John Watson does not resemble a hedgehog. (what_son) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-06-26 23:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, amy pond, john watson |
I don’t want to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing.
Who: Amy Pond and John Watson
When: Continuation on this log
Where: Starting at the movie theater
What: Stumbling home
Rating/Warning: Low/None
Status: Complete
Amy was drunk by the end of the movie. Not like, falling over drunk, but laughing at every joke, feeling a bit sleepy and light-headed, numb lips and fingertips? She was definitely drunk. The cup was nearly empty between them in the arm rest, and Amy had given up sipping it ages ago. She didn’t want to fall down on the way home. Or worse, lose her dinner.
She was leaning over with her head against John’s shoulder, watching the credits roll. It was a fairly full theater, so she was sitting and waiting for people to clear out before even bothering to stand up. The giggles nearly consumed her. She’d been giggling for several minutes now.
Amy Pond clearly had a fast metabolism; the drink had been strong and ridiculously large, and even John was feeling a little. But nothing like she was, that much was obvious -- especially considering the fact that she was giggling over the credit roll. There was nothing funny going on here.
Unfortunately, that made Watson giggle a little, too. "You’ve gone and gotten knackered,” he pointed out, watching people leave the theatre.
“Wasn’t that the point?” Amy asked, finally sitting up again and looking over at him. The giggles were fading a bit now, just as the people were clearing out of the theater. She couldn’t help the fondness that shone through on her features as her eyes lingered on his face. Her smile faded just a bit in seriousness and she reached for his hand again. “A walk in the cool, fresh air will definitely help.”
There was something seriously breath-catching about the way she was looking at him, and John had to remember that breathing was a good idea after a moment -- tearing his eyes away from hers and giving a silly little smile. “Guess so,” he murmured and then stood, offering her a hand. “Good thing, too, since we’ve got to walk anyway.”
Amy accepted his hand, and turned to lead the way out of the theater. It was fun being tipsy, drunk, even, and knowing that not everyone around knew. Like a secret. Drunk in public wasn't something that Amy normally did. She was having a blast, even though she couldn't tell what had happened in the latter half of that movie.
Once they reached the cool, night air outside the theater, she started to sober up. The walk back to her place would definitely help that along the way. They started off down the street, walking slowly away from the crowds of the downtown business center and into the residential area. It grew quiet, and a bit dimmer between streetlamps.
John liked this new intentional hand in hand thing. Holding hands before had also been very nice, but had also come with the worry that either (well, Amy) might notice or think too much into it and then let go. But now it was on purpose and it meant something a little more, and it was sort of flooring and humbling all at once.
She wasn’t so drunk where she was wobbling or anything, but John walked closer to her than he needed to anyway. “That was good,” he said, looking up at the streetlamps as they walked.
The intentional hand-holding was rather nice, wasn't it? Before it felt like a secret, like something they weren't really supposed to be doing. This was fresh, new, permitted, but just as exciting. It meant more.
"Oh, yeah, Pixar stuff is brilliant." Amy said. "...er, how did it end again?" She asked, only half-playfully. She didn't really know. She leaned against his shoulder a bit as they walked. "...I think we're supposed to be talking about something else now, actually. Something that happened before the movie and the rum and coke."
“Can you remember that far back, with how drunk you are?” He asked it playfully, but then went on quickly as if worried she might deny it all if given the option. Which was a silly thought, but still. “Right. Us. Let’s talk about us.” Probably it would have been very forward of him to just balls out tell her that he adored the ground she walked on. But he sort of wanted to.
"Us. Talking about Us now. So. What's Us?" Amy asked, swinging their entwined hands between them like pendulum. "...You and Me and Me and You. That's definitely Us." Sober up, kid. Sober up.
"I mean... Us. More than just friends." She added, then took a deep breath of the cool, crisp air. "...I'm a bit nervous on top of being this drunk."
There was a capital letter in Us. Just the way she said it. Albeit, a little drunkenly, a little bit closer to a ramble than a real conversation, but still. John laughed, feeling awkward - although not quite nervous. “Us,” he agreed. “Are you nervous? I’m sorry. How can I help?”
