Amy Pond threw her magazine down on the coffee table and slumped back on the couch, scowling. Her cross-armed posture made Rory somewhat hesitant to even ask, but some mysterious force -- whether curiosity or fear -- compelled him to do his husbandly duty.
She gestured emphatically at the offending magazine. "Have you read the article about the new series of Galactic Adventures?"
He started to answer.
She kept right on talking. "They're getting rid of all the good characters! The idiots think it's 'time for a change' or something. It's rubbish. They just had a change!"
"Rubbish," he agreed. Any opinion he held regarding the show paled beside his secret enjoyment of his wife's vehemence. Those blazing eyes gave him the shivers, and in a very good way.
"I'll tell you one thing," she continued, foot tapping the air menacingly. "If there's a 'heartbreaking conclusion' I will personally break someone's face. Just let them be happy. People can stop having insane space adventures without tragically dying. I mean, look at us! Perfectly happy. Safe as houses."
"Safe as houses." His eyes followed the slide of her skirt as she crossed and recrossed her legs.
"Hey Stupidface, up here." She pointed at her own face. "Did you even hear a word I just said?"
"Done adventuring, perfectly happy."
"Well not completely for all time done," she said. "The Doctor could turn up any day, and we wouldn't turn down one more spin around the universe. Would we?"
"Of course not."
"Besides," she said. "We've had plenty of adventures without the Doctor. Just last week we saved London Zoo from carnivorous space ponies, yeah? Bet those stuffy executives at the BBC have never done anything even half as interesting."
"Probably because they don't have daughters like River," Rory said.
"Fair point." Amy turned away to rummage around in a drawer. "Who needs television, anyway. We can make our own fun."
Rory agreed emphatically, and shuffled closer. Only to find himself on the receiving end of blast of liquid from a water pistol. "What the -- "
"It's for carol singers," she explained. "I bought it yesterday."
He wiped his face. "Um, good thinking?"
"That's right, Buster. Now prepare to do my bidding."
Rory fought (unsuccessfully, of course) to hide a grin, and held his hands up in feigned terror. "Your wish is my command."
"You betcha it is." She herded him from the room with a wave of the toy pistol.
He marched eagerly to his doom, and they lived happily ever after, but not without a few adventures along the way. And if that was a bit fairy tale, well, that was perfectly fine by him. He liked happy endings.
This transformative work constitutes a fair use of any copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. Doctor Who™© and related properties are Registered Trademarks of BBC Wales. No copyright infringement intended. No profits made here. © Spiletta42, January 2012.