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Amy’s hair is soft under Rory’s fingertips. The low hum of the TARDIS around them makes for a familiar, calming atmosphere, and Rory thinks if he closed his eyes, he might fall asleep.
He is peacefully drifting in memories of the last thirty minutes when Amy lifts her head from his chest and asks, “Do you feel like the Doctor has been avoiding us recently?”
Rory blinks. Once upon a time it would have annoyed him, Amy bringing up the Doctor while they’re in bed, naked, but it doesn’t, now. He pushes that out of his mind to examine later (or possibly never) and thinks about her question.
Right now, the Doctor is presumably keeping busy fixing or researching one thing or another, and as far as Rory can tell, he’s usually pleased to have their company, lest he die of boredom. If anything, he and Amy are currently avoiding the Doctor, and that’s not very nice of them, is it? They should probably get up and find him soon, or who knows what fresh trouble he’ll decide to steer the TARDIS into. So Rory says, “Not really, no. What makes you think so?”
Amy rolls off of him and stares at the panelled ceiling. “I don’t know, I just feel like he’s being more… distant. Like, physically distant, actually.” Rory raises questioning eyebrows at her, prompting her to continue, and she makes an impatient gesture with her hand. “Oh—you know the Doctor; usually he’s all hugs and kisses, especially the more excited he gets. But he seems more reserved, lately. It’s almost like he’s going out of his way not to touch me anymore.”
Rory considers this. He hasn’t always been comfortable with the Doctor’s tendency to grab stuff when he’s excited (mostly his companions’ arms or shoulders), especially not near the uneasy beginning of their acquaintance. But that’s in the past, and nowadays Rory rather cherishes the physical contact the Doctor likes to impart. It tends to send a warmth spreading throughout his body. In fact, he's feeling a little bit of that same rush now, just thinking about it. The Doctor’s touch is long familiar, not unlike the hugs and touches he shares with Amy. (He should probably talk to her about that soon; he's been putting it off for a while.)
Anyway, so the Doctor is tactile with his friends, and that’s it. Rory isn’t sure he’s noticed the Doctor being more distant. Although, perhaps a bit weirder than his usual brand of Doctor-weirdness. Two days ago, the Doctor had asked Rory to pass him the blue spanner, and their fingers had touched and the Doctor had jumped. Rory had thought that was a bit of an overreaction, but maybe there had been static electricity or something. He hadn’t felt any, though. All he’d felt was an inspiration to go see Amy for activities along the lines of what they’ve just been doing.
“He’s maybe a bit more skittish than usual, but I haven’t noticed any particular avoidance,” Rory says thoughtfully. “I’ll keep it in mind. Maybe you’ve been distant towards him first? Spending all your time with me, huh?” He nudges her playfully in the side.
“I don’t think so,” Amy says, but she doesn’t look entirely convinced. She sits up and reaches for a piece of discarded clothing on the floor next to the bed. “Come on, let’s go find the Doctor.”
And if the Doctor and all his past touches stay on Rory’s mind, well, he has been getting used to that, really.
True to his word, Rory pays more attention over the next few days.
The Doctor talks to him the same as always and flies the TARDIS like a madman, also same as always. He takes them to a gigantic space station in the 39th century for “a bit of spaceship spotting”. It’s a hundred times busier than London-Heathrow, which is the biggest airport Rory has ever been to, and connecting to about five thousand as many destinations.
Rory finds himself having a surprisingly good time watching all sorts of people and aliens and admiring the different ships they arrive in. Amy is similarly engrossed (and taking notes for destinations she’d like to visit next time it’s her turn to pick). The Doctor unfailingly provides further information on anything they point out—that is, until they spot a small, neon-green ship. That’s when it turns out that the Doctor’s primary motivation for their trip was to ‘liberate’ a piece of Time Lord technology that (according to him) had no business being around in this galaxy, at this point in time, and suddenly there is a lot of running again.
Rory brushes past the Doctor as they’re trying to get in the TARDIS both at once, in a hurry to leave, and he feels the Doctor briefly stiffen. Usually, Rory wouldn’t think anything of it, but then he notices that there is a very slight tingle going through his body, concentrated in the places they’ve just touched. How odd. He turns to look back at the Doctor, who has managed to get his jacket caught on the door handle. They’re still being followed, and Amy is shouting at them to hurry up, so Rory gets to work to free the Doctor as quickly as possible.
When he’s done, the Doctor sends him an inscrutable look that's bordering on apprehensive, and Rory is left wondering what he could have possibly done wrong.
There’s another weird occurrence later that week.
Rory is up early, and since he knows better than to wake Amy before she’s had at least seven and a half hours of sleep, he gets up as quietly as he can manage and wanders off to look for the Doctor.
He finds him in a corridor leading off from his second-favourite bathroom, apparently contemplating a blank spot on the wall. There is measuring tape with several round symbols Rory can’t decipher looped around his arm and neck. Rory wonders, not for the first time, if the Doctor ever sleeps.
“Hello,” he says. It comes out more like a question than a greeting. The Doctor turns, and a pleased smile spreads on his face.
“Rory! Finally, somebody’s up,” he says. “I could use your input on a little side project of mine. How do you feel about breakfast?”
It turns out that the Doctor has been thinking about expanding the TARDIS so he can fit more bookcases in the library. Rory wasn’t even aware that the library connected to that corridor. He is sitting across from the Doctor, eating porridge with apples and cinnamon and listening to some of the finer details of transdimensional engineering (which the Doctor attempts to explain with the help of various fruit) when Amy finally pops in. She drops onto a chair next to the Doctor and pours herself some tea.
“Morning,” says Rory and doesn’t quite suppress a fond smile when Amy only gives a grunt in response. She is not a morning person and never has been. Rory used to work rotating shifts at the hospital and while he can appreciate the luxury of sleeping in, he still wakes up early most days.
The Doctor proceeds to explain some concept to Rory using a spiral fruit inserted into another fruit that is shaped like a doughnut. It makes Rory’s head hurt a bit, but he tries his best to follow. Amy is slurping her tea, still having difficulties keeping her eyes open. Her eyelids keep fluttering closed, and she is slowly drooping towards the Doctor. Eventually, her head lands on his shoulder and she closes her eyes.
