skye_writer: Cropped screencap of Maleficent from Disney's Sleeping Beauty (1959). (Default)
[personal profile] skye_writer
Title: The Penny Drops
Fandom: Doctor Who
Medium: Fanfiction
Summary: That moment when they realized they weren't the only ones with a crush.
Rating: G
Pairing: Amy x Rory
Content Notes: None.

He couldn’t remember when he’d fallen in love with Amy. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed he shouldn’t have—they’d been friends since they were kids, first because Rory’s mum was friends with Amy’s mum, and later because Rory could never understand why the other kids at their primary school made fun of Amy. Even if her Raggedy Doctor wasn’t real, the stories Amy told about him (and Prisoner Zero, and the blue box time machine that had a library and a swimming pool inside) were a lot more interesting than just pretending to be cowboys or ninjas every day in the schoolyard.

By the time they’d grown out of schoolyard squabbles, Amy had grown up enough that the boys had stopped caring about whether or not she was crazy, and the girls were all jealous that she’d had the audacity to end up gorgeous. Rory hadn’t missed it, either, but for the longest time he believed it didn’t matter. He would have been friends with her anyway, because she was Amy. Amy who made him laugh. Amy who teased him all the time (he would never live down the Summer of the Terrible Haircut). Amy who never apologized for being herself, except once when they were fifteen and Rory had told her her boyfriend was a jerk who just wanted to get in her knickers and she’d lashed out, asking him what the hell he knew about relationships, since he’d never been in one? They didn’t speak for two days, until Amy showed up at his house with a handful of biscuits wrapped in a napkin and tears in her eyes. She apologized for being petty, and he said it was nothing, and they watched a movie together, and he was glad they were back to being friends, because outside of her and Mels, he didn’t have very many friends.

And then, somehow, he’d fallen in love with her. He’d gone out on a string of first dates with half a dozen girls in their class, but every time he found himself thinking about her, and what she might say, instead of the girl in front of him. Whenever Amy asked how the dates went, he shrugged and said they were okay, he guessed, but he wasn’t sure it would really work out.

He stopped dating when they left school and he started studying to be a nurse and Amy started delivering in-person SWAKs. And Amy was still Amy, still funny and sharp and smart and he’d fallen in love with her.

He didn’t know how to tell her. He was almost certain she hadn’t even noticed. (Well, she’d noticed that he’d stopped seeing other girls, but her observations seemed to stop there.) He didn’t want to be that bloke—the sort who only hung around with girls in the hopes that they’d realize how great he was and start dating him. He didn’t act rude about her boyfriends; aside from the odd tosser, they were mostly decent. He was still her friend, and had been for ages, and the idea of losing her friendship if he let her know how he felt was unappealing. They were friends. He would live if that never changed.

*** *** ***

She’d never lied to herself about liking Rory. Oh, she liked him—his awkwardness, his kindness, and the way he sometimes saw right through the heart of a problem and wasn’t afraid to tell her about it (since they were usually her problems to begin with). And he’d never made fun of her when they were kids. He hadn’t left her like some of her other friends had, after they found out she believed the Doctor was real. He stuck around, played the games with her, and then stuck around even after her fourth psychologist, when Amy decided it wasn’t worth it to keep believing. Even if the Doctor was real, he was never coming back.

But Rory was always around. (Mels was always around, too, but that was just Mels. Amy sometimes felt like their friendship was the kind that would last through the ages—Mels never got mad at her, never told her off, never did the sorts of things that the other girls in their class did. She just stuck around, being Mels.)

But Rory... Rory was different. He wasn’t like the usual blokes she went out with, wasn’t as handsome or openly charming. But that was just it. He was Rory. She liked him because of who he was rather than how he looked, and she would have gladly snogged him senseless if she didn’t think he would object. She’d even considered, more than a few times, paying to send him a kissogram message through herself, just so she could give him a kiss and tell him how she felt. Mels had talked her out of the idea almost every time, saying it was tacky and stupid, and was that really how she wanted to start a relationship?

Right up until that moment when Rory swallowed and then ran away, she’d been so sure he was gay. Which was fine, really. It just put him permanently out of her reach. Which was also fine, she supposed, because even if he was gay, he was still one of her best friends, and she wouldn’t trade that for the world.

But then she actually said it. His immediate denial threw her off, but it wasn’t until he ran away that it hit her like a ton of bricks. He liked her. He—he actually liked her. All those first dates with other girls had just been because he wasn’t interested in them. All this time—all these years—and he’d liked her.

She stared at Mels, who was grinning and shaking her head as she spun the papier mache blue box around in her hands.

Then she ran after him because he was leaving and he was Rory and she didn’t want him to be embarrassed about it because she was embarrassed too and none of it mattered. She flew down the stairs, calling out after him until she managed to catch him just outside her front door.

“Rory, I—”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, not looking at her, his face still bright red.

“Yeah, it is,” she said, smiling. She hugged him, which surprised him; his backpack slipped down his arm as he slowly hugged her in return.

They broke apart after a few seconds, and Amy kissed him on the cheek. He stared at her, but she just smiled. “So, you wanna go out, next night you’re off? We could get dinner or something, yeah?”

He gaped at her a moment. “Uh, yeah,” he said, blinking. “Yeah, that sounds great. Yeah. I’ll—I’ll see you later, all right?”

“You got it,” she replied, and he nodded, his face all serious, then turned and started off down the lane.

“I hope that ended with a date,” Mels said from behind her.

Amy turned around. “Really, Mels?”

“What, I think I’m entitled to know!” Mels strolled down the front steps of the house, right past Amy to the dilapidated swing set still sitting the garden. She plopped down in the seat; the rusted iron creaked in protest, but held. “Watching you two mooning after each other for years on end, I think I should get an award. Up to you, of course.”


Mels looked up at her, all innocence. “What?”

Amy couldn’t help grinning; Mels could be many things, but “innnocent” often gave her trouble. “Could you at least let me enjoy the moment a bit?” She walked over to the swing set and gave her a playful shove.

Mels grinned. “Oh, so you are going on a date together?”

Amy shoved her again. “Shut up, all right? It’s just a date, it doesn’t mean we’re gonna get married or whatever.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mels replied, swinging back and forth slowly. “You two ‘ve known each other for years, if you haven’t started hating each other yet, then you’ve gotta be perfect for each other.”

“I thought I said shut up,” Amy said, shoving her again.

“I will,” Mels said. “Eventually.”

“Right.” Amy pushed her out of the swing, then made a mad dash back to the house while Mels recovered. She locked the door behind her (Mels would probably jimmy it open after a bit) and dashed up to her room so she could hug a pillow and scream a bit from the joy.

She couldn’t remember being happier.


skye_writer: Cropped screencap of Maleficent from Disney's Sleeping Beauty (1959). (Default)

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