The Tardis was now saturated with tension.

Amy's married life had begun two days ago, those two days had been spent travelling through time and space in a magic blue box along with her husband and best friend. She was living a thoroughly unique life and having the adventures she'd always wanted. She was probably one of the luckiest people alive. She was like a character in a fantastic story. She'd faced so much, learned so much and become so much.
Rory tended to spraff this shit when he caught her attempting to transmit bad vibes at the Doctor and Rose with a well-aimed glare. Amy appreciated his effort to reason with her, appreciated it in the way of ignoring his remarks completely. She had a lot of feelings to express to her head-in-the-clouds best pal, and he was trying very hard not to be receptive.

And then there was Rose.

Objectively Amy knew these recent developments were not attributable to Rose. She'd heard enough of the story now to understand how little this woman had actually been involved in her own reappearance on the Tardis.
Objectively, Amy's horse wasn't high enough to really blame someone for wanting this life or fighting to get it back.

Amy was not a naturally objective person.
Rose's passing comments about how different he was now, were particularly irking. This was about more than his fixation with jammy dodgers or rejection of apples. She'd never even met this version of him, until his madcap rescue plan, a fact they seemed to be ignoring completely.
Their intensity was conflicting too, her Raggedy Man had never seemed to stop running, and now he appeared to be in orbit. He was like a puppy following Rose around. Amy didn't even try to hold back a comment when he'd followed Rose into the kitchen just to watch her make a cup of tea. The term 'Whipped' may or may not have been used. He hadn't taken it well but before his annoyance could work its way into a retort Rose had brushed her hand against his arm and he was calmed. Typical.

Maybe watching their relationship made her feel conflicted about the slight dysfunctional view she had of her own relationship with Rory. Maybe she felt bereaved as she watched her Doctor disappear a little bit every day. Maybe Amy felt replaced, cheated, insecure or in some way protective of the incredible woman that was River Song.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It was easier to send the disapproving glares.

Happiness is overwhelming. It's like drinking a fizzy drink as quick as you can. Sometimes you forget to breathe and your head's swimming, but still, all the bubbles and caffeination are racing round your bloodstream.

The Doctor was excellent at creating atmospheres of happiness, just not so great at actually feeling them. Rose had caught him crying the other day. He'd followed her into the Tardis's kitchen, eager to watch her make a cup of tea and feel that everything was right in the world again.

Her back had been turned to him and he'd sat at the rickety table in the corner. Her hair had been up in a messy bun. She'd taken out the right two mugs from behind where they kept the sugar. She'd hunted for his biscuit supply at the back of the cupboard he'd once thought the perfect hiding place. She'd even added an extra spoonful of sugar to his tea, how she knew he'd changed his preference was beyond him.
Somewhere in between her subconsciously changing the chrome radio to the right station and pouring the milk, his eyes had begun to sting. She had turned around, holding the mugs in her hands and the biscuit packet's wrapper between her teeth, still managing to beam a little bit of sunshine right at him. Oh that smile.

The tears were rolling down his cheeks when their eyes met. She had barely hesitated, placing down the tea and biscuits in front of him, moving the nearest chair so it touched his own and resting her head on his shoulder, interlocking their fingers and resting them on the table between their mugs. His voice was too gruff to explain about trying to process this veritable bliss, but she knew. The time ticked by quite unimportantly and the song kept humming and then so did the next one. He wasn't spiritual in the traditional sense, but if he'd ever felt he'd deserved the pain in his life now he knew the condemnation had passed.

There was a chance, a slightly greater chance than Rory wanted to admit, that everything was on the verge of imminent collapse. Although this tended to be a typical day in his actually insane life, this time the foreseeable issue was not likely to resolve so miraculously.

In some ways Rory often felt he'd entered into a sci-fi version of Eastenders. The Doctor was the one who'd been a resident of Albert Square for a ridiculous amount of time with the plot lines mad enough they could only be for him. Amy was the beautiful, independent and most of all fiery individual whose resilience made her a fan favourite and who often sparked some new drama.
And now Rose was the one whose character arc seemed to be transcend generations of other actors on the show. She was the one who survived every surely fatal plot conclusion and whose long-time developing romance with the protagonist made her the heart of the show. Initially, this had seemed to be Rory's role, what with all his dying, now he wondered about being a narrator of sorts, no one ever kills the narrator right?

