
“You said you wanted to go home,” the Doctor murmurs.
It takes about five seconds, and then Amy drops the hot cocoa packet and closes her eyes. Idiot.
“I’ll take you home, I will,” the Doctor continues, his voice hoarse, “but just…just tell me why. Because I thought-” He clears his throat. “I didn’t think you were-”
“Doctor.”
“-Amy, I don’t-”
“Doctor!” She opens her eyes and glares at him. “I meant go home to the TARDIS.”
There is a very long silence.
“Right.”
The Doctor coughs and turns back to the console.
Amy gapes at him in utter disbelief. “Did you actually think I meant Leadworth?”
“OF COURSE I THOUGHT YOU MEANT LEADWORTH!” the Doctor explodes. “WHAT ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO THINK?”
“…oh…my god…”
“You can’t just go about all take me home! out of nowhere and expect people to know what you’re talking about!” He waves his arms madly. “Are you insane?”
“Why the hell would I want to go back to Leadworth?!”
“…bloody hell…” The Doctor collapses in one of the chairs.
Amy sits in the other one, an exasperated hand over her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” she mutters.
There are a few seconds of silence. Amy peeks through her fingers. The Doctor’s got his head in his hands and his fingers are making his hair stick up all funny. She bites her lip to keep from laughing, and instead asks quietly, “Why would you just assume that I meant it that way?”
With an exaggerated sigh the Doctor sits back, smoothing his hair and avoiding Amy’s gaze. “You’ve never called the TARDIS home before.”
She keeps looking at him, because she knows that’s not it.
“Maybe…” He clears his throat awkwardly and gives her a quick glance. “I suppose I’ve been…waiting for it. For a while now.” A small smile. “You expect what you’re afraid of, don’t you?” And she wants to hug him, her heart swelling with deep affection, she wants to bound forward and throw her arms around his neck and bury her hands in that absurd hair of his, but he’s clearly uncomfortable enough as it is, and so she simply reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out the apple she stole from the kitchen that morning and tosses it to him.
He catches it.
“Not goin’ anywhere,” she says softly. “Ever.”
He meets her eyes, and he believes her, she thinks. Because his eyes are a little brighter and he’s blushing at the tips of his ears, and he takes a bite of the apple and then coughs and spits it out into his hand and says, “This is rubbish, Pond. Apples are rubbish. We’ve been over this.”
“Mm-hmm.” She grins and gets up to grab the cocoa packet from the floor. “I’ma go put the kettle on.”
She does. The Doctor allows her to pull him into the library by the corner of his jacket and they have hot cocoa and English muffins on the sofa, sitting close beside each other, arms and legs touching, pressed up together in comfortable, happy silence. The Doctor leans against her and rests his head on her shoulder, and she kisses his hair.
Ever, she repeats to herself.
fin
author: saywheeeee
pairings: eleven/amy
genre: fluff/angst. flangst?
rating: PG for some light swearing.
word count: 1335
summary: a morning, a misunderstanding, and sofa cocoa. set sometime between vincent and the doctor and the lodger.
Amy wakes up and crawls bleary-eyed out of her bed, throws on the first items of clothing that catch her eye, and then wanders out barefoot down the cold metal corridor. She spends ten minutes trying to find the bathroom, which has an annoying habit of moving. The TARDIS seems to notice her irritation and very kindly warms up the toilet seat for her by way of apology. “Mmrphl,” mumbles Amy in thanks.
She can’t find her toothbrush, so she brushes with the Doctor’s. Then she switches off the light and heads down to the control room, still in a haze of sleep.
“…morning,” she mumbles to the Doctor, who is already wide awake and scampering around the console with a smile on his face. “Morning, Pond!” he calls cheerfully. There is a very small explosion followed by a series of loud curses.
Amy drags herself up six stairs and into the kitchen. She downs three cups of tea and starts feeling alive again. There is an English muffin and a fried egg sitting out for her on the counter: she devours both. Scavenging in the pantry leads her to a couple of ancient-looking Mars bars and an apple, which go into her jacket pocket for later. She returns with a bit more of a spring in her step to the control room. The Doctor, now slightly-singed, catches sight of her wildly unbrushed hair and bursts out laughing. And then they go and save the world.
Now they’re standing in the grass looking out at a shining lavendar forest beneath a mint-green sky, where the carnivorous moon of the Republic of Saturn used to hang until about an hour and a half ago when they stopped it from eating the planet and it fled to another galaxy in defeat. Amy glances at the Doctor. His face is peaceful. She leans sideways against him and wraps her arms around his waist, and he gives a little laugh and kisses the top of her head fondly.
“Come on,” says Amy, thinking of the sofa in the TARDIS’s library and the packet of hot cocoa mix that she remembers seeing in the kitchen. “I wanna go home.”
She feels the Doctor go very still, and he doesn’t say anything. There is a long moment before she pulls away to look at him. His face is blank, and she frowns.
