[personal profile] sapotefiction
Title: Interplanetary Relations.
Author: [personal profile] sapote
Fandom: Doctor Who.
Porn?: Porn!
Pairing: Eleven/Rory/Amy.

Notes: Was written for the Eleventy kink meme, but I liked it a lot and decided to repost it here in case my flist has unmet Eleven/Rory/Amy needs. So this was not graced with betaing, but also anonymity apparently makes me porny.


"Doctor!" Amy calls out across the deck of the TARDIS. She and Rory are sitting on the stairs, heads together; the Doctor hears whispering, a rising squeak of "I don't think he -" from Rory.

"I'm busy," he calls back, leaning back and looking up into the matter transducer. "The dimensional transvector array is - well, you don't care what it is. You'd care if we landed in a dimension where up was left and purple was Friday, I can tell you that."

"The steering's off?" she trills.
He looks at her, smiles, and says, "The steering's off." Rory is sitting with his ankle pressed against hers; their hands are intertwined, and it makes him smile to see them. "Well, don't just sit there, tell me, then. What's so important that it's worth risking an eternity in the purple dimension?"

"What if he -" he hears Rory hiss, and then Amy, her head tilted, says "Would you kiss Rory? If I asked you to?"

The sonic screwdriver clanks onto the console. He gapes for a minute, and then looks up at the time rotor. "Why would you ask me to do that?" he says, his voice even and curious.

"I've kissed you," Amy says, head tilted. "And I've kissed Rory. It seems fair, doesn't it?"

"Well, fair -" he picks the sonic screwdriver up again, pokes at some random circutry, nudges the fork stuck in the substring sensor a quarter-inch closer to the small blue plate that indicates the galactic hub. "Lots of people have different ideas of fair, you know, depending on their culture and their priorities. The Versenyi of Galaxa Three have a rule that single-person hats are horribly selfish, and the Antiphonians of Zerrecks Four think it's up to the individual to carry his or her own air supply, so it's really a question of -"

"Doctor!" she says again, cutting him off.

"Well,I don't know, Amy," he says, looking between them. "Does Rory want to kiss me?"

They both turn and look at Rory, who blushes.

"Well, I mean." Rory said."I could. I'm not opposed to the idea. Since there's already been -" he shoots a glance at Amy - "Kissing."

Amy purses her lips. "He's a good kisser, you know. Learned from the best."

The Doctor scrubs a hand through his hair, says "Well, I-" and then realizes she means Rory.

There is an extremely awkward pause.

"Should we -" says Rory, and he kind of puts a hand up at about the Doctor's shoulder height and moves in like it's slow dance time at the school formal.

"I mean -" the Doctor glances at Amy. "I could -" And then he steps back. "Why?"

Amy throws her hands up. "You're supposed to kiss Rory so that he wasn't jealous that I'd kissed an alien and he hadn't. And it wasn't my idea."

"It was, it was, it was totally her idea." Rory said, and then, "Okay, no, actually, it was my idea."

The Doctor blinks, and then tilts his head. "It was your idea?"

Rory folds his arms. "A bit. A little. Yeah."

"You wanted to kiss me?" he says, slowly.

"Yeah." Rory says, head tilted.

"Well." the Doctor looks down at the console, half-smiling. "Alright?"

Rory's eyes meet his, and Rory puts a hand on his shoulder, another hand at his hip. He takes a deep breath, like a man about to dive into a pool, and says "Okay," and touches his lips to the Doctor's.

His mouth is soft, human-temperatured and pliable, and the Doctor kisses him back and thinks, among other things, this is the second time I've kissed someone with this mouth. When Rory actually makes a low noise and fists a hand in the Doctor's shirt, the Doctor thinks, among other things, and I seem to be getting it right this time.

"I think I'm getting better at that," he says when they break apart, and Amy laughs. When they turn to look at her she says "Don't let me stop you."

Rory smiles and hooks one hand in the Doctor's braces and pulls him in, but the Doctor lifts a quelling hand.

"Look," he says, "Humans - well, I like humans, but humans and kissing, it gets complicated and doesn't work out well and people get married and try to take over the Earth and it's all very -"

"I'm marrying Amy tomorrow," Rory says firmly, and steps closer again. "Eventually." He puts a hesitant hand on the Doctor's shoulder, turns up the tips of his fingers and touches the Doctor's hair. "We could kiss again -" he tilts his chin up.

