Snow, snow, snow, snow... SNOOOOOW!
We three kings of Trafalgar Square,
Are stealing ladies underwear,
Its elastic, super fantastic,
Why don't you try a pair?
Amy: *is officially singing that. Loudly. And making gingerbread people that she may or may not have brought the pillsbury dough for*
Rory: ... why do you enjoy the idea of Three Kings stealing women's underwear?
Amy: *laughs and joins two of the gingerbread people's hands together* You've got something against ladies underwear?
Rory: No... just the blokes running around stealing it all. *snitches a piece of dough* They're depriving the rest of us.
Amy: Oi! Hands off the dough! *swats at him with an oven mitt* Then join them.
Rory: I'm not a king, am I? *squinches his nose at her* And why don't you make your own dough, hm? I seem to remember a happily baking Amy, sometime in the distant past...
Amy: *waves her spoon around threateningly* It's faster, all right? Besides, the decorating is the fun part now isn't it?
Rory: Is it? *attempts to snitch another piece, but receives a whack from the spoon for his trouble* I shudder to think of how much frosting you picked up for these cookies.
Amy: I've got a bag. *HEE. No, seriously. Rainbow cookies. You will enoy them, Rory. Yes you will*
Rory: ...a bag. A bag of frosting... and what will you do with the extra? *the 'you' was very pointed. He can't eat several containers of frosting*
Amy: Put it in the freezer of course. *She is absolutely not going to tell you what she plans to do with that frosting. It's a surprise.*
Rory: Oh. Well, that's sensible. How long does frosting keep?
Amy: That's me. Sensible. *goes back to cutting out a few more stars and sticks them on the cookie sheet* Don't know. Don't they come with labels that say that?
Rory: Maybe they don't expect the frosting to last that long. *picks up a cookie cutter and holds it over the dough, looking for a big enough piece for it to fit*
Amy: That's because normal people eat it from the tin before they have to worry. *grabs the dough and balls it up to re-roll it out again. Ta da! A spot just for a Rory cookie*
Rory: *delighted, he grins at her, then puts down the little gingerbread man cookie cutter and presses down firmly. Probably more firmly than is really necessary, but the little man turns out well, so he's pleased*
Amy: *kisses Rory's cheek and grins* Put him on the sheet so we can get these in the oven.
Rory: Okay. *gently picks up the little dough man and puts him on the end of the sheet* It's all preheated or whatever?
Amy: Trust me, all right? I know what I'm doing. *She's had a lot of practice at this now. She's going to blame it on the weather*
Rory: *surprised* Oh, I do... *he was thinking more in regards to how careful he needed to be about standing hear a hot oven. Rather than concern himself with it, he puts the tray in her very capable hands*
Amy: *smiles and nods and shoves the tray into the oven and slaps shut the door* Have you gone out yet today?
Rory: No. *a little embarrassed by his own vehemence, he amends* I didn't have anywhere to go today. I sat on the sofa and stared at black-and-white movies all afternoon. I think I might have even watched one of them.
Amy: Oh, you poor thing. Come on. Where's your hat? You know. The one with the flaps and strings. *mimes wearing such a funny hat and then grabs his hand, tugging him to the window* Look.
Rory: *looks. Blinks a few times. Then he grins like a little boy* Snow! *once, maybe twice in his life, he's seen this much snow. In their region, the snow was usually washed away by the winter rain, so they rarely had drifts*
Amy: And while those things bake we're going to go play in it. Come on! *So, they might only be in socks and normal clothes. WHO CARES. SNOW!*
Rory: *digs his heels in* Amy. I'm not going to catch pneumonia, but you have to at least put shoes on. *and how exactly were they going to play in the snow without burning the cookies? He decided not to ask*
Amy: Rory, you're made of plastic, remember? No pneumonia for you.
Rory: ...that's what I said. But you need to put shoes on. *snatches the timer off the refrigerator and shooes her towards her slip-on boots, still standing on the mat near the door* Go on.
Amy: Fiiiiiine. *goes to put on her boots and grabs her jacket while she's at it...and Rory's hat, cramming it over her head, winding her scarf around her neck and then bounces her way back over to him*
Rory: *nods his approval, then seizes her hand* Come on! We've got *checks the timer* seven minutes and forty-six seconds.
