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His first kiss with Amy Pond isn’t perfect.

It was supposed to be as he always imagined it. They would go out on a date, something small but meaningful, a movie, perhaps, maybe even have a bit of a meal together after, and then he would walk her to her door and kiss her softly the way she was meant to be kissed. Then she would sigh and say, “Oh Rory.”

He had it all in his mind. He had it all planned.

Instead it was a messy debacle.

He had been avoiding her for weeks since she had found out that he was, in fact, not gay. He was so very not gay. So extremely not gay that he was embarrassed about the mixed signals of it all.

So he didn’t answer her calls, texts or any other form of communication, which included a random note left here and there, even a call to his mother. He went so far as to ignore Mels when she punched him on his arm and told him to not be stupid.

He avoided Amy when he could, choosing to rummage through his knapsack whenever he heard her voice or duck into an empty classroom whenever she popped in down the hall. If someone was concentrating on his mental anguish in par with his odd behaviour, it was only natural not to hold him responsible for seeing their Guidance Councillor steal a kip or two when she thought no one was looking. That was no reason to subtly threaten him, honestly.

He avoided her perfectly because he was brilliant at being silent and ignored. If he had been a superhero, no doubt that that would be his superpower. Stealthy and quiet, but without the brawn or brains to make his superpowers seem impressive. But he was embarrassed and he didn’t want to see that look in her eye again.

The thing about Amy is that she is persistent. He thinks that he can get away with never running into her for the rest of his life. Oh, how he needs to limit his expectations in life.

It takes him dropping his guard—only once—as he walks home from school, his mind busy thinking of ways to avoid the napping teacher who seems to have it out for him when she steps in front of him with her arms crossed and her eyes filled with fury. He responds with an intelligent, “Um…”

“Avoiding me, are ya?”

“Wha? No! No, of course not.”

“You haven’t spoken to me in weeks, Rory.”

He looks away from her, trying to think of anything besides the short skirt she’s wearing and the long legs that shouldn’t be that long in the first place and… His mind slams shut. He loses his train of thought again. “Um…”

She raises a mocking eyebrow at him. “Cat got your tongue?”

When his mind still keeps concentrating on those legs and not on more important matters like holding a conversation, he sees her shoulders slacken as she eyes him warily.

“Is this about… what happened?”

His mind slams shut again, only now with pure unwanted panic. He opens his mouth to say something—anything—but she shakes her head instead.

“You’re an idiot.”

He’s still staring at her with his heart beating a medley in his chest and he hardly notices when she steps forward and kisses him squarely on the mouth.

His eyes widen and he stops thinking. Again.

Pulling back, she blushes prettily before she smacks his chest and tells him in no uncertain terms that he owes her dinner.

“Right…” He sputters. “Yes… Of course. That… makes sense.”

She smacks him one last time before leaving him standing still, so very still as his lips tingle brilliantly.


His first date with Amy Pond is a disaster.

It rains heavily, soaking him through and causing a chill to travel up his spine, the one decent restaurant loses his reservation and they end up sitting at the table nearest to the loo. Then, of course, he forgets to pay for dessert, her shoe breaks, he leaves the car keys he had borrowed from his Mum back at the restaurant and when they finally end up in the car the heater doesn’t work.

He feels like cursing, colourfully and under his breath. But he doesn’t, because that would be unseemly. Instead he sighs, unhappily with a groan at the end, almost as if he can’t imagine how the night can get any worse.

Of course it does get worse, because fate is cruel to him. The car refuses to start.

He feels his ears burn as a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Suppose this is a sign, then?”

Amy is quiet for a moment before she bursts out laughing, her giggle, although musical, causing him to feel very small. “Yes,” she says breathlessly. “It’s definitely a sign.”

He takes it as a sign that they shouldn’t be together, that they will always have obstacles and that is it better to quit and count their losses by separating as mates rather than seeing where this could go. Amy takes it as a sign to snog him senseless.

