I literally cannot remember when I last updated, which is usually a sign that I should get up off my lazy bum and finish something. So, I had this idea to poke fun at a rather popular trope in many fandoms. Not meaning to make fun of anybody else's work, I merely see this as a slightly plausible if not silly contribution to the category of sick fics. This is set somewhere between "The Doctor's Wife" and "The Rebel Flesh/Almost People". So without further ado, enjoy!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Sick Day

Amy wasn't even going to pretend she wasn't laughing.

The Doctor gave an injured sniff. "Oh sure Pond, that's a healthy reaction to hearing of the pain and suffering of others, particularly of one who's done so much for you."

She rolled her eyes but managed to stop her giggles as she peered down at him in the swing from her own perch on the steps. "Okay, I'm sorry," she stated, sounding anything but, and the slight furrowing of the Time Lord's brow showed he didn't buy it either. "But seriously, sick?"

"Sick, ill, under the weather, pick whichever human phrase you like, but she is not feeling well," her alien best friend snapped, pulling the goggles down over his eyes once more and going back to work.

"The TARDIS?" Rory questioned, nonplussed, for the pair of them once more. Her husband was standing on the main platform, but leaning both arms on the railing to survey the scene.

The Doctor gave a well-worn sigh filled with far more fondness as opposed to exasperation than people often gave it credit for. But Amy knew her boys and so she also knew better. "Yes, Rory. The TARDIS is sick. So before you two ask, no we are not going anywhere today. We're having a day in till I can get her feeling better again." He took a spanner to the inner workings of the main column.

"Can't we at least go see where we've broken down?" Amy wheedled, having not expected to be spending so long watching the madman at work. While it was fun for him, it got a bit boring after a while for the humans onboard.

The spanner dropped with a clang. "What?"

"It's not a bad idea," Rory considered, and she smiled at him. "Leastways we won't be bothering you while you fix whatever the problem is—"

"'Broken down'? 'Fix'?" Their friend repeated incredulously. His indignation apparently could not be contained, either, for he scrambled out of the seat and pushed the goggles back up. He gave a "Hmmpf!" as well, it and the ever-present bowtie around his neck making her think of crabby old folks or a grandfather taking his young charges to task.

So she got up and flounced down the remaining steps in order to ruffle the full, thick mop of hair that flopped in his young face. "Oh lighten up, you've used those words before."

"Yes, when she's actually broken down," he waved her hand away impatiently, stomping back over to retrieve the spanner. "We're talking real illness here, Ponds! Now how would you like it if every time you sneezed somebody declared you'd broken down, eh?"

"Alright, sorry," her husband had followed her down quietly and raised his hands in a placating gesture, far more sincere than Amy had been minutes ago. "But in all fairness, she is a ship. How were we supposed to know she could even get sick?"

"Because she's a living thing. How many times do I have to tell you humans that she's sentient? Now on top of her illness you've gone and hurt her feelings."

"Didn't mean to, Raggedy Man," Amy snapped back, her own feelings not unhurt by yet another 'humans' comment. "Just thought we could go somewhere to get out of your stupid hair."

The Doctor opened his mouth likely to fire off another retort, but the TARDIS chose that moment to give a slightly worrisome sounding groan and shudder, and so he instead dodged around both her and Rory up to the console. "Oh no you don't, you stay in the Vortex, Old Girl. You're in no state to be traversing the universe," the Time Lord scolded, for all the world sounding like an irate mother shooing her sick yet stubborn child back to bed.

"Why's she trying to travel?" Rory questioned.

"Because she doesn't want to seem a bother, she likes you two too much," was the alien's response as he worked a few of the controls. Everything calmed down after a moment and he sighed heavily before turning to face them once more. "Could you please tell her you're alright hanging about here for a day, Ponds? It'll help her rest easier, I think." He twisted his hands up together as he spoke, perhaps regretting the biting tone he'd been using with them before this. But there was also an unmistakable crease in his brow, indicating his distress for the ship.