“Don’t be sorry.” Amy said, shaking her head a little. She was grinning, though. “You’re not nervous? You must have done this before. In your many many many years of experience. You’re supposed to be sagely leading me through the steps, here, y’know? I’ve got no idea what I’m doing.” The last time she’d started dating someone, the last time she’d felt anything remotely similar to what she was feeling now, it ended badly. She didn’t want to make those mistakes again.
“There’s a distinct difference between anxious and nervous,” he said. He was a little anxious. “Anyway, Pond,” he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “There’s no step by step guide to romance or the romantical. It’s all about what you feel comfortable with.”
By then, they’d made it to the front step of her rented condo, and so he gave a pause. “Like right now,” he said. “We could go in and talk some more. Or I could awkwardly try and kiss you goodnight, and then call you tomorrow.”
“I feel comfortable with you. That’s a good start, isn’t it?” Amy said, turning to stop on the doorstep. One hand was fumbling in her jacket pocket for the keys, and the other was still entwined with his.
She lifted her face so she could look up into his eyes. She was slightly confused at that. Didn’t he want to come in? Didn’t they have things they should... talk about? Or was he being gentlemanly? Not pushing? “...which would you prefer?”
He was sort of trying to overcompensate by wanting to do both things at once, which, of course, wasn’t quite possible. Stay or go were very different things, after all.
“Well, I’d like to talk a bit,” he hedged, because while he was a patient man, he wasn’t completely so. There was no harm in continuing the night, especially for this.
“Then let’s talk.” Amy wanted that, too. It was obvious by the smile that snuck back onto her face, the quick jingle of keys as she unlocked then opened the door to admit them.
In a little under a couple of minutes, Amy shed her jacket and had flopped onto the sofa. She was mentally preparing herself for this conversation. (Which, to be perfectly honest, she was kinda hoping would degrade into some slightly drunken kissing.)
At this point, it’d really only be slightly drunken kissing for her -- since he wasn’t drunk. But he was okay with any kind of kissing really, so there might not be a problem there at all.
He’d snuck into the kitchen while she was getting situated and returned now with two glasses of water. Wine probably would have been the sexier option, but she was already kind of half gone.
He set them on the coffee table (that was glass? Nice work, previous owner. This kind was classy), and then settled down on the couch as well. “So.” he said.
“So.” She repeated. Amy was loving this hand-holding thing, but she thought maybe they’d done enough of it for now? Her hand came to rest on his arm this time. A little closer. Perhaps a little more intimate? She was still slightly loopy, but nowhere near gone. Half was a bit generous, too.
“Us.” She added. “...you really fancy me?” They’d been through it all before, but maybe repeating some of it was a good place to start? Also, it made her grin like a giddy school girl to hear him say it out loud.
“Of course I fancy you,” John said, grinning nearly stupidly over it. The hand on the arm was nice, but also a little awkward. Did he cover her hand with his other free hand? Or was that just holding hands again? Oh well. He did it anyway. “Disney’s fun and all, but I doubt highly I’d have been as interested to get my picture with Mickey if it wasn’t because you’d asked for it, Amy.”
That certainly brought a grin to her features. “Don’t let Timone and Pumbaa hear you saying that.” She said. Her fingers twined with his again, resting on his arm. Must have been totally awkward, but she didn’t even notice. She was too busy looking up into his eyes with that terribly fond expression on her own face.
“Oh, never.” Seriously. That’d be like a child accidentally finding out it was adopted. Except, you know, stuffed animals. “That would be cruel.” He paused, considering for a moment. His nose was itchy. Why was that always a thing that happened when both your hands were occupied?
“So. I fancy you. I’ve said that. I’d like to assume that you’d be an idiot not to fancy me as well.” Her words, thanks. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
More like a child finding out it was adopted, but that Daddy didn't really want him. Totally cruel.