He is barely off the phone asking for assistance when her fingers grab his jumper and pulls him across from his seat to hers. He’s surprised, but her mouth is warm against his and tastes brilliantly like sweet chocolate. She opens her mouth under his and he lets out a small, embarrassingly soft moan when her tongue meets his.

It is simply a clash of tongues and teeth and lips after that. His fingers dig into her hips and her hands tangle in his hair. She’s breathless against his skin as he bumps his nose against her ear and attacks her throat with warm, open-mouthed kisses. They shift, they kiss, and then they shift again. It’s so unbelievably uncomfortable and brilliant. Just as he has enough courage to slip his hand under her shirt and touch the bare skin of her back, a knock on the glass startles them as they are notified that help has arrived.

Things happen after that that Rory barely notices. All he thinks about for that night and all the nights to follow is: I snogged Amy Pond and she liked it.

A bit hard not to be smug about that.


The first time they spend the night together it’s problematic.

Her aunt leaves Amy home alone as she always does and he decides to keep her company along with Mel. Five minutes after he arrives Amy gets a mysterious text that Mel won’t be able to make it. He considers how insincere she sounds when she pounces at him.

He kisses her—of course he kisses her. His fingers tangle in her hair and he sighs happily because out of all the blokes around, she chose him. It’s a perfect date, he thinks, before he feels her fingers at the button of his jeans. He yelps and jumps away from her. There’s nothing more of a mood killer than that.

“Don’t you fancy me?” she asks him, eyes tearing and bottom lip quivering.

He panics because he just might be the daftest bloke around. “N—no. Of course not. I fancy the pants off you.”

Her tears stop suddenly and she pounces on him again, pinning him to the sofa before straddling his thighs. “Then take my pants off, idiot.”

He’s not one to complain about that.

It’s not as elegant as he hoped it would be. He punches her by mistake and she kicks him where he is most vulnerable. His fingers fumble with her bra and she ends up stripping and tossing her clothes so that he doesn’t have to even try. It’s slow and funny and they giggle through most of it with breathy kisses and deep moans. Then the moment comes where he can hardly believe his luck. He moves, she arches, and he finishes too quickly. He becomes red with the knowledge that Amy doesn’t finish, even though she doesn’t seem to mind. She says something akin to ‘next time’ and he hears nothing but white noise after.

Later, when they cuddle, her head on his shoulder and his heart thudding maddeningly, he says the words.

He has always known that saying the words would be easy, which is why it was important beyond measure that he never says them. She’s not the type to think it let alone say it. He always knew that he would feel for her more than she feels for him. He has made his peace with that. Things are better this way.

But then she cuddles closer and she mumbles, “You too,” under her breath, her words dripping with sleep. It’s not the three words as he says them, but it means more to him than she will ever know. He kisses the top of her head and smiles goofily against her hair.

He wonders how he became so lucky.


The first time he proposes to her it is such a misfortune in tragedy that he contemplates suicide.

He plans it all. The dinner, the dancing, the rented tux and even the bow he would impart on her to show that this date, unlike all others, is very special. She brings Mels along as a surprise.

The two girls laugh and giggle while he stays silent, quickly texting under the table to the four piece string quartet and the flower guy to cancel his orders. He nearly groans when they inform him that he won’t get his down payment back. He watches her smile and hates himself more for not being able to tell her, “No, Amy, just me and you tonight.” He wants to see her happy, so he says yes whenever he doesn’t mean it.

After Mels is dropped off and they park in front of her house, the car is silent before she rounds on him.

“What’s with you? You’ve been quiet the whole night.”

“Nothing.” He shrugs as his hands tighten around the wheel. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” she says, clearly not believing him. “Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You are mad. I know when you’re mad. And this…” She gestures to his stiff posture and his hardened jaw. “Is mad.”

He snaps. “You don’t know everything, okay, Amy? You don’t get to just change plans whenever you want.”

