16 June 2010 @ 03:07 pm
Fic! Eleven/Amy domestic babyfic sort of YEAH INORITE  
Title: The Myth Of Kissing Princes
Rating/Warnings: PG-13 maybe. Contains heterosexuality and pregnancy and stuff like that. May be triggery if you have babies/pregnancy issues.
Pairing(s): Eleven/Amy
Disclaimer: I don't own them, the BBC do.
Summary: No TARDIS, no toaster, and Amy's throwing up in the mornings.

Amy returns from the shops to find the Doctor on the sofa with what looks like half an electrical shop on his lap.

"What are you doing to the toaster?"

"Mm uffdrrding..." He takes the sonic screwdriver out of his mouth. "I'm upgrading it."

She dumps a Tesco bag on the floor and sits down next to him. "Again?"

"The toast still isn't right. It burns before it gets how I want it. I hate burnt toast."

"You're bored, aren't you?"

He sits the remains of the toaster on the coffee table and leans back. "Can we have sex?"

"I'm not in the mood."

This seems to cheer him up slightly. "Can we have an argument about it? About how you won't let me have sex with you because I neglect your emotional needs?" He almost bounces on the sofa. "I saw that on Eastenders last night. She threw a glass at him and then there was a cliffhanger."

"When we get back in the TARDIS..." she starts.

Wrong thing to say, apparently. "If we get back in the TARDIS."

"When we get back in the TARDIS, are we going to keep doing this?"

"Upgrading innocent kitchen appliances?"

"I mean the sex. The domestics. All this."

He thinks it over for a moment. "I don't know," he says with increasingly-rare honesty. "Do you want to?"

"I wouldn't mind either way."

"Oh." He picks up the toaster again. "Well, up to you."

"You don't have a preference?"

He looks up at her. "Amy?"


"Do we have enough money for a new toaster?"


"It's a good thing we don't have any neighbours," he says with a note of pride.

She slaps him on the chest playfully. "It's not as big as your ego."

"It's what I do with it that counts."

She yawns. "I wouldn't mind doing this on the TARDIS. Sometimes. After adventures, maybe." She wriggles against him. "Doesn't narrowly escaping death really turn you on?"

"No," he says, like it had never occurred to him that it might be possible.

"Oh. Me neither."

"Of course not."

"But still, we can do it occasionally."

"As the mood strikes."



"I'm late."

He opens one eye and and checks the alarm clock. "At half past seven in the morning?"

"My period. Is late." She folds her arms and looks at him accusingly.

He closes his eye again. "You're under a lot of stress, it's perfectly normal."

She pokes his arm until he opens both eyes. "I'm never late. You could set your watch by me."

"Who says I don't?" He props himself up on his elbows. "Are you being all... womanish?"


He grins at her. "Is that right? Womanish? Isn't that what blokes say when women are being strange?"

"You," she says, "are banned from watching any more television. Especially soap operas."

"Are we having an argument?"

She catches herself before she replies to the question. "Stop changing the subject! I could be..." She gestures weight-gain and blows her cheeks out.

"We're not even the same species. I've got a chromosome you don't have, meiosis is very picky about things like that." He rubs her arm. "I promise I can't get humans pregnant."

"Have you ever tried?" she asks, trying not to sound hysterical.

Wrong question. He pulls his hand away and closes his eyes again. "Make me some breakfast, woman."

"I hate you."


He holds her hair back for her as she vomits into the toilet. "Food poisoning," he tells her.

"I had toast!"

"From an untried toaster. I'm taking it back to the shop. There's something wrong with it." He rubs her back and steps away to let her wash her mouth out in the sink.

"It's morning sickness," she says between mouthfuls of cold water.

"It's sickness, yes, and I'll grant that it's morning on this side of the planet, but that doesn't prove anything."

Amy dries her face on a towel and turns to him. "Sonic me."

He blinks at her. "You've just been violently sick and I've told you it's not a sex toy." He sighs dramatically. "Just because a man owns an object which admittedly may look slightly phallic from some angles-"

"Sonic me to see if you've knocked me up."