Amy and Rory exchanged a glance, all they really needed to confer with each other, before stepping up to the console. Maybe it was their friend's worry, maybe it was the fact they had both witnessed just how alive the ship was, or maybe it was the sheer absurdity of the situation. Regardless, Amy still felt a little ridiculous as she leaned down slightly and muttered, "Rory and I are fine here. Really. Don't wear yourself out or anything." She happened to catch her husband pulling a face in the control panel's reflection and turned her head sharply to scowl at him. "You're the nurse, stupid face, you prescribe something or whatever."

"I'm not allowed to prescribe medication—ok," Rory began to explain before she stepped back and pushed him forward in her place. "Um, take it easy. Get plenty of rest. Er…feel better soon?"

A somewhat dulled, but happy sounding hum emanated from the ship, and the Doctor clapped Rory on the shoulder. "Well said, Pretty One."

"Please don't call me that ever again."

"Well since Rory and I are silly humans who don't understand spaceship sickness, I think we'll go find something else to do," Amy cut in smoothly.

The Doctor had the grace to blanch and scratch at his cheek, "Ah well, perhaps I was a bit harsh earlier—"

"A bit?" Rory looked down his considerable nose at the alien, who fidgeted even more.

"Fine, a lot harsh."

"So?" Amy prompted.

"I apologize," their friend enunciated, scuffing his boot forward and back a couple times. She finally let him see her grin to know he was off the hook, and so he turned to make his way down the steps again. "You really don't have to hang about here if you don't want, Ponds. As you said, there's plenty other things to do. The Old Girl and I'll be fine."

Amy and Rory exchanged another look. Neither Pond believed the nonchalant air of the Time Lord for one minute. "Think we'll stick around actually, since the corridors are a bit…feverish." That's how the whole thing had begun this morning, when Rory had remarked over breakfast that the heating felt a bit off and the Doctor had leapt up in alarm exclaiming that the TARDIS was running a temperature.

Amy still had no idea if time machines could run temperatures, but she couldn't shake the worry she felt for their sentient police box shaped home—which she blamed partly on the alien before her and partly on their trip to House—and she knew just how much the Doctor disliked it when they left him all alone. He had the night to sit up tinkering with Sexy, after all. There was no danger of them intruding; quite the opposite.

This was proven as their friend spun back around once more with a beaming smile. "Ok! There are things in here, knickknacks and the like, might help pass the time. Under the rotor, you know, with the ponchos." She noticed Rory roll his eyes in her peripheral vision, but the Time Lord was hopping down the steps, rambling on and blissfully unaware. "Books, maybe. Think I stuck an Agatha Christie in there somewhere, but that might have been the last console room. Not sure we'll be finding that again. Shame, I liked the book."

"Suppose we could have read it aloud to the TARDIS," her husband remarked, slightly teasing, and she hid her giggle behind her hand even as she went to look where their friend had directed.

"That's not a bad idea, Rory," the alien complimented anyway. Amy shook her head at her boys, and sifted through the collection of odds and ends that had made their way under the time rotor. She paused, though, upon finding not a book, but a board and darts.

"How about this for an idea?" She asked, standing up and turning to face them with it.

The Doctor blinked. "That's interesting. I don't think I've ever brought one of those in here, much less owned one. I wonder where she got it." He patted one of the wire casings absently, and the TARDIS gave a hum that sounded somehow sleepy yet pleased with herself.

"Well she must have got it for us," Amy decided, and headed back up to the main level. "Thanks, girl."

"Is this going to be safe?" Rory couldn't seem to help worrying, but she simply shrugged.

"We're not in flight, and anyway the Doctor doesn't mind. Do you, Doctor?" She hollered the last part down to the alien who was resettled in the swing.

"Who needs safe?" Was the immediate return volley, and Amy smirked, more than a little smug.

"See?"

The nurse threw up his hands in surrender. "Fine." So they hung the board and took up stances across the platform. "Are we keeping track of points?"

"Of course."

Periodically, the Doctor would interrupt his mutterings to the TARDIS to call up to them, "Score?" to which the answer would be shouted back. The Ponds were rather evenly matched, a discovery that had Amy suspicious.

"You're cheating, aren't you?" She stated more than asked when her husband overtook her in the fifth round. "Tapping into your Centurion mode or whatever."

