Doctor Who Fic: A Night at the Observatory
Title: A Night at the Observatory
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: Response to seren_ccd 's beautiful Playin' All Night Long, a part of the "There's a Heartbreak Beat" series.
Ship: A very serious Eleven/Amy
Author: tonguestopraise
Word Count: A whopping 5,390. Where did that come from?!
Rating: Adult, Mature, Restricted. Full of sexytimes and NOT for the little ones!
Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this. Doctor Who is not mine (alas, alas), Amy Pond is not mine (again, alas). I can't even claim responsibility for the idea for the story! That was all seren_ccd .
A/N: This started out as a little dribbling bit of fluff sitting in the back of my head after I read seren_ccd's wonderful series. She wrote her own version of this story, which can be found here. This is just a present for her, to say thank you for the great stories she writes. This was not beta'd in any real sense of the word. My friend Julian read it and laughed heartily at my expense, then told me somewhat gruffly that he'd "be in [his] bunk." I think that means he liked it. I hope you like it, too.
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“This!” announced the Doctor impressively, “is the Observatory of the Holiere!” He gestured to the building grandly. He held the position for a moment, apparently waiting for Amy’s reaction.
“It’s… Pretty.” She said, unenthusiastically. She played distractedly with the hem of her dress as he continued, barely registering the actual words she’d said.
“It is pretty. It is very pretty. And its prettiness is only surpassed by its usefulness and grandeur, don’t you think?”
“Well, what does it do?” Amy asked, tilting her head to one side and half-squinting at the building, which she didn’t think was particularly grand. They stood on a lonely hilltop on what the Doctor had called “the north shore of the most southern tip of the smallest planet in the Eitifax system.” The building she was looking up at was a tal and spindly, with one door and, it seemed, a skylight. A yellow-gold glow flowed upwards from the skylight , but did very little to illuminate the ground the pair stood on.
The Doctor’s arms fell limply to his sides. “What does it do?” He strode over to Amy until they were nose to nose. “What does it do? It’s an Observatory, Pond. It’s THE Observatory! Capital O, Observatory. It observes.” He paused. “Obviously.”
Amy leaned forward, touching her nose to the Doctor’s. “And just what does it observe?”
He didn't move away. “Things. It observes, you know, things. People. Stuff. Events and occurrences. Sort of.” He quirked up an eyebrow. “Just so you know, you’ve gone crosseyed.”
“So have you.” Amy had been looking at the touching tips of their noses but now flicked her gaze up to meet the Doctor’s eyes. Grinning a brief, wicked grin, she tilted her chin and gave him a quick peck on the lips before grabbing his hand and skipping away, pulling him away from the TARDIS and towards the Observatory. He followed, smiling a little smile to himself.
“What are we here to observe?” Amy asked as The Doctor fiddled with the handle of the door for a moment before it swung open. The same bright glow coming from the upper window suddenly enveloped the pair, causing them both to squint and shield their eyes momentarily.
“I don’t know yet, Pond. I’ve never been here before and now is as good a time as any to observe, don’t you think? Or, do you have somewhere better to be?” He looked sideways at her, gauging her response to the emphasized question.
“Fair enough,” she replied, simply.
Eyes now adjusted to the light, the Doctor placed his hand on the small of Amy’s back and led her into the Observatory. At first glance, Amy had thought the tower to be completely empty aside from the light. Now that she could see more clearly, she realized she’d been wrong. The large stone room lacked furniture or any other adornment, but aside from that it was not empty at all. The entire tower was full to bursting with miniscule things that moved through the air like dandelion seeds, as if borne on a nonexistent breeze. The light seemed to be coming from the things themselves, and they moved together like a massive school of fish or a huge flock of birds, all moving upwards and outwards together to drift a few inches away from the Time Lord and his companion.
Amy moved forward as if in a dream. The lights were mesmerizingly beautiful and she wanted to inspect them more closely. She found that if she moved very quickly, the lights would give her an inch or two of berth on all sides. However, if she stood very still, they would drift close to her, occasionally grazing her skin. After walking around the perimeter of the tower twice, gazing at the floating lights, Amy returned to the Doctor’s side.
The Doctor had been standing stock-still and silently in the center of the room with his eyes closed. A good deal of the lights had floated down to surround him, concentrating on his head and neck. Amy was bursting with questions about the lights, but when she saw the look of peace and… was that sorrow? … on his face, she decided to ask later.
He looked angelic, haloed brightly by the congregation of lights that had descended upon his face. His skin appeared to glow of its own accord, and the same nonexistent breeze that moved the lights was ruffling his hair. Amy’s heart throbbed once, somewhat painfully, and she was seized with the almost overwhelming desire to hug the Doctor, to kiss him and have him kiss her back. She wanted to run her hands through that hair and down his back, to graze his skin with her nails, to make him gasp and shiver.
She suppressed the urge and tried to push the thought from her mind. Instead, she sat down on the floor across the room. Stilling her movements as much as she could, Amy let the lights come down to float around her. The lights felt like they were giving her butterfly kisses, or were brushing her lightly with feathers. She laughed as quietly as she could when they touched her skin, trying hard not to disturb her... her whatever-the-Doctor-was-to-her-these-days.
Nevertheless, at the sound of her laughter, the Doctor’s eyes opened and the lights flitted up and away from his body, back into the undulating cloud. He walked slowly over to where Amy was sitting and as he moved through the swarm, the lights moved around him like water moving around a boat. He extended a hand to her and she took it. He helped her to her feet and kept her hand in his once she was upright.
“Questions, Pond? I do love answering questions.” His eyes twinkled at her, though there was a certain lack of levity about him that niggled at the back of Amy’s mind. She pushed the thought away. He would tell her if he wanted her to know. Besides, she could no longer contain her excitement and the questions bubbled out of her mouth in a rush.
“What are they? Are they alive? They’re so beautiful!” She lifted her free hand up and held it there, still as she could. The lights floated onto the hand and hung there, like a glowing glove. Unable to bear the tickling for long, she soon brought the hand down to her side again.
“This is the Observatory of the Holiere. The lights are the Holiere. Say hello to them, because yes, they are alive.” The Doctor made Amy’s hand (which he still held) wave a bit at the collective mass of the Holiere. The cloud seemed to wave back and forth a bit in what Amy assumed was recognition of her greeting. A few of the Holiere lights flitted down to rest on the Doctor’s temples momentarily before rejoining the flock.
At their touch, the Doctor smiled. “They think you’re beautiful, too, Pond.” He glanced at her and gave her hand a bit of a squeeze before returning his gaze to the glowing cloud.
