Hullo! I have returned with this brand new story! Finally all settled in and back on my writing feet! As an update I am LITERALLY about to finish up the 4th chapter of Chores and Troubles I swear. Please don't throw things at me . .

This concept came from a few conversations with a couple of my friends and mostly from a craving I had for more of Pregnant Amy and Eleven! This is my first official Who story, and I will tell you that it is definitely different from my usual work. First of all I spent WAY more time editing and rewriting this and I put a brain melting amount of thought into how I wanted to write it.

This story's got lots of squishy fluff, just a pinch of drama, and buckets of humor! This story is also dedicated to my lovely friend Tory :3 thank you for your boundless patience at my hair pulling obsession with getting this story posted!

As always, I do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters in this story (except for Mini Pond, but we'll get there).

Anyway, feedback on this one would be highly, highly appreciated because I want to know how I did and if anyone has any input on where they'd like the story to go from here, please don't be afraid to review! Reviews always make my day~

UPDATE 1/16/13: So as you may have noticed (or not) this is a revamped chapter one. Starting today I'll be going through and editing the chapters of this story since I've been getting a couple notes that it's currently a little difficult to follow. So hopefully the edits I've made so far will solve those problems. Please let me know if these edits are helpful or not. Otherwise, happy reading!

.The Euphoria of Family.

Sometimes he just said all the wrong things. But this is exactly why a superhero should never travel with a pregnant lady.

.Chapter 1.

"How much did you eat?"

"The normal amount!"

"Do you mean the hormonal normal amount or the actual normal amount?"

Amy glowered up at him from her spot on the bathroom floor, too miserable to put any real heat behind it. Her knuckles were almost blending in with the white porcelain rim of the toilet bowl. "I mean the normal amount."

The Doctor scrunched his nose. She was only being saucy because she was tired of the relentless nausea seizing her insides. He couldn't really blame her. But that wasn't the real question he wanted to ask. He had been idling around the real question, the real drive behind his restlessness, the real worry that would complicate this whole adventure, for a few days now. "So…you have the flu then?"

When it came down to it, Amy realized, the Doctor—the man known as The Destroyer of Worlds, The Oncoming Storm, The Savior—was downright terrified. He wasn't ready for this. This whole…situation. He wasn't ready to ask the question that was obviously causing him so much stress. But even more than that he was obviously afraid of what Amy Pond might say if he asked her that one enormous question.

Are you pregnant?

There was a quiet moment where he could see the wheels turning in that clever red head of hers, where she realized his dilemma, his fear. And bless her. Bless the magnificent, gracious Amy Pond. Because entirely for him she said: "Yeah. Probably."

.Several Days Later.

"Are you sure?"


"Are you positive?"

"It says so right here." She brandished the unyielding little pink test with a look he didn't recognize.

There was a pregnant pause.

The walls gave a low buzz of uneasiness at the silence. Clearly the spaceship wasn't feeling comfortable either.

Uncertainty coiled in a tight spiral behind the untamed blue of his eyes as they frantically searched for an explanation on the ceiling, then on the surrounding walls, walls that were beginning to feel like a prison cell. His gaze finally fell to his feet. Nope. No answer there either. "Right." He said suddenly, drawing his companion's confused gaze.

An auburn brow arched: a silent question in those perfect green eyes of hers. Another few moments of silence passed, the Doctor adjusting his suddenly too tight bowtie, with Amy staring at him forlornly.

"Right," he said again, slapping both of his knees and straightening. He cleared his throat. "You're sure you've done it correctly?"

A scowl was the only answer he got for that question, but it was made severely less menacing when she pouted those strawberry pink lips. "It's not exactly hard to pee on a stick, you know."

The Doctor sighed heavily, dragging a hand up and down his face several times. "You'd be surprised, Pond. You really would."


Amy Pond did not have the flu.

There was no freaking way.

"Doctor," she called. It was really time for them to talk. Whether he wanted to or not. (It wasn't like it was really his decision to not talk about anyway.)

She found him in the control room, underneath the console tinkering with a rainbow assortment of wires. The TARDIS was humming idly to fill in the silence of Amy watching the Doctor work, jerking wires out of place, beaming the screwdriver in empty spaces. It was all rather monotonous and routine.

