Amelia Pond (whosscared) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-02-06 21:14:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, amy pond, john watson |
Amy liked dressing in John’s button-down shirts in the morning.
Who: Amy Pond and John Watson
When: Early February
Where: John’s place
What: Pondson, talking about Rory? And Sherlock
Rating/Warning: Low/None
Status: Complete
Amy liked dressing in John’s button-down shirts in the morning. Most nights that she spent at his place, she spent completely passed out, naked in his bed. After their night-time activities, she would be completely spent and sleep like the dead until morning. So, then she’d have to find something to wear to wander out and get breakfast. Much like a bear after a long winter’s hibernation--if the bear was really just a grumpy redhead looking for her morning coffee.
So she wandered out into the kitchen wearing nothing but his discarded shirt from yesterday and a pair of socks. Her hair was tangled up into a mess on one side, and she was struggling with yawns as she went in search of coffee. Or tea. That would do, too.
Watson, not so secretly, very much enjoyed seeing Amy in his clothing. It wasn't exactly a feeling of possessiveness he got every time he saw her like that, but it was certainly something close. His girlfriend. Wearing his shirts. It was a bit life affirming. Like it was just so obvious she wanted to be here. Like she was comfortable. Who wouldn't like that?
John wasn't even jealous that Amy wore the shirts better than he did.
He was a morning person -- always had been, although being in the military had probably had a hand in keeping that conditioning going. He'd been awake for a while now -- already showered, but not really dressed for the day, instead he was wearing soft flannel pants that were (unsurprisingly) a little too long, and a t-shirt.
"Morning, Pond," he said, already too cheerful as he set the morning paper aside and slid a mug of already steeped but still steaming tea in her direction.
“Mmmph.” Amy responded. As much as John was a morning person, Amy was a night owl. She could be up all night, and sleep all day, and that would be fine with her. Just more proof that opposites attract? They seemed to fit together like interlocking puzzle pieces.
She stepped up to him and leaned in to tap a quick kiss against his cheek. Amy hadn’t brushed her teeth yet, and wasn’t planning on subjecting him to that mess. Though, one of her toothbrushes lived here, so she could go brush as soon as she was finished with her morning tea. “Thank you.”
Eh. Real love was having a tolerance for morning breath, wasn't it? Maybe. Anyway, Watson put up with it a bit. "S'what I'm here for," he said, just a little playful as he picked up his own mug of tea and waggled his eyebrows at her.
"Sleep okay?" It wasn't really a random question, he asked it plenty. They both had weird dreams and it was only fair to be concerned about that sort of thing in the waking hours now and again.
“Yeah, no Dreams.” Amy said, interpreting his question. Perhaps falsely interpreting his question. She slipped onto a stool in his kitchen and lifted the steaming mug of tea to blow across the top, then take a sip. It was good. He was perfect. How did he make such a perfect cup of tea?
“You? More dreams about Sherlock?” She asked, giving him a grin above the mug.
He was British. He couldn't not make the perfect cup of tea. It was ingrained in him since birth. Or at least since he was tall enough to be able to reach the sink and kettle.
Watson huffed out a laugh and ducked his head slightly, looking down at his own mug of tea. "No, not last night anyway." That grin was funny, and he didn't quite know how to react. Like Amy knew all his strangest secrets. Or was just teasing. "It was weird, though. You know? Seeing him the other day."
Part of being in a relationship was learning all of those strange secrets. It was being a part of a twenty-four hour inside joke. Amy loved it. She loved him. “It really was. It’s always weird seeing people from our Dreams. Speaking of…” She lifted the mug for another sip, now a little worried about how he was going to react. “I met Rory,” she said, then sipped.
Luckily, John was pretty smooth about it. He only rose his eyebrows, took a sip of his own tea in order to have a second to process and then nodded a little slowly. "Your dream husband?" He wasn't really jealous - he didn't have to be. He'd met Amy when she'd had more than a dream husband, after all.
Plus, well, she'd met Sherlock. And in a totally platonic and not at all homosexual sort of way, Sherlock Holmes sort of was John's dream husband too, so it all kind of evened out, didn't it?
“How’d that go?”
“Yes. Well, yes. My Dream Husband.” And the father of her Dream Baby, who time traveled and became her Dream Best Friend growing up, and then the would-be assassin of her Dream Doctor, and then the Wife of said Dream Doctor. It started to get confusing somewhere in there.
“Really good, I think,” she added. He absolutely had nothing to fear. She left a real life husband for him more than anything else, and didn’t have a single regret about the whole matter. “He’s a lot like he is in the dreams. I have to be honest, I was a little nervous about meeting him. Like it might trigger some weird feelings, or something. But nothing happened. He’s just… Rory. A nice guy.”
Nothing wrong with being a nice guy -- and Watson was sure Rory was nice -- those were the sort of people that deserved to be married, after all. Just not to Amy Pond. Because she was dating John. And well -- it was more than okay to be greedy now and again.
"Well," he admitted, "that's a bit a relief." He hadn't been worried, but that didn't mean that hearing her say so wasn't still nice.
“It is.” Amy gulped again from her mug, then set it down on the counter and stood. “I should probably… shower and dress. As much as I love wearing your clothes…” She let that sentence simply hang there as she turned to head back into the bedroom. Any possible ending to it was probably correct.