Fic: Watchful (Doctor Who)

[keep_counting]

Title: Watchful
Characters/Pairings: Amy/Rory
Rating: Teen
Warnings: References to sex, trauma. Spoilers for S5
Genre: Hurt-Comfort/Romance
Word-count: 725
A/N: I never ever thought I would write Amy/Rory fic, and then it's the very first thing I write in the new year. Oh well.
Summary:  It was a forest, in a spaceship, in a maze - and Amy and Rory in bed. Trying to move a little closer.

Watchful:
1. Closely observant or alert; vigilant
2. Archaic - Not sleeping; awake.

It’s her idea, which she supposes makes her even more stupid. But she is usually the one that comes up with these ideas, the bold and daring one, and Rory usually just goes with it, because he enjoys it and because he enjoys that she enjoys it.

Some times, Amy thinks she really shouldn’t let her hormones make so many decisions for her, but it is only a fleeting thought, because she’s too busy sobbing without crying, clutching her husband tightly to her and trying to focus on his soothing voice that is telling her to calm down, that everything’s alright, that she’s safe and he’s got her.

It shouldn’t be like this. Sitting on this soft bed, sheets twisting around their legs and lower halfs, naked and pressed together, her forehead against his shoulder, it shouldn’t be like this.

She forces herself to draw in a proper breath, pulling away a little and wiping a hand over her eyes, deleting traces of any stray tears that might have fallen. Not that she thinks Rory will judge her for it, but right now, his soft stare isn’t what she needs.

But that’s stupid. Rory always looks at her like she’s the scariest and most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

”Amy?” he quietly speaks, lifting up the blindfold. ”We don’t have to do it, not at all.” He flings it away to demonstrate his point, managing to land it so that the shadows of their dark bedroom hides it perfectly.

Of course they don’t have to do it, she knows that. It was her idea, not his.

What a stupid, stupid idea.

”Yeah, it’s, it’s just…” she doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain, which is silly and stupid because this is Rory and he would do anything for her. Literally. Anything and everything. She knows that now, knows it with more clarity than any other woman in the whole universe, because he already has.

”Why’d you suggest it if it freaks you out so much?” Rory asks, somehow managing to sound only filled with concern instead of butting in. If she asks him to drop it, as is her instinct, he would, he would never ever mention it again if she asked him not to.

And she doesn’t want to. But he looks so concerned, tension coiled through him, barely restrained, ready to do anything she asks, anything to make it better.

Stupid man. She really didn’t deserve him.

”It’s not… really the blindfold,” she says, and for once decides to choose her words carefully, because this could so easily be intepreted as her not trusting him, as her not wanting to reluinquish control to the one person she knows would never hurt her no matter what. ”It’s the… not being able to see part.”

”Yeah?” He’s rubbing her back in soothing circles and she’s a little baffled that he knows how to calm her better than she does.

She doesn’t speak after that, doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t know how to explain, and her silence lasts long enough that he leans over to kiss her forehead, clearly thinking that the subject has been dropped.

”It’s okay,” he says, repeats, because for him it is. ”Maybe you should get some rest? You’re still shaking a bit.”

She looks up and meets his eyes, half-hidden in the darkness. His face is all sharps angles in the shadows that fall over it and she thinks he looks nothing like a haunted man who spent 2,000 years waiting for her. He just looks ridicolously happy.

”You don’t have to tell me,” he says, and Amy wonders when the cute little boy became such a skilled liar, because it must hurt like hell that she can’t let him in. But he’s too sweet to say so, and loves her too much to even shows her that that’s how he feels.

She thinks she wont ever understand why he’s still looking out for her after everything.

The night is almost over when she’s done telling him about a forest, in a spaceship, in a maze, and stone statues that look like angels, but will kill you as soon as you blink – and of walking around in there, with her eyes closed and wondering if she would ever be able to open them and look at his stupid face again.