"Hey, two thousand years has to have some benefit," he reasoned, and didn't sound very sorry at all.

Amy crossed her arms. "How's the TARDIS?" She chose to instead inquire of their friend.

"Fever's come down a bit since she's not having to keep the other rooms up and running. In fact," they heard him shuffling around and then his footsteps as he ascended to their level, "I think I'll run some diagnostics up here and see if she's mostly recovered."

"Does she get sick often?" Rory asked.

"Not usually, no, but the strain from some of our latest adventures must have gotten to her." He never directly referenced the time the TARDIS inhabited a body and spoke to them, perhaps because it was something too special to casually discuss. Amy and Rory did their best to respect his decision. Right now, the Doctor flashed them a reassuring grin, "She'll be feeling better again in no time, I should think. Carry on," he waved a hand at their game and then turned his attention to the controls.

"Alright, Mr. Pond, I do believe it is your turn," Amy took a step back to allow him free access to the board. "Dazzle me with your Roman training."

Rory flushed a bit red, but was clearly pleased, and so made a show of hauling his arm back before throwing the dart. Of course, the Doctor chose that same moment to jab at a button on the control panel which made the ship jerk and Rory's aim to go badly off-course, the dart on a collision path with the Time Lord's head.

"Watch ou—" Both Ponds started to say, but at the last moment the alien ducked down and the dart sailed harmlessly overhead, clattering to the floor.

He popped back up almost instantly. "Ha! Missed."

"Oh yeah?" Amy chucked one of her own darts, the tail end smacking him squarely between the eyes.

"Oi!"

"Fifty points to the wife," Rory remarked as he tossed another of his own little missiles at the actual board.

"Rory!" The alien might have protested more, but the monitor gave a little beep which he ran over to check. Upon reading it he relaxed and an easy smile graced his lips. "Fever's broke," he announced with satisfaction.

"All good, then?" She asked.

"Yes. Except, ehm, I would rather not risk a relapse, so if you two wouldn't mind sort of…camping here for the night. It'd let her rest up a bit before turning everything back on." He was watching them carefully, no doubt expecting their patience to run out.

Amy and Rory shared a look for the umpteenth time before each giving a shrug. The sign of acquiescence had him grinning all over again.

They found sleeping bags under the time rotor and balled up the ponchos to use as makeshift pillows. The Time Lord raised an inquisitive eyebrow when she brought up an extra of each. "You might try sleeping too, yeah?" She laid them out next to theirs and then slipped into her sleeping bag.

"It would reduce the risk of you catching anything," Rory added in his best nurse voice.

"Don't be ridiculous, Rory, it's non-communicable," the Doctor dismissed, but after a moment of watching them get comfortable on the floor, he walked over and laid on top of the bag she'd set out for him, crossing his hands behind his head. "Well then, this wasn't so bad, right?"

"Not really, no," Rory answered around a yawn. "Guess we all could've used a day in."

"Who knew the Doctor could do relaxing?" She teased.

"It has been known to happen on occasion," their friend replied somewhat affronted. His tone softened, however, as he said, "Thank you, Ponds. I—she really does appreciate this, you know."

"Yeah well," Amy turned on her side to face him, "it's like you said; she does a lot for us."

"Wouldn't have met you and traveled the universe without her," Rory added.

"Very true," the alien nodded. "And it's a lot more fun for her when you're around. Suppose we're all helping each other out that way, eh?"

"Not like we did much but play darts," she snorted.

"No, but having you onboard…it's enough," he said simply, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Amy rolled onto her back once more and shared a knowing smile with Rory. Neither chose to ask just who it was enough for.

Instead Amy said, "Well, we'll just do this, then. If anybody comes down with something—"

"—If the strain's ever too much," Rory continued, "if they need a rest—"

"—we'll hang about and play darts, long as that's enough."

The Doctor didn't say anything immediately in reply, and Amy's eyes were starting to close before she heard a soft, "Sounds like enough to me."

The TARDIS dimmed her lights, and everyone took a rest.

So yeah, mostly silliness with Pond fluff, no major development's there. Hadn't written for this group in a while, though, so I wanted to finally get this out to you all. Hope it was a fun read, thanks for stopping by, and please review!