She absently flicked a switch with one lavender fingernail, wincing when the Doctor suddenly shouted, "Yowzah!" A small pause as she waited, expecting him to scold any second. "Pond! Whatever you're doing, whatever you're planning, whatever you're thinking about touching, DON'T." Well, that was definitely more than he had said to her these past three days. She tried ignoring the nagging tug in the back of her mind, the little voice squeaking how bad of an idea this was. But soon, all too soon maybe, Amy could have sworn she felt amusement in the air as she nudged the impossible man with one baby blue Converse. When he only grunted, his usual dismissive "not-now-Pond" noise, she frowned and spoke up.

"Doctor, we need to talk."

"Do we now?" He didn't sound very convinced. In fact, if anything he sounded slightly annoyed.

Amy eyed him warily, "Yes, we do. And you know we do."

He didn't respond.

"Please don't make this difficult."

It wasn't like she was excited about the whole situation, but did he have to act so…reluctant? Would it really be so bad if she turned out to be carrying his child? Isn't it a miracle of some kind? He wasn't the last of his kind any longer!

Apparently the TARDIS could sense her distress because a swift electrical current zipped through one of the lines he was working on and gave him a deliberate shock that left a good portion of his arm numb. He jerked underneath the console, muttering something about the ship being cheeky and slid out vigorously shaking one of his hands. "All right. All right. What is it, Pond?"

Amy crossed her arms. She was getting real fed up with his whole attitude. "Not that you seem particularly interested, but I'm pregnant and everything. So I thought you should know that your fish still swim."

Something she didn't recognize flitted across the backdrop of blue in his eyes. They flashed with a mixture of hurt and anger, and she suddenly found herself confused all over again.

"I don't understand," She huffed, throwing her arms down at her sides. "You're always on about how you're all alone. But things have changed now. I don't really understand how or why. But the point is, it's happening. It might actually work and- you don't have to be alone anymore."

"Amy that's what you don't understand. It is not physically possible for you to be pregnant with my…my-" He was having as much trouble explaining himself as she was having trouble understanding him. "My 'fish' shouldn't be swimming for your-" Okay bad analogy. Now he felt like he was giving her 'The Talk'. "There are chains of DNA that should cancel out-or at least not interact in a way that would create-" He gestured hurriedly toward her person. She felt his uncertainty began unfurling within her, a thick fear creeping under her skin.

The Doctor saw this and immediately stood to comfort her, tracing his hands up and down her arms. "Look, I would love nothing more for you, of all humans to…you know. Be the one that I could-" He caught himself when those green eyes began to reflect a shimmer of hope, but pressed on. "If I could. But I can't. It's just-it's just not possible. We aren't biologically compatible. I have no idea what my DNA will do to your body. It may do nothing, it may completely change you. You could be changing right this instant," A rough pull through his hair, he looked ready to burst, brimming with nervous energy. "I should have never-we should have never…"

"Doctor!" She could have slapped him with the abrupt amount of fury clutching her in that moment. This horrible bitter feeling replaced all forms of the fear and uncertainty rolling off both of them in waves. She knew in that moment that she wanted nothing more than exactly this. Exactly the sense of having the essence of him and her mixing together to create something new. Her hand connected with his cheek before she could stop herself. She was just so angry. "If you're just going to stand there scolding me, then take me home! Take me home right now and I'll deal with it myself!"

His cheek barely stung despite the force behind the blow. He knew what he should do. "Amy," His voice was stern, partly disappointed. She looked ready to cry, but he knew she wasn't going to. Not in front of him at least. Her petite body was leaning back slightly, on the defensive. He repeated her name again, "Amy."

"I'm not afraid," She nearly whispered. "I've been on my own before."

The Doctor knew all the things he could, and probably should, say right now, to convince her how wrong this whole situation was. How it wasn't possible. But she was so bloody stubborn and foolish and brilliant.

"Amy," he sighed, trailing a hand up to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "You terrible, awful, magnificent ginger." He leaned forward to place a kiss on her stunned forehead. "You are going to be the end of me one of these days."

.Several months later.

"Here we are, Pond! Right here on the plant Volcania."