She leans back in surprise. “Okay…” she says slowly. “It’s only Mels. What? You don’t like her now?”

He lets go of the wheel to run his hands though his hair in frustration. “Of course I like Mels. This isn’t about her!”

“Then, what is it about?” she asks him, clearly annoyed.

He shakes his head, muttering to himself. “I should have known. Plans never work with us. Here I am being… an idiot…” He chuckles darkly. “I should have told you. I should have just said, ‘Hey, Amy, fancy getting married?’ But, no, I had to get flowers and a band and an—“

“What?” Her voice is whisper soft as the word falls at the end of a gasp.

His eyes widen as he looks up at her. “I… I didn’t mean to say that. I meant… I….”

She looks panicked for a moment before she turns away from him. Rory contemplates banging his head against a very hard surface because that would be less painful than the rejection he knows he will get.

She doesn’t reject him, though. She clears her throat, flips her hair over her shoulder and says, “Ask me.”

His voice is hoarse as he forgets to breathe. “What?”

“Go on. Ask me.”

“I…” He eyes her suspiciously. “Are you joshing me?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “No, I’m not joshing you. Ask me.”

He thinks that she’s gone mental. “Hey, Amy,” he begins flippantly, knowing that she is going to laugh in his face, “fancy getting married?” He looks away from her quickly, wishing hard that she will just get out of his car so he can drive home in peaceful misery.

“Yes, idiot, of course I’ll marry you.”

His head snaps up and she grins widely. He doesn’t think, simply tackling her with his hands and lips and body, loving the way she giggles and calls him stupid. It’s quite a while before he manages to give her the ring. It’s too big and he insists that she hang it around his neck.

Amy doesn’t complain amongst his kisses.


The last time he loses her he thinks its best.

It takes less time than a blink for him to be standing, not at a grave, but on the streets of Manhattan on April 3rd 1938.

He blinks once, twice, before realisation sets in and his heart sinks. After everything he had done, it still wasn’t enough. There is one consolation. While he is here, forced to live his life slowly away from everyone he loves, at least Amy can keep travelling. That has always been her first love, and he is happy knowing that she has the Doctor to keep her in as much trouble as possible.

His throat burns as he wonders if she will miss him.

Shaking his head, he thinks about the letters he must write, the ones that must be delivered decades from now so he can explain to his father why he will never visit him again, and even a letter to his employer giving his notice. A letter to Amy just to say… just to tell her… how much he…

He thinks he looks daft crying in the middle of the street but he just can’t bring himself to care.


His heart plummets just as it soars, and then she is in his arms, holding on tightly as her fingers tighten around him pulling him too close to her. He breathes her in asking the questions that his mind won’t stops asking. “Amy… What? How?”

She kisses his jaw, his cheek, his chin, and his lips, lingering long by simply keeping him still. “I thought I lost you,” she whispers, hugging him tighter and burring her face against his neck. “Never do that again!”

“Never!” he promises, pulling her even closer. “What about you? What about the Doctor?”

“He’s fine,” she says. “He’s got River.” She kisses the base of his neck quickly. “I’m fine. I’ve got you.”

His hands tighten around her as they stand still in the middle of the street, breathing against each other as if this is the last lifeline they will ever have. He knows the sacrifice she made for him and he thinks that he can’t love her any more than he loves her now.

Her fingers curl around his neck, her breath warming his jaw as she whispers, “I love you, Rory. Don’t ever leave me again.”

His eyes prickle as he pulls back to look into her eyes. She must know that this is the first time she has ever said those words. She must know that.

“Say that again.” His voice breaks and he just doesn’t care.

Her smile is soft as she brushes her fingers around the wrinkles on his forehead. “I love you, you idiot,” she says again.

He was wrong, he decides, as he pulls her closer just to tangle his hands in her hair and kiss her breathlessly. He could love her more.