Ok, so at last an update! I'm sorry for the waits between these chapters, guys, I read all your reviews, but I just want to make sure that each one is worth reading. That being said, this one is for a recent request from Hummingbird101 for more Doctor and the Ponds interaction, and this specific activity might have been suggested by somebody, but I'm having trouble finding the reviewer in the mass of reviews—thank you all so much! Enjoy!

Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock

Chapter Twenty-one

Rory had obtained all the necessary supplies from the hospital to make a proper brace for the Doctor, but the Time Lord was proving just how stubborn twelve-hundred year-olds could be, sitting cross-legged on the couch like a child with his arms folded over his chest. Only the tips of his colorful socks poked out.

"Come on, Doctor," the nurse coaxed, perched on the coffee table in front of him. "Look, I've got to put the brace on you now, what if somebody drops by all of a sudden?" Their friend merely turned his face away with a decided frown. Rory seemed to consider his tactic for a moment, finally saying, "I'm sorry I told Patricia you sprained your ankle, but I didn't know I wasn't supposed to, so we've both got to live with it. I know it's an inconvenience—"

"It's not that, Rory," the Time Lord said with a slight huff, turned his head slightly to look at the other man. I just don't like it. The brace, I mean. It's not the inconvenience, I just don't like being—confined." He seemed to be having trouble articulating what he meant, perhaps embarrassed to be admitting it. He was facing full-front now with his hands out before him, a couple feet apart and the fingers splayed as if holding some sort of imaginary container or box between them.

A box.

"But it's just your ankle," Rory was starting to say, but Amy stood from her chair where she'd been watching the whole exchange play out, and placed a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"Rory, can you just give us a minute?" When he looked at her questioningly she nodded her head at the hallway. He raised an eyebrow but got up without another word, and she kissed his cheek as he passed. Then she turned to the room's other occupant. "Alright, Raggedy Man, put your feet down. You look ridiculous."

He snorted in reply. "Are you joking? I've seen the Pond Good-Cop-Bad-Cop Routine a few times now, believe me, although Rory's usually the Good Cop so I'll give you points for changing it up."

"Oh come off it, we do not have a Good-Cop-Bad-Cop Routine." He merely pursed his lips and raised a challenging eyebrow. "Just put your feet down," she retorted, reaching out and grabbing his legs—slightly above the ankles, since she wasn't sure how healed the one was—and yanking them forward.

"Woah!" The Doctor nearly fell off the couch with them and Amy couldn't help laughing. He joined in with a few chuckles of his own, even though she'd won.

After a while, they both quieted and she settled herself down beside him. "So, being confined," she started, but he shifted and gave a pained grimace that she felt had little to do with his ankle.

"Never mind that, Pond. I'll wear the silly brace. Was just being difficult, that's all. Let's say no more- about it…" the Time Lord trailed off slowly as she just continued to fix him with a serious look.

"I wasn't going to," she said once he'd stopped. "Because you know what I think? I think all that wasn't about the ankle brace, not really." His face was a mask that didn't give anything away, except the slight apprehension that tightened his eyes. "It was about the Pandorica."

He tried his best to cover it up, but she'd seen his wince. "The Pandorica? Really Amelia, that old thing?"

"Don't patronize me, Doctor, I know I'm right," she scolded.

He was still trying to bluff, though. "Right about what? It was ages ago—literally—for me, almost ten years for you—"

"Exactly, and that's why you don't want to admit it still bothers you." He looked down at his hands in his lap, not meeting her gaze, ashamed. "All of time and space in a box that's probably just as big," she said softly, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Being stuck inside that stupid prison when you're used to that must have bothered you."

"Yes, it did," he replied tersely, looking at her defiantly now as if daring her to be smug or to laugh at him. "Happy?"

"No," she answered plainly, and that expression on his face faltered. "I'm sad. I'm really, really, sad that I never realized before." She moved her hand in order to lay her head against his shoulder now and with a sigh that she felt, he pillowed his cheek on her hair.