Amy was in the middle of slowly edging herself out of the safety of the TARDIS. She paused at the planet's name. "Uh. I'm sorry. Did I just hear volcano in the title? You brought me and your unborn child to a planet with a bloody volcano on it?"

The Doctor was waiting patiently for her to push the rest of herself through that small doorway, eyeing the gap skeptically. But he had enough sense to ease the rising tension in her shoulders, "Oh don't worry. It's like that clever Iceland and Greenland trick. The Volcanians came up with the title to deter conquerors. There's nothing to fear."

"What about us then? They won't think we're conquerors?"

His chuckle drew her brows together. "I hardly think a conqueror would bring his pregnant…" The Doctor trailed off as he thought of what to call her. Was she still merely his companion? She was carrying his child, for Volcania's sake. So didn't that make her more? Logically, it probably should. It was only fair and—oh who was he kidding? He was enchanted by Amelia Pond the moment he knew her name. He snapped himself out of his mental contemplation and continued, "Regardless, I can't imagine conquering a planet would go over very well with a pregnant lady there. I mean, she'd be huge."

Amy pretended not to hear that last bit. "But is there really a volcano around here?"

Her question might as well have been a leaf caught up in the breeze sweeping across her shoulders just then because he was already enraptured in his usual lecture. She was suddenly faced with his tweed covered back, watching him gesture eagerly across the broad landscape.

The area ahead was a vast stretch of a beach that spanned on for miles, the sand was a perfect eggshell white and lush beneath them. It gave enough to comfort Amy's sore feet but held firm enough to give them support. It was a lot like walking on pillows. A steady breeze drifted back and forth over and around them, bringing with it the kind smell of sunshine. Waves lapped gingerly against the shore, carrying assortments of delicate shells and flowers from the great below. All and all it seemed like a good spot for a space resort.

"…and here in Merciel they have the most amazing—"


"What?" He turned toward her again, slumping his shoulders. "Oh." The Doctor took in the sight of his beloved companion stuck in the recently narrowed space of the front door of the TARDIS and shook his head fondly. This was a normal occurrence, as lately this puffy version of Amy was constantly getting stuck in all sorts of spaces. No matter how many adjustments the ship made for her.

"I can't help it!" She was pouting, her button nose wrinkled in pregnant fury. "This is your fault you know."

He could feel a swell of amusement as the laughter of the TARDIS washed over him. But as adorable as Amy was caught in the front door that she had previously pranced in and out of so many times, the TARDIS finally put the poor puffy girl out of her misery and clicked a second door open to accommodate her.

"You really are getting quite large aren't you?"

The look she gave him just then would have frightened his worst enemies.

"Er. Right. The great thing about it—" He was suddenly talking with vigor, much faster than his usual pace—which was pretty damn fast, even on his best lecturing day.

Amy was waddling passed him now, going straight for the nearest place to sit. She decided on a conveniently placed bench toward the shore's edge. Her slow swaying steps got her to her destination just as the Doctor mentioned something spectacular about the sky. "Wait, what was that bit about the sky?"

He plopped himself down next to her while motioning enthusiastically skyward. "On this planet the sky and the ocean are switched!"

Amy's face scrunched endearingly. She was skeptical more because of the pregnancy fatigue rather than the lack of belief in his words. "What, like Atlantis or something?"

"Well, sort of." His eyes shifted upward.

With a bellow, a creature that more or less resembled a humpback whale swam sluggishly by overhead, casting a large shadow as it went over the two. Amy caught herself staring with her mouth hanging open. Whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that.

"Nifty. Isn't it?"

Amy laughed; a warm and welcome sound. "It's beautiful!"

A grin slid across the Doctor's lips easily, eyes tracking the soft curve of her lips when she giggled at a nearby jellyfish, also swimming leisurely by off to the left. "Absolutely. Absolutely gorgeous," he said.

"Right. So you can say the sky is gorgeous but when you look at me—" She turned to eye him sternly, expecting to catch him by surprise, off-guard even. But she turned only to find him staring at her with a sense of fulfillment. Her lips were turning up in response before the thought to smile even registered in her mind. And with a pat to his knee with one hand, the other resting tenderly on the swell of her belly, she said, "All right. You're forgiven."

