Rory had been your typical male twenty-something from the twenty-first century at first. He was uncomfortable with the Doctor's somewhat superfluous definition of personal space, uncomfortable with how close Amy seemed to be to him, and mostly uncomfortable with the fact that the Doctor seemed to be trying to get just as close to Rory as he was to Amy.

And he wasn't gay.

Then he had lived through the Roman Empire, and that sort of changed. They had a loose definition of sexuality, and Rory found that he sort of fitted with that definition. The world changed, slowly but surely, but Rory was no longer uncomfortable with who he was.

So he allowed himself to get closer to the Doctor. The Doctor didn't seem to care about gender, and even though their relationship was never physical, some chord deep within Rory struck him that it much, much more than platonic. The Doctor dropped them off in a house with a TARDIS-blue door and disappeared, and he and Amy never talked about the nature of their relationship with a man that seemed to leave shards of his heart everywhere that he travelled.

But Amy's relationship with her Raggedy Man had never changed, and Rory was no longer jealous of it.

In fact, the Doctor kept coming back—and things like the Doctor bursting into their room in the middle of the night while he and Amy were naked only bothered them because the Doctor made a lot of noise and woke them up, not because the Doctor might catch a glimpse of something that they'd rather he not see. Once when this happened, Amy just rolled over, patted the spot between her and Rory, and instructed the Doctor to 'Come to bed, you big idiot, and let us sleep.'

The Doctor looked rather awkward at both of their states of undress, but settled down when he realized that they didn't care. Of course, going to bed in tweed—it made a really bad pillow, Rory discovered the next morning, when the woke up to find both his and his wife's head resting on different parts of the Doctor's torso.

And goofy as the Doctor could be, Rory saw him, just a glimpse right then. He was looking tenderly down at both of them, running his fingers with gentle consistency through Amy's vibrant hair, his other hand resting on the back of Rory's neck.

Honestly, the Doctor was as much a part of his and Amy's marriage as they were, and that no longer bothered him as it once had.

When the Doctor materialized the TARDIS around them, accidentally bringing his father along for the ride, it was the first time that he'd thought about the nature of his near sexual relationship with the Doctor in years. But when he stopped to wonder how it would look to an outsider—to his dad, he was mildly concerned about what the reaction might be. The Doctor didn't behave any differently—grabbing Rory's hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, kissing him when he suggested something that the Doctor hadn't thought of.

Then Brian asked him about it.

"You know, son, honestly, you know that I don't care about your choices, and I'll always support you. But I have to ask—"

"No," Rory interrupted.

"What?"

"You were going to ask if Amy and I are having sex with him. The answer is no."

"But he kissed you," Brian objected mildly.

"It's complicated. The Doctor... Dad, he's ancient. Beyond anything that you can ever imagine. He acts a bit like a toddler, but he's so old. And he loves so many people. Loved and lost so many people, and he's just trying... to cling to Amy and I before we disappear from him forever. Hoarding our days. And the people that he loves, well, we're sort of like the TARDIS. He spends most of his spare time playing around with her circuits, you know, even though she doesn't really need it. And it's the same with us. Sometimes, he just needs to... touch. He can't help himself."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Like I said, dad, it's complicated."