Five Historical Events Amy Kissed the Doctor During (and One Non-Event She Got Shagged During)
by Camilla Sandman
Summary: If you asked the Doctor (and you have, as you are reading this), he never initiated anything, never took any action that might lead to a predictable reaction, never sought companions and always just stumbled across them. Accidental. Always. Every time. All their fault. [Amy/Eleven]
Rating: Teen. Implied sexual activities.
Disclaimer: Not my characters, just my words.
Author's Note: Silly, and with no real plot. No references to Rory, and no real spoilers for the end of season three. Originally started to cheer up munditia, but it got a bit waylaid by time. Sorry! Hope it still brings some cheer.
II
If you asked Amy (and you have, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this), the Doctor had been begging for it since he opened his mouth and started talking about the stupidity of founding a city surrounded by seven mountains, and brought her to said founding to illustrate. All his fault.
Of course, she would be lying.
"It always rains!" he says, indicating the mountains behind him; he's getting some very odd looks from the people around.
She crosses her arms. "You didn't have to bring me here to tell me that."
"You wouldn't take my word for it."
"I would," she says pointedly. "I did. You were too busy talking to hear it."
"Oh," he says. She leans forward, and when he blinks, she kisses him until he drops the umbrella; one of the local people picks it up with a quizzical look. (At least they'll have good use of it.)
"Amy!" he says, and swallows as she licks a raindrop off his face. "What are you doing?"
"Limiting your talking," she tells him.
It's worth a shot, after all.
It's raining in Bergen, as it always does. The TARDIS has malfunctioned again, as it often does.
And Amy is kissing the Doctor again, as she she has before, and will again.
II
"Amelia Pond," the Doctor says, only it comes out rather muddled on account of the very Amelia Pond having her tongue in his mouth, and sounds more like 'aelion'. "Aelion!"
"Mmm?" Amy says, and he pushes her a little sternly away.
"This is New Year's Eve 2999..."
"Traditionally a night for snogging," she points out, and he pushes his hand through his air dramatically, which he always does when he wants to look all flustered but isn't really.
"That explains one kiss, not thirty!"
"I was aiming for 3000," she says cheekily, and pushes him against the wall. "Now pucker up for the countdown."
In the end, she only gets to 1500 before the world needs saving, but that's all right. There's always another millennium.
II
"You said you would stop kissing me!" the Doctor says indignantly, and Amy sighs.
"I was overcome by the massive virility of horned helmets and couldn't help myself," she says. "It's your fault for taking me to the raid on Lindisfarne."
"Amelia Pond," the Doctor says, sternly now. "Vikings do not have horned helmets, that is merely a popular myth."
"Then I must have snogged you just because I wanted to," she says after a breath, and kisses him again. It takes two seconds before he is kissing her back, horns or no horns.
Next time, she is going to blame the spears, she decides. They're certainly pointy enough.
II
"This is becoming a habit," the Doctor says, and Amy can only wish that it would. Wish very hard and with tongue.
"It is the romantic setting of Cleopatra's palace in New New Egypt," she tells him, kissing him hard at the end of each sentence. "That, and I now own you as a pleasure slave. I want my money's worth."
"You stole that money from New Caesar," he protests, then seems to notice something behind her. "And I think he just found out."
After they've (successfully) run for it, he's too breathless to protest any more, and she's too full of adrenaline to stop; they kiss until they're out of time, too.
II
"We should stop," the Doctor says, but he is rather pointedly not, brushing his lips against hers while she digs her fingers into his hair. "The tea is drowning."
"I think that was the intention," she says, licking her lips, and his, too.
"I like tea!" he protests. "They didn't have to make their point with tea."
"The Boston Tea Party didn't have to make their point with tea? What should they have made it with?"
"Mango juice," he says, his breath hot as it strokes her cheek. "I don't like mango juice."
They do save the tea, eventually. And the Boston Mango Juice Party doesn't change the past. Too much, anyway.
II
When the Doctor shags Amy, there isn't anything historical or timely exciting happening. There is just the hum of the TARDIS and the soft sighs of Amy, and a sad, sad lack of excuses.
Not the founding of Bergen,not the year 2999, not the raid on Lindisfarne, not New New Egypt and not the Boston Mango Juice Party. Just Amelia Pond, hair falling around her face as she lifts her face and closes her eyes to the movement of their bodies.
Fucked again, he thinks faintly. So decidedly fucked.
If you asked the Doctor (and you have, as you are reading this), he never initiated anything, never took any action that might lead to a predictable reaction, never sought companions and always just stumbled across them. Accidental. Always. Every time. All their fault.
He would be lying, of course.
FIN