The Doctor stops talking mid-sentence and freezes. Amy’s eyes fly open, suddenly awake, and she lifts her head and stares at the Doctor, a frown on her face even as she blushes. The whole display is very odd.
“Amy, I’m not a pillow,” the Doctor says lightly, without looking at her. Amy’s frown deepens. Rory thinks she looks almost scared now.
The Doctor awkwardly wiggles in his chair (thus increasing the distance between him and Amy, Rory notes) and tries to continue his explanation. Rory already had a hard time following earlier, but now he’s properly distracted. He needs to talk to Amy soon. Figure out what has her looking like that.
“Amy, I think you’re onto something,” he says when they’ve returned from a trip to 18th century France that has very nearly ended with the Doctor under the blade of a guillotine. Sometimes Rory could really do with their visits being less ‘exciting’, as the Doctor likes to put it. Also, he prefers to go to times and places that have functioning waste disposal and sewage systems. Wellington boots would have been helpful this time. “About the Doctor being weird. I gave him a friendly shove just now and he jumped again. So I asked if something was wrong, but he said everything was absolutely fine, and then he basically fled. Didn’t even stop to take his dirty shoes off, and he’d just been complaining about me tracking in dirt.” Rory strategically neglects to mention that his hand felt hot to the touch afterwards and that there had been a little flutter in his stomach. There is a distinct possibility that that's entirely his own fault, nothing to do with the Doctor, so he's not quite ready to tell Amy about that.
“Yes, I saw.” Amy frowns. “I was also going in for a hug when we got him out of that cell and he completely ignored me. And what was his problem this morning, in the kitchen? I don’t get it.” She awkwardly sits on one of the bean bags in their shared room and tries to toe off her shoes without having to touch them, with only limited success. “Ew. I guess these are ruined forever.”
“I was going to ask you about that, actually,” Rory says and joins her in the bean bag corner, careful to leave his shoes outside the boundaries of their room. “You looked so confused when he brushed you off. I'd almost say scared, actually, but you’re never scared of the Doctor.” He laughs a bit nervously.
“I think I was scared,” Amy says slowly. “Or… someone was scared. Or worried. I’m actually not sure which one of us.”
That’s an intriguing bit of information. Rory leans forward. “So you’re saying, there was something about your reaction that was not entirely yours?”
“Yes, I’d say so. I mean, I was suddenly really hot, and that's not a thing for me in the mornings.” Rory knows from experience that Amy is most receptive to extended hugs in the morning, and he is well-acquainted with her cool extremities. “Also, I would never be so—flustered just from touching the Doctor. And I certainly wouldn’t be scared.” She narrows her eyes in thought. “At the same time, I felt almost… miserable. But I mean, why would I be miserable being close to the Doctor? He’s my best friend! Apart from you, obviously.”
“So if it wasn’t you,” Rory begins, focusing on what seems to be the relevant bit of information here, “then—do you think that those were actually the Doctor’s feelings?”
“I don’t know, maybe? But why on Earth would he be scared of me?” The possibility clearly distresses her. Rory doesn’t like it either. He loves travelling with the Doctor, and surely that must go both ways. Unless…
“Do you think maybe he doesn’t want to travel with us anymore? And is afraid of telling us?” Rory asks hesitantly.
Amy stares at him for a moment. Her lips purse, but then she gives a small shake of her head. “No. No, we’re his best friends, he’s said so often enough. If he had a serious problem with us, he’d tell us.” Her voice is determined, but her eyes betray a hint of uncertainty.
“You’re probably right,” Rory says. Hopefully right, he thinks. “Let’s just keep watching for a while longer. We’ll figure it out eventually.”
Amy nods. She stretches out her legs, and they bump against her filthy shoes in front of her, prompting her to jump up from her bean bag and give a noisy shudder of disgust. “I need a shower.”
Rory most definitely does, too.
The Doctor has promised them something spectacular yet non-dangerous for their next outing. He’s also told them to wear something fancy and silver.
Amy and Rory are having way too much fun searching for something that meets those criteria in their own clothes and in the extensive TARDIS wardrobe currently (but not usually) connecting to their room. Rory has already tried on at least three different silver shirts with various patterns reminiscent of algae, enormous feathers, and tiny checkers, and Amy has gone through several silver cocktail dresses and two pairs of trousers herself.
Rory finally settles on the grey algae pattern (because it seems suitably alien to him) and adds a silver bow tie that has miraculously appeared on the dresser right in front of him (because that's definitely alien if the Doctor wears it, and he's always kind of wanted to try it ever since he actually met the Doctor). He doesn't know how to tie it, so he drapes it around his shoulders, for now. Amy raises an impressed eyebrow at his outfit while he zips up the half-translucent dress creation she's chosen to wear, wary of ripping it with a thoughtless motion. She looks stunning. Rory wonders what the Doctor will think when he sees Amy in this dress. If his thoughts will be similar to his own.
“Doctor to Ponds; we've arrived, and it's almost time! What’s taking you so long,” they hear the Doctor over the interior comms just as they’re on their way.
“Already here,” Amy sing-songs as they round the last corner of the corridor leading up to the console room.
The Doctor turns around to face them. He is wearing a sparkly white-and-grey three-piece suit. Its jacket is sequined and glittery silver trails run up his legs. Ironically, there is no bow tie today. The sight makes Rory’s mouth go a little dry, and he feels a rush of excitement going through his body. Since he's not touching the Doctor right now, that can only be his own, untainted reaction. From Amy’s quickly drawn-in breath, he can tell she’s similarly affected as he is. (He really needs to talk to her. Soon.)
The Doctor has been watching them with some amusement, yet Rory doesn’t miss how he is quickly taking Amy’s and Rory’s outfits in, head to toe. Rory’s face grows hot. The Doctor gestures first at his own neck, then points to Rory’s in delight, clearly approving of the bow tie.
Amy recovers first, stepping up to the Doctor and looking him up and down quite thoroughly.
“Well, Doctor, look at you! Didn’t know you had it in you.”
Rory knows this tone very well. It’s Amy’s teasing, flirtatious voice. The corners of the Doctor’s mouth lift into a pleased little smile with an edge of smugness. But then, Amy reaches out to run her hand admiringly over his sequined shoulder and the Doctor’s expression abruptly shifts to something Rory would almost call alarm. The Doctor takes a quick step back and turns to the console to fiddle with a few of the controls.
