When Rory Williams moved in next to Amelia Pond, he couldn't believe his luck.
Not "he couldn't believe his luck" in the good sense, mind. Not as in "he couldn't believe his great fortune at moving in next door to the most attractive woman in all the universe," as he would later romanticize it for a much older, and admittedly sexier, Amy whenever she asked to hear the story, which was often. No, more like "he couldn't believe his awful, no-good, rotten luck at moving in next door to yet another girl."
The Williams family had moved twice already since Rory had been born, and this was now the third house in a row with only a girl for a neighbor, at least in terms of children Rory's age. Quite frankly, Rory was sick of it, as all his friends in school had teased him for his girlishness for as long as he could remember. He didn't know why, exactly, other than the fact that he mostly played with girls. His penchant for playing house wasn't particularly girly, in his opinion; but in light of his peers' teasing, he'd begun drifting toward more masculine interests, like soldiers and war and violent things like that.
Anyway, as expected, Mrs. Williams insisted Rory play with Amelia; and as much as he loathed the very idea, Rory obediently went along with it, because Mrs. Williams had a temper the likes of a bundle of dynamite, and was also quite fond of slapping Rory across the cheek whenever she perceived him to be giving her sass. That first play date was quite awkward for the man who would become Mr. Pond – not that he knew that, of course; and besides, he was still at the point where he wouldn't, and couldn't, in a million years dream of being Mr. Pond, in large part because he couldn't imagine what would make a man take on his wife's name, but mostly because he hadn't yet met the feisty, and irresistible, Amelia Pond.
At first Amelia and Rory played the usual games: some checkers here, a round of tiddlywinks there, and the like. But after a while, Amy – as she eventually informed Rory she preferred to be called – became sad and withdrawn, seeming to draw into herself more and more. Even little things would make her cry, like certain shades of blue, or set her off on a tirade, like when her aunt discovered little dolls on Amy's desk one afternoon. That particular scenario devolved into a shouting match about delusions and lies and stubbornness, all seemingly centered around a character little Amy referred to as "the Raggedy Doctor."
In spite of himself, Rory realized that he truly did care about his new friend. He hated to see her cry, and found that he was willing to do anything to stop her tears. One day, he asked Amy what would make her happy, and to his surprise, she answered.
"I'd like… to see him again," she whispered.
"Who?" Rory asked, baffled.
"My Doctor," Amy replied quietly, somewhat nervously; like she thought Rory would yell at her, too, like her aunt did.
Rory wasn't sure what she meant, but it didn't really matter. If that's what Amy wanted, that's what he'd do. He couldn't imagine not giving her what she wanted. After a moment, he asked her if she'd like to play doctor, and, again to his surprise, she said yes.
In fact, Rory spent most of his time with Amy Pond being surprised. For instance, he was very surprised to discover that he sort of liked "playing dress-up," as the boys at school teased him. Usually Rory preferred to call it role-playing, for obvious reasons. When he was with Amy, though, labels didn't matter. They spent hours as other people. Amy's favorite was when Rory agreed to pretend to be her Raggedy Doctor, and Amy played either herself or some other exotic traveling companion of the Doctor's. Rory wasn't sure who this Doctor was or where Amy had come up with the idea, but he'd known from the start that Amy had a vivid imagination, and he eventually stopped caring. As long as he was with Amy, there were more important things on his mind.
He wasn't sure exactly when it happened. It wasn't like they were playing together one afternoon and he suddenly realized he loved her. It was more of a gradual thing. He loved her, and he didn't care what everyone else said about her.
It wasn't that easy, though. Rory might love Amy Pond with everything he had, but Amy's heart belonged to her Doctor. She looked for him everywhere she went. Still there was something missing inside of her. They had to write a paper for school about where they'd like to travel in the future, and Amy burst into tears. She would stare out the window with hope in her eyes, only to snap at him and run off when he asked what she was thinking. Rory offered to bake her some fish sticks one day for lunch, and she wouldn't talk to him for two days.
It happened slowly, like everything else in their relationship. And also like everything else in their relationship, it was unconventional and awkward and, above all, deeply moving and maybe even a little bit inspiring. But eventually, Amy began to love him back.
It was as simple, and as complicated, and as unbelievable, and as beautiful, as that.