“Funny things, the Holiere. They are tiny little creatures that all live together in a large colony. One Holiere cannot survive on it’s own. They’re sort of like coral in Earth oceans, but with more brainpower. Not that they have brains, of course. Collective consciousness. What one of the Holiere knows, they all know. Sort of like a hive mind. Like psychic bees, except without a queen to serve.”
Tilting her head to the side again, reaching into the cloud of Holiere, Amy asked, “Psychic? These little lights-“
“-Holiere, Pond.” The Doctor cut her off. “You know their name, so please use it. It’s rather rude not to. Sort of like me calling you ‘human’ rather than ‘Amy.’ ”
“Fine, these little Holiere then. They’re psychic?” She turned to face him. “Like you?”
It was the Doctor’s turn to tilt his head. “Wellllllll, sort of. They are not psychic in the same way that I am, I suppose. They’re more… augmenters. They can augment psychic abilities, make them stronger, focus them. That's how they observe, you see.”
“Not really, Doctor. All I see is a madman and a bunch of Holiere.”
Frustrated, the Doctor huffed a bit. “Okay, okay fine. How can I explain this to someone without so much as a squidge of psychic ability… Alright, Amy. Close your eyes and think of something you want to see.”
“What do you mean, something I want to see?”
The Doctor was clearly wracking his brains, trying to think of how to make his companion understand… Although, is she still just a companion? Surely not, not after… after what had happened in the control room. Or what had happened in the library… three times. Or that time in the shower, those two times in the hallway and certainly not after what had happened in the pool two days ago. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, because if he let his mind wander, soon his fingers would wander and his hands would follow. Hands follow thoughts, clothes follow hands, inhibitions follow clothes… No! Rules. Bad Doctor. Bad Amy.
Oh, thought a very small, unruly part of his brain, but Bad Amy can be sooo goood.
“No, okay, right, stop,” spluttered the Doctor, as much to stop his own train of thought as to get Amy’s attention. “Okay. Okay. Alright.” He took both of Amy’s hands in his own. “Um, well… think of the Magic Mirror in Beauty and the Beast.”
“Have the Holiere been telling you that you’re the fairest in all the land, Doctor? I wouldn’t argue, but I thought they said I was beautiful, not you.” She smiled devilishly at him and moved a bit closer.
“No, Amy,” he told her, waggling his finger. “That’s the Wicked Queen in Snow White who has the mirror who tells her she’s the fairest in all the land. Honestly, what did you do as a child? Didn’t you watch Disney movies?”
Amy stuck her tongue out at him, pink and shiny. The naughty part of the Doctor’s mind tried to kick in again, but he squashed it back down.
“I was a bit busy with the psychologists, alright?”
“No time for Disney when you’re preoccupied with biting. Got it. Anyway!” He kept speaking to keep her from scolding him for teasing her about the biting and the psychologists. “The magic mirror in Beauty and the Beast. The Beast gives it to Belle so that she won’t feel so lonely when she’s away from her friends and her father, right? She asks the mirror to show her something, and it does. That’s what the Observatory does. It shows you what you want to see. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” she asked.
“Sort of. I’ll show you. Do you trust me?”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?” asked the Doctor, again.
“You need to stop with the Disney references, Doctor. First Beauty and the Beast, then Snow White and now Aladdin. I’m beginning to think you might have been Mickey Mouse in a previous life.” Amy grinned impishly at his look of annoyance. “Of course I’ve seen Aladdin. Everyone’s seen Aladdin. And yes, I trust you.”
The Doctor touched his forehead to hers and placed his fingers upon her temples. “Think of what you want to see. I’ll help with the psychic part.”
Amy thought, briefly. She didn’t realize what she was thinking before she saw flashes of her house, of the TARDIS in the garden, of the Raggedy Doctor clambering out and asking for apples. This was followed by lightning flashes of Daleks and Angels and of the Doctor in her room, on her bed. Flickers of his face above her, eyes dark with lust and fiery with passion.
She shook her head, dislodging his fingers, as she realized that her eyes were closed and she was ‘seeing’ all of this in her mind. “Is that the psychic bit?” She asked, quietly.
“Yeah. Want to try again? You should check on your aunt, on your friends, on… on Rory, if you want. Make sure they’re all all right. See what they’re doing right now. Look at stuff you want to see.”
Amy looked at the Doctor, putting her hand to one of his cheeks. “Everything I want to see is already here, Doctor. Didn’t you see what I saw before?”
“Well, I mean, you can check on your Aunt, and your friends-” Further speech was silenced as Amy’s kiss suddenly occupied his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed, his thoughts spun and, for a teeny tiny moment, Time slowed.
The Doctor suddenly found his body trying to pull itself in two different directions at once. He settled on the truce of holding Amy’s face in both hands, if for no other reason than to keep them from flailing at his sides. At the back of his mind, he felt the happiness of the Holiere as they flashed brighter and brighter, sincerely enjoying the blossoming emotions of their two visitors.
She pulled away, eventually, and Time remembered itself. He slid his hands down from her cheeks to her hips. “There really is no stopping you, Pond, is there?”
“Nope.” She smiled.
After another quick snog, the Doctor took Amy’s hand and led her out the tower door.
“Back to the TARDIS?” Amy asked, glancing around the rather barren hilltop.
The Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her a little ways down the hill. “TARDIS is too far away. I haven't brought a blanket but… this should do just fine!” He spun Amy around and she squeeled delightedly.
Catching her in his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss that followed lead to much fevered touching and whispered words of passion, compassion and pleasure. Soon the pair was pawing at one another’s clothes, desperate to be rid of them and desperate for more skin contact.
“Too many buttons. New rule, Pond. No buttons. Snaps, okay. Velcro, maybe. Those both make good, satisfying noises and can open quickly. Zips, sure. Buttons, no. Buttons take too long.” The Doctor groped at the row of buttons at the back of Amy’s dress. “Though, buttons aren’t so bad when you compare them with corsets. The mid 1800s were no time for a quick romp, let me tell you.” He continued to struggle to get the last of the buttons undone.
“Doctor, shut up!” Reaching around behind her back, she easily undid the rest of her buttons. Then, smiling wickedly, she grabbed the lapels of his shirt and pulled roughly. The buttons popped off one by one and went flying, pinging against the boards of the bench. “That was a pretty satisfying noise, if you ask me.” She leaned up to catch his lips again.
