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Amy turned her head slightly toward Rory's voice, putting a finger on the page she'd been reading so she wouldn't lose her place. She'd actually read the same paragraoh five times already, distracted by thoughts of living in the past as their future. It made her head hurt.

"That'll be an interesting letter to receive," she observed softly.

"It's interesting to write." Rory frowned. "And I wonder if the SIM card will last that long. Cameras here aren't that good." But he could store dozens of photos on his phone at the very least. "Do you want to write one to your parents?" Not that she got on as well with them even as she did with his dad.

She was still thinking about that, the whole writing to her parents thing. What would she say? 'Dear Mum and Dad, Rory and I were zapped into the past by the Weeping Angels while in New York, helping the Doctor and River save the world. Again. No way home. Miss us if you feel like it, though I don't know if you will.'

Maybe that last bit was uncharitable, but Amy came by her stubborness naturally. Butting heads made supper with the folks a bit of a strain.

No chance to fix that now, she thought sadly.

"I might," she replied, pretending to return to her book. Oh, look: the same paragraph... "If its a good quality SIM, it might make it to 2012..."

And for all Brian occasionally annoyed Rory, he had never tried to stifle him. Or sent him into therapy repeatedly. Also Amy's parents still didn't really believe in The Doctor, even after the wedding. "There's a chance anyway. Assuming nothing happens to it." He turned to look at her with a smiled. "Going to write? Or just going to let things carry on?"

Edited 2012-10-16 21:23 (UTC)

"I don't know," she said. Well, she sort of knew, but the concept was almost more terrifying than encountering the Daleks again. At least with them she knew where she stood. Or ran. Whatever.

Amy sighed heavily and closed her book. They had somewhere to live, which had been unexpected, but then River was full of surprises. "I'm going to write, but I don't think that'll bring home the bacon. Well, more bacon than a doctor, anyway. Writing pays pittance at the moment..."

Edited 2012-10-17 00:23 (UTC)

"Stupid, sexist decade. But being a doctor is good money. Even a backstreet one." Who got to set his own practices - he was going to get some decent nurses trained and provide far better care for his patients than major hospitals round now did. "But writing changes hearts and minds. It matters even more than medicine."

"Yeah. Stupid." She turned in her chair to look at him properly. "You should write that down. That was very poetic." She smiled. "And no, I'm not kidding. That was... It made me feel good."

Rory beamed - it would be at least an hour before he stopped smiling. "I'm glad. But I'm not a writer. You're the one who can make everyone including two thousand year old centurions and nine hundred year old aliens fall for you and do what you say."

"You didn't always do what I said, which was just as well, sometimes." She might be confident, but she wasn't stupid. If she lived as long as the Doctor or Rory, maybe she'd be a contender for being in charge.

That she took charge quite often was a different thing.

"Hmm, my boys..."

And there was that pang again. Amy doubted if it would ever completely go away, though it was early days yet.

Roryhugged her at that. "No. But it's normally more fun when I do." Not as safe. But more fun. Plus she'd always had more brains and vision than he did. He just had experience. And listened to his common sense.

Amy hugged him back and found herself reluctant to let go. She had common sense, but it tended to tell her that she could manage to get away with what she wanted to do, anyway. It wasn't always right, but her instincts weren't too bad. Not really. Mostly.

Rory grounded her, an anchor, the voice of reason, on occasion. She smiled a little, remembering all sorts of moments where he'd been there for her. For all of them.

"Yeah, lots of fun."

Rory ultimately had two sets of instincts. The smart ones said run and hide. The other set ... he didn't like to let out that often. They scared him, and that was nothing compared to what they did to anyone getting in the way.

He smiled, not wanting to let go of the hugs either. "Always." And a soft kiss. There was a touch of melancholy in both of them right now, and the hugs and kisses were reassuring.

She wasn't going to cry. Been there, done that. She'd probably have some more crying for a while, on and off, as suddenly as a tap when it hits her that they aren't going to see the Doctor anymore and their adventures in time and space are over - this is it for them: Reality.

But no tears now.

"Always," she whispered back. "Can we hug like this while we make dinner or is that really inconvenient?" She was trying to shake the melancholy mood.

And that was one thing that would be useful. Microwave meals. Or microwaves in general. "We can hug." He paused. "I think? And casserole doesn't take looking after." Any other time he'd have teased her about fish fingers and custard. But not yet. Not now. It was raw even for him, and he knew it was much worse for her.