The Doctor chuckled, scooting impossibly closer until she was snuggly against him with an arm wrapped protectively across her lower back. "You really are a gorgeous sight, Pond."

"Yeah, yeah I know. Gorgeous and ginger." She tilted her head to rest it comfortably on his shoulder.

He pressed a loving kiss to the side of her head and murmured, "The ultimate ginger."

.One night on the TARDIS.

Beds were starting to feel criminally comfortable now that Amy had gotten all swollen. Her head had just hit the pillow when the Doctor climbed into their shared, recently modified bed. (She had never been so thankful for the TARDIS's stealthy upgrades). Which had been transformed into a king-sized array of clouds and comfort and perfection. She was often tempted to spend the entire day in that magnificent bed, but the constant hunger and frequent bathroom trips kept her on her feet. Her sore, swollen, fuzzy sock-clad feet. (She had found them on her bedside table one morning, another gift from the ever watchful TARDIS, no doubt.)

"Hello puffy version of my Amelia Pond."

Amy fixed him with one of her "I love you, but you're an idiot" stares. He was receiving that look more and more lately. "What?" He kissed her cheek sweetly, but she still held that same "you're stupid" face afterward.

A bundle of wrinkles appeared on his forehead when his brow furrowed. "Pond?"

She closed her weary green eyes and gave him the same kind of sigh a tired mother would give her silly little child.

He pictured her giving the same sigh to the bundle riding along in her tummy and couldn't stop himself from smiling so widely it was sure to split his face in half. He was careful to hide the smile as quickly as he could when she looked at him again. "Your version of sweet talk just reminds me of how unsexy and enormous I'm becoming."

"Are you kidding? You've only gotten…you know," The Doctor made a few gestures toward her person that Amy couldn't hope to decipher, nose crinkling in distaste. Eventually, when she continued giving him that dumbfounded "please-shut-up" look, he resigned to reusing her earlier words. "You've only gotten sexier now that you're rounding out."

She tried focusing the sudden surge of annoyance on the wall ahead of her instead of the on the man next to her who was definitely not making her feel any better. It wasn't his fault. Well, okay maybe it was his fault, but he was the Doctor and he wasn't aware of half the offensive thingshe said to people. Or aliens.

At her deep frown he began to panic. "I mean—you're even more sexy simply because there's so much more of you!" He paused, aware that something about that sentence simply wasn't right. "Wait. No. Um."

Amy could have face palmed in that moment. She really could have. Maybe this was just her life now, travelling with a time travelling alien, being pregnant with the second to last Time Lord in existence, and being unintentionally insulted by said man-alien she was only growing fonder of each passing day. She sighed again in resignation.

"No! Wait—Pond. It's…it's like this—when I see you all…well, huge, it just makes me want you more because on some silly primal level I like knowing I did that—No. We did that. Me, the Doctor, the last of his kind and you, Amelia Pond, The-Girl-Who-Waited. We made something," His eyes fell on the rise of her stomach. One of her hands was resting there, so he gently slid one of his own up the side of her belly to twine their fingers together. Their eyes met as their fingers did. "…beautiful."

Despite all the things they had done together, from meeting Churchill to Van Gogh, to Venice and vampires, to the walking lizards underground, to the hushed intimacy against the console (not the most romantic of spots but it got the job done), Amy found herself blushing a dusty pink. Which was silly really. She was pregnant, for heaven's sake! She shouldn't be so easily stirred by such gooey sweet words. "What I mean to say is that no matter how huge you get," he gave her a little grin, a grin that made her baby filled tummy flip-flop, "you'll always be my brilliant, magnificent Amelia Pond."

He lifted their joined hands to kiss the back of hers. Then he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then each cheek and then—and then Amy got impatient and threaded her free hand through his hair to finally bring him in for a proper kiss.

.One afternoon on the TARDIS.

"Doctor! Doctor get in here right now!"

He nearly tripped over himself in his haste to enter the room.

"Pond! What is it? Where are you? Do you feel sick? Should we land? Are you hungry? Are you in labor? Is something broken? Whatever you do—DON'T PANIC." For a man named the Doctor he really didn't know a thing about the medical mechanics of pregnancy.

"Calm down. Calm down, it's nothing like that."

He visibly slumped in relief.