"If you like," the Doctor says, and presses his mouth against Rory's.


They are kissing for a while, a long, lazy while in which Rory manages to get one hand under the Doctor's braces and steer him back against the console railing, lean against him and kiss with what Rory has decided is the right amount of tongue to communicate both a friendly interest and the level of respect one properly shows for an interdimensional time-traveling person from another planet. Rory has been thinking a lot about kissing aliens, and the courtesies thereof, ever since Amy told him she'd kissed the Doctor. Rory had kissed, you know, people. In his time. Though usually Amy, first and last, and usually more in the way where Amy had kissed him and Rory just held on for dear life. But he'd kissed other people, he'd been to university. He wasn't sure if there was anything that would tell you straight off that you were kissing a person from another planet, though. Maybe the Doctor tasted alien, but maybe he just used alien toothpaste? Who could tell?

He wondered if Amy could tell and then realized that the Doctor was kind of starting to hook a leg around his knee, and that he had both hands fisted in Rory's shirt.

"Sorry," the Doctor said when Rory pulled back a little, opening his hands. "New body, you know, reflexes aren't really predictible yet -" and then Rory stepped in close, put his hands on the Doctor's hips, pulled their bodies together, kissed him again, with a little less professional courtesy this time. The Doctor leaned back, sighed, opened his legs a little, and Rory felt an odd little sense of pride to realize that aliens also got erections. Apparently.


Amy sat with her chin on her knees watching them. Amy liked kissing - she'd been a professional kisser for a while, after all - but observing was very different from doing. She liked the way Rory's hands looked on the Doctor's hips; she liked the way their noses bumped. She liked the line of Rory's back and she liked the Doctor's hands on it. She likes the stuttering movement of their hips together.

She wonders how much further they'll get if she doesn't interrupt them.

And that's when she realizes that she wants to interrupt them, badly - knee-tremblingly, pants-dampeningly badly - so she gets up, and walks over to them, and threads her hand into Rory's hair, tugging him away from the Doctor's mouth, and kisses him hard.

He looks at her, and smiles, and whispers, "Hi," but he doesn't let go of the Doctor's hips. The Doctor - whose leg is wrapped entirely around Rory's hips, who is rocking upward against him just a little, whose tight trousers are not leaving much to the imagination right now - looks at her, opening his eyes. His face is dazed, and open, so she steps closer and kisses him too, glad of her height, pushing her tongue into his mouth until he makes a little sound and his hips start against Rory's hands.

"We should." she says, leaning her forehead against the Doctor's. "We should -"
"Go to bed?" Rory says, and she looks at him, surprised, and then looks at the Doctor, who is also surprised.

Rory flushes a little, but doesn't step back. "We're in space." he says. "We really may as well."

She tilts her head, and then laughs, and kisses him again, and they look at the Doctor, who looks entirely flustered, braces half-off, hair mussed, mouth reddened. Amy feels that urge that's become familiar since she stepped aboard the TARDIS to undo his neatness a little, and she runs her fingertips up Rory's back, idly.

The Doctor looks between them - he's caught his breath now - and then says, "If this somehow irreversibly ruptures the fabric of spacetime it is not my fault."

"Oh, Doctor," Amy says, putting her fingers under his chin and turning his mouth to hers again, "Don't flatter yourself." She feels Rory's hand on her back, tracing the line of her waist as she kisses the Doctor. She pulls away and says, voice low, face flushed, "Is that a yes?"

He smiles then, and glances at Rory. Then he meets her eyes, and says, "Yes."

They somehow make it down a level, past the library, towards one of the sleeping quarters that appears now and then when the timelessness of space has made Amy sleepy, or, in this case, fairly desperate to get her clothes off.

"What?" she says, when Rory makes a face at her - in between kissing the Doctor and sliding his hands under the waistband of the Doctor's trousers - when she drops her jumper in the hallway and starts undoing her bra.

"I thought we might be in for a bit of slow undressing, you know." Rory said, as the Doctor kissed his neck and tried to get his hand in Rory's trousers, "Revealing the curves of your creamy flesh, like. Romantic."

"Yeah, I'm not standing here a for half an hour getting cold while the two of you review how to unclasp a bra backwards," she says, and starts on her stockings.

