DW: Rocket Through Towns of Dust (Amy/Rory)
Written for 
who_minis: Round One. I was assigned
nothinbuttherain, who requested Amy & Rory, Saturday afternoon, and horror films.
Title: Rocket Through Towns of Dust
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: I am the same size, but still.
Notes: References to 5.01.
Amy's very latest psychiatrist was some toff fresh from university, with all sorts of theories about childhood trauma and manifestations of projected guilt, and so she had spent a good forty-seven minutes telling him about her fear of chipmunks and how that related to the way her aunt ate corn on the cob. At the end of it, she asked the psychiatrist how he felt about patients falling in love with him, and he flinched when she patted him on the cheek and told him to call her.
She walked to Rory's flat, because she didn't want to deal with her aunt's hopeful glances, post-session, because they were starting to look insincere. And who could blame her? Amy tugged on the bottom button of her jumper as she waited for Rory to scramble out off the sofa and put on trousers, because he never did anything but play Halo before having a late lunch.
When he finally swung the door open, Amy strode past him, straight to the shelf with the DVDs, flipping through the old action movies, the romantic comedies--"Love Actually, Rory, really?"--and straight to those films with tiny blonde screamers and monsters that were always badly-lit and rubbery-faced.
"How was the latest shrink, then?" Rory asked. She turned at looked at him, and he didn't look hopeful at all. He looked curious, and happy to see her. Then his brow furrowed. "You haven't bit this one already, have you?"
Amy snorted, then slid over the back of his sofa, shoving the laptop out of the way and tossing the DVD over. "Maybe I'm contagious. Maybe you'll wake up tomorrow and the whole town'll be some sort of wasteland."
Rory cracked open the DVD case, closing one eye to squint. "Okay, maybe no more zombie movies for a while, yeah?"
"Brains," Amy drawled out. Rory dropped a bag of crisps in her lap. "Cheap," Amy accused. "What about pizza?"
"You," Rory replied, "are not being charming enough for pizza." He fiddled with the remote control as he sat next to her. "Also, I'm saving up."
Amy tore open the bag of crisps. "For what?"
"For when we finally go on a real date," Rory said.
Amy glanced at him sidelong, and couldn't decide if he was joking. "Are you joking?" she asked.
"No," Rory said.
"Just warning you," Amy said, handing him the bag of crisps, "I might actually go on a real date with you."
"I know," Rory said. "I'm quite irresistible."
Amy leaned against his arm, and Rory cleared his throat and started the movie. Amy rubbed her fingers together, watching the salt and powder of the crisps roll into crumbs on her skin. "This stuff is disgusting," she observed.
"I know," Rory said. He held a crisp in front of her, and she rolled her head forward, catching it between her teeth. "But when I buy healthy snacks, you complain." He twisted to peer at her, and she resettled against his shoulder. "You called me a little bunny rabbit."
"You nibbled," Amy responded. On the screen, somebody started screaming. She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like psychiatrists," she said.
"You have a strange distrust of health care professionals," Rory noted. "I feel horrible about that."
"You have a strange obsession with fixing people," Amy replied. "I don't need to be fixed."
Rory fed her another crisp, then shifted, wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I never thought you did."
Amy bit her lip, waiting.
"Except for that time at the library--"
Amy elbowed him in the ribs. "I knew you would say that," she complained. "You started that, you know."
"I wasn't the one who thought there was a door in the ceiling."
"It was just an idea," Amy protested. She settled back again, and they watched in silence for several minutes. "I'm not crazy," she murmured, and she watched one bloke chased down, pummeled, devoured.
Rory squeezed her closer. "Never thought you were," he confessed, and together, they flinched when the monster pounced again.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Catherine Pierce's Domesticity. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Linked on
who_minis.
who_minis: Round One. I was assigned
nothinbuttherain, who requested Amy & Rory, Saturday afternoon, and horror films.
Title: Rocket Through Towns of Dust
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy Pond/Rory Williams
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: I am the same size, but still.
Notes: References to 5.01.
Amy's very latest psychiatrist was some toff fresh from university, with all sorts of theories about childhood trauma and manifestations of projected guilt, and so she had spent a good forty-seven minutes telling him about her fear of chipmunks and how that related to the way her aunt ate corn on the cob. At the end of it, she asked the psychiatrist how he felt about patients falling in love with him, and he flinched when she patted him on the cheek and told him to call her.
She walked to Rory's flat, because she didn't want to deal with her aunt's hopeful glances, post-session, because they were starting to look insincere. And who could blame her? Amy tugged on the bottom button of her jumper as she waited for Rory to scramble out off the sofa and put on trousers, because he never did anything but play Halo before having a late lunch.
When he finally swung the door open, Amy strode past him, straight to the shelf with the DVDs, flipping through the old action movies, the romantic comedies--"Love Actually, Rory, really?"--and straight to those films with tiny blonde screamers and monsters that were always badly-lit and rubbery-faced.
"How was the latest shrink, then?" Rory asked. She turned at looked at him, and he didn't look hopeful at all. He looked curious, and happy to see her. Then his brow furrowed. "You haven't bit this one already, have you?"
Amy snorted, then slid over the back of his sofa, shoving the laptop out of the way and tossing the DVD over. "Maybe I'm contagious. Maybe you'll wake up tomorrow and the whole town'll be some sort of wasteland."
Rory cracked open the DVD case, closing one eye to squint. "Okay, maybe no more zombie movies for a while, yeah?"
"Brains," Amy drawled out. Rory dropped a bag of crisps in her lap. "Cheap," Amy accused. "What about pizza?"
"You," Rory replied, "are not being charming enough for pizza." He fiddled with the remote control as he sat next to her. "Also, I'm saving up."
Amy tore open the bag of crisps. "For what?"
"For when we finally go on a real date," Rory said.
Amy glanced at him sidelong, and couldn't decide if he was joking. "Are you joking?" she asked.
"No," Rory said.
"Just warning you," Amy said, handing him the bag of crisps, "I might actually go on a real date with you."
"I know," Rory said. "I'm quite irresistible."
Amy leaned against his arm, and Rory cleared his throat and started the movie. Amy rubbed her fingers together, watching the salt and powder of the crisps roll into crumbs on her skin. "This stuff is disgusting," she observed.
"I know," Rory said. He held a crisp in front of her, and she rolled her head forward, catching it between her teeth. "But when I buy healthy snacks, you complain." He twisted to peer at her, and she resettled against his shoulder. "You called me a little bunny rabbit."
"You nibbled," Amy responded. On the screen, somebody started screaming. She wrinkled her nose. "I don't like psychiatrists," she said.
"You have a strange distrust of health care professionals," Rory noted. "I feel horrible about that."
"You have a strange obsession with fixing people," Amy replied. "I don't need to be fixed."
Rory fed her another crisp, then shifted, wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I never thought you did."
Amy bit her lip, waiting.
"Except for that time at the library--"
Amy elbowed him in the ribs. "I knew you would say that," she complained. "You started that, you know."
"I wasn't the one who thought there was a door in the ceiling."
"It was just an idea," Amy protested. She settled back again, and they watched in silence for several minutes. "I'm not crazy," she murmured, and she watched one bloke chased down, pummeled, devoured.
Rory squeezed her closer. "Never thought you were," he confessed, and together, they flinched when the monster pounced again.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Catherine Pierce's Domesticity. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Linked on
who_minis.