Amy couldn't help smiling at his jumpiness. The man had saved hundreds of planets, over millions of aliens, and yet at the first sign of trouble with a human pregnant lady he was a complete mess.

"Come here," she beckoned him when he got done rearranging the mischievous bunch of toys safely out of the way.

She looked giddy. With that sort of…tell-tale glow pregnant women were rumored to have when they weren't cranky or hormonal. Or both. That made him cautious as he sat down on the edge of the bed with her.

Amy Pond's grin was probably the most contagious thing the Doctor had ever seen. He returned the expression easily.

She took one of his hands in both of hers and placed it front and center on her great big tummy. "I discovered this today. He's quite clever, probably because of his Scottish side, he can hear when you tap on him or talk to him. It's like playing a game! Say hello!"

The Doctor paused, both brows hitched up. "She can hear me?"

It was a discreet argument that had been going on for weeks since Amy had begun visibly expanding. She wanted a boy that she had absolutely no idea how to handle raising a girl. He, on the other hand, wanted a girl on the testament that boys were nothing but trouble.

"Yes, he can hear you."

The Doctor pretended not to hear Amy's gender input claim.

Regardless, he hopped up, with all the enthusiasm he always had, and then abruptly knelt down in front of her again. It looked rather weird, but Amy wrote it off as his usual over excitement. The kind that made him pace one way, then the other, then back the other way again.

He gave her a grin, hands now cradling both sides of the bundle of part Amy Pond part himself, and entirely theirs.

"Hello there Mini Pond. The Doctor here. How are things in there?" Then he waited, eagerly leaning forward. Amy rolled her eyes with a fond smile. Of course he wouldwant a status report from inside the tummy of Pond. Definitely not a normal bloke.

First, they felt one gentle kick. Then another. Then another. Three kicks! Three whole kicks! "That's fantastic!" He said.

When the Doctor gave her an affectionate grin, Amy knew she would give anything to see that expression on him more often, their tiny baby bundle agreed with another excited little kick. The Doctor looked up at the magnificent woman in front of him, the woman he loved. Irrevocably and unequivocally. He wasn't sure how they got to this impossible place, but the moment he felt a final kick of farewell, he knew he didn't care.

He kissed her tummy with a flourish, praising the Mini Pond still growing inside. Then he lifted himself to kiss her lips, brief and soft, took both her hands in both of his, and pulled her up along with him as he stood. "Come along Ponds, both of you. There are still a few adventures to be had!"

.Between weeks 6-8.

They weren't kidding when they said there would be some major changes to her body. Amy squinted at herself in the mirror. "Hm. Must be my imagination?" She took a step back to see if the distance helped. It didn't. So she turned to the side. "Yep. They've definitely gotten bigger."

The Doctor was tinkering away, as usual, at the TARDIS console. Right side up this time. Throwing levers, twisting knobs, pressing buttons. Something Amy was beginning to think he did to distract himself from the whole "somehow-got-his-companion-pregnant-even-though-we-shouldn't-be-bio-compatitible-or-something" situation.

At least he perked up when he heard her descending the staircase.

"There you are, Pond! It's about time you got down here. I was thinking we could go to the—" He stopped short when she reached his side. He was staring at her as if something was wrong. (Or maybe something was very, very right. But perhaps that was just some wishful thinking on her part.) It sort of made her feel self-conscious. Well, self-conscious for Amelia Pond.

"What?" She glanced down at herself, namely her chest. "Is it the breasts?"

Which wasn't very self-conscious at all, especially in a tight, low-cut jumper and a short skirt.

The Doctor just kept staring, eyes glued to her body, at a loss for words at first. Ah, so he was just like every other bloke after all. She was starting to think he was immune. "Well yes. No! No, no, no. Pond! How could you think I would be staring at your—I would never! I was only caught off guard by the sheer size—er. No. Wait. Hang on. My eyes just naturally fell there and—"

"Relax Raggedy Man. I was only teasing you." The smirk she gave him would have made a nun uncomfortable.

His uneasiness was becoming increasingly apparent, like she might as well have had made the "I'm pregnant" announcement all over again. The TARDIS clearly shared the same opinion, if the melodious series of beeps at her elbow was anything to go by.

