Who: Amy Pond and John Watson When: Sometime recently Where: Starting at John’s place What: An Adventure Rating: Low Status: Complete!
Amy had the afternoon off after a rather successful photoshoot in the morning. She headed to John’s place, hoping that she’d find him home, and knocked on the door. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do today, but knew she wanted to go out and do something fun while Rory was working at the hospital. She didn’t have a ton of friends outside of the TARDIS club, so it was refreshing to hang out with someone who wasn’t from her dreams. Or sharing dreams with her, or whatever.
Anyway, she knocked, rocking back and forth on her heels. She was in her jeans, boots, and a big sweatshirt today. Comfortable clothes. She’d looked pretty all morning, now it was time to have fun.
Opening the door (because, again, he was sure no one else would), John was pleased as a peach to find Amy Pond standing there. She dressed cutely, as always, he noted. There was something about oversized shirts on women that he found oddly aesthetic.
“Oh, hello,” he greeted, leaning against the door frame. It’s an unspeakable mess in this place, Amy, you don’t want to come in. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I’ve got the afternoon off.” Amy said, giving her friend a bright grin. “Thought maybe... you up for another adventure? I promise I won’t kidnap you and drag you off to San Francisco this time.”
John laughed at that. That had been a good time, though. He’d had a lot of fun. “Yeah,” he said, holding up a finger as he took a second to run back into his place (seriously, Amy. Don’t enter the den of horrors, just wait there.) and grab his keys and wallet.
Once he was locking up his door, he gave her his typical eyebrows-raised expression. “Have anything in mind?”
Amy learned her lesson the last time she’d gone into John’s place and opened the fridge. She could wait by the door, for sure. She rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, waiting for him, then broke into a grin when he came back into view.
“I thought maybe we could go to the beach.” She said. “Walk along the sea for a bit? Collect seashells?”
John gave a snort, followed by a little nod of acquiescence. “Sure,” he agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans as they walked side by side. “I haven’t been emasculated lately, anyway.” But really, he was just kidding.
He loved being emasculated by her. Amy knew it, or at least assumed it. Just like she assumed all of her friends loved to be around her, no matter what they were doing. “We could drink beers and bet on sports, if that’s better fitting.” She teased him, lifting her elbow to bump into his, playfully.
To say that he loved it would be not exactly right. He didn’t love -that-. He just liked being around her. Just like all the rest of her friends. Watson would put up with a lot for his friends. Obviously.
John laughed at that, too, looking up at the sky as they walked. “Emasculating might be better than overcompensating,” he said, after a moment.
“Good. Then get ready for an afternoon of emasculation.” She said, then clicked the button on her keys to unlock the doors of her little car. “Unless you can offer up a better idea, I’ll drive us out to the coast. It’s not that far from here.” One of the perks of living where they did.
John shook his head, clearly having no ideas. It wasn’t as if he’d planned on doing anything other than sitting in his flat for the day. She’d have to be the plan lady. He piled into the car, scooting the seat back a little like he tended to do. “This’ll do,” he said.
“Good.” Amy climbed into the driver’s seat, pulled on her sunglasses, started the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. “Find some music, would you?” It wasn’t a super long drive, but they had plenty of time to listen to some good music. And Amy’s car was full of good music.
John Watson was still pretty sure that Amy had been born just a little bit too late -- she had nearly the same tastes in music as he had, except for her it was probably considered nearly retro. Or some such nonsense. He hit play on the CD button, just to see what had been playing last.
Amy almost winced as Culture Club came through the speakers. She glanced over at him and grinned, but then turned her eyes back to the road. “You hungry? I know how your roommates never eat.”
There were worse things in life than Karma Chameleon. Maybe. He kept it, because it was fun enough, and also Amy looked a little embarrassed about it. He gave the most stereotypical answer about food that any man could possibly ever give: “I could eat.”
“Pssh.” Amy said, grinning still as she turned onto the main drag. “Dinner it is. Or... late lunch. Then the beach. Maybe we can grab sammitches to go. Bring ‘em with us.” She switched lanes, and of course was stopped at the first red light.
“I’ve created the term “Lun-din” for situations like these,” John said, because he was sure that Brunch shouldn’t be the only mashup word out there. Plus it was funny. Because he was British. ...Right?
“I see what you did there.” She said, beaming, as she turned off the freeway. Of course, Amy was an ex-pat, too, so she got the joke more than others might have.
“Yep,” John said, nodding happily about it, even as he held onto the Oh Shit bar. Amy wasn’t much of a driver, admittedly. “You’re free to use it though. No charge, even.”