“Thank you, Amy. You two look great as well, of course,” he offers distractedly and glances back at them briefly.
Rory has watched him pilot the TARDIS enough by now to know that the buttons he presses aren’t actually doing anything of consequence (except possibly changing the atmospheric controls by half a degree). He exchanges a quick but meaningful look with Amy, who has narrowed her eyes at the Doctor’s behaviour, and joins them around the console panels.
“Um, Doctor,” Rory says hesitantly, “I was hoping you could help me tie this?" He grabs the ends of the bow tie around his neck and flaps them about.
“I most definitely can!” says the Doctor and sets to work, a bit awkwardly as he tries to avoid touching Rory's neck. But right now, Rory isn't interested in testing out that emotions theory, anyway, since the Doctor is standing so closely in front of him that he can't help but fixate his gaze on the Doctor's neck. The skin looks so soft. Rory is overcome with an irrational urge to lick it.
He swallows, hoping to distract himself from the Doctor's neck and the Doctor's fingers so close to his own. Amy winks at him. Rory feels himself flush even more, if that’s possible, and he takes a deep, calming breath.
“So, what exactly did we dress up for today?” he asks, trying to diffuse the odd tension in the room (and in his head). The Doctor grins and gratefully launches into tour guide mode.
“We are going to the Triennial Silver Orb festival of 5050! Well, 5049 to 5051 really. Triennial; it’s right there in the name. The festival takes three years, it’s very fancy, they’re celebrating the passing-by of the Silver Orb; a huge asteroid covered in a substance that looks very much like silver. It is actually something else entirely, but they won’t discover that for another two hundred years.”
The Doctor straightens Rory’s finished bow tie with a proud smile and gestures towards the TARDIS door. “But you’ll see it soon enough! After you.”
The three of them step out of the TARDIS and directly into a huge ballroom brimming with people. The walls are lined with transparent cabinets full of food, most of which Rory doesn’t recognise. His eyes follow the silver pipes moving up from the cabinets, and he sees that the ceiling is one gigantic window out into the night sky. There’s music playing, a hypnotising sound combined with a deep bass-like vibration that Rory can feel throughout his body and deep inside his bones. People of varying genders all dressed in shades of silver and grey are moving in time with the music; humans mostly, Rory notes, although he spots some alien races he thinks he can place (and some he can’t as well). He wonders if this is Earth’s future or if they’re on one of the colony planets the Doctor has taken them to before.
The air, combined with the music, is unexpectedly heady and he feels an involuntary shiver run through him. He takes Amy’s hand and sees her pupils dilate. At least he’s not the only one affected. He looks at the Doctor, who doesn’t seem different at all and is pointing to the wall cabinets.
“Look at this buffet; that’s what I’m talking about!” he says proudly. “A delicious amalgamation of the best foods the galaxy has to offer. Amy, Rory—I’ve been here a couple of times, and honestly, all accounts and reviews of the festival agree that 5050 was the best year to visit. Nothing much to see of the Silver Orb yet in 5049, where its orbit is still too wide, and by 5051 the festival has been running so long it’s gotten fairly boring. But 5050 is just… the best.” He spreads his arms wide and beams at them.
“Is that 5050 on Earth?” Rory asks.
“A-ha! Not quite,” says the Doctor. “We’re actually on a space station orbiting Earth-13/7, which is a colony planet mostly inhabited by humans. It’s several light-years from the original Earth, but still in the same galaxy. Different solar system, though.” He pulls out a silver watch on a silver chain, takes a brief look at it and then points to the glass ceiling. “In 28 minutes and… 13 seconds, we’ll be able to see the titular Silver Orb pass by.”
“So, that’s 28 more minutes to go and grab a drink,” Amy suggests in a way that Rory knows is actually more of an order than a suggestion. But he doesn’t mind.
“Ooh! You need to try the Orb in Orbit cocktail,” the Doctor says excitedly. Rory nods, then looks around for a bartender to place their orders, but all he sees is people walking up to the walls and grabbing ready-made dishes and glasses out of the cabinets. Each dish is immediately replaced by an identical one, synthesised in seconds. He opens his mouth to ask if he can just go there and do the same, but the Doctor is faster. “You’ll need to exchange your festival ticket for food pins to get drinks,” he says and hands Rory the psychic paper.
“Thanks,” says Rory and goes off to collect a food pin, whatever that is.
When he returns, with three drinks precariously balanced in both his hands, he sees Amy fanning herself and asking the Doctor something. They both look absolutely striking in their silver outfits, and Rory feels oddly tipsy, as if he’s already had some of the alcohol he’s carrying. He takes a deep breath and concentrates on getting the three drinks to where they’re standing without spilling anything.
“—just 51st-century pheromones, nothing to worry about,” the Doctor is saying.
“Pheromones?” Rory repeats. “Is that why my head’s so fuzzy?”
“Most likely, yes,” the Doctor says and accepts a drink from Rory. Rory hands the second drink to Amy and proceeds to raise his own.
“Cheers, then.”
Amy and the Doctor clink glasses with him and they all sip their Orb in Orbit cocktail. It’s got a tiny model planet (presumably Earth-13/7) floating in the centre and a perfect silver sphere is pinned to the edge of the glass. When Rory tries it, he tastes cherry. The aroma explodes on his tongue and he closes his eyes to savour it.
“Mmm. This is really good.” He licks his lips. When he opens his eyes again, the Doctor is looking at him with an odd expression. Rory wonders if he’s spilled some of that not-actually-cherry on his face and pokes his tongue out of the corners of his mouth to catch it, self-consciously. The Doctor blinks and looks away. He pats his waistcoat down with his free hand and consults the clock again. “Five minutes,” he announces.
Rory remembers that he hasn’t returned the psychic paper yet. He turns his cocktail over to Amy temporarily and pulls the little booklet out of his back pocket. The Doctor is still looking at the watch in his hand and holding his Orb in Orbit in the other. Encouraged by the heady atmosphere in the room, Rory decides it’s easiest to step closer to the Doctor and open his jacket to put the psychic paper back into the inner pocket it had come out of. The Doctor looks up and there’s that alarm on his face again; he tries to back away and stumbles. Amy gives a little surprised exclamation and Rory instinctively catches the Doctor by his wrist to steady him. The contact sends renewed heat coursing through his body and he’s suddenly yearning for more, and then also vaguely embarrassed, and possibly a bit miserable. The Doctor pulls back, swallows and tries an unconvincing grin, and finally says, without looking at them, “I’ll see if I can reserve us prime spots to watch the Orb passing.”