"Half an hour, that is an exaggeration, it's not like you do it onehanded -" Rory says and then breaks off because the Doctor has gotten his hand down Rory's trousers entirely and finally, finally, they've reached the door that usually leads to a bedroom. Rory backs the Doctor through it, hands firm on his waist even though the Doctor keeps making attempts to head them towards a wall and get his leg around Rory's hips again, and there is a dim white room with a soft white bed which the Doctor sits down on, suddenly, and Rory bends and presses him down by the shoulders, pressing their bodies together, and the Doctor makes another low noise and wraps his legs around Rory's torso, bringing their erections into juddering contact. Rory groans and buries his face against the Doctor's shoulder.

He hears a breathy noise behind him and looks up to see Amy, breasts bare, down to her knickers, watching them intently. Her face is flushed; her eyes are dark, and as he looks at her she smiles a predatory little half-smile, and sits down beside them on the bed.

"Doctor," she says, combing the Doctor's hair back from his forehead, "All right, there?"

"Yeah," the Doctor says, eyes shut, "Brilliant," and tries to pull Rory back down to kiss him, but Rory didn't go to medical school for nothing and sits up, saying, "We should - talk. We should talk."

"We already talked," Amy says impatiently, her hand tracing down her thigh almost involuntarily, and then she meets his eyes and sighs, and says,

"Doctor, Rory wants to have a talk."

"Brilliant," says the Doctor, eyes still closed. "I love talking."

"No, open your eyes and sit up," she says.

He opens his eyes, and then says, "Breasts."

Amy looks down and back up. "Yes, breasts, two of them, what?"

"Well I don't know if I like breasts, yet," he says. "New body, new rules, I don't know my own breast opinions till I've tried, do I?"

"Everyone likes Amy's breasts," Rory says absentmindedly. He's fishing about in his jacket pocket in the distracted way of a person who knows he has a condom somewhere. "Amy's got brilliant breasts. Tell him, Amy."

"Yeah, they're pretty good." Amy says, brow wrinkled, and then "Would you like to touch them?"

The Doctor looks at her face, and then back at her chest. "Well, I could." he says, and reaches a hand out gently. She can't help pressing into his palm; his hands are smooth, and sensitive, and she likes the gentle way he cups her. A little gust of air escapes her when his fingers brush over her nipple, and when she meets his eyes he is staring at her, intensely, eyes dark.

"Rory," he says, without breaking eye contact, "I have discovered I like breasts. Well, your breasts. Amy."

"The rest of me's pretty good too," she says, wriggling closer on the bed, and he runs a cautious hand along her shoulder and down her arm, up the rise of her hip, along the little curve of her belly. It's so light it tickles, and she smiles at him and presses their foreheads together, nudges her mouth against his just a little - better than last time, because his lips are parted and warm, and his hand tightens on her elbow, just a little possessive.

"Oy," Rory says. She looks up; he has finally found a condom and is holding it up, probably reading the expiration date carefully. Because he's Rory, and she feels a great wash of tenderness for him right at this moment. "We were going to have a talk, like reasonable people."

"Fine," Amy says, "Let's talk."

"So I think I've only got one of these," he says. "Doctor?"

"I don't, what -" the Doctor looks. "Primitive contraceptive devices, no, sorry, fresh out. Not a lot of call for them -" Amy has gotten the button of his trousers undone while he's talking and slides her hand down his pants, and he yelps.

"Well, I-" and then Amy counts in her head, and amends, "Am not on the pill, sorry." Blasted time vortex.

"And for all I know I'm the female of the species to an alien, I don't know how they work -" Rory sits on the bed.

"I'm not going to impregnate you," the Doctor says indignantly, "Even leaving out the genetics, no one's ever touched this set of genitalia, I'd be surprised if I last until we get my pants off -" and Amy laughs, and then claps her hand over her mouth.

"Figure it out as we go?" Amy says, and then, "I'm practically naked over here." She has that little smile that Rory recognizes from every time she's gotten them in over their heads - every crazy misadventure he's ever had has involved that smile. He her lying there, all curves and pale in the dim light, with her hand down the Doctor's trousers, and feels giddy and also throbbingly hard. "All right," he says, "All right," and then he says, "Well, Doctor. And you tell us as we go, right? Since you're, you know. New to this."

The Doctor rolls his eyes, and then nods.

"Rory," Amy says. "Take your trousers off."

"Fine," he says standing, "fine, if no one wants to slowly reveal the curves of my creamy flesh -"

"I could, a bit," says the Doctor, and then Amy moves her hand, curls her fingers around his erection, and he moans and says "- in a moment," And then he gathers his wits, and says, "No, belts, I know I can do belts, let me up." and Amy narrows her eyes at him and takes her hand out of his now-undone trousers.