"You weren't supposed to realize," he told her quietly.

"I know."

They sat like that for a moment until he said, louder this time. 'Well you can call Rory in. I'll put the brace on."

"Actually," Amy countered, "you wait here this time. I've got to talk to him about something."

"Oh?" But she merely rose from the couch and left the room. "Amy!"

Rory was sitting on the steps, a respectable distance away. She stood before him with her hands on her hips. "Has he agreed to stop being childish, then?" He asked.

She rolled her eyes. "He wasn't being childish. Not totally," she amended at his pointed look. "Rory, think about it. The Pandorica?"

It took only a few moments before her husband's eyes widened. "Oh. Do you think he's claustrophobic or something? Because that still wouldn't explain—"

"I think it's more complicated than that," Amy corrected, not even sure they could use human medical conditions for the alien. "It's not about how small a space is, but more how much he's able to move in it. He really hates traps," she added.

"Will he be ok, then?" The nurse looked worried, but she thought it was more out of concern for the Doctor than anything.

"He said he'll wear the brace," she assured. "But I was thinking, before we do that, maybe we could make it up to him?" At his curious look, she hurried on, "Take him out somewhere. Nothing too fancy, but just a little nice. He's always showing us places."

"Ok," he agreed tentatively. "But how do we know none of the neighbors will be out?"

"We'll get dinner," she decided, warming up to the idea more and more. "Angela and Patricia think everyone ought to be in by five or six anyway. So we'll go out."

For some time Rory deliberated, no doubt thinking of all the things that could go wrong when taking the Doctor to dinner. "Ok," he finally said, proving once again what it meant to be the Last Centurion.

OoO

"Ok, the coast is clear. Let's go!" Amy yanked him out the door, and the Doctor was bundled into the Ponds' car. Rory started the engine as soon as the redhead had slid into the passenger seat, and they were off down the road and turning the corner.

"Alright, alright, the sneaking around is fun, but are either of you going to tell me where we're going?" He spoke up, poking his head between their seats.

Amy grinned. "Silly, naïve companion," she teased, poking his nose, and the Doctor sat back and rubbed at it. "It's a surprise!"

"If that's supposed to be an impression of me, it's terrible."

"I thought it was rather good, actually," Rory remarked in his deadpan way, but he could see the slightest of smirks on the man's face in the rearview mirror, so he scowled and folded his arms.

"Oh don't be like that. Can't we take you somewhere for once?" Amy asked, turning around to look at him.

"I suppose," he conceded in a put-upon way before straightening back up. "Where are you taking me?"

"Patience."

He fortunately didn't have to wait long. Rory pulled the car up to a rather nice-looking restaurant, and when they got out Amy looped one arm through his and one through the nurse's, walking them to the front door.

"I know it's not the Crystal Caves of some planet or other—"

"No, no, this is good, too," he stopped her, feeling surprised and unsure and just a little bit warm inside. He opened his mouth again, but Rory beat him to it.

"No psychic paper; I made a reservation. And we're paying, Doctor."

His mouth snapped shut, and he took a moment to think up a response while Amy giggled. "I see you covered all the bases, then," he said at last to the Roman.

But there was one thing neither he nor Rory had ever considered. They were quickly seated by the smiling hostess, provided menus, and allowed some time just to look around the place. The Doctor had picked up his menu to actually give it a perusal when a voice, vapid and nasally, broke through the relative calm.

"Hi, my name's Caitlyn, I'll be your server tonigh—John!"

Feeling like a startled animal, the Doctor's head snapped up to see a woman he had completely forgotten about and had hoped never to see again. "Caitlyn!" That hadn't been a squeak, no it definitely hadn't been. Rory looked just as alarmed, while Amy was looking between him and their waitress in confusion and a hint of suspicion.

