Yowzah Oneshot Collection (2)

130(G)

Amy frowned at him. “Are you asking about our marriage?”

“What, am I not allowed?”

“But you don’t do that.” Amy waved her hands absently as she talked. “You don’t do stuff like ask about our families or about work or all that domestic stuff. You’re rubbish at it.” She tapped a finger on her knee and looked up at him. “Unless you’re afraid that we’re going to separate again, which will rock your world.”

“I am not,” the Doctor said firmly. After all, Amelia Pond and Rory Williams were meant to be together. That was a fact.

Amy laughed. “You’re like a kid upset his parents are about to divorce. We’re fine, Doctor, we really are. There’s just some things we have to work through regarding everything, and it takes time to do that. I’m not sure you get that though.”

The Doctor scowled. “Why wouldn’t I get it?”

"Doctor, I know you. If you have a problem with someone, anyone, you just drop them off and come back at some later point in time. Real marriages have to live with the issues day after day until you work through them. They don’t just magically go away after a snog and a skip in time.” Amy slipped out of the chair and paced a few feet away before turning back to him. “Even you and River have problems. You just don’t acknowledge them.”

Before the Doctor could think of a response, Rory stumbled back into the console room covered in Jellostone Java paint and lugging three cans of a neon pink paint that had been outlawed on 16 planets.

He wouldn’t think about it again for a lifetime.

-----

The Doctor poked his head through a long rack of multicolored scarves. Really garish and such a tripping hazard. He wondered why he kept them around. He grunted and shoved them aside as he kept hunting down the particular device he sought. He was quickly learning that despite their willingness to spend at least the next 24 years together – after all, he hadn’t told River how long a year on Darillium lasted – his wife had a number of side jobs and quests she engaged in and didn't plan to give up. Greedy for more time with her, he encouraged her off-planet excursions in time and space.

This particular mission she needed to finish for Milova 3 would be rather easy considering he had nicked the object she sought in his fourth incarnation and tossed it in the wardrobe. Apparently, it had been eaten by all the scarves.

“Oh, I haven’t seen this in ages!”

The Doctor pushed a scarf out of his eyes in time to see River holding a nun’s habit, coif, and veil. A corner of her mouth had lifted in a wry smirk, and with deft movements, she pulled the habit over her head. Her curls bounced every which way as she tugged the long robe over her curves, then reached for the coif. A few moments and a couple of hairpins later, she had everything in place. And there before him, for the first time in at least five reincarnations, stood his wife disguised in a nun’s habit.

“From the way you’re looking at me,” River said cheerfully, “you’re remembering our encounters while looking for the Doomsday Chronometer. How long have you known?”

“For a while,” the Doctor admitted and scowled. It wasn’t so much the memory of that adventure coming to mind, but the chat he had had with Amy when it resurfaced. The rush of memories, Amy’s teasing, the chat they’d had while squished together on the captain’s chair. He deeply missed the casual camaraderie he’d had with his Pond.

But that last thing she’d said echoed in his mind, like a record needle stuck in a groove. 

“Even you and River have problems. You just don’t acknowledge them.”