Another reach to drag a hand through his floppy brown hair, then drag that hand down his face, and finally down to adjust his bowtie, saving some semblance of dignity. Amy gave him one of those clichéd condolence pats on the shoulder.

"It's all right you know. It's not like you haven't seen them before. In fact if you want…" Her voice dipped into a low purr. "I could always let you take a closer look." She punctuated the sentence with a suggestively raised eyebrow and a tilt forward to give him a clean view of her cleavage.

He looked horrified at the sultry suggestion, trying his best—and failing—to keep his gaze trained on her eyes and not her breasts, no matter how inviting they looked. He leaned away from her, as if the distance would solve the problem. It didn't.

But if the Doctor was one thing, he was good at avoiding uncomfortable situations. Sort of. "Uh. No thank you. I think I'll just take us to that constellation over to the left there instead."

How he had managed to sidle past her without any physical contact was truly puzzling, considering Amy was putting forth her most valiant efforts to push herself against him.

He practically sprinted to get to the other side of the console, putting a TARDIS barrier between them, and began throwing switches and pulling levers as if his life depended on it. Amy, now properly disgruntled, crossed her arms and gave a little huff, which unbeknownst to her, only served as even more of a distraction for her self-proclaimed gentleman of a companion.

With her arms crossed like that, her breasts pressed together, which was distraction enough, but with that harsh exhale of air—

Well, he would only admit to being slightly distracted. And that was that. He wasn't really bothered. He wasn't desperately trying to keep his hands to himself. He wasn't fighting the urge to lift her by those angular hips and snog her until next Tuesday. And he was most definitely not aroused.

Definitely. Not. Thinking. About. Amy.

(He could picture it now; her body, flush against his…)

In. That. Way.

(Those pretty pink lips whimpering his name…)



His head was hanging by the time Amy gave up her escapade and fell gracelessly into the jump seat, stretching those long legs out to their full length.

The Doctor wasn't going to lie to himself (for once); the idea of those legs folded around his waist sounded very, very pleasant. He gripped the accelerator a little harder than necessary.


.One night on the TARDIS.

Amy was squirming in her sleep again. The Doctor had been told countless times that having weird dreams was a normal occurrence at this stage. That little facet of information, no matter how many times he heard it, did nothing to ease his hyperactive nerves.

His beloved, puffy companion was lying on her left side, the proper side for a pregnant woman, mind you, facing toward him. She occasionally wiggled around, her usual sign of a whimsical dream. Her dreams always turned out to be extremely bizarre when she told him of the events over breakfast in bed the following morning (a tradition he had started once her feet had swollen up).

Curls tumbled in waves onto her ultra-fluffy down pillow and spilled over onto their cotton comforter. The Doctor was keeping himself entertained, and his mild jealousy at bay by twisting a red curl about one of his fingers and watching the ringlet slowly uncurl again. Always wanted to be a ginger, but alas, I'll have to settle with Amy's hair instead. He was content to spend the rest of the night that way.

That was until Amy started mumbling half phrases in her sleep. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, catching the faint scent of her shampoo. She would have to use fruit scented shampoo wouldn't she? It was mighty distracting, (almost as distracting as when her body first began changing). Smells like a fruit salad. Didn't know they made that scent for hair products. Not that it makes any bloody sense. Who goes about putting fruit in their hair? Especially enough to make an entire salad! The sight of her button nose wrinkling drew him from his train of thought.

He tucked an auburn strand of hair behind her pale ear. He leaned forward briefly to murmur against the soft spot of her cheek, "Don't fret Amelia. It's only a dream. That giant wheel of pepper jack isn't going to take over." She was always dreaming about that pesky cheese wheel.

Another entertaining fact about Amelia Pond: she could carry on a small conversation in her sleep.

"Doctor," she called quietly. He tilted his head back to look at her face.



The Doctor reveled in these peaceful moments—no rush to save the day, his companion safely tucked away in bed. He ran a hand through her hair again, admiring the cascade of red curls as he rubbed soothing circles against her temples. "What's troubling you?"

It was a sort of therapy, this night time talk. A part of him wondered if this was Amy's subconscious reaching out to offer him the small comfort of feeling needed. Any time he expressed this idea to the TARDIS, she only sent him loving waves of sympathy. The same way a mother shook her head knowingly at her silly little child.