He pulled her up and, when she was standing, he kissed his way from her mouth down her neck and across her clavicles. Grasping the neckline of her now loose dress, he tugged downwards, kissing every new inch of skin as it became exposed. He licked at her sides, tickling her stomach and hips with his lips and fingers. She wriggled and giggled, staring up delightedly into the spangled heavens. The light from the Observatory of the Holiere was brighter than it had been before, and it cast a very dim glow on the lovers as they laughed and kissed below the tower.
Once the dress was disposed of (the Doctor cast it away over his shoulders as soon as he’d gotten it over Amy’s shoes. The shoes and socks quickly followed in much the same way), Amy pushed the Doctor’s braces and his now torn shirt off his shoulders. The shirt fluttered off to be forgotten at their feet, and the braces hung loosely from his still-buttoned trousers. He looked her up and down, drinking her in.
She moved forward and pulled him into another Time stopping kiss. His hands flitted up and down her body, not knowing where to stop, before splaying out over the expanse of her back. She tangled her hands into his hair, pulling him closer to her near-naked body. He lifted her up a bit awkwardly and moved to the bench, where he sat, pulling her onto his lap. She straddled his legs and made her way from his lips to his ear, which she nipped. He inhaled through his teeth, sharp and quick. Amy moaned softly and kissed behind his ears before moving down to his neck.
His head had dropped back to rest against the bench as she licked and sucked at his neck. His hands, however, had hardly been idle. They slid up and down her thighs, pausing to grasp her bottom firmly through the cotton and lace of her pants. He silently and almost instantly memorized the lace pattern, then filed the memory away for later. She nipped at the space where his shoulder met his neck and he was suddenly very aware of how tight his trousers had become. So, it seemed, had she.
Amy kissed her way down his chest, following the path he’d traced earlier on her own skin. She paused at each nipple, flicking them with her tongue briefly before moving on. She knelt before the Doctor, and he let out a tiny breath as he watched her begin to slowly, tantalizingly, unbutton his fly.
He tried to help by standing up and pushing down trousers as quickly as was possible, but they got caught on his boots, which he’d forgotten to untie and take off. Once he’d toed them away, he was forced to do a bit of an ambling dance to get the trousers and braces untangled from around his legs. Amy laughed, but stopped when she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She teased him, running her knuckles and fingers across the sensitive skin just below his hips. She drew a fingernail up the skin where his legs met his groin, causing him buck forward, his inhalations quick and hissing.
As she began to pull off his pants, she looked up at him, locking eyes with the Time Lord. She held his gaze as the pants fell to the ground and he stepped carefully out of them, now entirely naked before her. Painfully aware of how hard he was, the Doctor had to keep himself from pouncing her to the ground and fucking her silly right there. He was glad, however, that he restrained himself, because she gazing up at him with a fire in his eyes he had not yet seen.
“Oh, Doctor,” she breathed, and took him into her mouth, eyes still turned up to his as she slid as far down his shaft as she could manage.
This was almost too much for the Doctor. Her mouth was human-hot, burning deliciously against his cool skin. She’d dropped his gaze to focus more intently on her current task. His double-pulse was already pounding in his ears as she licked and lapped at his cock, alternating between licking and bobbing up and down the shaft. Her hands ran up and down his thighs, sending ticklish sensations to the pleasure centers of his brain that were already being overloaded by the feelings coming from her mouth’s work. He tried to blink as rarely as he could, because occasionally she would look back up at him. When they locked eyes, even if it was just for a moment, he could feel his knees weakening.
She noticed his shaking knees and, in the back of her mind, made a note to tease him about it later. For now, though, she was focused on one thing and one thing only.
“God, you are… Oh, Amy! Oh, impossible Amy Pond, you are… incredible.” He’d begun to babble, and he knew it. He had to stop, had to stop her, had to stop himself before this adventure ended preemptively.
He tapped gently on one of her porcelain shoulders. “Amy. Amy!” She released him with a small ‘pop!’
“Yes?” she asked, with an impish smile that reached deep into her eyes.
The Doctor struggled for breath and grasped for the right words. His brain didn’t seem to be functioning quite right. It never did in situations like this. “Oh my goodness. Amy Pond, you’re going to kill me. Or, at the very least, end this whole business far too soon.”
“Slow me down then, Doctor.” Her wicked smile hadn’t faded.
Grabbing his discarded shirt, he balled it into a sort of pillow, which he placed at one end of the bench. He pulled Amy into a lip-crushing kiss as he lowered her onto the bench, guiding her head so it rested on the makeshift pillow. After pulling off her knickers, with the one hand not occupied by one of Amy’s breasts, the Doctor teased a finger inside her. The pheromones she had been giving off in waves suddenly redoubled their efforts to fog the Doctor’s thoughts, and he found himself pursuing a single-minded, very human objective.
Five minutes and two fingers later, Amy was panting under the Doctor’s attentions. Sweat had begun to drip down between her breasts, and the only coherent sentence she could manage to get out was “For fuck’s sake, Doctor! Please!”
It was the Doctor’s turn to smile wickedly. “Please what?”
“Get inside me, for fucks’s sake!” She smacked his arm, looking pained.
“Language, Pond.” He withdrew his hand from her, pausing for a moment to lick one of his fingers clean. A noise somewhere between a growl and a purr emanated from him, making Amy’s stomach clench delightedly. He repositioned himself above her, hovering millimeters from her opening, waiting.
Amy wriggled in frustration. He kissed her nose. “Bad Doctor,” she snapped playfully.
“Oh, I can be a Bad Doctor,” he breathed, and thrust into her.
They moaned in unison as he filled her, burying himself to the hilt inside her heat. If her mouth had been hot, thought the little bit of his mind capable of articulate thought, being inside her was being on fire. She was tight and so wet and she smelled like lavender and sunlight and summer rain and the Doctor was kissing her as hard and as deeply as he could.
He was inside her and all around her and he was kissing her and she was drowning in the fire of his passion. Amy clung to him like a drowning sailor to driftwood, but he was more than a raft. He was the rolling sea and he was the spinning sky and he was the singing stars and he smelled of burnt ozone and old leather-bound books and a dark, deep smell so alien that it was more like a thought than an actual aroma.
Breaking the kiss, the Doctor began to speak to her as he thrust. At first, the words he said were simple. He said her name; he told her she was beautiful, incredible, and fantastic. Propping himself up on one arm, he stroked her face and hair. However, before long the words coming from his mouth became less like words and more like song; an ancient, unknowable and limitlessly beautiful song. The song spilled from his lips, flowing into Amy’s mind and filling her eyes with stars. As his thrusts became more and more purposeful, more and more powerful, she moved her hips to meet his movements.
