Title: Arachnophobia.
Author: justice incarnate.
Word Count: 3,413.
Summary: Amy's fear of spiders may just lead to something good. (Amy/Eleven. Oneshot.)
Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, the Doctor and Amy would've gotten together a long time ago.

I was reading Jane Austen in my room when I saw it, making it's way across the fine print of page fifty-four in my book.

Before I noticed, I was greatly immersed in my novel. The thing about this novel was that it wasn't just any Jane Austen book, made in the twenty-first century, with a glossy cover and a picture of two people staring longingly at each other. This was an original, one of the first novels ever published by her.

The Doctor and I stopped by for a visit with her (they were actually very close, though I shouldn't have been surprised by that - the Doctor knew everyone you could possibly imagine), and with a little sweet talk by him, he procured this novel for me to read. Then we had a run-in with other worldly insects that were twice the size they should have been.

I was never scared by bugs. In fact, I used to keep them as pets. I loved bugs, they were fascinating. They reminded me of tiny humans, and I even had an ant once that I named, "Doctor," and another one named after me. They were best friends.

So I wasn't scared by the large bugs. It was actually so easy solving that problem, that today was a little boring, hence why I was in my room, reading, and the Doctor was off doing God knows what. In retrospect, monotony was thick in the air.

But not for long.

As I was reading, my thoughts running wild of love an despair and chivalry, I spotted it. It was right in the corner, nearly hanging off the edge of the book. It's beady black eyes bore into mine, and it's pincers snapped in greedy anticipation.

A spider.

My breath began to come out in short spurts as my eyes widened. I could feel a scream building up, pulling taut like a rubber band ready to snap. It was rising up, like vomit, in my throat, tightening in my lungs, so close to the surface now-

-And it finally was out of me, long and loud and shrill. It was a girlish little squawk, an ear-piercing, blood-curdling scream. It was insanely loud, reverberating off the walls of the room. I thought that all the air released from my lungs from that scream would've blown that spider away, but this wasn't any normal arachnid.

It was twice it's normal size.

I screamed for as long as I possibly could, my fear escalating with each passing second. The spider wasn't scared - it was staring straight at me, taunting with it's devilish pincers and it's dark, gleaming eyes. I realized I was still holding the book, and dropped it as quickly as I could onto the bed below me, still screaming, and kicked and thrashed back till my back was against the headboard and my knees were pulled against my chest.

You know that feeling you get when you see a bug (particularly, a spider) and suddenly, it feels like there are little creepy crawlers all over you? That's what it felt like for me, except it was magnified by three dozen, for my fear of spiders was monumental.

There was just something about spiders that really frightened me. Ever since I was a little girl, and this jerk boy in my first-grade class told me that they crawled into your ears at night, and laid eggs on your brain.

And once those eggs hatched, you would have dozens of baby spiders crawling across your brain, tugging at the controls and making you a robot to the spider population, thus helping them take over the world.

That's why I hated spiders.

Even though I'm grown now, and I know that all that was rubbish, that didn't decrease my fears. Spiders were the worst form of creature there was. They could be any type of predators - some could kill humans, others killed animals.

The spider still sat there, not once moving, not once looking away from me. I continued to scream, though now I was running out of air and the scream was losing it's effects and power. Now it just sounded like a screech - raw and hoarse. I guess that's because my throat was starting to ache from the strain.

With a minuscule amount of self-control, I snapped my mouth closed and tried to calm down. My nerves were frazzled, as I tried to fix my hair and straighten out the wrinkles in my shirt while never once taking my eyes off the cursed bug.

I sat there for a few seconds, my ears ringing and my heart racing, beating into my ribcage. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door that made me nearly jump out my skin. Would I be able to get up and walk to the door without breaking eye contact?

"Amy!" The Doctor called. "Are you alright? I heard you screaming and I got here as quick as I could."

"Fine," I called back, not moving. "It's nothing."

"Can I come in?" The door handle began to rattle, and I remembered that the door was locked. I guess it was time to try that getting-up-and-unlocking-the-door-thing-without-breaking-eye-contact right about now.

I rose from the bed slowly. I shuffled backwards, once hitting the small of my back on the side table and squelching a yelp of pain. The spider still hadn't moved, and I would've believed it to be dead, but it's pincers were snapping.

My back hit the glossy oak of the door, and I bent my arm back to feel for the lock. Still not breaking eye-contact, still looking into the eyes. I found the lock - not looking away. I turned it - still staring, not once averting my gaze-

- And then the oblivious Doctor swung the door open and hit me, throwing me into the wall. AKA, making me look away.

"Oh!" He cried. "Amy, I'm so sorry!" He grabbed a hold of my shoulders and swung me around to look for any damage.

I noticed first that he was dripping wet. Soaked to the bone kind of wet, and his hair was raining tiny drops of water. I could feel the moisture on his hands soaking through my thin shirt and chilling my skin.