He hurries away, and Amy and Rory are left standing with their cocktails. Also, Rory’s somehow still got the psychic paper in his hand.
“See?” Amy raises her eyebrows and jerks her head toward the Doctor disappearing into the crowd. “That’s not normal. That’s weird, even for the Doctor.”
Rory nods, perplexed.
The Doctor returns shortly after, leading them to their seats, and they watch the Silver Orb pass by over their heads. It’s big and shiny and indeed surprisingly spherical, and there is still a faint excitement in the air, but it doesn’t quite reach Rory as much as before. Especially not because the Doctor is definitely keeping a careful distance from Amy and Rory.
It makes Rory sad.
Later, when they’re back in the TARDIS and have said goodnight to the Doctor, Rory finds it difficult to fall asleep. He thinks maybe he could sleep if he turned around and found a different sleeping position, but Amy’s curled around him and he doesn’t want to wake her.
It must be late already. The TARDIS is very dark, and very quiet, and the silence makes Rory feel almost like he’s in a different universe. In the end, he tries to count to one thousand in his head.
He’s only arrived at seventy-nine when Amy stirs next to him and whispers, “Rory?”
“Yes?”
“Can’t sleep, either?”
“No.”
Rory can’t see her, but he can feel her, and hear her breathing. It almost doesn’t feel real.
“I’m worried about the Doctor,” Amy says in a small voice.
Rory swallows, and concedes, “So am I.”
“You know I love you, right?” Amy asks.
Rory smiles. “Of course.”
They’re both quiet for a little while.
“I think I still love him,” Amy whispers. Rory feels her going tense. “I love both of you.”
Rory takes a deep breath; in and out. He’s suspected this for a while. Once, it would have made him feel miserable, but now, Amy’s admission fills him with relief rather than anything else.
“I know,” he says. His throat is very dry. Slowly, he adds, “I’m getting there, too. I think.”
Amy is quiet for a moment, then he feels the tension in her body lessen as she almost laughs, softly.
“Oh, Rory,” she sighs. “Why didn’t you say something earlier.”
“Well, to be honest, it is a bit hypocritical of me, isn’t it,” Rory says in his defence.
“I knew you’d come ‘round eventually.” He can hear the smile in her voice.
“No, you didn’t,” Rory says, but he’s smiling, too.
“Alright, I didn’t, but a girl can wish. And did wish.” Amy presses even closer to him and yawns. It makes Rory stifle a yawn, too.
For a few minutes, Rory listens to his and Amy’s breathing, feeling oddly at peace with the world. He drifts to sleep equally peacefully.
The next morning, when Rory opens his eyes, Amy is already awake. She’s been watching him, maybe that’s why he woke up. There’s an affectionate smile playing around her lips.
“Morning, Mr Pond,” she says.
Rory smiles back at her and turns his head so he can press a kiss to her mouth. “Good morning, Mrs Williams. You’re up early.” Maybe not up, exactly, but awake. Rory himself certainly doesn’t feel like getting up yet, not with Amy warm and awake snuggled against him.
“I know!” Amy says. “I’m as surprised as you are. I don’t think I’ve slept so well in weeks.”
“Maybe that’s what late-night revelations will do for you,” Rory says, feeling bold.
Amy raises her eyebrows. “So we’re going to talk about it?”
Rory gently pushes down his first instinct, which is to deflect. He’s had his phase of denial, and he’s overcome it, and it is time. So he takes a deep breath, and says, “Yes, I suppose we are.”
“So,” Amy drawls and nudges him softly. “You like the Doctor, too, huh.”
Rory huffs out a laugh, feeling unreasonably embarrassed. “I never truly disliked him, you know. I know, I know,” he continues when Amy looks like she’s going to interrupt him, “I guess I considered him a threat, in the beginning. But even then, I could see that he was special. What he could offer... As a person, I mean, not even counting the whole ‘travelling through space and time’ thing. I guess I couldn’t blame you for your fascination with him.”
“I know you worried about his ability to inspire reckless behaviour in people. Especially in me,” Amy says.
“And honestly, I still do,” Rory admits. “But it’s not like I haven’t always known you had that reckless streak within you. I did grow up with you.”
Amy gives him a fond smile. Rory continues, thoughtfully. “And in a way, I also grew up with the Doctor. Although he was just your imaginary friend then. Imaginary, yet still so much cooler than I could ever hope to be.” That last bit comes out sounding more self-deprecating than Rory intended to let on. “And then it suddenly turned out he wasn’t even imaginary. I thought I’d lose you to him.”
“Aw, Rory,” Amy says more gently than she usually is to him. “There was never any danger of that.”
Rory raises his eyebrows. “I did next meet the Doctor when he jumped out of a cake to tell me that you had kissed him.”
Amy sighs. “I was scared, and it was selfish of me. And I hurt you. I’m not going to pretend I didn’t know what I was doing.” Rory has accepted this, but it still hurts. He lets her continue. “I didn’t fully see the Doctor then the way I see him now. I think I still saw him as this larger than life, suddenly real-again friend that I equated with the opposite of a normal, sheltered, uneventful life that I didn’t feel ready for. It was less about him as a person and more about what he represented in my mind. But now, it’s all about him.” She looks nervous, uncertain of Rory’s response to this. She’s slightly tense, and it shows Rory that she cares.
Rory nods. “I thought so.” Both their feelings for the Doctor run much deeper than surface-level attraction.
“When did it change, for you? How?”
Rory thinks for a bit, trying to pinpoint it.
“I don’t think I can say, really. It’s been gradual. The Doctor just gets under your skin so easily. And one day I was watching him with you and noticed… that the jealousy was gone completely. No latent worry, no fear of missing out, none of that, anymore. There was just—I was just happy to see both of you happy. And then he hugged you and it made me think of how the Doctor hugs me, too, and how that makes me feel, and I began to suspect—for me, I mean. I began to suspect I was… feeling more than simple friendship, I guess.”
