Disclaimer: Doctor Who belongs to Aunty Beeb and all the wonderful people who are involved in creating the show. I am not one of those people.

For all Rory loved Leadworth, and staying in on a rainy Friday night with Amy, a movie and the largest bowl of popcorn he could find, he had to admit that gallivanting around the universe in a blue box was pretty fun. Of course, it was generally more fun when the Doctor wasn't quite as irritable as this.

"Every time, this happens, every single time," ranted the tweed-clad alien as he strode down the street, Rory and Amy jogging behind him. "Honestly, you'd think after I saved his planet from total destruction three and a half times, he'd stop expecting me to run his errands. I don't know why I keep coming here, except I do, because it's a lovely planet - don't you think it's a lovely planet? - but honestly, get his medicine? Preposterous, absolutely absurd."

"Why don't you just say 'no', then?" asked Amy.

"Because," said the Doctor, "you don't just say 'no' to the leader of the Atrizan race. Or to the leader of any race, for that matter; that just makes you enemies and I don't like having enemies. Besides," he added, turning a corner, "he makes you feel really very guilty if you don't do what he wants you to."

The Doctor led them into a small courtyard and then into a tiny shop hidden away in the corner. Inside, the walls were lined from floor to ceiling with small glass bottles of every colour imaginable, dark and pale, bright and pastel, which perfectly complemented the gentle aroma that lay somewhere in between lavender and freshly mown grass.

"Yes, yes, it's all very impressive," said the Doctor as Amy and Rory stood in the doorway with their mouths hanging open in awe. He pulled a paint swatch from his inside pocket and handed it to Rory, pointing out a vivid fuchsia pink. "This is the colour we're looking for. It should have this serial number on the bottom," he said, writing a string of letters and numbers on the swatch. Rory nodded, and he and Amy set to work on the left side of the shop as the Doctor started to browse the right.

It took him a few minutes of upturning bottles of different shades of pink, but Rory eventually found one which exactly matched the colour of the paint swatch. He checked the serial number on the bottom, finding that too matched. Curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled out the stopper and held the phial up to his nose. The medicine smelled sweet, like melted chocolate.

"Found it," he said, holding the bottle out to the Doctor, who took it from him rather more forcefully than Rory was anticipating.

"Brilliant, fantastic, let's go," said the Doctor heading towards the door before turning back and walking to the counter at the opposite end of the shop. "Ah. Nearly forgot to pay." He rummaged in his jacket pocket and took out a handful of coins and crumpled up notes, cocoa beans, beads, shells, buttons and some objects that even the Doctor himself could no longer identify, all covered in salt. He picked through them all, eventually finding the two small wooden discs he needed. After shaking the salt off them, he handed them to the bewildered shopkeeper, who nodded her thanks. "Right," said the Doctor as he put everything else back into his pocket, including the phial. "Now we can go."

There was only enough room for two on the pavement, so Rory trailed behind the Doctor and Amy. The air was humid, and as the four suns blazed down, the Doctor took off his jacket.

I wish I could pull off tweed, thought Rory as he watched the Doctor roll up his shirt sleeves. Wait, what? No, I don't! I've never wanted to wear tweed in my life. Bow ties, on the other hand…. No. Bow ties are not cool. So how does he look so good in tweed and a bow tie? "It takes a special kind of man to pull off tweed and a bow tie."

Only when it was too late did Rory realise he had spoken his last thought out loud. The Doctor and Amy had both stopped and turned, and were now staring at him incredulously.

"Uh...I mean...um…" Rory stuttered. He had been in more than his fair share of awkward situations in the past, many of which at first glance would seem ten times more embarrassing than this, but for some reason he had never wanted the ground to swallow him up more. You've got no choice, Williams, you have to follow that up. "It looks good on you, that combo." You should have said you were being sarcastic, idiot! "I was being sarcastic." It's too late now. "I wasn't being sarcastic." Don't start backpedalling! "Backpedal…oh, I really don't feel well."

The streets started spinning. There were two Amys and two Doctors and eight suns. Rory's knees buckled, and he grabbed the Doctor's braces to prevent himself from falling, but instead brought the Time Lord down to the ground with him.

"I think we need to get you back to the TARDIS," said the Doctor, pushing himself to his feet. "Amy, grab his legs."

"You smell really nice…" mumbled Rory as he felt himself being lifted up and carried away. "Really nice..."

"So, what exactly is wrong with him?"

"Well, it looks like he inhaled something - this, most likely - and then the particles in this reacted with the chemicals already in his system to produce dopamine and norepinephrine."

"And in English?"

"He's…sort of…infatuated."

"He's in love with you?"

"It's OK, it'll wear off soon! Listen, I need you to go and deliver this to its rightful owner, or he'll get cranky. I'll stay and keep an eye on Rory."

"Fine." A pause. Then, "Doctor? You're sure it's going to wear off?"

"Yes, given time. Now, go, don't dawdle, and come straight back here when you've delivered it."

A few moments of silence.

"Rory, can you hear me?"

"Vaguely…" Rory opened his eyes to see he was in the TARDIS, with the Doctor leaning over him.

"Good. Maybe you can tell me what made you think it might be a good idea to stick your nose in an alien substance?"