I noticed second his lack of clothing. His bare chest mapped out in front of my eyes, from his sharp, angular collarbones, to his slightly muscular pecks. It wasn't the gross kind of muscular, it was the perfect in between kind, making his abdomen lean and fit.

The third thing I noticed was that he'd rushed out of his shower to pinpoint the source of all the commotion. He was a hero, the Doctor. Giving up precious cleansing time to save a damsel in distress. I noticed this because in the process of checking me for any cuts and bruises, he had put both his hands on my shoulders, thus releasing the white terry cloth towel that must have been covering him moments ago.

My eyes widened as I looked at...erm, him. I could feel a blush working it's way up my neck, brightening my cheeks. He seemed to notice my chagrin, for he glanced down at himself and noticed for the first time his lack of coverage. He quickly let go of my shoulders and swooped down to wrap the towel back around his waist.

We stared at each other for a moment, me still in shock, and him trying to avoid the embarrassment. Then he seemed to remember why he was here in the first place, though I had surely forgotten for a brief moment.

"Amy, what happened? Why were you screaming?" He questioned seriously, his eyes roaming my face.

Then I remembered.

I glanced behind him, my eyes falling to my book laying on the bed. The book that no longer had a spider on it. I gulped.

Uh-oh.

He noticed where my gaze landed, and turned to see what I was looking at. "You were screaming because of Pride and Prejudice?" he asked, looking back at me with cocked eyebrows and hints of smirk dancing across his lips.

I shook my head. "No, it's nothing. I'm fine, you can leave." It would've sounded convincing if my voice wasn't laced with fear. As it was, I was nearly paralyzed with paranoia. That spider could crawling anywhere now, looming, waiting to spring.

He looked at me suspiciously. "You're lying, Pond."

"No, really. It's okay. I just screamed. Sometimes people can scream," Yeah, great. That's a convincing argument. "-without reason. It releases tension. You know, you should really try it." I patted his shoulder. "You're looking rather tense."

"And you're looking rather untruthful. Now you can tell me what made you scream and I can help you, or-" He paused, his eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. "What is that?" he muttered to himself, craning his neck back to inspect his shoulder. Then he smiled. "Oh."

Rising up onto his shoulder, crawling across his alabaster skin, was a spider. The spider.

I did what any rational person would do in this type of situation. I screamed.

Probably even louder than the first one.

I didn't even think about it, just let out a giant wail of fear. It wasn't until the Doctor cringed and clamped his hands onto his ears that I remembered, I should probably stop screaming. So I closed my mouth shut with a blush and looked away from the Doctor and that wretched spider.

It seemed to set in the Doctor's mind that that very spider was what had made me scream the first time around, and he smirked at me. The reason I didn't want him to know was that the only times he'd really seen me frightened were in rational situations. Like near death experiences and things of the sort.

But spiders - they were an irrational fear, plagued only by the subconscious. They were just spiders for crying out loud! Being scared of spiders was like being afraid of clowns. It was a crazy fear, and probably especially in the Doctor's eyes. The Doctor wasn't scared of anything, much less spiders. It was probably silly to him that I should be scared of them.

After all, what was I really scared of that was irrational? I couldn't come to think of anything. All my fears made sense, and this the Doctor knew. He also knew I was brave, and short-tempered, though that short-tempered part had nothing to do with it. I was brave.

So I'd be brave now.

"This little guy made you scream?" he mused with mirth. He reached up to grab it and let it crawl across the palm of his hand. Holy hell, that thing scared me. I thought my heart was going to explode from how fast it was beating out of fear.

"No," I lied, and he knew it.

"He's sweet," the Doctor said, staring at me.

"No he's not!" I burst out. "He's creepy and crawly and big and eugh!" I instantly regretted the words the second they left my mouth. I sounded weak and childish. More like the seven year old girl he'd met all those years ago and less like the twenty-one year old woman he started this adventure with.

"So? That's Amy Pond's weakness, then? Spiders?" he pondered, grinning at me.

"Shut up!" I quipped, looking at the floor.

"It's fine. Lots of people are scared of spiders, I don't blame you. They are scary."

"Not to you," I told him.

"I'm the Doctor," he said simply, shrugging. He looked down at the spider in his hand. It appeared to be comfortable there, almost as if it was sleeping. But it's pincers were still snapping, and it was still looking at me. I was convinced it had it out for me.

But I took deep breath and tried to rationalize. It wasn't going to do any thing to me. It was just a spider. A stupid, harmless spider. Well, maybe not so harmless. If it was like any of the other bugs we had a brush with earlier today, then it wasn't too fond of humans.

I was human. The Doctor wasn't.

"Can you just get rid of that thing?" I breathed, swallowing nervously. Rationalizing didn't work. I was still scared out of my mind.