Amy: *FF YAY!, latches onto his arm and basically drags him outside*
Rory: *lets himself be dragged. He's sort of used to this. And he's laughing*
Amy: *lets him go to take a dive into some snow and make an angel. Yes, she does appreciate the irony in these actions*
Rory: *laughs, shoving his hands reflexively into his pockets, and looks up into the falling snow. It's perfectly marvelous. Pushes at it with his feet, then stoops and picks up a handful, packing it in his hands. He can tell it's cold, but it doesn't make his skin burn the way it might have, which is disconcerting, to say the least*
Amy: *makes grabby fingers in Rory's direction to help her back to her feet*
Rory: *grinning, tosses the snowball over his shoulder, and comes over to take Amy's hands. Pulls her up as though she weighs as much as a feather*
Amy: *dances a bit and shakes the snow from her hair, looking down at her 'art'* Not quite Van Gogh is it? *tips her head and grins, sticking her cold hand under Rory's shirt*
Rory: Well, does it need to be-EE! *jumps, then whirls around and mock-glares at her* What's that for?
Amy: *grins into her cupped hands as she pretends to blow warm air into them*
Rory: *raises an eyebrow, then goes down and scoops up some more snow*
Amy: *backs up a few steps with a warning look* Just what do you think you're doing with that?
Rory: *a speculative gleam in his eyes* Noooothing... *starts to pack it together gently in his hands*
Amy: *immediately starts packing her own snowball*
Rory: *nonchalantly* You do know my hands are bigger.
Amy: Is now really the time to be talking about your big hands?
Rory: *grin widens* Oh, I think now is a great time to talk about it. *hefts his snowball-- not terribly firmly packed, not a block of ice, but substantial nonetheless-- in his hand. Though, knowing Rory, he's not going to throw it unless she throws hers first. Crumbling it over her head... he makes no promises*
Amy: *tilts her head back to catch the snow in her mouth* I love you. *grins*
Rory: *grins down at her* Does that mean you're not going to try and put your freezing cold hands up my shirt again?
Amy: *shooshes her snowball against Rory's cheek*
Rory: *stands for a moment with the snow running down his face, looking for all the world like he should have known better. Then, he scoops her up and plunges the both of them into the snow, rolling them over until they're both coated in it*
Amy: *shrieks and clutches at Rory's shoulders as they topple over, breathless from laughter by the time they stop rolling around* I promise I won't put my hand up your shirt like that again. *crossing her fingers behind his head*
Rory: Uh huh. *rolls them over again, just for good measure*
Are stealing ladies underwear,
Its elastic, super fantastic,
Why don't you try a pair?
Amy: *is officially singing that. Loudly. And making gingerbread people that she may or may not have brought the pillsbury dough for*
Rory: ... why do you enjoy the idea of Three Kings stealing women's underwear?
Amy: *laughs and joins two of the gingerbread people's hands together* You've got something against ladies underwear?
Rory: No... just the blokes running around stealing it all. *snitches a piece of dough* They're depriving the rest of us.
Amy: Oi! Hands off the dough! *swats at him with an oven mitt* Then join them.
Rory: I'm not a king, am I? *squinches his nose at her* And why don't you make your own dough, hm? I seem to remember a happily baking Amy, sometime in the distant past...
Amy: *waves her spoon around threateningly* It's faster, all right? Besides, the decorating is the fun part now isn't it?
Rory: Is it? *attempts to snitch another piece, but receives a whack from the spoon for his trouble* I shudder to think of how much frosting you picked up for these cookies.
Amy: I've got a bag. *HEE. No, seriously. Rainbow cookies. You will enoy them, Rory. Yes you will*
Rory: ...a bag. A bag of frosting... and what will you do with the extra? *the 'you' was very pointed. He can't eat several containers of frosting*
Amy: Put it in the freezer of course. *She is absolutely not going to tell you what she plans to do with that frosting. It's a surprise.*
Rory: Oh. Well, that's sensible. How long does frosting keep?
Amy: That's me. Sensible. *goes back to cutting out a few more stars and sticks them on the cookie sheet* Don't know. Don't they come with labels that say that?
Rory: Maybe they don't expect the frosting to last that long. *picks up a cookie cutter and holds it over the dough, looking for a big enough piece for it to fit*
Amy: That's because normal people eat it from the tin before they have to worry. *grabs the dough and balls it up to re-roll it out again. Ta da! A spot just for a Rory cookie*
Rory: *delighted, he grins at her, then puts down the little gingerbread man cookie cutter and presses down firmly. Probably more firmly than is really necessary, but the little man turns out well, so he's pleased*
Amy: *kisses Rory's cheek and grins* Put him on the sheet so we can get these in the oven.