The Doctor did not notice when he lost the ability to speak English, nor when he lost his mental grip on the rest of the Human languages. All he knew was Amy. Amy’s eyes, Amy’s skin, Amy’s hair, Amy’s mouth, Amy’s freckles. In his mind, Amy burned like a thousand brilliant Holiere, filling his mind with light and happiness. Amy’s smile, Amy’s laugh, the way she said his name.
As if on cue, she whispered his name. The Doctor’s mind fell silent and his lips stilled their song. The sound of that word, said in her breathlessly passionate voice, pierced his mind and it became the sole ambition of his existence to get her to say it again, to moan it, to scream it into the vastness. He wanted it to resound through time and space, an echoing auditory monument to them, together. To this night, to this act, for always and forever. His knowledge of English came flooding back, recalled for one very important purpose. “Say that again,” he rumbled.
“Doctor!” Amy breathed, “Oh, Doctor, yes!” Digging her fingers into the flesh of his back, she felt him stiffen and noted the shiver crawling up his spine. A small smile of satisfaction fluttered across her face only to be chased away almost instantaneously by gasping, breathless ecstasy as he redoubled his efforts, pounding into her with a determination she’d never known.
As she felt the pink-yellow beginnings of an impending orgasm blossoming low in her belly, Amy repeated his name louder this time, more urgently. Their sweat slicked bodies slipped smoothly against one another and her call seemed to make him even harder than before.
He pushed himself up on both arms and looked down at her almost hungrily. Her eyes were screwed shut and he could see the muscles of her stomach clenching and unclenching while her breasts bounced in time with his trusts. “Amy,” he managed to grunt out. “Amy. Look at me. Amy, please. Open your eyes.” She did so and propped herself up on her elbows to be closer to him.
Balancing himself on one hand, the Doctor wound the other hand into Amy’s fiery hair, pulling her mouth to his own. The stars in Amy’s eyes exploded as the orgasm crashed through her body. She gasped and panted into the Doctor’s mouth, convulsing from head to toe, held up only by his arm’s support.
The Doctor did not break the kiss when he felt her coming. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled down on top of her shivering form when she wrapped her arms around his neck. He continued to thrust up and into her, searching desperately for his own release.
Amy, still riding out her orgasm, nearly screamed in surprise as the Doctor’s hand slid down her side, seeking the place where they met. He found her oversensitive clit and, before she truly realized what he was doing, felt another upwelling of tingling, burning, clenching passion in the pit of her stomach. “Doctor!” she cried out, hanging on to his swiftly moving torso as her second orgasm shot through her.
At the sound of his name, shouted with such wild and passionate abandon, the Doctor came undone, losing himself in the song of the stars and the whirling of the planets and the boundless brilliance of his impossible Amelia Pond. He hugged her to him tightly and gasped out her name as he came so hard his head spun and his vision blurred.
Amy was speaking when the Doctor’s wits reassembled themselves. He felt, more than heard, the reverberations coming from her mouth but was only very dimly aware of what she was saying. All he could make out was his name, repeated over and over like a litany, like a prayer to a long dead god.
Neither one was sure how long they lay there, on the bench outside the Observatory of the Holiere, holding snugly to one another. The Doctor eventually nuzzled the top of Amy’s head, kissing her eyes and nose, running his hands over the valleys and peaks of her cheeks and lips. He counted the freckles on her face (47) and the eyelashes on her left eye (97). She laid her head on the Doctor’s chest and listened to his twin hearts as their beat slowed to its normal two-step beat. She traced the line of his spine up and down with a finger and touched his face, fingers dancing feather-light across his skin.
“You’re a Time Lord,” she stated after a silence that could have been a few minutes or millennia.
This declaration roused the Doctor from the sort of trance he’d found himself in. He’d been counting Amy’s heartbeats, breaths and blinks all at once. “Yes,” he agreed. “I am.”
“So, can you slow time down a bit?” He looked at her quizzically. “Just for now, yeah?” She looked at him playfully, but there was a seriousness in her eyes.
“That’s not really how it works, Amy. It doesn’t slow down or speed up. It just… is. Why do you ask?”
She sighed and went back to fiddling with his belly button. “Oh. No reason, really. I just…” she nestled deeper into his chest, turning her face so she spoke into his skin rather than into the air. “I just like this,” she mumbled.
“What, you like talking to my ribs?” He tickled her gently and she laughed, wiggling away from him as best she could on the narrow bench. “You like smelling like sweaty Time Lord? You like lying naked on very small wooden benches on planets to which you’ve only just arrived?“
Smacking his hands away, Amy retaliated in kind, tickling his ribs and under his arms. The Doctor howled and tried to push her away. “What, you don’t like smelling like sweaty Human? Or lying naked on very small wooden benches? Lying naked on wooden benches is actually a favored pastime of mine.”
“I bet it is, Miss Kiss-O-Gram.” Before she could wallop him, he grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her close to him so they lay chest to chest. “I like this, too. But, come on, Pond!” He cried, disentangling himself from her long limbs before helping her to her feet. “We have things to do! Things to see! Stuff to run from!” He glanced around his feet, realizing something was missing. “Where are my pants?”
Amy, who was standing naked before him, delayed his search for underpants when she bent over to look for her own dress. The Doctor pinched the back of one of his hands rather violently to snap himself out of it. Oh, the things he could do to that woman…
“More importantly, where are my pants? Or my dress? Or my bra?”
After a good ten-minute search for clothes yielded only a few pieces of clothing, they gave up. Walking down the hill to the TARDIS, Amy straightened the Doctor’s bowtie.
“Stop messing with it.” He grumbled good-humoredly. “It’s fine. It’s hard to stay straight when you’ve not got a shirt keeping you in place. Give me back my shirt and I’ll happily wear a straight bowtie.”
Amy hugged his shirt around her body. Her legs were goosbumped and bare, and only one foot had a sock on. She’d found her knickers fifteen feet from the bench, lying next to the Doctor’s braces. Somehow they’d become detached from his pants, which he’d found on the opposite side of the hill.
As they reached the TARDIS, day began to break over the Observatory of the Holiere. The first rays of morning turned Amy’s hair into a golden-red halo. The Doctor fumbled with the door and then held it open for Amy to walk through. “Ladies first, Miss Pond.”
The TARDIS disappeared a few moments later, taking the Time Lord and his companion with it. The Holiere in the Observatory floated lazily around the tower, patiently waiting for the next beings to come and visit them. They were glad, in their small psychic way, that they’d been a part of something as beautiful and as bright as what had happened on the bench outside their tower. They settled into the rhythm of the universe, silently undulating and swelling with the currents of time and space.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Series: Response to seren_ccd 's beautiful Playin' All Night Long, a part of the "There's a Heartbreak Beat" series.
