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Captive

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Rory popped into conscious thought. The sleep evaporated, leaving him alert. A weight pinned him down, its breath rattling in his ear. Captured again? he thought, sudden fear gripping him. He forced himself still and silent. Where am I? What’s got me this time? Grimacing, he opened his eyes. The soft, warm light of the floor lamp above the sofa glinted off the copper hair nestled into his shoulder. A pale arm clutching a forgotten novel curled possessively around his torso. There were no monsters, no Doctor - just his Amy. Rory’s eyes drooped shut. All was right with the universe.