He laughs again, despite himself. Amy is listening intently, hanging on to his every word, and Rory continues.
“At first I couldn’t quite believe it. I mean—I haven’t really looked at anyone else since I met you, Amy, and we met when we were six. There was never any question in my mind that you were it for me. I just always knew that being with you would make me happy. So, to suddenly look at someone else and think, quite seriously, that…” He makes a half-aborted gesture with his hand, raising his eyebrows. “I didn’t know how to deal with that. I pretty much tried not to let it occupy too much space in my mind. Until quite recently, actually.”
Amy nods in sympathy. Rory clears his throat.
“But I have been coming to terms with it. Especially noting how you still look at him. I figured, if you’re—in love with the Doctor, maybe I could be allowed some confusing feelings of my own.” He smiles a little nervously and looks down.
Amy grasps for his hand and squeezes it. “Of course you’re allowed. Nobody has to give you permission for your feelings,” she says earnestly, a hint of reproach in her voice.
Rory kisses her again. It’s always scary, emotionally revealing themselves to each other. But now that it’s done, Rory is relieved and happy that they can share this with each other, as they share everything else. For a few minutes, there’s no more talk, and all they exchange are hugs and kisses. Soft ones, intimate ones. They’re a union, and stronger for it. Rory thinks of the Doctor, alone somewhere else within the TARDIS.
When they finally break apart, Rory takes a deep breath. “I guess that’s you and me covered, then. Now, what do we do about the Doctor?”
Amy gives his hands one last squeeze, then she props herself up on one elbow. “Well, we’ve established that something is off. He’s absolutely avoiding us, at least physically.”
“Could he be subtly trying to tell us something? Maybe he’s sick?” Rory says, but he doesn’t really believe it himself, and neither does Amy.
“Oh, come on,” she scoffs, “the Doctor doesn’t even know what subtlety is. And if he really were sick—if Time Lords even can get sick—I’m sure we’d be hearing all about it. He can be a big baby sometimes.”
Rory can’t argue with that. That leaves them with their original hypothesis. “Okay, then let’s go back to the theory that we actually do feel the Doctor’s feelings when he touches us or we touch him. Does that make more sense?”
“I mean, he’s an alien,” Amy says. “I still don’t really know what all the differences between humans and Time Lords are. But the TARDIS is telepathic and does all the translations, so the TARDIS definitely gets in our heads. And that’s Time Lord technology. So if the TARDIS can do it, maybe the Doctor can, too?”
“That’s a good point, actually,” Rory says. “All right, let’s assume for now that we feel the Doctor’s feelings. But what are they exactly? Why are they so negative? Why would he be scared?”
“I did get ‘scared’ from him. But It’s not just ‘scared’ though, is it. There’s also an undercurrent of… longing, maybe. Yearning, for… something.”
“Huh,” Rory says softly. “I got that, too. And a sense of deep affection. I assumed that was just me, but what if that’s the Doctor too?”
“Is it really so unlikely?” Amy asks. “I love you. Would it be so hard to believe that the Doctor might also be into you?”
“Into me?” Rory grimaces sceptically. “He kissed you, remember? You’ve obviously got the better chances,” he says, a bit sadly.
“Actually, I’m not so sure about that,” Amy admits. “He did sort of reject me before. Why would that have changed?”
“Maybe he just rejected you because of me, and because he didn’t want to be ‘the other man’, so to speak?” Rory speculates. “The Doctor is basically decent, you know.”
“Oi,” Amy says and swats his arm, but her heart isn’t in it. “Well, maybe. But it has never been brought up since.”
“Maybe you need to bring it up,” Rory says.
“Are you mad? Certainly not when he’s very clearly avoiding me physically!”
“What if he’s avoiding you because he’s so into you, though,” Rory points out.
“Well, that obviously wouldn’t be a problem, would it!” Amy says. “That would, for once, be the opposite of a problem.”
“But the Doctor doesn’t know how you feel about that. Or how I feel, for that matter.” An uncomfortable thought occurs to Rory. “Or… maybe he does know? What if that connection goes both ways? And—what if he’s scared and miserable because he knows how we feel about him?”
Amy looks at him doubtfully. Eventually, she shakes her head and says, “We should just talk to him.”
Rory bites his lip. “But what if we’re wrong and our feelings are the problem. We could mess everything up.”
Amy gives an unhappy shrug. “It’s already messy if the Doctor is feeling so negatively. I think we need to risk it.”
Amy has always been the brave one. Rory presses his lips together unhappily.
“I don’t like it. But you’re probably right.”
They have decided that they’re going to talk to the Doctor right away, before he can get even worse and decide to send them home for their own good, or something equally as ludicrous. Rory is still nervous, but he agrees with Amy that the Doctor is worth taking a risk for. And after all, Rory has once had to take a risk on Amy, and that turned out wonderfully.
They find the Doctor in his workshop swing beneath the glass floor of the main console. He’s wearing those ridiculous ‘safety’ goggles of his that he likes to put on when he’s tinkering.
“What are you up to, Doctor?” Amy asks, her voice raised to carry over the sound of banging and beeping coming from the equipment the Doctor is fiddling with. Before he can answer, the TARDIS console gives an odd, slightly unsettling noise. There is a zap underneath the console, closely followed by a frustrated “Ow!”, and the banging from below stops.
Rory exchanges a look of mild alarm with Amy and crouches down, looking at the Doctor through the glass floor.
“Uh, Doctor,” Rory says, “I don’t think the TARDIS is happy with… whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Ow. No, no. She wouldn’t be,” the Doctor says distractedly. “But she’s going to have to deal with it if she knows what’s good for her.” He strokes a panel next to him despite his words.
“What are you trying to do, anyway?” asks Amy.
The Doctor doesn’t answer immediately. “Just going to adjust some of the parameters feeding into the telepathic field. It’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” He gives a reassuring grin that falls flat because it doesn’t entirely reach his eyes.
Rory considers asking right out if there is such a thing as touch telepathy and whether it has something to do with that, but Amy is evidently choosing a different approach.
“Well, the TARDIS doesn’t want it, so you can stop trying for now and come back up here,” she says. “We need to talk to you.”