"It doesn't do that."

"Why the hell not?!" She holds out a hand. "Give it to me, I'll work it out for myself."

He takes her hand between his own instead. "Remember that talk we had about the birds and the bees and the Time Lords? That long, long talk with diagrams?"

Amy pales. "I'm going to be sick again."

He moves just before he's faced with the problem of how to get vomit out of tweed.


He looks at the pregnancy test for a full five minutes before heading out to the garden and the TARDIS. He turns up in the bedroom at 2am, smelling faintly of grease.

Amy doesn't move. "You're sleeping on the sofa."

"I'm sorry."

"You're still sleeping on the sofa."

He sits on the edge of the bed. "I was wrong, and you were right, and I really am sorry."

"That totally makes up for you leaving me alone all day."

"I needed some time to think about things."

"I quite needed someone to talk to. About the same things. At least I assume it's the same things. Who knows with you, eh? You were probably thinking about... about... string. String theory."

"My children are dead."

Amy turns over and looks up at him. "What?"

"All of them. I don't know if I can go through that again."

She tries to think of something comforting and says "It could live to be ninety."

"I'll be around for a lot longer that. He'll die long before I do."


"I sonicked you before I said anything. Sorry." He doesn't seem sorry at all.

Amy sits up in the bed and stares down at her abdomen. "Oh my God, it's real."

He moves away slightly. "Are you going to be sick again?"

"First I'm going to faint."


The next morning he's gone. Amy is up in seconds, pulling back the curtains and yes, the TARDIS is still there, leaning to one side like a drunk garden shed. She leans her forehead against the glass of the window and breathes out slowly.

The door opens behind her. "I've been thinking some more."

"I thought you'd run off," she says.

He looks shocked at the very idea. "What? I'd never do that." He holds up a tray. "I made you some toast."

"Lots of toast."

"I was running some tests on the toaster." He hands her the tray and takes a slice for himself. "Anyway," he says through a mouthful of toast, "I was thinking about you and me and Hamish."

"Who's Hamish?"

He points at her belly. "You don't like Hamish? What about Fergus?"


"I think I can do it. Doctor Dad. I can teach him to fly the TARDIS and you can make him sound Scottish."

"I don't want to have a baby," she says, getting the sentence out as fast as possible.

He blinks once and then shrugs. "Okay."


"I think I can get the power running in the TARDIS for a bit, we can use the medical bay to sort everything out." He takes another bite of toast. "That was a euphemism, I don't know how explicit you want to be about it all. Humans are a bit weird."

"Two minutes ago you were wanting to be Doctor Dad."

"A man can change his mind, can't he?"

"Are you..."

"I'll get the TARDIS started up. Oh, and I think we can leave in the next week or so."

"You're lying to me."

"No, really, two weeks at most. I didn't want to, you know, steal your limelight." He chews on his toast and looks at her like he's daring her to say something.

"So you're... fine?"

"I'm always fine, Pond." He claps his hands together. "All that domestic stuff, no thanks. Been there, done that, washed vomit from the t-shirt."

"So we're good?"

"Aren't we always?"


She leaves her door unlocked in the TARDIS every night, just in case he knocks.

He never does.

Current Mood: anxiousanxious
( 29 comments — Leave a comment )
Whoniversal aunt.pontisbright on June 16th, 2010 02:37 pm (UTC)
Oh! and wibble! and eee! That was very lovely indeed.

I want toast now.
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 02:46 pm (UTC)
Me toooooo. Mostly cos I am too ill to eat anything D:
Prudence Hellcat: fluffy hat of awesomems_prue on June 16th, 2010 03:14 pm (UTC)
"Are we having an argument?"
For reals, I wanted to slap him. Hard.

Domesticity is scarier than any monster D:
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 03:19 pm (UTC)
stick_pokerstick_poker on June 16th, 2010 03:35 pm (UTC)
Crikey, you've got you writing hat on, haven't you.

