Amelia Pond (whosscared) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-02-14 16:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, amy pond, john watson |
Who: Amy Pond and John Watson
When: After these texts on Feb 4, 2014
Where: Starting at Amy/Zuko’s place
What: Celebrating her divorce becoming final
Rating/Warning: Low/None
Status: Complete
Amy had already started celebrating. Getting the email from Percy Weasley was like… like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She’d changed everything from that old life. Almost everything, anyway. She had a new wardrobe, a lot of new friends, a new home, new furniture (well, mostly because Zuko’s flat was furnished)... a new life, really. The only thing she really had from before she moved out was a small album of wedding photos, a marriage license that didn’t mean anything, and a ring. The ring was in her jewelry box, dusty and pretty much forgotten. The license was in a safety deposit box with some other documents, pretty much forgotten. The photo album was in a box somewhere, pretty much forgotten.
She was drinking Baileys on the rocks while she was texting with John, and it was delicious. When she told him she was at home, she decided to put on some music. She climbed up to the stereo in Zuko’s place (because he had a fantastic stereo) and put on Duran Duran. Then she started to dance in her living room, sipping from her glass every minute or so.
By this point, they both had keys to the other person's place, so it wasn't at all out of the norm for John to be letting himself in -- it also wasn't out of the norm for the stereo to be blasting some kind of music that he wholly approved of. So if New Moon On Monday was playing, he really couldn't find any way to complain.
As much as Amy said she wanted to go out, he knew it was equally as likely that she might end up staying in, so it benefited them both (eventually) when he picked up a bottle of wine on the way over. And if a bouquet of flowers ended up getting paid for as well?
Well. They were celebrating. Amy was single now.
"Aren't you cheerful?" He grinned, closing the door behind him and offered up the flowers even before a kiss.
Amy turned and broke into a bright grin--possibly one of the brightest ever--at the sight of John with flowers and wine. She still had her glass in one hand, though now it was empty. Ignoring the outstretched flowers, she moved forward to wrap her arms around him in an excited hug.
“You’re here!” Way to state the obvious, drunk!Amy. She had to lift her voice up, as the music was really quite loud. “You brought wine! And flowers.” Then came the ‘aww’ look, the look that was normally reserved for watching the part of the rom com where the guy comes back to win over the girl’s heart, but she’s been in love with him all along.
And it was good, really, because as much as Watson may have tried, he'd never be as good at monologuing as John Cusack. There was nothing for it really, not even a lot of practice.
"I'm here," he agreed, squishing her tight in a hug and half ruining the flowers with it. It wasn't a big deal. "And I brought wine and flowers. And you, Amy Pond, are a single woman. How far are you into celebrating?" It was weird to call her single, considering they'd been dating for upwards of six months now. But that wasn't how he meant it.
He could absolutely stand under her window with a boombox held high above his head and make her knees weak. He wouldn’t even need to monologue.
“I’m free! I’m a free bird. ‘Cause I’m as free as a bird now! And this bird you can not change!” She said, suddenly belting out Lynyrd Skynyrd. She finally released him, took a step back and took hold of the flowers in his hand. “I’m… I don’t know. I’ve lost track.” She said, giving a gentle shrug. “You’ve got some catching up to do.” She added, dancing back into the kitchen to put the flowers in water.
Yeah, but did anyone even sell boom boxes anymore?
"I don't know if I want to catch up if it's going to involve more Free bird encores," John teased, but it didn't stop him dropping a kiss onto the top of her nose and making his way toward the kitchen for maybe a vase and his own wine glass. For catching up.
“I take requests.” Amy said, turning around to face him and breaking into a grin. “I mean… so long as it’s a good request.” She reached for the bottle of Baileys to pour herself a little more. She was perfectly content keeping with Baileys and not switching to wine. But maybe later?
Yeah well he wasn’t a twenty-something anymore and creme liquor only was a bad choice. Still, if she liked it, more for her. He grinned, peeking out of the kitchen. “You say that now! Good requests! After Free bird? You’d best redeem yourself sooner than all that, Pond.”
Amy had a great metabolism. It was obvious in the way her body, well, looked. She could take alcohol and turn it into energy. Or pee. Or whatever it was that perpetually skinny people did with it. In any case, she simply gave John a look. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with Free Bird. Not only is it a classic but it fits with tonight’s celebrations.”
John only smiled, leaned against the doorframe and sipped at his wine for a second. Amy really was perfect. Peppy in a sassy way, beautiful. Entirely too full of energy. “You’re right,” he agreed, sipping. “Whatever you want tonight,” because it was her night, and that was fair. “Do you still want to go out?”
“If we do, you’re driving.” Amy said, taking a couple of slow, seductive-like steps toward him in the kitchen. “I’m a bit too far into my celebrations to--oh, wait. I love this song!” Easily distracted by the music, the semi-drunken girl danced around John in the doorway toward the living room to turn up the volume and sing along. Hungry Like the Wolf was better than Free Bird, wasn’t it?
No, not really. It wasn’t even close to being the best song on the Rio album, but Amy was young, and John would forgive her 80s music tresspasses. Anyway, it was cute. He only smiled, wholly indulgent and stupidly smitten and hid that expression behind his glass of wine.
If It’s a Small World had come on her ipad, she would have claimed that she loved that song, too. It didn’t really matter what was playing over the speakers. She was that far into her bottle of Irish Cream. She danced her way into the living room and sang along to Hungry Like the Wolf then turned and beckoned John to come and dance with her.
They weren’t getting out tonight, John decided. Not with the level of enthusiasm Amy had for yelling out the hushed whisper sections of that song. And that was alright, really. This was fun, and safe and there was bread in the kitchen for when it all got to be a mit much.
So, fuck it. They’d dance in her living room and make the best of it.