“Well that doesn’t sound ominous at all,” the Doctor mutters, but he does emerge from under the glass floor to join them around the main console panels, keeping a slight distance from them. Rory wouldn’t usually notice it, but he’s spent the past few days scrutinising the Doctor’s behaviour, and that makes the distance noticeable.
There is a light sheen of sweat on the Doctor’s face, and a few pieces of hair stick to his forehead when he takes the goggles off his head. Rory finds it rather appealing, and he gives himself a mental pat on the shoulder for not even trying to bury the thought. The Doctor clears his throat.
“What’s this about, then? It better not be about the configuration of your bed again, because I’ve told you time and time again—”
“Oh, it’s not that,” Amy interrupts impatiently and takes the Doctor’s hand without preamble. The Doctor, as predicted, stops speaking immediately and tries to withdraw rather forcibly. This bumps him into Rory, who is quick to steady him, and he freezes up. Rory sees Amy’s eyes going wide and is immediately flooded with anxiety, his knees going weak, a sudden despair. Rory’s touch seems to have pushed the Doctor out of his shock freeze and he twitches violently. There’s a dark, self-directed negativity so strong bubbling up in Rory now that he instinctively lets go, even though he knows the feeling can’t be his own. Up until this point, he hadn’t realised just how deep the Doctor’s issues with this truly ran. Following on the heel of that thought is a wave of compassion and, well, love for the Doctor—and those are entirely his own feelings. Rory will openly admit that to himself, now.
Amy has let go of the Doctor’s hand, too, if only because the Doctor has managed to shake her off, and she seems momentarily at a loss for words. Her mouth hangs slightly open, her eyes, wide and sad, searching the Doctor’s eyes.
The Doctor stumbles a few steps back and stares between the two of them with a look of utter betrayal on his face. He kneads both his hands together in front of his chest. Then he speaks, and it’s quiet but dangerously low.
“Out.”
Rory swallows. That’s quite a bad reaction, and one he doesn’t particularly want to have to diffuse, but they can’t leave the Doctor alone now. He looks at Amy, who has paled but is giving him a slight shake of her head in response to his silent question. Good; they’re on the same page. They won’t leave.
“Doctor,” Amy says, gentle but insistent. “It’s okay. We just want to understand. We think we understand.”
The Doctor doesn’t reply.
“Please, just let us—”
“There is nothing to understand!” the Doctor says firmly. Rory takes a breath to say something, although he isn’t quite sure what it will be. But it doesn’t matter, because Amy is reaching back out to the Doctor, who takes a step back even as he raises a pointed finger and warns, “Don’t touch me.”
He looks ancient now but also somehow young and scared. It’s still difficult for Rory to reconcile those two facets, even though he’s someone who could probably understand better than many, considering the 2,000 years he spent waiting for Amy in a timeline that doesn’t exist any more. Pieces of it still come back to him sometimes when he sleeps, often gone as consciousness sets in.
Amy retreats, slightly, and throws a pleading look in Rory’s direction.
Here goes nothing, then.
“Sorry, Doctor, but you’ve been acting strangely for a while, and there’s clearly something going on. Our best theory at the moment is that you’re some sort of touch telepath,” he says. “Only, it seems to be a recent development?”
The Doctor crosses his arms and looks down, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. Then he says, quietly, “It’s complicated.”
“But those are your emotions that we can feel when you touch one of us, aren’t they?” Rory presses on. The Doctor doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at the floor, his face a mask.
“We’re just worried because they’re so negative,” Amy says, surprisingly gently considering how shaken she was by the Doctor’s reaction earlier. “And they don’t have to be. You know you can—”
“I think,” says the Doctor slowly, “maybe it’s time you two went back home for a bit.”
Amy blinks, her face incredulous. Then it hardens with determination. “Oh no, Doctor. We’re not doing this.” She takes another step in his direction.
“I said, don’t touch me!”
“Why not?” Amy challenges. “Because you’re afraid of how you feel? We just want to help!”
“You can’t help me!” the Doctor nearly shouts at her. “You’re not helping; you’re just making it worse!”
“But you won’t even let us try!” Amy throws back at him. Her eyes are starting to fill with tears of anger. Rory has the distinct impression that the Doctor is close to some sort of breaking point, and from experience, that can be very dangerous. He calls out to Amy, hoping to make her back off a bit, but she presses on.
“You’re always there for us, so why won’t you let us do the same for you?”
“You want to know what’s going on, Amy?” The Doctor takes a sharp breath, and then it spills out of him, low and agitated and almost sounding dangerous. “Fine. I’m having wildly inappropriate thoughts about both you and your husband, and it’s making me miserable. It’s gotten so bad the TARDIS telepathic field is affected by it, and it’s glitching now; transmitting those things outwards whenever I touch one of you. This isn’t helped by me worrying about you two finding out exactly what the problem is.” The Doctor grits his teeth, and a muscle twitches in his cheek. “And so now that you have, because you just couldn’t leave it alone, it might be best if you went home and had a good think about whether you two still want to travel with me, knowing that.”
Rory blinks as he digests this, then risks a look at Amy, who is stunned. The extent of the Doctor’s outburst is unexpected, but it’s also a relief, and not so far off from the conclusions they had already drawn. He’s almost proud of himself. And very intrigued by the implication that the Doctor might actually like them back. Both of them.
“Of course we still want to travel with you!” Amy says after a brief pause, exasperated. “This life is a dream come true. And that’s not going to change so easily.”
The corners of the Doctor’s mouth twitch into a bittersweet smile. “This isn’t just about you and your old crush, Amy.” Amy frowns, offended, but the Doctor continues. “And you don’t make these decisions alone.” He doesn’t look at Rory, but it’s clearly what he means.
Rory takes a deep breath. He can’t screw this up, not now, not when there’s a very real possibility this might all turn out better for all three of them. But he has to be very careful what he says, now. The situation is fragile, the Doctor’s mood, in particular, volatile.
“That’s true, she doesn’t,” he begins, trying to look the Doctor straight in the eyes. “But she’s right. We both love travelling the universe with you. And that won’t change unless you purposefully drive us away. I hope that is not what you’re trying to do here.”
The Doctor doesn’t answer, but he sort of deflates a bit.
“I really, really hope it’s not, because we would miss you terribly, Doctor.”
