John Watson does not resemble a hedgehog. (what_son) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-06-02 00:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, amy pond, john watson |
Who: John Watson and Amy Pond
When: Last weekend in May
Where: John’s place
What: Amy needs a distraction
Rating/Warnings: Low/None
Status: Complete
Amy wasn’t really sure where to go. She showed up at the first place she could think of. Of course, there was always the chance that she’d run into one of John’s roommates... the tall, dark and snarky one, or the nerdy (though very handsome) one... but she had to take that chance. The marriage was too quick, before they’d grown to know one another, and after a whole day of arguing, crying, pleading and yelling, she knew it was over. After what felt like hours, they reached a general agreement that this wasn’t working. It was the end. She couldn’t stay there anymore.
She knocked on John’s door, then wrapped her arms around herself and stared off into the distance, eyes puffy from crying and hair a bit of a mess.
Luckily for everyone involved, John seemed to be the only person who answered the door at his flat. Most of the time his roommates couldn’t be bothered, or just weren’t home. Or maybe both, who really knew?
No matter which though, John Watson was in the habit of yelling out when he went to get the door. “I’ve got it--oh! Amy!” He hadn’t really been expecting her -- it wasn’t as if she didn’t usually show up unannounced, but they’d been texting a lot lately, so -- well. “Are you okay? Amy? Are you crying?” Suddenly, he was very worried, and thought nothing of the shock of her surprise visit. He ushered her in immediately.
“Hullo, John,” Amy said as she let herself be ushered inside. She was still feeling incredibly empty--blank or numb. She hadn’t known where else to go. Honestly, getting behind the wheel of her car was probably the last thing in the world she should have done after that ordeal. She was still trying to figure out how she and her husband were going to dissolve the marriage.
“I didn’t know where else to go.” She said, giving a little sniff and lifting her hand to wipe at her face with her sleeve. “...I couldn’t stay home, I...” She felt like she didn’t have a home anymore.
Oh, no. With the flat empty besides the two of them, John sat Amy down at the kitchen table, and then made his way systematically over to the cupboard to get a cup of tea started for her. Tea didn’t cure everything, but it always helped.
Watson had a feeling he knew what this conversation was going to be about, but wasn’t going to push it out of her. Where’s your husband? Why aren’t you with --
“What happened?” He handed her a tissue even as he waited for the water to boil.
It felt like this was the first time she’d seen the kitchen table without a chemistry set taking up the majority of the space. Amy was registering how strange that must be--to live constantly with science equipment covering every surface in the house when John handed her the tissue.
“It’s over.” She said. Emotion bubbled up within her and she swallowed hard to keep from crying again. She felt like a failure, like her entire marriage was a lie or a mistake, or that this was all her fault. Perhaps she should have tried harder, or done things differently. “My husband and me. We’re over.”
It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise to John. Amy hadn’t been happy in her relationship for months now, and had been spending a good deal of time away from home, avoiding, back-pedaling. Apparently, the only people who didn’t see how miserable Amy was and how much the marriage didn’t work were Amy and her soon-to-be ex-husband.
John’s expression spoke volumes of apologies and sympathy. “Oh, Amy,” he said, mildly. “I’m so sorry.” And he was, honestly. His own feelings were trivial in this regard -- never would Watson have hoped pain or sadness upon Amy Pond. He’d let her talk it out as needed.
Amy nodded. Truth was, they'd been growing apart for a long time now. But that didn't make it hurt any less. "We're trying a separation, but... It's just over." The trial separation was mostly for him. He didn't seem ready to give up, even though he had agreed they went into this marriage too fast, they hadn't thought it through. They didn’t know each other at all, so it seemed, and it was taking its toll. They hadn’t had a meaningful conversation in weeks.
"I feel like a failure," she admitted, then started crying again.
Crying didn’t suit Amy Pond -- it was the sort of thing that made John’s stomach go all funny and worried, and his expression echoed that, he was sure. The kettle whistled into a boil and he reluctantly moved away from her in order to fix her a cuppa. “You aren’t a failure,” he murmured out even as he steeped a bag of tea in a mug of hot water for her. “This wasn’t the sort of thing you could have possibly foreseen. Either of you.”
Amy was desperately trying to keep it together. The last thing in the world that she wanted to do was fall apart at John’s house. But she didn’t have anywhere else to go--well, she could have gone to a number of other places, actually. But this is where she wanted to be. She knew her friend wouldn’t judge her, he wouldn’t press for more information, he’d simply comfort her.
“I think we should have waited longer to get married. We barely knew each other, it was so impulsive. Or, I think we should have worked harder at it. Given ourselves more time to learn one another’s habits before we started playing house.” She said, managing to find her voice again. The tissue was soaked and falling apart now.
“Hindsight is for people much older than you, Amy.” He was trying to be funny, but rather doubted it would help. He dragged the rubbish bin over from the corner of the room so she could throw away her tissues as she needed, and then delivered her the mug of tea, pressing it between her fingers comfortingly.
Amy snorted. "People like you, old man?" She asked, trying to make a joke out of it. That would be a lot easier than feeling so shitty. She tossed the tissue into the trash, then spoke softly as he gave her the tea. "You should have warned me." She felt comforted by his hands pressing the hot cup into hers. "Thank you."
“I’ve never been,” John said, not quite dropping his from around hers and the mug yet. “Or else I might have completely.” It wasn’t really a good joke though, because -- well. It just wasn’t. “You’re welcome.” His smile was small, but reassuring. He was here for her. Of course he was.