By watching as somewhat of an outsider, he felt he could see things more clearly than the others. He noticed the insecurity behind his wife's glares and the fear that in part gravitated the Doctor and Rose to each other. He'd even observed the changing Tardis. The ship hummed differently now, the usually cool temperature was a degree or two warmer and the whole place just seemed a little brighter. Once or twice he'd even caught music playing when no one had requested it.
So Rory was waiting, as per usual, for the emotions to reach a tipping point and the blazing sun that was his wife to disrupt the precarious orbit the Doctor was now favouring. Sometimes he'd find himself looking across at the undercurrent of worry in Rose's eyes and wonder if she was waiting for it too.

Well, Amy definitely hated her. The prickling on the back of her neck happened whenever she felt that pair of eyes drift her way. It was remarkably unnerving.

The edges of her perfect few days back home had been tinged with this awareness. Was she now some relic dredged from the Doctor's past to be rejected by the new people in his life? Might as well call her Sarah Jane.
The Doctor had clearly taken decisive action to ignore this and she could not will herself to blame him when he appeared to be so unusually fragile. She empathised with his reaction to her presence more than she expected. It was the feeling of having everything and knowing how easily it could be lost.

She was a bit lost herself actually.

They were doing that thing again, the thing where they didn't talk about stuff that change things. She knew the pattern so well that she couldn't help falling into it. They'd convince themselves that this little bubble they were in had strong enough walls and that they'd just keep floating up forever. Until it burst, again.

A strand of hair had fallen loose as she pretended to try and read a book, curled in an armchair in the room with the best television. She'd always called it 'The Room with the Best TV', but Amy and Rory called it 'The Den'. Whatever. It had survived the Tardis's makeover at least.
She glanced up for the first time in the last hour and her eyes were drawn to the film the couple were engrossed in. Victoria Beckham's face appeared in shot and she spoke without thinking.
"Oh I love this film."
Her cheeks heated up at the long silence that followed her comment and immediately she wished she'd kept her mouth shut. Just as she began to consider escape routes, Rory spoke up.
"This is the worst movie ever made though."
His tone was typically dry but his hesitant smile gave Rose a new sense of confidence.
"Yeah, but doesn't it just Spice up your life?" She threw in a cheeky grin like he was a mate she'd known for years. It was too friendly, but God she was starting to get a bit lonely.
She nearly dropped her jaw when Amy gave a resigned sigh and reluctantly engaged in the nearly conversation.

"I was always Ginger Spice, but only cause of the hair." Rose was little too excited at the civility when she eagerly responded.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I was always Baby Spice and I'm nothin' like her." Before the silence could begin again she'd continued.
"So which one were you Rory?" Amy couldn't help but reply before her husband had a chance.
"Oh we used to play that game all the time when were kids, 'cause my best friend Mel was obsessed with it, she was always Scary Spice, same name and everything… But Rory was usually Posh cause he's always been an awkward smiler, I mean did you see the wedding photos?"
"Oh, thanks."
The ice finally began to thaw as the movie ran on with little attention being paid to it and they drifted from the generic Spice Girls discussion into one about childhood and what pop culture they had shared. Before long there were easy smiles on everyone's face and Rose began to feel again what it was like to have friends.

The Doctor's attempts to fix some excessive wear and tear on the handbrake were not being aided by the Tardis's delighted and unexplained blaring of 'Wannabe'. On the third rendition his foot had begun to tap along, although he stubbornly refused to admit enjoyment. He had missed his quiet moments with the Tardis and their shared enthusiasm for Rose's return gave this time a new quality, like telling your best friend some big news.
He was interrupted from his contented reverie by the sound of feet skittering down the stairs towards him, he turned in time to see her beaming smile and be engulfed in the warmest of hugs. Her giddiness was instantly infectious and he let out a cheer without thinking.
Not quite leaving his embrace she faced him and told him, with a sort of leisurely excitement that was uniquely Rose, about the progress she'd made with his other companions. He looked at her face with a new kind of awe, watching the youth she was radiating.
The Doctor spun her around then, her legs wrapped loosely around him as he moved and his face got lost in the tangles of her loose hair. The sheer relief she displayed at the slight improvement with Amy and Rory grated uneasily with his conscience. That guilty bugger hummed noisily at his new awareness of reality. With eyes firmly closed he began to acknowledge his own selfishness and face, at last, the inevitable consequences.