The Doctor reluctantly meets Rory’s steady gaze, and Rory tries to put as much of his care and affection for him into it as possible. “Amy cares very deeply for you. And so do I.”
He approaches the Doctor slowly, carefully. “I know it hasn’t always seemed that way. We’ve had our differences, in the beginning. Mostly, they were on my part, really. But over time, that changed.”
He still sees doubt in the Doctor’s eyes. Time to drive the point home. “It changed to the point that we decided to run away with you after our wedding, and we have never regretted it since. That was a collective decision. I do have some say in this marriage too, you know.” He gives a small smile that the Doctor doesn’t return. “Just—understand that how you feel about us would never make us leave. Not unless you truly want us to.”
The Doctor looks defeated yet still not much happier than before.
“He’s right, you know,” Amy chimes in. “We’re friends. You’re my best friends, you and Rory.”
The Doctor sighs. “That’s all fine and well, but it still doesn’t solve the—the situation at hand. The underlying issue still remains, and I do think a break might help, for all of us—”
Rory looks at Amy, finds her already looking back at him, and they know that this is the moment.
“Actually, there is an easy solution,” Rory says slowly. The Doctor frowns. Amy cuts in before he can say something, a note of fond reproach in her voice.
“Did you never stop to consider that we might feel the same way?”
The Doctor’s frown deepens, and he shakes his head, avoiding their eyes again. “Amy, please, don’t do this. It’s not fair. This is… emphatically past a crush, for me. And I don’t think Rory—”
“Why do you keep assuming I’m an obstacle to what you want, Doctor?” Rory asks, a bit put out. “Haven’t you been listening?”
This has been going on for too long. Rory decides he’s going to be bold, and show the Doctor. So he softly but deliberately cups the Doctor’s cheek and leans in to kiss him.
It’s a chaste first kiss, just a slow press of his lips to the Doctor’s tense mouth. Rory won’t risk scaring the Doctor off with anything more unexpected at this point, and this is still a precarious situation, balancing on a knife’s edge. He feels the Doctor’s emotions well up inside him again; trepidation, defeat, but there is also a sliver of hope weaving its way through. Rory hopes desperately that he and Amy have not misjudged the whole situation and made everything a whole lot worse.
When the Doctor doesn’t pull away immediately, Rory relaxes a tiny fraction and strokes the Doctor’s cheek with the fingers resting there. As he works to separate the Doctor’s feelings from his own, he finds that kissing the Doctor feels right to him, exciting, and longed for, and that’s enough to eliminate the last little niggling of doubt he’d had about the true depth of his own feelings. It’s also rather interesting to kiss someone who is taller than him. Rory wonders if that’s what it’s like for Amy when they’re kissing, and he lets himself hope that this will work.
But then the Doctor breaks away. It can only have been a few seconds, but it feels much longer than that to Rory. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Amy, smiling at them with cautious delight, yet as hesitant as Rory about the Doctor’s reaction.
“Oh, Rory,” the Doctor sighs and opens his eyes. He gives him a weary smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t want pity.”
“It’s not pity,” Rory says, with an incredulous laugh. “I like you. A lot. And I care, very deeply, about you; same as Amy.” His voice is firm as he looks to Amy for help. “Maybe we can show you, somehow.”
Amy’s eyes go wide. “The telepathic field,” she suggests.
The Doctor looks, uncertain, between Amy’s face and Rory’s mouth. He still seems pretty thrown. Rory asks, “How exactly does the telepathic field work? Is it only ever one way? Can only Time Lords project their emotions to humans but not the other way round?”
“It usually shouldn’t transmit between occupants of the TARDIS at all,” the Doctor says faintly.
“But you said that’s what it’s been doing,” Amy says. “Transmitting your feelings to us, I mean,” she clarifies with a wave of her hand. “Doesn’t that imply that it can also go the other way? If we want to use it to show you what we’re feeling?”
“It does,” Rory says slowly. His mind is racing with the facts: the Doctor had been trying to fix the telepathic field earlier and the TARDIS had resisted. The TARDIS is sentient, to quite a high degree, and he’s even talked to the ship quite literally in person, before. He suddenly remembers they’ve also communicated by thought before, back on that creepy, TARDIS-eating planet. Perhaps he’d been wrong to assume that this kind of communication was only possible while the TARDIS was in human form.
It can’t hurt to try. Rory hopes the TARDIS still likes him, and cares enough for the Doctor to help them.
So he looks towards the time rotor—for lack of a better focal point to address the ship he’s inside of—and tries to think at the TARDIS as hard as he can, Please, help us. Please help us show the Doctor what we feel, so he can understand, and stop being miserable.
For a moment, nothing happens, and Rory feels a bit silly.
And then, everything happens at once.
It’s like a switch has been flipped inside his brain. Rory’s entire mental world explosively expands. His mouth falls open in astonishment. The Doctor’s eyes have gone impossibly wide. Rory looks at Amy and sees her staring ahead with unseeing eyes, watches her sink to the floor as if in slow motion, and then his own knees touch the ground. Rory struggles to keep upright, but he can’t, the connection to his physical body fading into the background, buried by sensations, images, voices, tastes, smells. It’s like he doesn’t exist in physical space anymore.
All of Rory’s experiences are happening around him all at once. It’s so much. It’s completely overwhelming, and Rory feels himself getting lost.
But then, Rory feels a distinct presence in his mind that’s not his. No, two presences, coming closer, merging together, expanding into and over and under his space.
There’s one that feels hugely familiar, that brushes up against his mind like a soft, comfortable blanket—Amy; they share so many memories that he can see and feel and taste and hear and touch, all of them overlaid with their love for each other. It’s like a string tying them together, or rather, multiple strings, time strings, woven from both sides, and connecting solidly, reliably in the metaphorical middle.
And then there is a second presence; a presence much bigger than Amy’s and Rory’s combined. An ancient, complicated presence with so many experiences and faces and emotions. Rory is awestruck by it. The Doctor’s love is like a woven tendril that is shying away from its counterpart in Rory. They have yet to find each other. Rory gives it a push, presents his own affection and love to it, and a connection springs into existence. Love flows freely along it, crossing from Rory to the Doctor to Amy and back to Rory, any which way. It’s so much.