Ship: A very serious Eleven/Amy
Author: tonguestopraise
Word Count: A whopping 5,390. Where did that come from?!
Rating: Adult, Mature, Restricted. Full of sexytimes and NOT for the little ones!
Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this. Doctor Who is not mine (alas, alas), Amy Pond is not mine (again, alas). I can't even claim responsibility for the idea for the story! That was all seren_ccd .
A/N: This started out as a little dribbling bit of fluff sitting in the back of my head after I read seren_ccd's wonderful series. She wrote her own version of this story, which can be found here. This is just a present for her, to say thank you for the great stories she writes. This was not beta'd in any real sense of the word. My friend Julian read it and laughed heartily at my expense, then told me somewhat gruffly that he'd "be in [his] bunk." I think that means he liked it. I hope you like it, too.
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“This!” announced the Doctor impressively, “is the Observatory of the Holiere!” He gestured to the building grandly. He held the position for a moment, apparently waiting for Amy’s reaction.
“It’s… Pretty.” She said, unenthusiastically. She played distractedly with the hem of her dress as he continued, barely registering the actual words she’d said.
“It is pretty. It is very pretty. And its prettiness is only surpassed by its usefulness and grandeur, don’t you think?”
“Well, what does it do?” Amy asked, tilting her head to one side and half-squinting at the building, which she didn’t think was particularly grand. They stood on a lonely hilltop on what the Doctor had called “the north shore of the most southern tip of the smallest planet in the Eitifax system.” The building she was looking up at was a tal and spindly, with one door and, it seemed, a skylight. A yellow-gold glow flowed upwards from the skylight , but did very little to illuminate the ground the pair stood on.
The Doctor’s arms fell limply to his sides. “What does it do?” He strode over to Amy until they were nose to nose. “What does it do? It’s an Observatory, Pond. It’s THE Observatory! Capital O, Observatory. It observes.” He paused. “Obviously.”
Amy leaned forward, touching her nose to the Doctor’s. “And just what does it observe?”
He didn't move away. “Things. It observes, you know, things. People. Stuff. Events and occurrences. Sort of.” He quirked up an eyebrow. “Just so you know, you’ve gone crosseyed.”
“So have you.” Amy had been looking at the touching tips of their noses but now flicked her gaze up to meet the Doctor’s eyes. Grinning a brief, wicked grin, she tilted her chin and gave him a quick peck on the lips before grabbing his hand and skipping away, pulling him away from the TARDIS and towards the Observatory. He followed, smiling a little smile to himself.
“What are we here to observe?” Amy asked as The Doctor fiddled with the handle of the door for a moment before it swung open. The same bright glow coming from the upper window suddenly enveloped the pair, causing them both to squint and shield their eyes momentarily.
“I don’t know yet, Pond. I’ve never been here before and now is as good a time as any to observe, don’t you think? Or, do you have somewhere better to be?” He looked sideways at her, gauging her response to the emphasized question.
“Fair enough,” she replied, simply.
Eyes now adjusted to the light, the Doctor placed his hand on the small of Amy’s back and led her into the Observatory. At first glance, Amy had thought the tower to be completely empty aside from the light. Now that she could see more clearly, she realized she’d been wrong. The large stone room lacked furniture or any other adornment, but aside from that it was not empty at all. The entire tower was full to bursting with miniscule things that moved through the air like dandelion seeds, as if borne on a nonexistent breeze. The light seemed to be coming from the things themselves, and they moved together like a massive school of fish or a huge flock of birds, all moving upwards and outwards together to drift a few inches away from the Time Lord and his companion.
Amy moved forward as if in a dream. The lights were mesmerizingly beautiful and she wanted to inspect them more closely. She found that if she moved very quickly, the lights would give her an inch or two of berth on all sides. However, if she stood very still, they would drift close to her, occasionally grazing her skin. After walking around the perimeter of the tower twice, gazing at the floating lights, Amy returned to the Doctor’s side.
The Doctor had been standing stock-still and silently in the center of the room with his eyes closed. A good deal of the lights had floated down to surround him, concentrating on his head and neck. Amy was bursting with questions about the lights, but when she saw the look of peace and… was that sorrow? … on his face, she decided to ask later.
He looked angelic, haloed brightly by the congregation of lights that had descended upon his face. His skin appeared to glow of its own accord, and the same nonexistent breeze that moved the lights was ruffling his hair. Amy’s heart throbbed once, somewhat painfully, and she was seized with the almost overwhelming desire to hug the Doctor, to kiss him and have him kiss her back. She wanted to run her hands through that hair and down his back, to graze his skin with her nails, to make him gasp and shiver.
She suppressed the urge and tried to push the thought from her mind. Instead, she sat down on the floor across the room. Stilling her movements as much as she could, Amy let the lights come down to float around her. The lights felt like they were giving her butterfly kisses, or were brushing her lightly with feathers. She laughed as quietly as she could when they touched her skin, trying hard not to disturb her... her whatever-the-Doctor-was-to-her-these-days.
Nevertheless, at the sound of her laughter, the Doctor’s eyes opened and the lights flitted up and away from his body, back into the undulating cloud. He walked slowly over to where Amy was sitting and as he moved through the swarm, the lights moved around him like water moving around a boat. He extended a hand to her and she took it. He helped her to her feet and kept her hand in his once she was upright.
“Questions, Pond? I do love answering questions.” His eyes twinkled at her, though there was a certain lack of levity about him that niggled at the back of Amy’s mind. She pushed the thought away. He would tell her if he wanted her to know. Besides, she could no longer contain her excitement and the questions bubbled out of her mouth in a rush.
“What are they? Are they alive? They’re so beautiful!” She lifted her free hand up and held it there, still as she could. The lights floated onto the hand and hung there, like a glowing glove. Unable to bear the tickling for long, she soon brought the hand down to her side again.
“This is the Observatory of the Holiere. The lights are the Holiere. Say hello to them, because yes, they are alive.” The Doctor made Amy’s hand (which he still held) wave a bit at the collective mass of the Holiere. The cloud seemed to wave back and forth a bit in what Amy assumed was recognition of her greeting. A few of the Holiere lights flitted down to rest on the Doctor’s temples momentarily before rejoining the flock.
At their touch, the Doctor smiled. “They think you’re beautiful, too, Pond.” He glanced at her and gave her hand a bit of a squeeze before returning his gaze to the glowing cloud.
