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seren_ccdTitle: Just for a Mad Moment
Fandom: Doctor Who
Ship: Eleven, Amy, the TARDIS
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
seren_ccd
Word Count: 491
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They are not mine. 'Tis a pity, really.
Summary: Just after they take off, the Doctor asks Amy a question that's been bothering him.
A/N: This kind of wrote itself. Do let me know if I'm getting the voices close to right.
"May I ask you a question?"
Amy looked up from examining the typewriter actually fitted into the console. "You can certainly ask."
The Doctor gave a quick flash of a grin and then asked, "Why a kiss-o-gram?"
"Why not?" Amy said as she tapped the 'k' key and the TARDIS hummed at her.
"Well, it's a rather unique occupation, isn't it?" he said. "Not very nine to five."
"I was never very good with nine to five," Amy said tapping the 'x' and 'o' keys and smiling as the TARDIS gave her a tickling hum that felt like laughter.
"Me neither," the Doctor said spinning a dial and flipping a switch. "Did you know that the planet Yerxi doesn't even have the numbers nine and five? Says it insults their deity. So, people work from thirteen to seven."
Amy looked at him, with his hair all in his eyes again and his bowtie slightly off center and shook her head. She trailed her fingers along the console and felt the energy contained in this remarkable machine.
"So, really, why a kiss-o-gram?" the Doctor asked again.
Amy frowned. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Nope," he said his eyes wide and his grin just a little wild. "I'm tenacious that way. So. Kiss-o-gram. Why?"
She stared up into the glass bubbles in the center column and said, "Because... It was something I could control. I could dress up in a ridiculous frock and go up to a complete stranger and share a moment with them and then disappear. But that person would always remember that time the nurse or the nun or the French maid or the Queen of England came up to them out of nowhere and gave them a kiss just because. All on account of 'because'. No strings, no names, just a mad moment that came and went. And left them wondering."
Amy stopped talking and looked down at her hands pressing against the console and felt very vulnerable in her white trainers and nightgown. She dared a look at the Doctor.
He was searching her face and seemed to find what he was looking for, because he nodded. Then he frowned. "I still can't believe you hit me with a cricket bat."
She grinned and said, "Twelve years."
He scrunched up his face and said, "Yeah, but a cricket bat? I suppose I should be grateful you're not into skeet shooting."
"How do you know I'm not?" she asked with a quirk of her lips and a flip of her hair.
The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh, Amy Pond. This is going to be amazing! Wait! Actually. Do you want to see something?"
He ran over to the doors and threw them open. Amy's jaw dropped as space filled the open doors. Space. She took a step forward and then hesitated.
"Well, come on, then!" he said beckoning her closer with a jerk of his head. "You're going to love this!"
Amy took another step.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Ship: Eleven, Amy, the TARDIS
Author:
seren_ccdWord Count: 491
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: They are not mine. 'Tis a pity, really.
Summary: Just after they take off, the Doctor asks Amy a question that's been bothering him.
A/N: This kind of wrote itself. Do let me know if I'm getting the voices close to right.
"May I ask you a question?"
Amy looked up from examining the typewriter actually fitted into the console. "You can certainly ask."
The Doctor gave a quick flash of a grin and then asked, "Why a kiss-o-gram?"
"Why not?" Amy said as she tapped the 'k' key and the TARDIS hummed at her.
"Well, it's a rather unique occupation, isn't it?" he said. "Not very nine to five."
"I was never very good with nine to five," Amy said tapping the 'x' and 'o' keys and smiling as the TARDIS gave her a tickling hum that felt like laughter.
"Me neither," the Doctor said spinning a dial and flipping a switch. "Did you know that the planet Yerxi doesn't even have the numbers nine and five? Says it insults their deity. So, people work from thirteen to seven."
Amy looked at him, with his hair all in his eyes again and his bowtie slightly off center and shook her head. She trailed her fingers along the console and felt the energy contained in this remarkable machine.
"So, really, why a kiss-o-gram?" the Doctor asked again.
Amy frowned. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Nope," he said his eyes wide and his grin just a little wild. "I'm tenacious that way. So. Kiss-o-gram. Why?"
She stared up into the glass bubbles in the center column and said, "Because... It was something I could control. I could dress up in a ridiculous frock and go up to a complete stranger and share a moment with them and then disappear. But that person would always remember that time the nurse or the nun or the French maid or the Queen of England came up to them out of nowhere and gave them a kiss just because. All on account of 'because'. No strings, no names, just a mad moment that came and went. And left them wondering."
Amy stopped talking and looked down at her hands pressing against the console and felt very vulnerable in her white trainers and nightgown. She dared a look at the Doctor.
He was searching her face and seemed to find what he was looking for, because he nodded. Then he frowned. "I still can't believe you hit me with a cricket bat."
She grinned and said, "Twelve years."
He scrunched up his face and said, "Yeah, but a cricket bat? I suppose I should be grateful you're not into skeet shooting."
"How do you know I'm not?" she asked with a quirk of her lips and a flip of her hair.
The Doctor's eyes widened. "Oh, Amy Pond. This is going to be amazing! Wait! Actually. Do you want to see something?"
He ran over to the doors and threw them open. Amy's jaw dropped as space filled the open doors. Space. She took a step forward and then hesitated.
"Well, come on, then!" he said beckoning her closer with a jerk of his head. "You're going to love this!"
Amy took another step.