The Doctor sits up, and seizes Rory by the belt loops, and tugs him closer.

"Doctor-" Amy says, and the Doctor says, "Just a moment," and presses his face to Rory's erection, nose tracing the line of it through Rory's trousers.

"What?" Rory says in surprise, and then "Nrf."

"Human pheremones," the Doctor murmurs, and then looks up, eyes dark. "You've got human pheremones."

"I do?" Rory says, and then "I guess I would, I -" and then his voice stops as the Doctor mouths along his erection, breath warm and damp through the fabric.

Amy makes some sort of noise, but Rory isn't paying attention at all; his hands thread through the Doctor's hair, and he tries to keep his balance and not,

say, actively rub himself against the Doctor's face, because they've been at it for a while now and this is really the first time anyone has paid full attention to his cock.

"Can I take your trousers off?" the Doctor says, looking up, and Rory says "Please." The Doctor smiles, fingers going to Rory's belt, and then unbuttons his fly, draws his zipper down, and honestly the relief of no longer straining against fabric is enough that Rory gasps from that alone. The Doctor's fingers are careful, assertive, drawing him out of his boxers, and the Doctor looks up and then touches his mouth gently, gently to the head of Rory's cock, tongue flicking out to catch a drop of precum, and it is at that moment that Rory realizes that they're actually doing this. His hips rock forward and he feels one blessed lovely moment of heat and wet and the Doctor's lips on him, and then the Doctor pulls away and says, "Cock!"

Rory's eyes snap open. "What?" he asks, hoarsely.

"Breasts and also cock!" the Doctor says. "I was a little worried I'd only like tentacles this time around, which is fine, tentacles are lovely, but I spend so much time around humans and it would be kind of inconvenient. It's a shame neither of you have tentacles, we could test it all out at once." His hand is still sliding up and down Rory's, well, cock, and Rory is trying to keep his eyes from fluttering shut.

"Sorry," Amy says. "No tentacles at the moment. Go back to what you were doing, Doctor, Rory would appreciate it," and Rory feels weirdly grateful to her when the Doctor's mouth envelops the head of his cock, when his wet tongue slides down the underside. He puts a hand on the Doctor's head - gently this time - and opens his eyes, surprised, when he feels Amy's fingers on his.

She has moved to sit behind the Doctor, legs wrapped around his narrow back, and she looks up at Rory and winks, brushes the Doctor's hair off his neck and kisses the skin of his nape, starts to tug at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. Rory closes his eyes again, feels the Doctor's mouth slow, and then the Doctor's tongue wends up the sensitive skin of his shaft and he cries out some string of vowels and tightens his hand again. The Doctor's hands go to his hips, pulling them forward, and he slides gratefully into the wet and heat of the Doctor's mouth, and then thinks the words "Interdimensional space blowjob," and has to try hard not to laugh.

The Doctor is panting against him, tongue growing sloppy, and when Rory looks down he sees that Amy has gotten the Doctor's trousers open, has her hand wrapped around a disappointingly human-looking erection - what, was Rory the only one secretly hoping for scales or glittery bits or something? - and is working her hand up and down in time with the Doctor's shuddering breaths. The Doctor pulls his mouth off Rory's erection and presses his forehead into Rory's hips, breathing hard, and then says "Wait-"

Amy's hand stops. "Yes?" she says.

"I want - not just -" the Doctor says, and then he catches his breath and looks up at Rory - "I want - but humans - weird symbolic weight - and you've only got the one primitive contraceptive -" His face is a little helpless and Rory says, "Tell me."

"You know, the thing. With the tabs and the slots and the - thing." The Doctor gestures.
Rory looks at Amy, and back at him. "... Intercourse?" he hazards a guess.
Amy looks up, and raises an eyebrow.
"Intercourse!" the Doctor says. "We should try -" he moans and presses up into Amy's hand "-intercourse."
"With me or with Amy?" Rory says, calmly, though he's not sure how he feels about either of those options.
The Doctor chooses that moment to gasp instead of answering, and Amy twists her hand delicately and says in the Doctor's ear "- with Rory, or with me?"
"I can't -" the Doctor says, leaning his head back against her shoulder. "Humans. Weird symbolic weight. You decide. Both of you."