“Funny things, the Holiere. They are tiny little creatures that all live together in a large colony. One Holiere cannot survive on it’s own. They’re sort of like coral in Earth oceans, but with more brainpower. Not that they have brains, of course. Collective consciousness. What one of the Holiere knows, they all know. Sort of like a hive mind. Like psychic bees, except without a queen to serve.”
Tilting her head to the side again, reaching into the cloud of Holiere, Amy asked, “Psychic? These little lights-“
“-Holiere, Pond.” The Doctor cut her off. “You know their name, so please use it. It’s rather rude not to. Sort of like me calling you ‘human’ rather than ‘Amy.’ ”
“Fine, these little Holiere then. They’re psychic?” She turned to face him. “Like you?”
It was the Doctor’s turn to tilt his head. “Wellllllll, sort of. They are not psychic in the same way that I am, I suppose. They’re more… augmenters. They can augment psychic abilities, make them stronger, focus them. That's how they observe, you see.”
“Not really, Doctor. All I see is a madman and a bunch of Holiere.”
Frustrated, the Doctor huffed a bit. “Okay, okay fine. How can I explain this to someone without so much as a squidge of psychic ability… Alright, Amy. Close your eyes and think of something you want to see.”
“What do you mean, something I want to see?”
The Doctor was clearly wracking his brains, trying to think of how to make his companion understand… Although, is she still just a companion? Surely not, not after… after what had happened in the control room. Or what had happened in the library… three times. Or that time in the shower, those two times in the hallway and certainly not after what had happened in the pool two days ago. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind, because if he let his mind wander, soon his fingers would wander and his hands would follow. Hands follow thoughts, clothes follow hands, inhibitions follow clothes… No! Rules. Bad Doctor. Bad Amy.
Oh, thought a very small, unruly part of his brain, but Bad Amy can be sooo goood.
“No, okay, right, stop,” spluttered the Doctor, as much to stop his own train of thought as to get Amy’s attention. “Okay. Okay. Alright.” He took both of Amy’s hands in his own. “Um, well… think of the Magic Mirror in Beauty and the Beast.”
“Have the Holiere been telling you that you’re the fairest in all the land, Doctor? I wouldn’t argue, but I thought they said I was beautiful, not you.” She smiled devilishly at him and moved a bit closer.
“No, Amy,” he told her, waggling his finger. “That’s the Wicked Queen in Snow White who has the mirror who tells her she’s the fairest in all the land. Honestly, what did you do as a child? Didn’t you watch Disney movies?”
Amy stuck her tongue out at him, pink and shiny. The naughty part of the Doctor’s mind tried to kick in again, but he squashed it back down.
“I was a bit busy with the psychologists, alright?”
“No time for Disney when you’re preoccupied with biting. Got it. Anyway!” He kept speaking to keep her from scolding him for teasing her about the biting and the psychologists. “The magic mirror in Beauty and the Beast. The Beast gives it to Belle so that she won’t feel so lonely when she’s away from her friends and her father, right? She asks the mirror to show her something, and it does. That’s what the Observatory does. It shows you what you want to see. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” she asked.
“Sort of. I’ll show you. Do you trust me?”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?” asked the Doctor, again.
“You need to stop with the Disney references, Doctor. First Beauty and the Beast, then Snow White and now Aladdin. I’m beginning to think you might have been Mickey Mouse in a previous life.” Amy grinned impishly at his look of annoyance. “Of course I’ve seen Aladdin. Everyone’s seen Aladdin. And yes, I trust you.”
The Doctor touched his forehead to hers and placed his fingers upon her temples. “Think of what you want to see. I’ll help with the psychic part.”
Amy thought, briefly. She didn’t realize what she was thinking before she saw flashes of her house, of the TARDIS in the garden, of the Raggedy Doctor clambering out and asking for apples. This was followed by lightning flashes of Daleks and Angels and of the Doctor in her room, on her bed. Flickers of his face above her, eyes dark with lust and fiery with passion.
She shook her head, dislodging his fingers, as she realized that her eyes were closed and she was ‘seeing’ all of this in her mind. “Is that the psychic bit?” She asked, quietly.
“Yeah. Want to try again? You should check on your aunt, on your friends, on… on Rory, if you want. Make sure they’re all all right. See what they’re doing right now. Look at stuff you want to see.”
Amy looked at the Doctor, putting her hand to one of his cheeks. “Everything I want to see is already here, Doctor. Didn’t you see what I saw before?”
“Well, I mean, you can check on your Aunt, and your friends-” Further speech was silenced as Amy’s kiss suddenly occupied his mouth. His eyelids fluttered closed, his thoughts spun and, for a teeny tiny moment, Time slowed.
The Doctor suddenly found his body trying to pull itself in two different directions at once. He settled on the truce of holding Amy’s face in both hands, if for no other reason than to keep them from flailing at his sides. At the back of his mind, he felt the happiness of the Holiere as they flashed brighter and brighter, sincerely enjoying the blossoming emotions of their two visitors.
She pulled away, eventually, and Time remembered itself. He slid his hands down from her cheeks to her hips. “There really is no stopping you, Pond, is there?”
“Nope.” She smiled.
After another quick snog, the Doctor took Amy’s hand and led her out the tower door.
“Back to the TARDIS?” Amy asked, glancing around the rather barren hilltop.
The Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her a little ways down the hill. “TARDIS is too far away. I haven't brought a blanket but… this should do just fine!” He spun Amy around and she squeeled delightedly.
Catching her in his arms, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss that followed lead to much fevered touching and whispered words of passion, compassion and pleasure. Soon the pair was pawing at one another’s clothes, desperate to be rid of them and desperate for more skin contact.
“Too many buttons. New rule, Pond. No buttons. Snaps, okay. Velcro, maybe. Those both make good, satisfying noises and can open quickly. Zips, sure. Buttons, no. Buttons take too long.” The Doctor groped at the row of buttons at the back of Amy’s dress. “Though, buttons aren’t so bad when you compare them with corsets. The mid 1800s were no time for a quick romp, let me tell you.” He continued to struggle to get the last of the buttons undone.
“Doctor, shut up!” Reaching around behind her back, she easily undid the rest of her buttons. Then, smiling wickedly, she grabbed the lapels of his shirt and pulled roughly. The buttons popped off one by one and went flying, pinging against the boards of the bench. “That was a pretty satisfying noise, if you ask me.” She leaned up to catch his lips again.
He pulled her up and, when she was standing, he kissed his way from her mouth down her neck and across her clavicles. Grasping the neckline of her now loose dress, he tugged downwards, kissing every new inch of skin as it became exposed. He licked at her sides, tickling her stomach and hips with his lips and fingers. She wriggled and giggled, staring up delightedly into the spangled heavens. The light from the Observatory of the Holiere was brighter than it had been before, and it cast a very dim glow on the lovers as they laughed and kissed below the tower.
