A/N: I apologize if my characters seem OOC I haven't seen enough of Rory or Amy to write them really well.
Warning: There is mention and description of alcohol in this chapter! So don't read if you have drinking problems or such.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or the Cup song that inspired this.
The first time, Amy couldn't sleep, the blissful unawareness as your body recuperated continued to elude her, so Amelia Pond/Williams decided that the kitchen was the best place to go. She yawned and rubbed her eyes that were still decidedly awake as she walked down the corridor.
Her ears were quite alert and alarmed her when she heard the Doctor mumbling in the kitchen and the clinking sound of a bottle. She peered into the room of her destination and her eyes widened in shock as she saw her raggedy Doctor in a chair slumped over the table a empty whiskey bottle clutched in his hand.
He was mumbling in a feverish and drunken state. All of her senses were assaulted with the strong drink. The sour smell of whiskey, the clink of the bottle and slosh of the remaining liquid, the familiar icky aftertaste as she accidentally inhaled though both nose and mouth, and the amber droplets that had been spilled on the table.
"Doctor? What are you doing?!"
She rushed forward and wrenched the darkened glass bottle free from the Doctor's tense white fist and stuck it on the counter beside her. She frowned worriedly as she noticed another empty bottle on the counter. After pulling a chair up next to him with a painful screech she started rubbing circles in the Doctor's back and tried to get his face out from where it was buried in his arms.
She finally got him slumped backward on his chair. Amy leaned over his face, her ginger locks brushing the Doctor's face and making him chortle. The only word Amy could discern on his alcohol-tainted breath was "Rose." He said it with such feeling of sadness, love, and despair that Amy leaned back for a minute unsure as to whether she should wake him as his eyes flickered at lightening speed under his lids.
Amy looked around at the walls of the TARDIS, she didn't know if she could give him anything. As if sensing her distress a bright light flicked on over a cabinet in the far corner with an accompanying rumble. Amy remembered the Doctor saying his TARDIS was a 'she' and not to call her an it. Feeling quite silly Amy grabbed the light green pill from the bottle and uttered two short words. "Thank you." The TARDIS lights flickered in what appeared to be smug happiness.
Amy stuck the pill in the Doctors mouth and remembering some of Rory's instructions on how to get an unconscious person to take something, plugged his nose and held his mouth closed with the other hand. The Doctor spasmed involuntarily a little bit but he eventually surrendered and swallowed the pill.
Now Amy scrounged around in her brain for a way to get the Doctor to bed. Pulling him along by his bow tie was out of the question this time, so she settled for the rather effective tactic of slapping the Doctor till he groggily came 'round into a alcohol induced haze and she half-led, half-carried him to his bedroom.
However when she happened upon the problem of getting the thin, but heavy Timelord into his bunk bed (that he insisted was cool) she opted for leaving him on the floor, shoving a pillow underneath his floppy hair and throwing a blanket across him.
When Amy staggered to bed after these extraordinary feats she collapsed next to her slumbering spouse and thanked heaven that she didn't sleep in a bunk bed anymore. That night she dreamt of the Doctor picking a Rose and it turning to ash in his hands.