Fic: Lovebirds
Title: Lovebirds
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy/Rory
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 688
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: "You missed the birth of a star, the birth of a star. A nice one too, very exciting, lots of pizzazz, quite a light show. Which you'd been aware of, if you hadn't been canoodling."
AN: Written for the love_bingo prompt 'lovebirds'.
"You're doing it again," the Doctor complains. It's only fair, and not whining at all. Because this has been going on for long enough. Though he'll be amazed if they can hear them over the sound of their own hormones. It must be like a ship full of tambourines in there. He's half-tempted to take them somewhere there's guaranteed to be big, loud explosions just to test the theory.
They manage to disentangle their limbs and remember which ones are their own. Amy with a half-smile that's all mischief, and Rory with a sort of awkward panic. Honestly it's like they've both only just remembered he was there. Doing important 'travelling the universe' things. The cheek of it.
"Sorry." Amy doesn't look sorry at all.
"You missed the birth of a star, the birth of a star. A nice one too, very exciting, lots of pizzazz, quite a light show. Which you'd been aware of, if you hadn't been canoodling."
"Canoodling?" Amy says dubiously. "Did you grow up in the fifties?"
"Canoodling," the Doctor repeats, because it's a good word. There's an air of scandal about it. "You, the pair of you, every time I turn around. How am I supposed to wow you with the wonders of the universe if you're constantly staring at each other's noses. You won't see anything new there - well probably nothing you'll want to remember. Every time I turn around you're doing it. I'm honestly amazed you haven't worked it out of your system yet."
"You're exaggerating," Amy says with a shake of her head. "We're not bothering anyone."
"Except that alien last week," Rory offers quietly, from somewhere behind her left shoulder. "That was slightly uncomfortable-making."
The Doctor points, nods. "Yes, exactly like that."
"Didn't he want to put us in some sort of study?" Rory makes a face like the idea is very unpleasant indeed.
"She - and it was a zoo, she wanted to put you in a zoo, where people could come from far and wide to gawp at you."
"That was your fault," Amy accuses. "You wouldn't tell her that we weren't your pets. You threatened to sell us, and you kept jacking up the price you wanted. Because you were annoyed that we were 'making googly eyes at each other.'"
The Doctor waves vaguely at the pair of them.
"You were, googlier than even the Ventrisians, whose eyes tend to google naturally, what with them dangling off of stalks."
The gesture he makes doesn't quite do them justice, but Amy snorts laughter. Rory shoots her a 'this is not helping' expression. Which is a lot like his usual expression only with more serious hair.
"Yes, thank you, I'm so glad you find this amusing. It's nice that you're so fond of each other, but do you think perhaps you could do it in small doses."
"What do you suggest?" Amy asks.
The Doctor rubs his hands together, then stretches an arm towards them.
"Semaphore."
Amy glares at him.
"No? Big gestures, very romantic."
She's still glaring.
"You're hard to please aren't you? How about flowers? Inoffensive, not distracting to passers by."
Amy folds her arms. "The last planet you took us to with flowers, one of them tried to eat Rory."
"Only because it liked him," the Doctor reminds her, again.
"This is why we don't let you make suggestions," Amy points out.
"I don't know why I bother, you don't appreciate any of them," the Doctor says huffily, then waggles a lever in a dejected sort of way, which might, perhaps, be designed purely for effect.
Amy sighs, like she doesn't believe it for a minute. But Rory is looking predictably ashamed of himself.
"We're very sorry," she says, grudgingly.
"We are," Rory agrees, with much less grudging and much more sincerity
"We'll pay attention to the stars and planets and other things, and keep the canoodling, flirting and googly eyes to a minimum," Amy mumbles out. Then she scowls at him through her hair like he's the one being ridiculous.
The Doctor smacks his hands together. "Good, yes, thank you. Because you never know what you'll miss if you aren't paying attention."
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: Amy/Rory
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 688
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: "You missed the birth of a star, the birth of a star. A nice one too, very exciting, lots of pizzazz, quite a light show. Which you'd been aware of, if you hadn't been canoodling."
AN: Written for the love_bingo prompt 'lovebirds'.
"You're doing it again," the Doctor complains. It's only fair, and not whining at all. Because this has been going on for long enough. Though he'll be amazed if they can hear them over the sound of their own hormones. It must be like a ship full of tambourines in there. He's half-tempted to take them somewhere there's guaranteed to be big, loud explosions just to test the theory.
They manage to disentangle their limbs and remember which ones are their own. Amy with a half-smile that's all mischief, and Rory with a sort of awkward panic. Honestly it's like they've both only just remembered he was there. Doing important 'travelling the universe' things. The cheek of it.
"Sorry." Amy doesn't look sorry at all.
"You missed the birth of a star, the birth of a star. A nice one too, very exciting, lots of pizzazz, quite a light show. Which you'd been aware of, if you hadn't been canoodling."
"Canoodling?" Amy says dubiously. "Did you grow up in the fifties?"
"Canoodling," the Doctor repeats, because it's a good word. There's an air of scandal about it. "You, the pair of you, every time I turn around. How am I supposed to wow you with the wonders of the universe if you're constantly staring at each other's noses. You won't see anything new there - well probably nothing you'll want to remember. Every time I turn around you're doing it. I'm honestly amazed you haven't worked it out of your system yet."
"You're exaggerating," Amy says with a shake of her head. "We're not bothering anyone."
"Except that alien last week," Rory offers quietly, from somewhere behind her left shoulder. "That was slightly uncomfortable-making."
The Doctor points, nods. "Yes, exactly like that."
"Didn't he want to put us in some sort of study?" Rory makes a face like the idea is very unpleasant indeed.
"She - and it was a zoo, she wanted to put you in a zoo, where people could come from far and wide to gawp at you."
"That was your fault," Amy accuses. "You wouldn't tell her that we weren't your pets. You threatened to sell us, and you kept jacking up the price you wanted. Because you were annoyed that we were 'making googly eyes at each other.'"
The Doctor waves vaguely at the pair of them.
"You were, googlier than even the Ventrisians, whose eyes tend to google naturally, what with them dangling off of stalks."
The gesture he makes doesn't quite do them justice, but Amy snorts laughter. Rory shoots her a 'this is not helping' expression. Which is a lot like his usual expression only with more serious hair.
"Yes, thank you, I'm so glad you find this amusing. It's nice that you're so fond of each other, but do you think perhaps you could do it in small doses."
"What do you suggest?" Amy asks.
The Doctor rubs his hands together, then stretches an arm towards them.
"Semaphore."
Amy glares at him.
"No? Big gestures, very romantic."
She's still glaring.
"You're hard to please aren't you? How about flowers? Inoffensive, not distracting to passers by."
Amy folds her arms. "The last planet you took us to with flowers, one of them tried to eat Rory."
"Only because it liked him," the Doctor reminds her, again.
"This is why we don't let you make suggestions," Amy points out.
"I don't know why I bother, you don't appreciate any of them," the Doctor says huffily, then waggles a lever in a dejected sort of way, which might, perhaps, be designed purely for effect.
Amy sighs, like she doesn't believe it for a minute. But Rory is looking predictably ashamed of himself.
"We're very sorry," she says, grudgingly.
"We are," Rory agrees, with much less grudging and much more sincerity
"We'll pay attention to the stars and planets and other things, and keep the canoodling, flirting and googly eyes to a minimum," Amy mumbles out. Then she scowls at him through her hair like he's the one being ridiculous.
The Doctor smacks his hands together. "Good, yes, thank you. Because you never know what you'll miss if you aren't paying attention."