Amy grinned. “Why, thank you. I think I will. Lun-din. Love it.” She said, speeding down the offramp. Yeah, she wasn’t a great driver. But she was getting more cocky. “Sandwiches and sodas, and maybe a bag of crisps?”
“Crisps,” he agreed, letting the word drop off of his tongue in amusement. Living in America meant he rarely got to hear the right words for things. “Yes, I think that sounds right lovely.” Because he was enjoying being very British for the moment.
Another little laugh escaped her at his words. “Cheerio.” She said, playfully, as she pulled into the parking lot of a deli she knew on the way. Sandwiches. Crisps. Coca Cola. Sounded like the perfect meal for a day on the beach.
---
Once the sandwiches and crisps and soda was ordered made and paid for, it hadn’t been much of a longer drive to the beach. It was a nice day, so John made an impromptu decision to leave his shoes in the car.
“So.” he said as they found a little picnic table, and he sat, digging his toes into the warm sand. “What’s been up?”
Amy had a vegetarian sandwich, as it was slightly healthier than a pile of meat on bread. Fresh mozzarella and tomato, cucumber. Good stuff. And diet coke.
"Working a lot," a phrase Amy Pond never thought she'd hear herself say. "Getting ready for the new make up lines for summer. How about you?"
“Same,” said John, but then he thought better of it because it could have been taken wrong, there. “Minus the make-up. Just working a lot.”
“Really? That’s a shame.” Amy said. “Because I think you’d look good in a light blush.” She popped the top of her diet coke can open and lifted it for a sip.
John shook his head even as he unwrapped his sandwich -- one that had very little to do with vegetables. “No, I’ve done the make up phase. All rock bands and eyeliner in my youth -- well. You know. The late eighties.”
“What??” Amy asked, then laughed. “I demand pictures.” She said, nodding her head as if these were the rules. “All of them. Immediately.”
John only took a bite of his sandwich, looking utterly innocent. “No dice,” he told her with his mouth intentionally full. “The evidence is all gone now.” Was it that shocking, he wondered? Was he so boring now it was hardly believable?
He was just painfully old to Amy. He was one of her best friends in Orange County, but that didn’t make him any less old. “Then I don’t believe it for a second.”
John gave a heartfelt little sigh, and shook his head. “I’m afraid you’ll have to, young Amy. Back then? The 80s? Facebook didn’t exist.”
Amy gasped, playfully. “What? How is that possible?” She grinned, teasing. “What did you do all day long?”
“Mostly practiced putting on eyeliner and looking sad,” John said, as if it were sage wisdom. Robert Smith would have been proud.
“And listened to some pretty fantastic music.” Amy said through a bite of food. She swallowed it and went on. “I can’t imagine you putting on eyeliner. I think you’re fibbing. Blush, yes. Eyeliner?” She shook her head.
“I’d show you,” John said, and regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth. “But I’m afraid I’m a respectable human being now. Doctors just can’t do eyeliner and blush these days. Not the male ones.”
Amy’s jaw dropped, and an excited expression crossed her features. There was literally a light in her eyes. She perked up considerably--in just that moment. Then her hopes were dashed again. “What? Whhhhyyyy?” She nearly whined. “Come on, John. You can’t just say things like that. Get a girl’s hopes up then smash them to pieces.
“Just a little lipstick? Just once? For meeeee?” She asked, grinning.
“What? Why? No.” John looked abashed and concerned both. “I can’t -- I mean. Amy.” What he should have said was ‘You have a husband, make him do it’. But he hadn’t thought of that.
“Bah, you’re no fun.” Amy said, the grin ever present on her features, as she crumpled up the wrapper that held her sandwich and tossed it into the trash can. It was next to the picnic table where they were eating, and only a few feet away, but Amy’s wrapper bounced off the rim and back onto the table. Oh, well, she’d get it in a minute. She stole one of his crisps.
John made a show of eating the rest of his sandwich, so that he wouldn’t say anything further incriminating toward himself. “I’m plenty of fun,” he said finally, “or else you wouldn’t come knocking on my door.”
“Mmmm.” Amy reluctantly agreed, watching him eat his sandwich. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Okay, amended statement: You’re no fun sometimes.” She stuck out her tongue at him.
Watson only rose his eyebrows at her and made that blank face of him. It was endearing in it’s own right, he liked to imagine. “I don’t know what you’re on about, Amy Pond.”
“Suuuuure you don’t.” Amy said, smirking, then tossed her can into the recycle bin next to the trash and stood. “Come on. Let’s go get some sand between our toes.”