Once the dress was disposed of (the Doctor cast it away over his shoulders as soon as he’d gotten it over Amy’s shoes. The shoes and socks quickly followed in much the same way), Amy pushed the Doctor’s braces and his now torn shirt off his shoulders. The shirt fluttered off to be forgotten at their feet, and the braces hung loosely from his still-buttoned trousers. He looked her up and down, drinking her in.
She moved forward and pulled him into another Time stopping kiss. His hands flitted up and down her body, not knowing where to stop, before splaying out over the expanse of her back. She tangled her hands into his hair, pulling him closer to her near-naked body. He lifted her up a bit awkwardly and moved to the bench, where he sat, pulling her onto his lap. She straddled his legs and made her way from his lips to his ear, which she nipped. He inhaled through his teeth, sharp and quick. Amy moaned softly and kissed behind his ears before moving down to his neck.
His head had dropped back to rest against the bench as she licked and sucked at his neck. His hands, however, had hardly been idle. They slid up and down her thighs, pausing to grasp her bottom firmly through the cotton and lace of her pants. He silently and almost instantly memorized the lace pattern, then filed the memory away for later. She nipped at the space where his shoulder met his neck and he was suddenly very aware of how tight his trousers had become. So, it seemed, had she.
Amy kissed her way down his chest, following the path he’d traced earlier on her own skin. She paused at each nipple, flicking them with her tongue briefly before moving on. She knelt before the Doctor, and he let out a tiny breath as he watched her begin to slowly, tantalizingly, unbutton his fly.
He tried to help by standing up and pushing down trousers as quickly as was possible, but they got caught on his boots, which he’d forgotten to untie and take off. Once he’d toed them away, he was forced to do a bit of an ambling dance to get the trousers and braces untangled from around his legs. Amy laughed, but stopped when she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She teased him, running her knuckles and fingers across the sensitive skin just below his hips. She drew a fingernail up the skin where his legs met his groin, causing him buck forward, his inhalations quick and hissing.
As she began to pull off his pants, she looked up at him, locking eyes with the Time Lord. She held his gaze as the pants fell to the ground and he stepped carefully out of them, now entirely naked before her. Painfully aware of how hard he was, the Doctor had to keep himself from pouncing her to the ground and fucking her silly right there. He was glad, however, that he restrained himself, because she gazing up at him with a fire in his eyes he had not yet seen.
“Oh, Doctor,” she breathed, and took him into her mouth, eyes still turned up to his as she slid as far down his shaft as she could manage.
This was almost too much for the Doctor. Her mouth was human-hot, burning deliciously against his cool skin. She’d dropped his gaze to focus more intently on her current task. His double-pulse was already pounding in his ears as she licked and lapped at his cock, alternating between licking and bobbing up and down the shaft. Her hands ran up and down his thighs, sending ticklish sensations to the pleasure centers of his brain that were already being overloaded by the feelings coming from her mouth’s work. He tried to blink as rarely as he could, because occasionally she would look back up at him. When they locked eyes, even if it was just for a moment, he could feel his knees weakening.
She noticed his shaking knees and, in the back of her mind, made a note to tease him about it later. For now, though, she was focused on one thing and one thing only.
“God, you are… Oh, Amy! Oh, impossible Amy Pond, you are… incredible.” He’d begun to babble, and he knew it. He had to stop, had to stop her, had to stop himself before this adventure ended preemptively.
He tapped gently on one of her porcelain shoulders. “Amy. Amy!” She released him with a small ‘pop!’
“Yes?” she asked, with an impish smile that reached deep into her eyes.
The Doctor struggled for breath and grasped for the right words. His brain didn’t seem to be functioning quite right. It never did in situations like this. “Oh my goodness. Amy Pond, you’re going to kill me. Or, at the very least, end this whole business far too soon.”
“Slow me down then, Doctor.” Her wicked smile hadn’t faded.
Grabbing his discarded shirt, he balled it into a sort of pillow, which he placed at one end of the bench. He pulled Amy into a lip-crushing kiss as he lowered her onto the bench, guiding her head so it rested on the makeshift pillow. After pulling off her knickers, with the one hand not occupied by one of Amy’s breasts, the Doctor teased a finger inside her. The pheromones she had been giving off in waves suddenly redoubled their efforts to fog the Doctor’s thoughts, and he found himself pursuing a single-minded, very human objective.
Five minutes and two fingers later, Amy was panting under the Doctor’s attentions. Sweat had begun to drip down between her breasts, and the only coherent sentence she could manage to get out was “For fuck’s sake, Doctor! Please!”
It was the Doctor’s turn to smile wickedly. “Please what?”
“Get inside me, for fucks’s sake!” She smacked his arm, looking pained.
“Language, Pond.” He withdrew his hand from her, pausing for a moment to lick one of his fingers clean. A noise somewhere between a growl and a purr emanated from him, making Amy’s stomach clench delightedly. He repositioned himself above her, hovering millimeters from her opening, waiting.
Amy wriggled in frustration. He kissed her nose. “Bad Doctor,” she snapped playfully.
“Oh, I can be a Bad Doctor,” he breathed, and thrust into her.
They moaned in unison as he filled her, burying himself to the hilt inside her heat. If her mouth had been hot, thought the little bit of his mind capable of articulate thought, being inside her was being on fire. She was tight and so wet and she smelled like lavender and sunlight and summer rain and the Doctor was kissing her as hard and as deeply as he could.
He was inside her and all around her and he was kissing her and she was drowning in the fire of his passion. Amy clung to him like a drowning sailor to driftwood, but he was more than a raft. He was the rolling sea and he was the spinning sky and he was the singing stars and he smelled of burnt ozone and old leather-bound books and a dark, deep smell so alien that it was more like a thought than an actual aroma.
Breaking the kiss, the Doctor began to speak to her as he thrust. At first, the words he said were simple. He said her name; he told her she was beautiful, incredible, and fantastic. Propping himself up on one arm, he stroked her face and hair. However, before long the words coming from his mouth became less like words and more like song; an ancient, unknowable and limitlessly beautiful song. The song spilled from his lips, flowing into Amy’s mind and filling her eyes with stars. As his thrusts became more and more purposeful, more and more powerful, she moved her hips to meet his movements.