“Hey. Come on.”
He clears his throat. “Why?”
Amy laughs. “Don’t get me wrong, I mean, this is great…” She gestures at the forest below them, sparkling in the wind. “But I’m gettin’ kinda tired.”
She wonders what it would take to persuade the Doctor to join her for sofa cocoa, and a little smile tugs at her lips.
“Come on,” she insists again, grabbing his sleeve and pulling.
He doesn’t move. He’s staring at her.
“Doctoooorrr…”
“Right,” he says at last, swallowing. “Okay.”
Amy lets go of him and turns around, walking back through the grass to where the TARDIS is parked a few hundred meters away. She hums a little, her arms swinging at her sides. Her TARDIS key is around her neck, and she pulls it out and unlocks the door. It makes a little click. She grins. “Hey you,” she murmurs, patting the bright blue wood. “Thanks for waitin’.”
She steps inside, and holds the door open for the Doctor. He’s lagging behind, hands tucked into his pockets and gaze downcast, and Amy rolls her eyes in impatience. “Hurry up,” she groans as he approaches.
“Amy,” he says quietly, stopping in the doorway.
She whips off her scarf and tosses it onto one of the guardrails. “Be right back,” she smiles, patting him on the chest before running up the steps into the kitchen to grab the hot cocoa packet. There’s a couple of leftover English muffins too. Perfect, she thinks. They can get hot water from the bathroom-for some reason the kitchen sink hasn’t been behaving lately. Snacks in hand, she trots back out, trying to think of a good attack strategy. Something like Hey Doctor, you know what we haven’t done in a long time? NOT BEEN IN HORRIBLE DANGER.
He’s bent over the console when she comes back into the room, and she walks up to him and gives him a nudge. “Hey, get us out of here, will you? Do your…TARDISy thing. I found us some-”
“Amy, please don’t go,” he says in a low voice.
She stares at him. “Go where?”
He looks up at her, and there are tears in his eyes, God help her, and she feels her heart thud. “Doctor?”
“You-” His voice catches, and he stops. “Why are you holding hot cocoa?”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not-”
They stare at each other.
“You said you wanted to go home,” the Doctor murmurs.
It takes about five seconds, and then Amy drops the hot cocoa packet and closes her eyes. Idiot.
“I’ll take you home, I will,” the Doctor continues, his voice hoarse, “but just…just tell me why. Because I thought-” He clears his throat. “I didn’t think you were-”
“Doctor.”
“-Amy, I don’t-”
“Doctor!” She opens her eyes and glares at him. “I meant go home to the TARDIS.”
There is a very long silence.
“Right.”
The Doctor coughs and turns back to the console.
Amy gapes at him in utter disbelief. “Did you actually think I meant Leadworth?”
“OF COURSE I THOUGHT YOU MEANT LEADWORTH!” the Doctor explodes. “WHAT ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO THINK?”
“…oh…my god…”
“You can’t just go about all take me home! out of nowhere and expect people to know what you’re talking about!” He waves his arms madly. “Are you insane?”
“Why the hell would I want to go back to Leadworth?!”
“…bloody hell…” The Doctor collapses in one of the chairs.
Amy sits in the other one, an exasperated hand over her eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” she mutters.
There are a few seconds of silence. Amy peeks through her fingers. The Doctor’s got his head in his hands and his fingers are making his hair stick up all funny. She bites her lip to keep from laughing, and instead asks quietly, “Why would you just assume that I meant it that way?”
With an exaggerated sigh the Doctor sits back, smoothing his hair and avoiding Amy’s gaze. “You’ve never called the TARDIS home before.”
She keeps looking at him, because she knows that’s not it.
“Maybe…” He clears his throat awkwardly and gives her a quick glance. “I suppose I’ve been…waiting for it. For a while now.” A small smile. “You expect what you’re afraid of, don’t you?” And she wants to hug him, her heart swelling with deep affection, she wants to bound forward and throw her arms around his neck and bury her hands in that absurd hair of his, but he’s clearly uncomfortable enough as it is, and so she simply reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out the apple she stole from the kitchen that morning and tosses it to him.
He catches it.
“Not goin’ anywhere,” she says softly. “Ever.”
He meets her eyes, and he believes her, she thinks. Because his eyes are a little brighter and he’s blushing at the tips of his ears, and he takes a bite of the apple and then coughs and spits it out into his hand and says, “This is rubbish, Pond. Apples are rubbish. We’ve been over this.”
“Mm-hmm.” She grins and gets up to grab the cocoa packet from the floor. “I’ma go put the kettle on.”
She does. The Doctor allows her to pull him into the library by the corner of his jacket and they have hot cocoa and English muffins on the sofa, sitting close beside each other, arms and legs touching, pressed up together in comfortable, happy silence. The Doctor leans against her and rests his head on her shoulder, and she kisses his hair.
Ever, she repeats to herself.
fin