Amy smirked at her words being thrown back at her. She loved it, though. Remember? She loved his things. The smirk faded into a very gentle, almost shy smile. Flattered. Pleased. She nodded, excitedly. “Yes. I will.”
“Oh thank god,” Watson said, relieved, and it was terribly lacking in eloquence or grace. But sometimes eloquence and grace could fuck right off, he was busy trying to get gorgeous model red-heads with a penchant for road trips to date him.
Amy laughed. It was a laugh of amusement, a laugh of relief, and most importantly, a laugh of affection. “I take it that’s the response you were looking for?” She said, grinning brightly as she looked at him.
“Well, it was the one I was hoping for,” John said a little wryly. “I think it would have been a bit counter productive for me to look for anything otherwise, right?”
“It does seem like it’d be a rather silly question to ask if you were hoping the response would be no.” Amy said, giving a little nod. She couldn’t stop grinning, though, as much as she wanted to be playful. Whether it was the rum, or the company, or the topic of conversation... she had a happy she just couldn’t shake.
“Right,” Watson agreed, and he was grinning a little uselessly too -- and it had nothing to do with the rum and everything to do with the fact that Amy was smiling. He thought, maybe, he always wanted her to be happy like this -- always wanted her to smile. Never again did he want to see her in the shape she’d been in when she was crying in his kitchen a few weeks ago.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” he informed her, because communication was key, man.
“Oh. Okay. Be my guest.” Amy responded. She leaned in to let him kiss her. And then kissed him back.
He might have told her that Disney quotes were not appreciated at this time -- except really, he was terribly busy just now. He’d been wanting to kiss her for months now, after all. So mostly he was just trying to make the best of this -- not pausing for any kind of silly jokes. Not until he absolutely needed to breathe, anyway.
Even then. Isn’t that why people had noses? So they didn’t have to stop kissing for anything? Amy’s hands came up to cup his face, drawing him in a little. She didn’t know how much she’d wanted to do this until they started, and then she didn’t want to stop. Kissing John felt like coming home. Though, she was giddy and excited, probably more so than someone would be if they were simply coming home. It was better than home. It was exciting home.
Breathing heavily through your nose while kissing was just weird, Amy. Eventually, uninhibited breathing was necessary. But John prolonged all that anyway, separating just long enough to readjust his position on the couch, more forward less sideways, before going back to it. Her lips were soft and she tasted of alcohol and sugar and he was sure he’d never liked anything more.
She was petting the side of his face a little. Just a little. Her fingertips trailing down the skin of his cheek, trying to memorize it without having to look. Her lips detached from his for a moment, her eyes opened, and she gave a giggle. Not the drunken kind from earlier, not the kind that she made while the credits were rolling, but a gentle, happy giggle. Her nose brushed against his. “I don’t want to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing,” she confessed, her voice a whisper.
Whispering always required whispering in return, and so John lowered his voice to just a tiny little hushed sort of thing. “That’s a shame,” he said, fighting back a laugh. “you’ve just done it.”
Kidding, jeez.
He may have succeeded in fighting back a laugh, but Amy couldn’t stop hers from breaking free. She gave a laugh, grinned brightly, then kissed him again before pulling back just a little more. “...this isn’t going to change things, is it? I mean... besides the fact that we’ll be kissing more.” She didn’t want the ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ decision to affect their friendship--as weird as that sounded. She only wanted to make things better, not worse.
It didn’t really sound all that weird at all -- wasn’t that always the concern that people who were friends had when they started dating? John rose his eyebrows up in that oh-so-signature way of his and then half smiled. “I don’t think so?” Besides the kissing parts. And other stuff. “You can still drag me wherever you wanna go on our days off, if that’s what you mean.”
“So... you’ll wear the tie more often, then?” Amy asked, playfully, and reached a hand down to wrap around it. For emphasis.
Emphasis. Right. That. John’s eyebrows went a little higher. “Yes,” he said, and was not even sure if he was joking or not.
“Good.” Amy smirked a little, tugging him in by the tie now. “Because I like it.” She whispered, then kissed him again.