Amy gave him the most adorable yawn. "Am I really right for all this?"

The Doctor paused. That question had actually stunned him. "Amy Pond. Amelia. Are you kidding me? I mean, blimey," he said with a laugh. "You're wonderful! How could you think you're not fit to be a mother?"

"…wouldn't you prefer someone more alien-y?"

His chuckle was low and reassuring. "No I wouldn't."

"How come?" She seemed a bit closer to consciousness now, her brow delicately furrowed.

"In the words of Ernest Hemingway, I'll tell you why puffy version of my Amelia Pond. It's because I'm with you. And no matter what else you have in your clever little head, I'm with you and I love you."

Her eyes fluttered open, sleepily surprised. She blinked up at him, eyes a bit glassy. He stared sincerely right back at her.

He ran the back of two fingers across her cheek, catching a stray tear as it sprang free from the rest of the growing well of water threatening to spill over. Amy Pond crying was something the Doctor actively tried to avoid. It did strange and painful things to both his hearts. Crushed them really. Unfortunately, with her hormones all out of whack, he was slowly growing accustomed to the sight.

"What's wrong, Pond?"

And then she did something he didn't expect. (She was always doing that, surprising him, proving him wrong, besting him in every human way she could.)

She laughed. A tearful but otherwise happy sound. "You said that you love me."

His forehead creased in confusion. "Well of course I do. Isn't it obvious?"

"You've just never…" A sniffle. Never a good sign. Sniffles always came right before the onslaught of tears. Predictably, he was right. "You've never said it to me before." She was absently wiping at the little buds of water before they fell to join the streams trailing down her cheeks, cursing the fluctuation of hormones.

Now he was just plain stumped.

Surely among all the…the intimate stuff, the scrambling about the TARDIS kitchen for midnight snacks, surely he must have said it to her at least once for reassurance. He had thought it plenty. So why hadn't he thought to say it out loud to her?

What is wrong with you? He could feel the TARDIS' judgment creeping over him like tar incessantly crawling across the sidewalk. (Like the supportive quiet girl friend, glaring at the stupid boy who made one of her friends cry.)

"Er. I've never said it to you before just now? No. Surely I must have. I'm positive. I've said it."

"Just now you have, yeah."

"Mmm no, I'm pretty sure I've said it before this instance."

"Not to my knowledge you haven't." She was giving him that sassy "I-know-best" look. Which pregnancy enhanced tenfold.

"What? No, no, no. The first time can't be when you were half asleep. I'll fix this—" The Doctor shuffled about on the bed, jarring her from her comfy spot. She gave him her best wilting frown at the adjustment.

"Come here," he said finally, scooping her up into his arms to lay her where he pleased. She now lay pressed next to him, and as he settled back against the bed, Amy set her warm cheek on his chest. "Now listen carefully, Pond, because I'll be repeating it a lot after this."

A pause for dramatic effect.

"I love you."

She giggled. "The way you said it before was quite nice."

"Ah the Ernest way?"


"Right. Ahem. I'll tell you again why I don't want anyone else puffy—"

"There's no need to keep reminding me I'm a whale, you know."

"Oh Amy, I don't do it for that reason. I do it because I want to remind you that we're having a baby."

That got him another fabulous laugh. "I'm not likely to forget about being pregnant."

"Ah, but you do keep forgetting how magnificent you are for having that particular baby."

"One of the last living Time Lords in existence?" she asked with a small smile.

He grinned down at her. "Exactly. Now as I was saying, the reason I don't want anyone else puffy," he took special care to rub her tummy for emphasis, "version of my Amelia Pond, is because I'm with you. And no matter what else you have in your clever ginger head, I'm with you. And I love you."

Amy happily nuzzled the curve of his neck.

He hummed in approval when he felt the press of kiss there, drawing his arm around her to rub up and down encouragingly.

"One more time?"

"I love you." It was coming so easily to him now.

"Once more."

"I love you." It was as easy as reciting prime ministers.

'"Hmm again please."

"I love you." Easy. As. Pie.

She sighed with that same shining smile. "Again?"

He chuckled. "As many times as you need."

Amy fell asleep like that, with the Doctor murmuring sweet I love you's to her.