The hands around hers were more comforting than the hot cup of tea in them. She gave a hearty sniff and looked up into his face. He was so kind. She wanted to ask Do you have anything stronger than tea? but decided against it. She wanted to feel this pain, not bury it in drunkenness. She felt like she deserved to be miserable, she deserved this guilt and shame. It was a painful mistake, and she thought that if she didn’t feel this pain, she wouldn’t learn the lesson. Or maybe she was just punishing herself. In any case, her eyes travelled back down to the tea in her hands, and his knuckles holding her hands in place. “Do you know a good divorce lawyer?”
John would have just told her that she shouldn’t be punishing herself for it - that no one deserved the pain of some mistakes. But he also would have noted that drinking pain away was a poor way to deal with things like that, and could lead into habits that could only lead to more mistakes. So really, he probably would not have had much good advice at all.
He blinked at that, and then looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe. I’ve got a co-worker who dates a lawyer, I think. I’ve heard only good things. Then again, I expect he’s a bit biased.” He ran his thumbs over the top of her hands in a way he hoped might be comforting.
All of his advice would have been good, actually. It’s a shame they weren’t having that conversation.
Amy nodded, watching his thumbs against her skin. It was very comforting. There was something more than comfort there, something stronger. Amy needed all she could get. “I’ll need … his number. A number.” She said, softly. “I should have some sort of plan.”
“I can give you Wilson’s number -- he’s the doctor. I’m sure he’d be happy to pass on the word to his boyfriend, though.” He gave a pause. “Well. Not happy. You know.” Awkward. “Drink the tea, Amy. It’ll help.”
“I know.” Amy repeated after him. Sorta. Then she pulled her hands out of his finally, and lifted the mug to her lips to sip from it. Tea helped. Tea made her think of warm and soft things. Comforting things. She closed her eyes and sipped again, then lowered her hands once more. “Sherlock’s not going to come wandering around and catch you giving me tea, is he?”
Odd, how he hadn’t even considered that being something that might happen. “Bloody-- er. No. I don’t know. He’s out right now.” There was always a chance, but probably Sherlock would just look and then leave again. He wasn’t much the sort for -- well. Anything. John moved to sit at the seat adjacent hers.
“Or Peter?” Amy asked. Peter seemed like a nice kid. A lot less intimidating than Sherlock was. (Funny she thought of him as a ‘nice kid,’ Peter was actually older than Amy was.) She turned a little in her chair to better face John, lifting the cup to sip from it again. Tea made everything better. “I’d hate to butt into their space.”
“Well...where else are you going to go?” As worried as he was about it, Amy was right. She couldn’t exactly stay here -- it was already a bit cramped, and it would probably just be awkward for her with so many other men around.
“I could call my friend John.” Amy said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She didn’t want to let go of her mug of tea, though, so she used one hand to hold each. “He offered me a spot on his sofa. You know, we went to the party at his flat.”
For a moment there, Watson had really thought she’d gone delusional. But then, yes, he remembered JohnNumberOne and the party with banana lights, and too much booze. He remembered it well, actually, and had to take a second to push thoughts of sitting in a corner arguing playfully about music with Amy from his mind.
“Well, that’s nice of him,” he said, a little lamely. John felt a bit bad for not being able to do more.
“After tonight... well, I figure I’ll just get a hotel for a bit. They have those extended stay ones,” she thought aloud. Hopefully she’d only need a week or two away before she could find a place of her own. Her phone came to rest on the table again and both hands held the warm mug for a moment. Her lock screen picture was a picture of her with her husband. When she saw it she winced.
So did Watson. He felt pretty awful about this whole thing. He couldn’t help but wonder, somewhere in the back of his brain, was this partly his fault?
“Well -- let me just give you Dr. Wilson’s number,” he said, a little lamely, picking her phone up to program it in for her. He might have maybe changed the background screen to a photo of Amy and her stuffed animal Meerkat while he was there.
Timone would be a much less guilt-inducing image to see every time she locked her screen. ... maybe. Part of it may have had to do with John. It was strange that she thought of him first when making plans. Shouldn't that be the spot for a husband and not a best friend?
"Thanks. I owe you one," Amy said, giving him a tired smile. She felt like she'd cried so much today, she was exhausted.
“No you don’t,” John said simply, and couldn’t help but lean over to settle a comforting hand on her knee. “Don’t worry about it, ever. I’m here to help, you know that.” Or at least he hoped she did. He didn’t just hang around for road trips and crisps, after all.
“I know.” Amy lowered her hand to rest on top of his on her knee. It was nice to have him to turn to. Sure, she had some other friends, but John was one of her closest, best friends. After a moment she turned to set her mug aside, then wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.
What could he really do but hug her back? The positioning was awkward, and not the most comfortable, but it hardly mattered at all. Hugs and comfort were just as if not more important than a proper cup of tea in times like these.
Amy was trying her best to swallow back emotion again. It’d surged up within her at the feel of his arms around her. She felt guilt and fear, pain in the ending of something that had made her so excited in the beginning. Her eyes fell closed and she buried her face in John’s chest and started to cry. Sob, really, after a couple of minutes.
Probably best she got it out now, instead of letting it build up, though. He hugged her closer and petted her hair a little. He had no real words of comfort, but murmured a few anyway. That was what friends were for, after all.