Amy and The Doctor
Amy turned towards the Doctor, a question on the tip of her tongue, but stopped and stared instead, at him, bent over the control panel of the Tardis. He looked, at that moment, so incredibly, oddly and undeniably sexy. Rory was asleep in one of the many, ever changing rooms, and they were alone. A thought flickered through her mind, so brief she could barely catch a glimpse of it. I was wrong. Rory isn't the most beautiful man in the world. The Doctor is.
She shook herself out of her reverie. She was married, for God's sake! She shouldn't be thinking things like that about another man! Let alone the Doctor! But his bow tie was so sexy, tilting jauntily on his collar… Damn it! She'd known him since she was a little girl! Grown up thinking about him, idolizing him! It had been such irony, having thought about the man most of her life, but when she finally got him, all she'd wanted was Rory. Or so she had thought. But then she remembered that night, after the angels, when the Doctor had, once again, seemed so otherworldly, so irresistibly sexy. At that moment her instincts had won out, and she'd acted so rashly as to scare him away, possibly forever.
What about Rory? She loved him! She had married him! But, she realized slowly, he was more like a brother to her. From the very beginning, whenever something was going on, she'd always turned to the Doctor. For protection, advice, comfort, and, subliminally, for love. She wanted the Doctor. Always and forever. She didn't care if he changed, it wasn't his outside that made him sexy, it was his beautiful, odd, caring, and immeasurably old soul that made him so desirable.
She stood there, leaning against the railing, for a long while, puzzling out exactly when the Doctor had come to mean so much to her, in such a different way than she had thought. She finally concluded that he always had, she had just been too stupid to recognize or admit it. She sighed. Well, this revelation wouldn't get her anywhere, as the Doctor's feeling for her were strictly platonic, as he had shown when she had tried to seduce him. Another sigh. Wishing wasn't going to get her anywhere. She went to bed, but not with Rory. Now that she knew her true feelings, it felt like cheating. She fell into a troubled, dream filled sleep, dominated entirely by thoughts of her Doctor.
DOCTORS POV
The Doctor fell, once again, into a restless sleep, dominated, as always, by Amy. How she tormented him! With her long, slightly tousled, red-gold hair that shone softly in the light of every world and time they'd visited. Every day he resisted the urge to stroke down its long, waving length, revel in the softness he only felt when she accidently brushed against him, her hair falling onto his cheek or shoulder. And her skin! So perfect! It had such a pale, peaches-and-cream color, with that beautiful scarlet flush that went so well with her hair! Those eyes, such a piercingly intelligent green, he felt like he was falling into an endless forest, more enchanting that the Shino planets famous psychedelic orchards! And her mouth, that pouty little pink thing, always to soft looking, always slightly parted in wonder whenever he showed her the beauty of the universe around her, so kissable it felt like a crime not to.
Whenever she wore those deliciously short skirts, showing off her long, shapely legs, he had to suppress his urge to hate Rory, who had all that he did not. Rory was actually a very nice person; funny and caring, but it was so difficult to think of him in an unbiased way. Hard to talk to him without despising him for having her, for being able to caress her skin, kiss those beautiful lips, and be so close to almost touch without one of them shifting away uncomfortably.
Her outside beauty was not her only beauty, not by a long shot, thought sometimes, in a fit of jealousy, he thought that that was all that Rory saw. There was her wry, sarcastic wit; always keeping him on his toes, her raw, uncalculating stubbornness, her random flairs of genius, and her caring nature, that shone through onto her face even in anger or sadness.
She was so beautiful, inside and out, but she would never be his. How typical of him, falling for a married woman, and how cliché! The worst part was that he could have had her. He was so close. She had thrown herself at him practically seduced him against his will, but he had froze. At that moment, all the bad things about his feelings for her had risen to the surface: his immortality, her eventual death, her engagement, and his, like the crotchety old man he should have been long ago, stubbornness to have companionship closer than what he was used to, lesser rather than lovers.
But then, just as he had pushed that all to the side, his muscles tensing to grab her and hold her close, rush her lips to his, she had relented, showing her sudden attack to be nothing more than a whim created of pre-wedding nerves and proximity. No, she did not love him. How could she? He was just a lone man, flung through the universe, destined to try to save the world over and over to try to justify his existence, when all the rest of species, everyone he had cared about, where gone. No, she did not love him, but to have her close, to hear her voice, that was enough. Just to know her was better than nothing, even if it caused him pain.
When Amt woke she was stiff and bleary eyed. She slowly sat up; her head pounding slightly, stretched, and got her stuff together for a morning shower, rather than her usual nightly one. Halfway to the bathroom she decided on a bath. There were so many bathrooms, some completely unused, that she didn't need to worry about anyone waiting for her to get out. Her mood rose as she stepped into the inviting, forest green style bathroom. The doctor had helped her repaint it from that atrocious mint color. He had insisted that they paint it to match her eyes, rather than the soft blue she had originally wanted. She was glad now, because the bathroom now felt calming and safe.
She was so preoccupied in musing about the doctor, and that carefree, paint-splattered afternoon, that she forgot to lock the door. She was too used to living by herself to have that movement be automatic. She filled the bathtub quickly with almost-scalding water, filling it to the brim with bubbles. Then she sunk, with a quiet, appreciative moan, into the pool of comforting, caressing heat.
He strode slowly down the corridor of the Tardis; feeling slightly lost without his Amy, his beautiful, enchanting Amelia Pond. He hated it when she slept inhe felt so useless and bred when she wasn't around. He walked towards her and Rory's room, only to find him coming out of it, looking slightly puzzled.
"Hey, Doctor, have you seen Amy? I haven't seen her all morning, and she didn't come to bed last night either." The Doctor felt his heart quicken irrationally. She should be perfectly safe in the Tardis… but, just in case….
" I saw her last night before she went to bed, but that was the last time I saw her. Here, lets look for her."
"okay Doctor. I'll go this way." He went down a corridor, so the Doctor went in the opposite direction, pushing doors open, calling Amy's name. after a while of searching and calling he felt foolish, so he stopped calling her name. if he hadn't been so worried, this would have been kind of fun; he kept finding rooms he'd never even seen before, filled with all kinds of interesting stuff.
A few minutes into searching, he came to a slightly ajar door. He pushed it open silently, cautious for some reason. Then he saw her. Her breasts were just covered with bubbles, the pinkness shining through, and her long, auburn hair was cascading over the back of the tub, messy and glorious. Her legs were casually laying on the other rim of the tub, sexily crossed and glistening with water. Her eyes were closed, her face peaceful and relaxed. Her hands lay on either side of the tub, hanging languidly down. She could have been asleep, were it not for her light movements, swishing her feet in the water, playing with a strand of her hair, humming along to the gallifreyan lullabies he had given her as an engagement present.
He suddenly realized the position he was in. he was standing, door handle n hand, staring at an unknowing girl. His trousers felt uncomfortably tight. He couldn't just announce himself now. He tried to stealthily close the door.
" You can come out, you know, Doctor" said Amy, a slight smirk appearing on her face. The time traveler blushed, mumbling apologies, all the while not looking away from the goddess in front of him.
"I am, um very sorry… didn't know you were in here, see…" he fiddled with his bowtie "should've locked the door, you never know who might walk in. Ah, well, I better go. I'll, uh, leave you to your bath…" Six words interrupted his ramblings, causing him to look up in shock.
"You don't have to, you know" said Amy, looking up at him shyly.
"uh, um, excuse me?"
" You don't have to go, if you don't want to. I, I actually want you to stay." He stared in shock, his mouth hanging open, not even bothering to hide his surprise."
