Author Note: Originally written for the prompt "WAKEY, WAKEY!" on comment_fic at livejournal.
Of Wake-Up Calls And Possible Skull Fractures
Amy hates their bunkbed and Rory isn't fond of it either. It's nothing to do with sex. Neither of them is opposed to snuggling up together on a bunk designed for one person and they've gotten inventive with the ladder a time or twelve. Knowing that Melody was conceived there adds a certain fondness as well. The problem is that back home both of them slept on a normal bed and whilst she likes to think that they've adapted to space and time travel, she still can't get used to sleeping in a bunkbed.
If she takes the bottom one when she sits up in the morning she whacks her head on the upper bunk. If she takes the upper bunk sometimes she rolls off and on the days where she doesn't and uses the ladder she falls off of that instead. Basically, she just isn't coordinated in the morning and she doesn't need a bloody bunkbed reminding her of it everyday.
Rory doesn't have it quite as bad, being more of a morning person. Many a time he's woken up long before her and demonstrated his ability to speedily shift from sleep to a fully alert and functional person. Amy is more than okay with waking up to his tongue making her body sing or his hand gently stroking her hair, lips pressed to her ear murmuring endearments.
In fact for Rory it's not that the bunkbed is a problem so much as the bunkbed in combination with their morning wake-up call. When the Doctor bangs open their bedroom door shouting, "Wakey, wakey!" at the top of his voice even Rory sits up straight in shock and slams his head into the bunk above, or throws himself out of bed in a panic without realising he's on the top bunk.
"How many times do we have to ask to lose the bunkbeds?" he groans after yet another morning of possible skull fracture.
"Still easier than trying to teach him not to barge in," says Amy, lying back down with her head on Rory's thigh.
"How about we ask for an alarm clock?"
"He's a Time Lord," says Amy. "A Lord of Time. I'm not sure he even knows what a clock is, let alone owns one."
"Right." Rory runs his fingers through her hair and she smiles against his skin. "Lock for the door?"
"He's got a sonic screwdriver."
"We could just buy ourselves another bed."
"I'd like to see you try and fit it through the door of the TARDIS," says Amy, moving lower to place a kiss on the soft skin behind Rory's knee.
His fingers pause and tighten in her hair.
"IKEA. Flat pack bed. Problem solved." Rory traces her lips with the fingers of his free hand and she sucks the tip of his index finger into her mouth. "Last chance to make use of the bunkbed then."
Amy kisses his finger and sits up.
"You said that about the centurion outfit," she says with a grin and Rory laughs.
"Alright, well maybe we can keep the bunkbed for special occasions."