Amy sighed and pulled back enough to meet Rory's eyes with her own. "Casserole. So... June Cleaver, only you look much better than she did." One of her hands slid lightly down his arm and her fingers linked with his. "It might be easier if we just... hold hands."

Rory shook his head, his smile soft and affectionate as their fingers link. "I'm not dressing up in a pearl necklace and a skirt for you. I let you talk me into something like that once." When they were much younger and he'd objected to Raggedy Doctor again she'd suggested something else - and then dragooned him into swapping roles.

"That wasn't a skirt, it was a dress," she clarified, her smile teasing. She lightly bumped her shoulder with his and headed for the kitchen. If he didn't want to come with her, he'd have to let go of her hand, because she was intent on taking him there. "And I thought you looked quite good in it." Amy also thought she suited her interpretation of the Raggedy Man, but she didn't say so.

Rory shook his head, quite intentionally not letting go of her hand as he pulled out the chopping board and a sharp knife.. "On you it was a dress. On me it was barely long enough to class as a minidress." That had been embarrassing. Doubly so because watching her glee always turned him on, and he'd been trying to conceal it from her.

Amy placed her chin on his shoulder, standing close enough that holding hands wouldn't be uncomfortable and she could watch what he was doing.

"But you looked adorable in it, Rory," she murmured in his ear.

Rory shook his head. "Oh no. I'm not doing it again." Give her an inch and she'd take a mile. And she had him thoroughly wrapped round her finger. Always best to try to head anything off early.

"Did I say I wanted you to do that again?" she asked, then let her teeth nibble lightly on his ear lobe. "Maybe I could wear the pearls this time... and nothing else..."

Rory groaned softly, his eyes growing distant. "You wearing just the pearls..." His resolve was slipping.

"Um-hmm," she said, pressing a soft kiss afainst the side of his throat. "Me, a fluffy bed with squeaky springs and little gifts from oysters..." Amy wanted to eat and soon, but she couldn't help herself, sometimes. She just loved him so much. The pearls had been an early indulgence shortly after their arrival, a gift from Rory using some of the funds River had provided.

Rory's breathing turned ragged as he tilted his head to the side, eyes fluttering closed as he contemplated the image she painted. "Mmmm..." Even distracted as he was, Rory had the sense to put the knife down. "Dinner may be a long time."

Edited 2012-10-25 20:10 (UTC)

Amy grinned, rather pleased the knife was safely on the counter now. Wouldn't do to have someone be accidentally cut. Besides, an injury would certainly break the mood. "Mmmm," she echoed. "I wonder if there's a costume shop nearby? You know, for those times when we want to role play?"

Rory groaned slightly at her teasing, and his own was a little lighter. "And here I thought you'd learn to use a sewing machine. Your tastes are scandalous by modern standards." Possibly remembering the variety of costumes she'd liked to wear wasn't the best idea. Or possibly it was. Either way his lips parted and he drew her body closer to his.

She thought about smacking him for the sewing machine comment, but then he was all romantic, wasn't it? And who was she to break the mood? It was a shame she hadn't been sent back into the past with her handcuffs...

Amy kissed her husband on the lips, enjoying the feel of his body against hers.

Rory drew her tight against him, moaning softly into her mouth as his arms wrapped tightly around her, eyes closed. Handcuffs were quite easy to fake if she wanted to - and he was considering buying her a set for Christmas anyway.

Oh, props could wait. Everything could wait when she was in Rory's arms. When he moaned, it made her flush. God, she could still remember the moment of revelation when she'd been told by Mel that he was actually in love with her and wasn't gay at all. The penny had dropped, indeed. Amy deepened the kiss, because she could, and suspected dinner would be much later.

Rory's hands started wandering as he let her deepen the kiss. One into her hair, tugging slightly, and one to her ass. He'd thought that he just didn't interest her before Mels had stated what, to everyone else, was obvious, and dinner was going to wait.

((OOC: If this thread continues we're going to break the rating for SWS. Move the rest of the thread, fade to black, or continue anyway?))

[ OOC: Move? :) ]

((Sounds good. SSWS, Personal journals, or Gdocs?))

[ OOC: Personal might be easiest. Sorry about delay. So much of my time is not my own these days. :) ]