Rory: Okay. *gently picks up the little dough man and puts him on the end of the sheet* It's all preheated or whatever?
Amy: Trust me, all right? I know what I'm doing. *She's had a lot of practice at this now. She's going to blame it on the weather*
Rory: *surprised* Oh, I do... *he was thinking more in regards to how careful he needed to be about standing hear a hot oven. Rather than concern himself with it, he puts the tray in her very capable hands*
Amy: *smiles and nods and shoves the tray into the oven and slaps shut the door* Have you gone out yet today?
Rory: No. *a little embarrassed by his own vehemence, he amends* I didn't have anywhere to go today. I sat on the sofa and stared at black-and-white movies all afternoon. I think I might have even watched one of them.
Amy: Oh, you poor thing. Come on. Where's your hat? You know. The one with the flaps and strings. *mimes wearing such a funny hat and then grabs his hand, tugging him to the window* Look.
Rory: *looks. Blinks a few times. Then he grins like a little boy* Snow! *once, maybe twice in his life, he's seen this much snow. In their region, the snow was usually washed away by the winter rain, so they rarely had drifts*
Amy: And while those things bake we're going to go play in it. Come on! *So, they might only be in socks and normal clothes. WHO CARES. SNOW!*
Rory: *digs his heels in* Amy. I'm not going to catch pneumonia, but you have to at least put shoes on. *and how exactly were they going to play in the snow without burning the cookies? He decided not to ask*
Amy: Rory, you're made of plastic, remember? No pneumonia for you.
Rory: ...that's what I said. But you need to put shoes on. *snatches the timer off the refrigerator and shooes her towards her slip-on boots, still standing on the mat near the door* Go on.
Amy: Fiiiiiine. *goes to put on her boots and grabs her jacket while she's at it...and Rory's hat, cramming it over her head, winding her scarf around her neck and then bounces her way back over to him*
Rory: *nods his approval, then seizes her hand* Come on! We've got *checks the timer* seven minutes and forty-six seconds.
Amy: *FF YAY!, latches onto his arm and basically drags him outside*
Rory: *lets himself be dragged. He's sort of used to this. And he's laughing*
Amy: *lets him go to take a dive into some snow and make an angel. Yes, she does appreciate the irony in these actions*
Rory: *laughs, shoving his hands reflexively into his pockets, and looks up into the falling snow. It's perfectly marvelous. Pushes at it with his feet, then stoops and picks up a handful, packing it in his hands. He can tell it's cold, but it doesn't make his skin burn the way it might have, which is disconcerting, to say the least*
Amy: *makes grabby fingers in Rory's direction to help her back to her feet*
Rory: *grinning, tosses the snowball over his shoulder, and comes over to take Amy's hands. Pulls her up as though she weighs as much as a feather*
Amy: *dances a bit and shakes the snow from her hair, looking down at her 'art'* Not quite Van Gogh is it? *tips her head and grins, sticking her cold hand under Rory's shirt*
Rory: Well, does it need to be-EE! *jumps, then whirls around and mock-glares at her* What's that for?
Amy: *grins into her cupped hands as she pretends to blow warm air into them*
Rory: *raises an eyebrow, then goes down and scoops up some more snow*
Amy: *backs up a few steps with a warning look* Just what do you think you're doing with that?
Rory: *a speculative gleam in his eyes* Noooothing... *starts to pack it together gently in his hands*
Amy: *immediately starts packing her own snowball*
Rory: *nonchalantly* You do know my hands are bigger.
Amy: Is now really the time to be talking about your big hands?
Rory: *grin widens* Oh, I think now is a great time to talk about it. *hefts his snowball-- not terribly firmly packed, not a block of ice, but substantial nonetheless-- in his hand. Though, knowing Rory, he's not going to throw it unless she throws hers first. Crumbling it over her head... he makes no promises*
Amy: *tilts her head back to catch the snow in her mouth* I love you. *grins*
Rory: *grins down at her* Does that mean you're not going to try and put your freezing cold hands up my shirt again?
Amy: *shooshes her snowball against Rory's cheek*
Rory: *stands for a moment with the snow running down his face, looking for all the world like he should have known better. Then, he scoops her up and plunges the both of them into the snow, rolling them over until they're both coated in it*
Amy: *shrieks and clutches at Rory's shoulders as they topple over, breathless from laughter by the time they stop rolling around* I promise I won't put my hand up your shirt like that again. *crossing her fingers behind his head*
Rory: Uh huh. *rolls them over again, just for good measure*