This one is laugh-out-loud funny, and also disturbing, and therefore overall disturbing. Oo, for a new reason. (Uncanny accuracy of characterisation taken as read, obviously.)
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 03:47 pm (UTC)
I am feeling Unwell and yet somehow that is making fic happen. It would be nice if I didn't keep ejecting the contents of my stomach D:

stick_pokerstick_poker on June 17th, 2010 07:41 am (UTC)
Ouch. Yes...
darthcorrie: pic#99763407darthcorrie on June 16th, 2010 05:18 pm (UTC)
The last line made me all sad at work. Which admittedly is my own fault for reading fic at work, but that's not the point. Another great fic, as always.
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 05:30 pm (UTC)
darthcorrie: pic#99763407darthcorrie on June 16th, 2010 05:31 pm (UTC)
the enemy of fun: DW Amy applenonelvis on June 16th, 2010 05:26 pm (UTC)
That ending ... ouch. But it felt like the right way to end things.

(And you got me to read babyfic! How did you do that?)
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 05:31 pm (UTC)
Ha ha you readed babyfic!
Jay the Nerd Kid - Elitist Internet Royalty: bewarethespork - eleven and amybewarethespork on June 16th, 2010 05:53 pm (UTC)
You have been like a fic-writing machine. I approve of this. This bit especially:

"I'm always fine, Pond." He claps his hands together. "All that domestic stuff, no thanks. Been there, done that, washed vomit from the t-shirt."

"So we're good?"

"Aren't we always?"

Was maybe a bit sad, in a good way.
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 06:20 pm (UTC)
He probably cried afterwards.
AstroGirl: Amyastrogirl2 on June 16th, 2010 10:21 pm (UTC)
I am truly amazed by how well you have made this work. It's funny and achy and very in-character.

Edited at 2010-06-16 10:21 pm (UTC)
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 16th, 2010 10:25 pm (UTC)
Was it TOO AWFUL that they don't have a baby in the end?
AstroGirl: Fanfic Twoastrogirl2 on June 16th, 2010 10:28 pm (UTC)
Well, I may not be a representative member of the reading audience, but for me, that made it at least six times better that it otherwise would have been. I like sadness in my fic, and am not all that thrilled with actual babies.
jaydeyn_sitari: Choosejaydeyn_sitari on June 16th, 2010 11:09 pm (UTC)

Oh that was rather excellent! I liked the end though am sad.

teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 17th, 2010 01:57 am (UTC)
Becca: 11/Amy headkisstonguestopraise on June 17th, 2010 02:59 am (UTC)
Glorious! Funny and well written and delightful and just a bit sad. Very, very well done.
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 17th, 2010 03:08 am (UTC)
a paleogeographic reconstruction: hiding against a wallprof_pangaea on June 17th, 2010 03:36 am (UTC)
fucking brilliant, nos. and a pitch-perfect ending. ilu.
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 17th, 2010 09:43 am (UTC)
Xandri the Gate-pirate: Zetsubou-sensei - Kafukaxandri on June 17th, 2010 05:00 am (UTC)
BRILLIANT. Funny and sniffly at the same time. I give it A+.
teh nos'nostalgia_lj on June 17th, 2010 09:43 am (UTC)
Episkopos Rev. Alixtii O'Krul V, TRL: father/daughteralixtii on July 11th, 2010 02:41 am (UTC)
I'm broken. Ouch.
JoDee: woesorayume on July 30th, 2010 09:24 am (UTC)
Wow, this made me really sad, but the characters stayed in character well enough.

It was really painful for me to read about them not wanting the child... I was adopted so abortion is always hard for me to read about.
faithintheboysfaithintheboys on January 24th, 2011 03:17 am (UTC)
Oh goodness. This was awesome.
Therese Norén, Bishop of Browniesthette on February 20th, 2011 01:14 pm (UTC)
Thank you for writing about someone choosing abortion without making it super angsty.

It was perfectly in character, and it broke my heart at the end.
( 29 comments — Leave a comment )