Amy's hand stills. She looks at Rory. Rory looks at Amy. Amy picks up the Doctor's hand with her own and presses it against his own erection. "Keep busy there for a second," she says, and then she looks at Rory and says "We should talk."

They are lying down facing each other on the bed, heads pressed close. Naked on a wide bed talking - the familiar landscape Rory knows, the Doctor and his complications shut out for a moment by the wall of Amy's knees. Rory's hand traces up her hip, up her ribs; the back of his fingers brush Amy's cheek. She is biting her lip.

"Or none of the above," Rory murmurs, reasonably, and Amy wrinkles her nose at him, gasps when his palm brushes across one peaked nipple.
"You could have bummsex." says Amy, her hand on his hip slipping to cup said bum firmly, "I don't mind."
"I've really never -" Rory says, "I'm not actually that sure how -" It's not really something they've done, per se. In general it falls to Amy to suggest the adventures, and that one hasn't come up.
"I've been on the internet," Amy volunteers, "It didn't look that complicated."
Rory snorts. And then he says, "You could. Have sex. I don't mind."
Her eyes darken, and he wonders if he's just made a liar of himself.
"Do you mean that?" she says.
"Are you going to marry me in the morning?" Rory asks, low.
She kisses him fiercely, and says "I would have married you yesterday."

"Are we having intercourse, then?" says the Doctor, who has been laying at the other end pretending not to listen to them. His pants are around his knees and his shirt is only unbuttoned halfway up; he still has a bowtie on. His hand is lazy on his own erection, looking at them.

"Yeah," Rory says, and Amy says "Two votes for me, apparently."
"Amy!" says the Doctor. He looks down at his hand on his cock and back at them. "I apparently have absolutely no idea how to do this." he says.
"We've got it under control," Amy says, looking at Rory, all mischief, and then she clambers down the bed and puts her knees on either side of the Doctor's

head. "See?" she says, her fingers spreading herself in front of his face, "It all looks pretty straightforward, doesn't it?" And then she laughs and shudders when the Doctor leans up and touches her with his tongue. "Rory can tell you the medical facts - oh -" She lets out a breathy little noise and her hips jerk forward, and then she opens her eyes again and looks expectantly at Rory.

"Uhm." Rory says, and sits up. "That's -" and Amy lets out a little shriek and falls forward, catching herself on her hand, the muscles of her thighs clenching, and Rory says, "Well, that was probably the clitoris -" and then stops when Amy looks up at him, flushed and dark-eyed, and shaking, because he was not expecting to find this quite so hot. "Amy," he says low, and he leans forward and kisses her, pushing his hand into the rich red fall of her hair, while the Doctor makes happy humming noises from his place pressed between her thighs.

She gasps into Rory's mouth, presses her cheek against his, moans low and amazing as she rocks against the Doctor's mouth. Rory kneels above the Doctor's head, hands on her arms, on her back, on her breasts, licking into her mouth, and then pulling away again to look at her. It is - he thinks - he wants -

"Left a bit," Amy says, nudging the Doctor's head, "no, left, okay, there -" and Rory laughs and then swallows his laugh so that he can kiss her when she comes unexpected and hard with her thighs around the Doctor's head.

She is still gasping a little, leaning limp into Rory's hands on her shoulders, when the Doctor wriggles his head free of Amy's thighs and says, brightly, "That was fun. Wasn't that fun?"

"Yeah," Amy says, voice rough, "That was pretty good." She lifts herself up, wriggles down the Doctor's torso, and undoes his bowtie with slightly trembling hands.

"Rory," she says, "Come here," and Rory understands her and bends and kisses the Doctor, slips his tongue into the Doctor's mouth and tastes Amy there, and at that Rory is achingly hard again.

"You," Amy says to the Doctor, "still have your shirt on." She bends to the buttons, bites at his jaw, licks a flat nipple while Rory kisses him. She looks up at Rory, who has a leg wrapped around the Doctor's, who is rocking his hips a little against the Doctor's thigh as they kiss. "Rory," she says, "Condom?"

He lifts his head, nods, gets it for her.

"Okay," she says, taking it. "No space babies today. They'd all have three arms and five noses, wouldn't they."
"I." the Doctor says. "They would not!"
She looks at him from under her hair and he waves a hand and says "I'm just saying that that's not how my genetics work at all."
"Well," she says brightly, tearing the packet open, "Not finding out today, please."
"Yes, I mean yes, commence your health ritual, I understand its important historical contributions to your species -" and then she takes his erection in her hand and he falls silent.
"Rory?" she says again, looking up. "You don't have such sharp fingernails." She spreads her hand, demonstrating.
"... Yeah." he says, and comes and sits behind her, and rolls the condom over the Doctor's erection with a careful hand.

