fics: fills from the ~yay for friendship~ fic fest
so i literally spent all of yesterday writing. it is a wonder i did not fail my lab practical today. i think this is going to be the week where i overindulge and make up for the past few months. maybe. hopefully. translation: MORE SPAM TO COME.
two baby comment-fics written for what i fondly call the ~bffs fic fest~ which is wonderful and makes me happy and is still happening over here ♥
space string
amy+eleven; amy/rory; pg; ~500 w.
prompt: bff bracelets!
*
"Why don't I get one?" Rory snaps. It's closer to a whine but Amy doesn't say anything, just tries to hide her smile.
"Because he's my best friend, and you're, well, my idiot."
"Thanks," he deadpans. "Thanks a lot."
"My idiot husband," she adds, kissing him on the cheek before skipping towards the TARDIS console to peek over the Doctor's shoulder. She's tapping a steady rhythm on chrome and the strings and beads shimmer silver and gold and all sorts of spectral colours. Rory blinks, thinks it might be in his head. Then again, with all they've seen, it might not.
The Doctor's entering coordinates, punching buttons and following grids with his eyes; a matching bracelet glitters on his wrist and Rory rolls his eyes.
"Amy," says the Doctor. "Is everything okay with Rory?" Rory, of course, is still within earshot, and is, of course, being talked over like he very much isn't.
"He's just upset because he didn't get a pretty bracelet. I tried to explain that they're for best friends. It didn't seem to work."
"You should make him a husband bracelet!"
Amy laughs out loud at that and then calls out, "Hey, Rory, do you want a husband bracelet?"
Rory's about to say that yes, that might actually be kind of nice, when she pre-emptively says to the Doctor, "Maybe if you give me some more of your crazy string from that Plutonian moon, I'll consider."
"Oh certainly, I'll dig around. They turned out rather pretty, didn't they? Thank you, by the way. I shall keep it forever." He gives her a one-armed hug, even if his attention is still on the ship, frown set at the monitors.
(Apparently, the TARDIS is misbehaving today and the Doctor's given it--her?--countless, ridiculous taunts, all, naughty, but uncalled for, and, don't make me discipline you.)
"Forever and ever?" Amy asks, playful.
He gives her his full attention then, (looks at her like she might be that little girl he first met) and smiles a smile that reaches his eyes and all the lines in his face. "Forever and ever, of course."
*
Rory's tinkering with some sort of model when Amy sidles next to him. It's like a star chart but in 3-D, like a globe of beads held together by wiry string. It's a lot like the string Amy was tweaking and fiddling with a few nights ago. He wonders what else the Doctor's got stocked up in here. On second thought, no, he doesn't.
"What colour would you like, you silly man?"
"Actually," he says, "I think I'm good."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Though they are rather pretty." This makes her beam right up at him. You are so many kinds of beautiful, Rory wants to say, and that if anyone deserves to have their craftsmanship and friendship remain intact through time and space, come as close as it can to being immortal, it has to be her.
(Besides, he gets to keep the ring.)
x
I wish you would
gwen+morgana; pg; ~500 w.
prompt: It's not over, not truly.
*
When Morgana appears in Camelot, cloaked and hidden in Gwen's chambers, Arthur is far into another country and Merlin is with him. Anyone would wonder how Morgana managed to elude the guards and get within the walls but Gwen knows better.
"My La--Morgana. What are you doing here?"
"Guinevere," she says, solemn, to the point. "I left something behind. I'm here for that and nothing else. You can choose to cooperate or not. It's up to you."
It has been nearly a year and they are no longer the people they once were, no longer the girls who shared blankets and shook twigs out of each other's hair. It's not what it was and Gwen has to remind herself lest she start feeling again. She chose to stay and Morgana chose to go, to become an entirely different realm, a place Gwen can't touch and a person she doesn't know.
Gwen swallows hard. She knows she should call the guards, should say something and try and stop her. Morgana left her rights to everything here when she left this place and they both know this.
(And even so, a part of her is torn. No, all of her is torn. I left something behind, Morgana said. Gwen doesn't dare hope anymore.)
"Right," Gwen breathes, "be quick."
She tells herself it's because she doesn't want any unnecessary trouble. The knights are either with Arthur or on patrol at the borders and the irony isn't lost on her. At this rate, the guards would probably be the ones hurt. Without Merlin, Gaius would have too much on his hands.
Gwen accompanies her to the library and Morgana is quick, efficient, putting Goeffrey to sleep with a snap of her fingers.
It's a book, small and leather-bound. Once she finds it, she clutches it close to her chest and hisses words that Gwen does not understand. She pauses for just a moment and there's a look in her eyes, something hidden and reluctant but underneath that, forlorn. Gwen only sees it because she knows what it looks like, has known it all her life and chased it away with hushed words and warm arms.
"You know," says Morgana, "you can still--"
I miss you too but-- "No, I'm sorry," and then, "you know that you can come back. Arthur would--"
"I can't," she says, cold, flat. Don't you ever want to, Gwen wants to ask. Much of the time, I want you to. All of the time, really.
As if she's read her mind, Morgana smiles. It's a changed smile, lacking the warmth and familiarity Gwen had curled up into once. Still, there is some sincerity in there, buried deep somewhere. "But thank you all the same," she whispers, just before vanishing in a whirlwind, "you know I--we always--"
"I know, Morgana. I know. Just hurry up and go."
She's sure this probably counts as treason, aiding and abetting the enemy in her escape. Gwen shakes her head and tries to fight off the smile.