He considered for a second. Then he shook his head

"It's fun seeing you squirm like this," he said, waving his spider-hand in front of my face. I screeched wildly and tried to jump backwards, but I was already pressed against the wall. My head banged into it, and I cried out in pain.

"Amy!" the Doctor said worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"No," I grumbled, rubbing the tender spot.

He frowned. "Let me take a look."

I shook my head, entirely displeased with him. It was his fault I would have a bump the size of an egg on the back of my head. He stepped forward anyway, so close that I could feel the heat emanating from his body and crashing against me in waves. He wanted to feel the spot, I could tell. But with one hand holding the spider and the other holding the towel up, there wasn't much he could do.

"Hmm," he murmured. I smirked at him.

"Guess you can't take a look after all," I snapped at him cockily.

"Never doubt me, Amelia," he said, using my real name, which was too fairytale. I pouted at him.

He stepped back and lowered to the ground to put the spider down. I began to do a little dance as it crawled around. A little dance that consisted of me lifting my feet up at separate times again and again to avoid it touching me.

Was he crazy? Or was I?

Then he tied the towel around his waist so it wouldn't fall, and turned me around. I let him, I was too busy focusing on that spider and my "dancing" feet to worry much about what he was doing. His hand skimmed the tender spot on my head and I winced, though I still kept my eyes on that spider.

It hadn't moved much. It was near the Doctor, almost looking like it was curled around his feet. The spider really liked the Doctor. I supposed that was good, because if it was busy cuddling up to the Doctor, then it couldn't find the time to bother me.

He put more pressure on that spot and I gasped out, "Ouch, Doctor," so he would hopefully get the message that he should really not do that. It hurt. Like really badly.

But the Doctor just avoided me and pushed at it with his fingertips so roughly, that if it wasn't already going to be bruised, it probably would have. I kicked at his shin to get my own type of payback, and the spider didn't like that.

I guess you could say it thought I was trying step on it, because this is what happened next:

The spider began to crawl close to me, though I didn't notice because of the Doctor's need to poke at my wound. It found it's way to my leg and started to crawl up. That's when I felt it, and I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to shake it off.

I thrashed my leg around wildly, but the spider was relentless and clung to me. My foot caught the Doctor's towel, but I scarcely noticed, and kicked my leg around, trying to shake the damned thing off. The Doctor's towel was pulled off, and he was revealed again (not for the first time, and not that I saw it again; I had my back turned to him). I did notice, however, that his towel was wrapped around my foot.

He rushed to reach down and grab it, right as I was trying to kick the spider off. He grabbed hold of my foot, midair, and I lost my balance. I wobbled around, trying to catch something to hold myself up, all while the Doctor tried to get his towel back and I, at the same time of all this, tried to get that bloody spider off my leg, as it was nearing my knee.

I reached out to catch the wall as I tottered precariously. But it was too late. I fell, bringing the Doctor down with me and we somehow became tangled up in each other, his naked form atop of mine. I felt a major blush, because amidst all this chaos, all I could think about was how sensual this position was. And how very nude the Doctor was.

I could feel the spider making it's way up, tickling my leg and nearly crushed between us. But that wasn't bothering me. The fact that the Doctor's face was inches away from my own was. His breath was fanning my face, and he stared down at me, wide-eyed and frozen.

And to think. This somehow happened because of a spider.

So I guess what then happened was only obvious right.

I kissed the Doctor.

Ignoring the spider, and everything else, I pressed my mouth to his forcefully, fearlessly. My heart was racing, fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. He stayed stock-still for a moment, completely surprised and caught off guard.

Then he seemed to be aware of what was happening, and he kissed me back with a careful pucker of his lips. I deepened it, and his arms wound around me, pulling me flush against. I heard a satisfying crunch, as the spider was crushed between us. Gross? Yes. But I couldn't quite care at the moment.

I raised my own hands and wound them in his damp hair, pulling him closer to me. I could feel his chest against mine and the uneven thumping of his hearts. He was gentle with his kiss, guarded. But that's not what I wanted, not right now. I could feel the growing need, so I urged him on, and all the gentle-ness in that kiss dissipated.

Only then, he seemed to come to his senses and he pulled away from me. He reached down to pluck his towel off my foot then propped himself up to tie it around his waist. He rose and cleared his throat, staring down at me on the floor.

"You have spider guts on your pants," he said. Out of all the things he could have said at the moment, he chose that.

I glared at him. "You're ridiculous, Doctor," I told him.

"I can throw them in the wash for you."

"Doctor!"

"It'll come right out with a little soap and warm water."

"Doctor!"

He sighed. I could still feel his mouth on mine, the utter bliss of those few seconds, and the disappointment that it was over. He looked at me strangely, waiting for me to say something. "You can't run forever," was all I said, rising. Flitting past him angrily without even glancing back, I laid down on my bed, picked up my book and resumed reading.

The spider guts on my jeans could wait.

"I know," he said, then exited my room, pulling the door shut behind him.