She looks back at him over her shoulder. "Okay?" she says, and smiles at him.
He looks between them - looks at the Doctor, who is watching them carefully - and says, "Okay."

"Okay, Doctor?" Amy says, leaning down and brushing her nose against his, and Rory braces for the Doctor's inevitable joke, but the Doctor takes Amy's left hand in his own and reaches for Rory's other hand with his right, and says. "Alright," and smiles.


Amy Pond slides down wet around the Doctor's cock. It has to be said. She is aware of the bones of his hips shifting up impatient under her weight; she is aware of Rory's kind hands - the hands she's been in love with for all these years - sliding possessive over her body, cupping her breasts, scratching along her back. She watches the Doctor's face, careful, as she raises herself up; she watches his face, eager, as she sinks back down, feeling peculiar and
delicious, dangerous and happy. His face is intent, watching her; his brow is furrowed a little, like he's tasting unfamiliar food, or trying to make out a new language. Rory's hands on her back are confident, familiar; the Doctor's body under her is new and strange, and she puts her hands on his shoulders and moves faster against him, spurred on by that lovely friction, that wonderful fullness, the ache and slide of their bodies.

His eyes close for a moment, and then open. "Amy Pond," he breathes, and his hands meet Rory's on her hips as his body arcs up under her, and a smile breaks across his face. "Rory -" the Doctor breathes, and then "Amy -"

He rocks up into her, hands firm on her hips, and she can't help moaning aloud, and that's when Rory says "Dear god -" and slides a hand down to stroke her clitoris as she pushes herself against the Doctor again and again and again. She comes white-hot and clenching, her fingernails making little half-moons against the Doctor's pale shoulders, and then the Doctor says, "Oh, well -" and his face goes tense and slack as he has,apparently, his first orgasm since he was someone else entirely.

"... Well." says Amy, when she has disengaged enough to curl over sideways, her face pressed into the Doctor's ribs, her knees drawn up, Rory sitting up beside her.

"Well?" the Doctor says, craning his neck to look down at her.

"Now I'm sleepy." she says, closing her eyes.

"Oh god," Rory says, "Don't go to sleep, you guys can't go to sleep, I've had a throbbing erection for nearly an hour now, would someone please -"

Amy smiles, but doesn't open her eyes for a second, and she feels the Doctor sit up, hears the wet noise of kissing, feels weight shift on the bed. She rolls over, langorous, and when she opens her eyes the Doctor has pressed Rory down on the bed, is licking a line up the base of Rory's cock, is nuzzling companionably against Rory's thighs.

"Aren't you a pretty picture," she murmurs, and they both smile at her, and she feels a sudden crashing tenderness in her chest and thinks, my boys. She reaches out and threads her fingers through Rory's, listens to his breath catch as the Doctor takes him into his mouth. The Doctor has his hands firm on Rory's hipbones; Amy can see the tumbling thatch of his hair, the corner of his lips, the tender movements of his mouth on Rory's cock. She moves closer, kisses Rory's neck, meets his eyes and feels in his catching breath how close he is to coming. She buries her face in his neck and murmurs "Yes," and Rory comes so hard his hips lift off the bed.

"Well," says the Doctor, some moments later, wiping his mouth on a corner of the bedsheet. "That was - a general learning experience." He sits up, and looks at them for a moment, laying together on the wide white bed. He looks towards the door, and then back at them. "Thank you," he says, low. He puts his hand on Rory's thigh, polite, and then removes it.

"Lay down," Amy says to him, and Rory says "Bet you've never spooned with a space alien either."
"I have too," the Doctor says, "Twice for body heat and once for reasons of photosynthesis -" and Rory smiles, still dark-eyed and rumpled, and pulls him down, and puts an arm over his shoulder. Amy is curled up against Rory's back, and she reaches across and ruffles his hair. "Sleep," Amy says. "I'm tired."
"I'm not -" the Doctor yawns. "Well. I mean, you are getting married tomorrow."
Amy smiles against Rory's back, presses her cheek against his shoulder, and Rory takes her hand. "Yeah," Rory says, raising her palm to his lips and kissing it. "Tomorrow. Eventually."
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