for nurse_boy: in the end

[too_fairytale]

The sleep that Amy falls into, curled against Rory and the both of them tangled in blankets on her sitting room floor, is possibly the deepest sleep she's ever had. It's deep enough that she doesn't dream, isn't even aware of time passing in that vague way that one usually has while sleeping. She's so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that

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[nurse_boy]

Like Amy, Rory's sleep is impossibly deep and completely dreamless and he really doesn't budge an inch when she goes to turn out the lights. He doesn't notice her get up nor does he suffer her absence and the loss of her warmth; but when she returns to him, his arms automatically fold loosely back around her. It's roughly the only movement he exhibits during those many hours of deep, exhausted sleep.

When he finally begins to wake up, it's like trying to struggle to the surface of quicksand. His head feels thick and muzzy and stuffed full of cotton wool and his entire body is stiff. Extremely stiff. Not stiff in the 'I've had too much sex lately', but rather in the 'haven't moved a muscle in hours' vein. The fact that he's on the floor with Amy half on top of him doesn't help. Once his mind is awake enough to translate thought to action, he carefully stretches the muscles of his legs, arms and back minutely in place, while not jostling Amy. The muscles in question protest loudly, and he grimaces. Good lord but he feels like he's been

[too_fairytale]

Rory's hands moving on her back is what finally throws a shaft of light down into the well Amy fell asleep in--mostly because, unremembered lurch to get the lights off aside, it's the first movement her body has registered in ages. It still takes a long time to penetrate her consciousness, though; it has to get past the more immediate awareness that the vast majority of her skeletal structure feels... ossified.

Externally, the only sign that she's starting to wake up is a slight snort of air across Rory's chest.

[nurse_boy]

Rory's eyes are closed. He's still half-asleep; the small movements of his hands are automatic. What little thought he's managing run roughly along the order of 'so stiff I can't move' and 'my joints feel fused' and 'wonder if the power's back on' and 'I think Amy's drooled on me'.

When Amy exhales that breath there's a lengthy pause before Rory works to roll his head to the side and forward a bit in a failed attempt to kiss the top of her head; his neck feels (and moves) like an old, rusted door hinge. He lets loose a long, low sigh instead and moves a hand up to pull Amy's hair away from her face and tuck it behind one ear. If he weren't so stiff and cramped he'd probably find this quite idyllic.

"Mmm," he murmurs. It's an attempt to say her name, but it fails too.

[too_fairytale]

If they were in her bed--his bed, any bed--Amy would probably be inclined to agree. As it is, they're most definitely not, and she's barely conscious anyway. The roll of Rory's head, his sigh, and his hand brushing her hair do a lot to keep dragging her back towards the waking world, though. She swallows thickly, and nuzzles her face down more securely into Rory's chest. In response to his murmur, he gets another gentle snort.