Amelia Pond (whosscared) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-01 00:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, amy pond, john watson |
Who: Pondson (Amy Pond, John Watson)
When: Circa Sept 20ish.
Where: Amy’s place
What: Hanging out
Rating/Warning: Low/None
Status: Complete
This was one of those laid-back, hiding from the world days. After doing some laundry and cleaning the kitchen, Amy showered and changed into freshly laundered pajamas and lounged on the sofa until John arrived. All in all, it’d been a really good day.
Amy paid and thanked the delivery guy, then turned back to the living room with the pizza in hand. “Did you pick a flick yet?” She called out toward John, who she’d left in front of her dvd tower just a couple of minutes before.
“Almost!” The truth of the matter was that, no, he had not picked a film. He’d been distracted by how her pajama bottoms clung to her hips when she’d moved to walk toward the door and that was the sort of thing he had to stare at, even if it meant sacrificing some time that would have been more productively spent on reading DVD titles.
Amy set the pizza box down on the coffee table, next to the bottle of wine and glasses (hey, pizza and wine went together, right?) and moved over toward the dvd tower to take a look with him. “...are you having trouble seeing the words, Old Man?” She asked, breaking into a smirk.
Wine went with everything. Pizza was a close second, in that regard. “Yeah,” John said, a little dryly, shooting her a look that was ruined only in its’ own fondness. “I forgot my bifocals. It’s an issue. Perhaps you could read them all aloud to me.” But really, he just picked the closest DVD in reach and handed it over to her.
“You’d forget your brain if it wasn’t attached.” Amy teased fondly, though in reality, she was the one that normally forgot things. “The Princess Bride.” She said, accepting the dvd he handed her, and breaking into a smile. “Maybe we should just go with your first choice. It’s a good one.”
John smiled at that, stood up a little straighter (not that it really made him any taller), and nodded. “As you wish.” Followed closely by, “I don’t even think you were alive when this movie was made.”
“If I was, I was tiny,” Amy said, then flipped over the dvd case and glanced over the back. “Nope. I wasn’t. I don’t think my parents were even married. Take that, Old Man.” She added, giving him a smirk. “Does that mean I’m not allowed to watch it?”
“Goodness, no.” John moved to flop down onto the couch and then poke through the pizza box. “If you only watched things that were made in your time, you’d have no sense of culture at all.”
“Heaven forbid.” Amy put the dvd on, then moved over to the sofa, sat down very, very close to him (practically in his lap, really) and put her feet up. She clicked the remote on to start the movie. “...It’d be all… Backstreet Boys and Justin Bieber.”
Probably, he would not have minded if she had sat in his lap. But maybe later. For now, it was pizza, wine, unusually sized rodents on tv and that kid from the Wonder Years. “That’s awful,” he admitted. “The new generation is frightening.”
Fred Savage. C’mon, John. Use his name. Amy gave a little laugh, and shook her head. “They are. We are?” She said, then lifted her legs and slipped them into his lap, lounging on the sofa.
“I think you’re a little past the current pop idol stage. I won’t blame you for Beiber.” And thank goodness for that; it’d be really hard to forgive.
Amy laughed. “But he came to power when I was in the pop idol stage. You know, he’s been popular for half a decade now.” Okay, so she was a little bit older than most Beliebers, but still. She could have been one of them. If she was a moron.
Which she wasn’t. John knew, because he wasn’t interested in dating morons. And he was definitely, definitely interested in Amy Pond. “This is depressing,” he told her, looking forlorn. “New topic.”
Amy laughed again. He had a way of making her laugh that was unlike everyone ever. “New topic. How about… how this movie not only fails the feminist test, but breaks the meter.” She said, clicking the button to turn on the movie.
“The Bechdel test?” Because, yes, John Watson actually did do a lot of reading, thank you. “Yeah, I can see how it wouldn’t pass. But it is meant to be a romantic satire, so maybe that’s… part of the point?”
Amy turned to blink at him, surprised he knew of it. She shouldn’t be--he was smart, well-read, old. Of course he knew things. A little smirk broke out across her features. “Maybe.” She said, shrugging. “It’s hard to identify with the female character in this one when Buttercup’s such a horrific waste of space. And she’s just… so, so much worse in the book.”
And he was a feminist, thanks. John Watson: supporting equal pay and rights for all since basically forever. Anyway, his sister was a lesbian, it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard about things like these growing up.
“The book is worse in general. It’s a bad book. In any case, I don’t think gender is the defining quality when trying to identify with a character. But who knows.”
“It is when you’re a little kid.” Amy argued. “When I was a wee lass, watching this one for the first time… all I wanted was to be a princess. Don’t laugh.” She said, a preemptive near-scolding. “But there’s absolutely nothing admirable or likable about Buttercup.”
“She is a bit rubbish,” John agreed a little sadly as he leaned forward for another slice of pizza. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to be a pirate though.”
“Wesley’s pretty amazing. But Buttercup has more amazing hair.” Amy said, giving a gentle, playful shrug of her shoulders. She reached forward to fill up her wine glass, and then settled back on the sofa against him. After doing so, she leaned forward again, took hold of his hand, and lifted his arm to wrap around her shoulders as she re-settled.
“It’s not as nice as yours,” Watson assured, even though he was aware he didn’t have to. But it was true. Nothing could beat that red of hers; he was very fond of it. And her. He squeezed her shoulder and then leaned a little closer to press a purposefully sloppy kiss to her temple.
Amy just grinned, cuddling close in against him. The movie started, and she rested her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. This may have been the world’s most perfect evening. Some shower sex later would absolutely seal the deal.