The Doctor’s mind is overwhelming in its wealth of experience, emotion, elated and sad. The Doctor has known and lost so many people. Rory has always assumed, being aware of the Doctor’s age and through hints the Doctor had dropped now and then, but now he knows for certain.
The Doctor has also been so many people. Rory’s mind slides off of aspects of his previous faces and personalities, though, as the Doctor closes metaphorical doors in front of them. But that’s okay. They love the Doctor as he is, now; their Doctor.
There’s also a feeling of sorrow, of loss expected to come; if not now, then perhaps next week, next decade, next century. That is a burden Amy and Rory can’t help him carry, but they convey their hearts opening to the Doctor’s, showing him that it’s not futile at all, that the Doctor can be with them and love them and lose them and it will still be worth it. They envelop the Doctor in their combined presence and Rory feels that union again, a sense of belonging completely, of being one of three parts of a whole.
It’s so much.
It’s beautiful and he could lose himself in it.
It is too much.
Rory’s mental world is dissolving, and it’s scary, but the Doctor’s presence assures him that it’s going to be alright. Rory stops trying to remain in it and just tries to commit this feeling to memory.
The last thing he notices is an amber light anxiously blinking on the TARDIS ancillary control panel.
When he opens his eyes, he’s lying on the floor of the TARDIS, with Amy resting next to him, propping herself up on her arms, trembling slightly. The Doctor is the only one standing, and he’s heavily bracing himself on the console. But when Rory meets his gaze, he finds a new joy and understanding in the Doctor’s eyes, and he smiles.
Amy has obviously recovered enough to grab the Doctor’s hand and pull him down to her level. She takes his face into both of her hands and kisses him soundly, and the Doctor doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate. Rory laughs weakly, amused by her eagerness. They break apart and the Doctor leans down to kiss Rory, properly this time. It leaves his head spinning with possibilities for the future.
The Doctor hugs Amy and Rory close to his body and drops two additional kisses on each of their foreheads. Rory feels warm and fuzzy all over, but that’s all him, and there’s nothing beyond that, even though they touch. The telepathic connection has stopped for good.
The Doctor sits back on his heels.
“Might I just state that this,” he gestures to Amy and Rory, still groggily sprawled on the floor, “is why the TARDIS telepathic field is not meant to transmit from mind to mind. It’s really only made for safe communication between a biological brain and a TARDIS neurological interface, or between two interfaces. Don’t worry; this stint shouldn’t have left any damage beyond a slight hangover yet, but we shouldn’t repeat it.”
Rory certainly feels kind of dazed by his experience. Hopefully it won’t graduate into a headache. But he also feels like his heart is trying to fly out of his chest, projecting an ever-growing radius of love that is about to envelop Amy and the Doctor. If only he could repeat that mind expansion… But the Doctor is right, humans aren't meant for that. He'll have to content himself with the memory, and be sure in the knowledge that the Doctor finally understands how Amy and Rory feel about him.
Thank you, he thinks at the TARDIS, looking up at the time rotor towering above him.
“So how did the TARDIS make this possible?” Amy asks, having followed his gaze.
The Doctor shrugs. “The telepathic field of my TARDIS in particular seems to have developed beyond its usual capacities. I was trying to fix it so you wouldn’t have to deal with more involuntary messages from me, but the TARDIS was proving to be a bit stubborn about it.”
“The TARDIS knows a lot of what’s going on most of the time, doesn’t it?” Rory asks.
“Oh yes. And she can be a bit nosy. Part of what I was trying to fix, actually.”
“I don’t think you should do it,” Amy says. “The TARDIS obviously knows what’s best for you better than you do yourself, in some ways. It—she—helped us with this, after all.” She gestures between the three of them. “I don’t think you have to worry about further involuntary transmissions.” She yawns. “And now, I’ve had enough of this floor. Help me up,” she says to the Doctor.
The Doctor gets up and helps Amy to her feet, which she immediately uses as an excuse to kiss him again. There is nothing chaste about it. Rory tries to get up as well, to get a better look. He’s still a bit weak on his feet, so the Doctor reaches out to steady him. Rory thinks he feels a small, soft enveloping of the Doctor’s mind. Or maybe he’s imagining that.
“Come here,” Amy says to Rory, and then they’re kissing with a renewed sense of love that firmly includes a third person now, and after a while, Amy stops kissing him and the Doctor takes over from her, and Rory tingles all over.
When they part, Amy is leaning against the console and leering at them. The Doctor blushes and clears his throat.
“You should both rest,” he says earnestly. “And, now that you’re off the floor, I think I better accompany you to your room. See that you make it there in one piece.”
“Sounds good,” Rory says and slings an arm around the Doctor’s shoulder, heavily leaning on him.
“Fine with me,” Amy agrees. Her ensuing smile is almost calculating, filled with possibilities. “Get us back to our room, and when we’re there, you can tell us all about those inappropriate thoughts you’ve been having.”
Some days later find them huddled together on a picnic blanket in a wide, beautiful forest clearing miles away from the nearest city, yet only a few hundred yards from the TARDIS. Rory looks to his left, where the Doctor is reclining (will he ever be able to sit still, Rory wonders affectionately), then to his right, where Amy is sending him a content smile.
The Doctor has taken them back to the Silver Orb festival, same day and everything. Only this time, they’re not on a space station, breathing filtered air with thousands of other people. Instead, they’re down on the planet (Earth-13/7, Rory remembers), enjoying a warm summer night. The forest around their clearing is quiet, apart from a gentle rustling of leaves. Everything is calm.
“Two minutes,” the Doctor says. He reaches out for Rory’s hand. As Rory accepts it, so does Amy at the Doctor’s other side. Rory reaches over him and takes Amy’s other hand, squeezing it lightly.
“Ooh, there it is,” Amy says. She lifts the hand entwined with the Doctor’s fingers to point at the clear sky above them. A shimmering, silver sphere has appeared on the horizon and is trailing across the firmament. From down here, the Silver Orb is growing to look almost as big as the Moon back on the original planet Earth, silently passing by overhead.
It’s beautiful.
They’re further away here than they were on the space station that’s certainly flying miles above their heads right now, but this is so much better. Rory thinks of his past self up there, uncomfortably watching the Orb next to a worried Amy and a distant Doctor. It won’t be long for them until they wind up here, down on the planet, all of them holding hands on this picnic blanket.
It makes Rory happy.