"Where've you been, champ?" The girl had a huge grin on her face as she braced an arm on the booth, just a little to the left of his shoulder, and that little conversation he'd had earlier today with Amy about being contained was rising to the forefront of his mind now.

"Oh, you know, just…around," he replied, forcing a sort of smile to his lips while his eyes darted around for some kind of rescue.

"You're looking much better," she commented, reaching out with her other hand and gave his nose a sharp tweak. The Doctor was seriously reconsidering that gesture by this point. The waitress' eyes dipped from his face to what she could see of his torso. "In fact you clean up quite nicely."

He glanced down at his normal attire, a bit puzzled, but then he realized. The last time he'd seen Caitlyn, he'd been dressed in one of Rory's t-shirts, shorts, and a jacket. Fiddling with his bowtie and shifting a bit further into the booth he said, "Ah, thank you."

"Er, Caitlyn," Rory spoke up at last, and the girl turned to look but otherwise did not move. "Would you mind getting me a water? Bit parched."

"Sure thing!" She chirped, eyes then landing on Amy. "And you?"

"Water's fine," the Scottish woman gave a polite smile, but he could see her mind whirling at this new development.

The girl's too-big smile was on him again. "And what'll it be for you, champ? A little something on the house, maybe?" She'd leaned in to say this conspiratorially, and he leaned just as far back.

"Water's just fine for me, thanks."

This didn't seem to daunt her much as she straightened back up. "Alright, I'll be back with those in just a minute!"

As her heels clicked away and she sent one last little grin over her shoulder at him, the Doctor scratched at his cheek nervously and was not surprised when Amy leaned across the table.

"Who is she?" The Scottish woman demanded.

But it was Rory who answered quietly, eyes locked on the table. "Frank's old girlfriend who decided she'd rather be John Smith's girlfriend."

"What, the one from the football match?" When they both nodded miserably, she flopped back against the booth and scoffed. "Good pick. You know, I can see her roots."

"Her roo—Amy, this is not about her appearance! I didn't pick her. In case you're having trouble, my wife was here just yesterday!"

"Yeah, well I have to defend her automatically, don't I? Mother's prerogative," she informed him, and he swept a frustrated hand through his hair.

Before he could say anything, however, Caitlyn was back and placed their glasses down. "There you are. Have you decided what your orders are?"

"Not yet," he did his best to sound completely and absolutely neutral towards her.

"We just need another minute," Amy added with pointed politeness, barely restraining from shooing the other woman away. Caitlyn seemed to subconsciously pick up on the hint, though, for she left with yet another flashy smile. "Does she even realize how transparent she's being?" The redhead wondered aloud.

Rory, meanwhile, still had not lifted his gaze from the table. "I really had no idea she worked here," he finally said. "I'm sorry, this wasn't how this was supposed to go. We could just leave—"

He'd likely regret it, but the Doctor put on a brave face, reaching across the table to pat the other man on the shoulder and causing him to look up. "It's alright, Rory, a complete accident. Just like a Zygon ship under the Savoy, eh?"

The nurse raised an eyebrow at that, which meant he was getting over his embarrassment at least. "Right. Wouldn't be an outing without something going wrong."

"Pick what you're ordering, I think she's coming back in a minute," Amy piped up, casting a quick glance over her shoulder, and the Doctor suppressed a sigh as he did as asked.

Amy's prediction proved correct as their waitress was back scarcely after he'd had a brief look through the menu. Of course, a brief look was all he'd needed, being a Time Lord, but still. Poor girl was practically tripping over herself to get back to their table. She adopted the same pose as before, which left him just as uncomfortable, and they all gave their orders as quickly as possible in order to send her away again.

"So," he said as soon as she was out of sight, knowing there'd be little to no excuse to come back to their table for some time, "dinner with the Ponds. Thank you, both, for this. Not sure when the last time was I was treated to, well, anything."

"No need for thanks," Rory replied with characteristic modesty, though likely tinged a bit with frustration at their waitress.