"Curiosity…Are you angry with me? You're angry, aren't you?"

"No," sighed the Doctor wearily. "No, I'm not angry. It was just a very stupid thing to do."

"Yeah. Has anyone ever told you you've got beautiful eyes?"

The Doctor started to smile, then caught himself and stood up. "That's neither here nor there." He turned away from Rory and started to fiddle with various bits of the TARDIS wall. "Listen, Rory, what you're feeling now, towards me, I mean…that's going to wear off, probably in less than a day, so don't try and do anything you might…regret. Yes?"

"Yes," replied Rory, sitting up. "I like your hair."

"Oh, well, thank y-no, Rory, you're not listening to me." The Doctor sat down next to the other man.

"I am," said Rory as he edged closer to the Doctor. "You've got a really, really nice voice."

For each inch that Rory moved closer, the Doctor moved away. This went on for a while before the Doctor decided that sitting down in the first place was a bad idea, and stood up again. "Rory-"

"You smell nice."

"Yes, you mentioned. Erm…listen to me." The Doctor crouched down in front of Rory and looked him straight in the eye. "Really, really listen to me, OK? This is not you. This is just the medicine. Not you."

"But I really don't think it is the medicine."

"Yes, no, I know. I know you don't think it is, but I promise you it is. Do you understand?"

Rory nodded, but was no longer listening. He had lost himself in the Doctor's eyes, those brilliant, sparkling eyes which twinkled with the mischief of a child as much as they shone with the wisdom of a thousand years.

"Rory! Snap out of it!"

"I can't help it! You're just such a beautiful man! Probably the most-"

"Don't go there."

"-beautiful man-"

"Rory."

"-in the whole-"

"Stop."

"-universe."

"Finished?"

Rory nodded, smiling shyly. There was silence as both men tried to figure out where to go from here, broken eventually by the sound of the TARDIS door opening and closing, and footsteps.

"I'm back!" called Amy as she entered the room. "How are things going?"

"What things? There are no things. Nothing's going," babbled the Doctor as he got to his feet and spun to face Amy.

"Right," said Amy, after a moment's confused silence. "Well, I gave the leader his medicine, and we talked a little about our…your…situation. He said you were right, it'll wear off soon-"

"Of course I was right, I'm always right."

"-but there's something you can do to help it along."

"And what's that?"

"Don't leave it...unrequited."

"What?"

"Just humour him. I'll leave you to it."

"No, no, no. That's not happening," said the Doctor, grabbing Amy's arm as she turned to leave. "It's absolutely, completely, definitely not happening."

"Yes it is, because I want my husband back as soon as possible. It's not like you need to do anything, y'know, sexual. Just show him a bit of love. I'll be downstairs."

The Doctor watched Amy walk away, and then turned back to Rory. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked Rory. "I was a bit distracted by your…erm, your…trousers."

Sighing, the Doctor took a seat next to Rory. The two men glanced at each other and then quickly both looked to the floor.

"Hello," the Doctor said as he looked at Rory again.

"Hi," replied Rory, returning the Doctor's look.

"So…you're…you're in love with me."

"I think so," smiled Rory, nodding.

"I'm flattered."

Minutes passed. Awkward, embarrassing minutes, punctuated by the occasional sidelong glance and sentences that were started and never finished. The Doctor weighed up his options - Amy's suggestion (or more accurately, her demand) versus just leaving it be - and reluctantly came to a decision. He stood up and strode to the centre of the room.

"Rory, come here. Oh, I can't believe I'm about to do this."

"Do what?" said Rory, walking towards him.

"This," replied the Doctor, grabbing Rory by the front of his t-shirt and kissing him hard on the mouth. When they broke apart again, the Doctor surveyed Rory's face for any sign of a change.

"I love you," said Rory.

The Doctor didn't hesitate to respond by taking hold of Rory's t-shirt again, kissing him once more, this time for longer. Instead of pulling away after a couple of seconds, the Doctor decided the other man should be the one to stop the kiss. And so he did.

"Gerroff me!" Rory pushed the Doctor away, wiping his mouth frantically. The two men stood in silence, looking at each other, and then away from each other, both wondering whether eye contact was a good idea.

"We just kissed," stated Rory eventually.

"Yes. Yes, we did."

"Let's never do that again."

"Agreed," said the Doctor, nodding.

"So," said Rory after yet another awkward silence. "I'm going to, erm, go downstairs. Thanks for…well, thank you for…for helping."

"You're welcome," said the Doctor. "Um…are we supposed to hug, or something?"

"No!" said Rory, a little too fast. "I mean, I don't think that would be…appropriate. You know."

"Right, yes, of course. No hugging." The Doctor gave Rory a pat on the arm, and immediately regretted it, wondering if his hand had lingered on Rory's arm just a moment too long.

"I'm going downstairs now." Rory moved towards the door, turning back just as he stepped outside the room. "Thanks for -"

"We already did that bit," said the Doctor.

"Yeah. We did. Bye, then." Rory waved half-heartedly at the Doctor. The Doctor waved half-heartedly back, and then Rory was gone, leaving the Doctor alone to ponder what it was exactly that made Rory look so good in that t-shirt.