The Doctor did not notice when he lost the ability to speak English, nor when he lost his mental grip on the rest of the Human languages. All he knew was Amy. Amy’s eyes, Amy’s skin, Amy’s hair, Amy’s mouth, Amy’s freckles. In his mind, Amy burned like a thousand brilliant Holiere, filling his mind with light and happiness. Amy’s smile, Amy’s laugh, the way she said his name.
As if on cue, she whispered his name. The Doctor’s mind fell silent and his lips stilled their song. The sound of that word, said in her breathlessly passionate voice, pierced his mind and it became the sole ambition of his existence to get her to say it again, to moan it, to scream it into the vastness. He wanted it to resound through time and space, an echoing auditory monument to them, together. To this night, to this act, for always and forever. His knowledge of English came flooding back, recalled for one very important purpose. “Say that again,” he rumbled.
“Doctor!” Amy breathed, “Oh, Doctor, yes!” Digging her fingers into the flesh of his back, she felt him stiffen and noted the shiver crawling up his spine. A small smile of satisfaction fluttered across her face only to be chased away almost instantaneously by gasping, breathless ecstasy as he redoubled his efforts, pounding into her with a determination she’d never known.
As she felt the pink-yellow beginnings of an impending orgasm blossoming low in her belly, Amy repeated his name louder this time, more urgently. Their sweat slicked bodies slipped smoothly against one another and her call seemed to make him even harder than before.
He pushed himself up on both arms and looked down at her almost hungrily. Her eyes were screwed shut and he could see the muscles of her stomach clenching and unclenching while her breasts bounced in time with his trusts. “Amy,” he managed to grunt out. “Amy. Look at me. Amy, please. Open your eyes.” She did so and propped herself up on her elbows to be closer to him.
Balancing himself on one hand, the Doctor wound the other hand into Amy’s fiery hair, pulling her mouth to his own. The stars in Amy’s eyes exploded as the orgasm crashed through her body. She gasped and panted into the Doctor’s mouth, convulsing from head to toe, held up only by his arm’s support.
The Doctor did not break the kiss when he felt her coming. Instead, he allowed himself to be pulled down on top of her shivering form when she wrapped her arms around his neck. He continued to thrust up and into her, searching desperately for his own release.
Amy, still riding out her orgasm, nearly screamed in surprise as the Doctor’s hand slid down her side, seeking the place where they met. He found her oversensitive clit and, before she truly realized what he was doing, felt another upwelling of tingling, burning, clenching passion in the pit of her stomach. “Doctor!” she cried out, hanging on to his swiftly moving torso as her second orgasm shot through her.
At the sound of his name, shouted with such wild and passionate abandon, the Doctor came undone, losing himself in the song of the stars and the whirling of the planets and the boundless brilliance of his impossible Amelia Pond. He hugged her to him tightly and gasped out her name as he came so hard his head spun and his vision blurred.
Amy was speaking when the Doctor’s wits reassembled themselves. He felt, more than heard, the reverberations coming from her mouth but was only very dimly aware of what she was saying. All he could make out was his name, repeated over and over like a litany, like a prayer to a long dead god.
Neither one was sure how long they lay there, on the bench outside the Observatory of the Holiere, holding snugly to one another. The Doctor eventually nuzzled the top of Amy’s head, kissing her eyes and nose, running his hands over the valleys and peaks of her cheeks and lips. He counted the freckles on her face (47) and the eyelashes on her left eye (97). She laid her head on the Doctor’s chest and listened to his twin hearts as their beat slowed to its normal two-step beat. She traced the line of his spine up and down with a finger and touched his face, fingers dancing feather-light across his skin.
“You’re a Time Lord,” she stated after a silence that could have been a few minutes or millennia.
This declaration roused the Doctor from the sort of trance he’d found himself in. He’d been counting Amy’s heartbeats, breaths and blinks all at once. “Yes,” he agreed. “I am.”
“So, can you slow time down a bit?” He looked at her quizzically. “Just for now, yeah?” She looked at him playfully, but there was a seriousness in her eyes.
“That’s not really how it works, Amy. It doesn’t slow down or speed up. It just… is. Why do you ask?”
She sighed and went back to fiddling with his belly button. “Oh. No reason, really. I just…” she nestled deeper into his chest, turning her face so she spoke into his skin rather than into the air. “I just like this,” she mumbled.
“What, you like talking to my ribs?” He tickled her gently and she laughed, wiggling away from him as best she could on the narrow bench. “You like smelling like sweaty Time Lord? You like lying naked on very small wooden benches on planets to which you’ve only just arrived?“
Smacking his hands away, Amy retaliated in kind, tickling his ribs and under his arms. The Doctor howled and tried to push her away. “What, you don’t like smelling like sweaty Human? Or lying naked on very small wooden benches? Lying naked on wooden benches is actually a favored pastime of mine.”
“I bet it is, Miss Kiss-O-Gram.” Before she could wallop him, he grabbed both of her wrists and pulled her close to him so they lay chest to chest. “I like this, too. But, come on, Pond!” He cried, disentangling himself from her long limbs before helping her to her feet. “We have things to do! Things to see! Stuff to run from!” He glanced around his feet, realizing something was missing. “Where are my pants?”
Amy, who was standing naked before him, delayed his search for underpants when she bent over to look for her own dress. The Doctor pinched the back of one of his hands rather violently to snap himself out of it. Oh, the things he could do to that woman…
“More importantly, where are my pants? Or my dress? Or my bra?”
After a good ten-minute search for clothes yielded only a few pieces of clothing, they gave up. Walking down the hill to the TARDIS, Amy straightened the Doctor’s bowtie.
“Stop messing with it.” He grumbled good-humoredly. “It’s fine. It’s hard to stay straight when you’ve not got a shirt keeping you in place. Give me back my shirt and I’ll happily wear a straight bowtie.”
Amy hugged his shirt around her body. Her legs were goosbumped and bare, and only one foot had a sock on. She’d found her knickers fifteen feet from the bench, lying next to the Doctor’s braces. Somehow they’d become detached from his pants, which he’d found on the opposite side of the hill.
As they reached the TARDIS, day began to break over the Observatory of the Holiere. The first rays of morning turned Amy’s hair into a golden-red halo. The Doctor fumbled with the door and then held it open for Amy to walk through. “Ladies first, Miss Pond.”
The TARDIS disappeared a few moments later, taking the Time Lord and his companion with it. The Holiere in the Observatory floated lazily around the tower, patiently waiting for the next beings to come and visit them. They were glad, in their small psychic way, that they’d been a part of something as beautiful and as bright as what had happened on the bench outside their tower. They settled into the rhythm of the universe, silently undulating and swelling with the currents of time and space.