"And you've more than earned it," Amy added, "with the brace and, well." She stopped and her eyes darted away from his face for a moment.

"And what?" He prompted, feeling a bit concerned.

"And Rory's got work and I've got a meeting with my editor tomorrow. I have to go in once a month. So you'll be alone most of the day. Sorry," she added with a slight wince.

The Doctor didn't immediately respond. He was too busy being stunned by the thought that he'd been staying with them long enough for a once a month thing to happen. Next he'd be hearing they had to go in for their yearly checkups!

He blinked and really took in her apologetic expression. Shaking his head quickly, he said, "That's fine. Could probably get some work on the Old Girl done, maybe beat my score in Wii Tennis." He did his best to play it off casual.

It worked well enough, for Amy rolled her eyes. "You and that stupid tennis," she muttered. "Can't imagine what would've happened if we'd had real videogames."

"And how exactly is it not real?" He countered.

"I should be back a little before dark tomorrow," Rory interjected, his level-headed persona once more tabling a silly argument before it could really get going. Amy and the Doctor settled for pulling faces at each other across the table. "Really guys? We're in public."

"Never stopped us before," the nurse's wife replied with a grin.

"Yeah, but that's usually in some other galaxy a thousand years from now."

"Rory is right, Amy, the circumstances are very different," the Doctor nodded sagely, "for you. Me? This is still some other galaxy countless years removed." So he pulled another face.

"Space hobo," she shot back with a barely contained giggle.

"Oi!" He exclaimed, mock-offended. It probably should have hurt, truthfully, and yet he found himself fighting a smile off his face.

He wasn't struggling with it anymore as he caught sight of a now familiar figure making her way over with a tray balanced on hand. "Here's your food—careful, it's hot!" Caitlyn gave him a wink as she placed first his and then Amy and Rory's plates down. "Anything else I can get for you?"

"No," all three of them said at the same time, which perhaps resulted in it being a bit more forceful than any of them had originally intended. If Caitlyn was taken aback or insulted, however, she hid it well and sauntered away. The Doctor gave another sigh and took up his fork, intent on having his meal in piece.

"What's that?" Asked Amy, pointing at something he couldn't quite see, as it appeared to be in front of his plate. When he looked up at her questioningly, she reached out and snatched something out from under his plate; a little paper, folded once, with a heart drawn on the outside. With a growing smirk, Amy unfolded the little paper and he tugged on his bowtie as she nearly cackled.

"Is that—?" Rory started, though he already seemed to know the answer. His wife nodded.

Passing it over at last to him, the Doctor read with no small amount of despair the words Call Me! and a mobile number underneath. "Does this woman want to see me punched in the nose again?" He asked in slight aggravation.

"What, you mean by Frank? It's not like they're still together," Rory shrugged. "If you asked, he probably wouldn't even remember her name."

He gaped. "Why not?"

"He has a new girlfriend practically every other week," the Roman answered. "And they're all like Caitlyn"

His gaze fell on the girl, waiting on a table down the aisle from theirs, and now could only feel a growing sense of pity and even sympathy for her. Amy studied his face for a moment, looked over her shoulder to follow his line of sight, and then turned back around.

"Oh no, Raggedy Man," she warned. "This is not going to become one of your help-the-sad-little-human-to-become-better-and-rea lize-their-full-potential projects."

But he was already rising from his seat. "Sorry, Amy. Wouldn't be an outing without one." He headed down the aisle, but stopped briefly and turned around, leaning on the back of their side of the booth and poking his head through the gap between theirs. "And that is not what they are called."

That said, he returned to his original objective. Caitlyn was just turning away from the other table, and her eyes lighted on him as he approached. "Can I help you?" She asked not for the first time, and he did his best to think of it as purely a friendly gesture.

So the Doctor smiled and said, "Actually Caitlyn, could I talk to you?" He nodded to a little out of the way corner in the restaurant, and though she appeared confused she followed easily enough. Once there he leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. "So, your mobile number," he started.

She gave a little high-pitched laugh. "Oh, yeah, um, that's for you." Her cheeks were slightly pink, as though she hadn't expected to be called on it, and not so soon.

"Caitlyn, I'm not sure if you completely remember our last meeting," the Doctor said diplomatically, "you were a little, ah, dizzy at the time. But you kissed me."

Her cheeks certainly were red now, but she nodded and met his gaze. "I wouldn't mind doing it again, John."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the pseudonym. "Yes, well I would just a bit. You see Caitlyn, I can't speak for the entire hu- er, male species, but it's not exactly considered a good thing when a young woman you've just met who is currently romantically involved with a man you've just met surprises you with a kiss while she's clearly not entirely in control of her own faculties."

Perhaps it had been a bit wordy, but the Doctor was trying his best not to upset her. Though she was looking away now and fidgeting, so he might not have done a good enough job. "You could've just ignored my note," she said in that light tone humans tended to get before they burst into tears.

"No, no, no, Caitlyn, this isn't about that, not really," he hurriedly replied. "I'm not saying these things to be cruel. It's just it upsets me to think that you would set yourself that standard. Think about it, did you like Frank all that much? Or men like Frank?"

She sniffed once, but otherwise seemed calm enough for the moment. "No."

"Exactly. You don't need to look to them for approval or- or attention. It's your own approval you should be looking for. I think that might bring you more happiness than anyone—me included—could bring you right now."

Caitlyn stared at him with wide eyes. "No one's ever said something like that to me," she admitted in a quiet voice. "Why are you…?"

"Because I care—as a friend. John Smith, here to help, see? Now do we understand each other?" She nodded mutely and he clapped his hands together. "Excellent! If you wouldn't mind, then, I think Rory would love to have our check as soon as you can."

"Of- of course!" She hurried away from the corner, but looked back at him with a timid smile before slipping into the backroom. The Doctor nodded in a satisfied way to himself, then rejoined the Ponds at their booth.

"Made a successful job of it, then?" Asked Amy, who was leaning her head on Rory's shoulder and contemplating the melting ice in her glass.

"I should think so," he informed her, no small amount of pride in his voice.

"Can I have that number, then?"

He handed the note from Caitlyn over without much thought, then noticed her expression and asked warily, "Why?"

"Putting it on the fridge, of course," she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sitting up again, she turned to her husband. "Look, Rory, our alien's brought home his first Valentine!"

"Your alien—brought home—that- that's hardly the first—!" He spluttered all at once.

"Your check," Caitlyn had returned, and presented it to Rory with a warm, yet completely professional air. The nurse looked at it, pulled a few bills from his wallet, and handed it back.

"Keep the change," he told the startled, yet pleased waitress, sliding out of the booth and holding out a hand to Amy. "Got to get the kids home."

"Hey!" The redhead protested, smacking the Roman's outstretched arm. The Doctor laughed.

"I said kids, Doc—er, John," Rory directed at him pointedly, and with a slight pout he got up as well. Giving a last jaunty wave to Caitlyn, who was watching them leave with a bemused sort of expression, he followed the Ponds from the restaurant.

"Well that was fun," he commented brightly from the backseat as they drove away.

"Yeah," they both agreed with smiles in the rearview mirror.

And it was funny; he'd had a little speech in his head about how interesting the human dining experience was and how once again he was grateful to them for sharing it with him—but the Doctor found he didn't need the words. They understood it all without them. So he settled back into the seat with a smile of his own.

So yeah, I hope that was a fun little trip with the Ponds. Caitlyn sort of randomly snuck her way into the chapter guys, I seriously have no idea where she came from. In case you don't remember/couldn't pick it up from the chapter, Caitlyn was an OC from Chapter Four. I guess I felt bad for using the dumb/drunk girl stereotype, so I had the Doctor help her on her way to betterness and such. Betterness is a word now, because why not. Anyway, thanks so much once again for your patience and for reading, and please review!