This fic was written for one of my best friends in the whole universe, StrangeWomanWithBananaCandy. Eleven/Rory is my OTP, and I always wanted to write a fic about them. Enjoy! Doctor Who does not belong to me. If it did, I'd buy Matt Smith's hand in marriage.

"What's wrong with me, Doctor?"

Amy Pond was tucked in bed onboard the TARDIS, looking quite ill. The Doctor examined her closely.

"It seems you have Space AIDS," said the Doctor curiously.

"SPACE AIDS? Wait, what?" shouted Amy.

"How in the name of Rassilon did you contract it?" asked the Doctor.

"Wasn't me, I swear," said Rory shakily, entering the bedroom with a tray with soup, "I used protection."

"Space AIDS isn't contracted through sex, Rory!" exclaimed the Doctor, slapping Rory on the back, making him drop the tray right onto Amy's bed, spilling lukewarm soup on the blankets, "Unlike Earth AIDS, it's contracted by virus and usually goes away after a few days, not unlike the Earth common cold rhinovirus. Unfortunately, unlike the Earth common cold it's highly contagious to women only and will rarely, if ever, turn into Space Toxic Shock Syndrome and kill you. There's nothing much to worry about, except whether you're properly hydrated and rested. I guess this means Rory and I are going to have to bumble through some misadventure or two by ourselves while you recuperate."

"Yeah, the Doctor and I have to bumble through some misadventure or two by ourselves – wait, WHAT? Doctor, I can't just leave my wife here on the TARDIS, she could get Space Toxic Shock Syndrome and die like you said! I need to stay behind –"

"Rory, you're going out with the Doctor. I don't want to give you any disease I have, " said Amy sternly, "even if it is just a galactic version of a common cold with a rather unsettling name. Plus, I'd rather stay here in bed and eat soup and watch TV."

"Well, have fun being sick then, Amy! Get well soon!" said the Doctor cheerily, and pulled Rory's sleeve. "Come on, Rory, we've got a misadventure on our hands!"

"Well, bye, Amy," said Rory somewhat sadly, following the Doctor down the stairs into the main console room and shutting the bedroom door behind him.

"Now, where would you like to go, Rory?" asked the Doctor, turning some knobs and pressing some buttons on the TARDIS console. "We could go to the Crystal Ruins of Mokalvar 9, or watch the sun set on the beaches of Pago Pago, or bother Snape –"

"I'm rather hungry actually," said Rory. "I could use a nice dinner for once."

"A nice dinner you say? I know the nicest restaurant in the galaxy – "

"Doctor, you don't have to spend a lot of money on me, it's not like we're going on a date –"

"Too late!" said the Doctor maniacally, lifting a lever and sending the TARDIS on its way through time and space.


Vworp! Vworp! Vworp!

"We've landed! Get something nice on, will ya?" The Doctor began taking off his jacket, shirt, pants and tie in front of Rory.

"This is the nicest thing I brought with me, Doctor," said Rory somewhat awkwardly, gesturing to his blue plaid shirt and red vest ensemble.

"You look great, then!" said the now-shirtless Doctor approvingly. Rory just stared.

"But really, don't you think you should go into the ship's dressing room or something to get dressed..."

"We're all men here, aren't we, Mr. Pond? Don't get so worked up, it's not like you've never seen a man naked before," said the Doctor cheerily, now standing completely bare at the main console. Rory just continued staring...

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get my fanciest suit out of the closet. Meet you back here in a few minutes!" Giving Rory a quick kiss on the cheek, the now-naked Doctor began walking up the stairs toward his dressing room.

"My God, I'm going out to dinner with an absolute madman..." thought Rory, staring at the Doctor's naked backside as he walked up the stairs, "an absolutely gorgeous madman with quite the box..."

Minutes later the Doctor returned from his dressing room in a velvet suit coat, a top hat, and silk pants. "How do I look, Rory?"

"...gorgeous," ejaculated Rory, staring at the Doctor's rather foppish outfit.

"You think so? Well thank you! The last time I wore this must have been nearly forty years ago."

"Can we go eat now?" asked Rory, hungrily.

"Of course, my dear," said the Doctor, opening the doors of the TARDIS and leading Rory outside.

As the Doctor shut the TARDIS doors behind him, Rory looked around. They were definitely not on Earth, as the sky above was deep purple and glittering with millions of turquoise stars. The restaurant (or what was supposed to be the restaurant, anyway,) in front of them looked more like a library or a museum than an eating establishment; with marble columns and large gold-plated statues of two-headed lions it reminded him more of London than here... wherever here was –

"Where are we, Doctor?" asked Rory.

"This is the planet Tantric, in the Rhipidistian galaxy of the constellation Deonidas," explained the Doctor, "home of the greatest restaurant in the universe. I hope you enjoy your meal." The Doctor took Rory's hand and began to walk up the stairs to the entrance.

"I certainly will..." said Rory dreamily, gripping the Doctor's hand tighter as they walked inside.

As they entered the rather busy restaurant (which was surprisingly smaller on the inside) the Doctor and Rory were greeted by a bored-looking Sontaran in a tuxedo. Upon seeing the Sontaran, Rory's expression turned from giddy dreaminess to panic and rage. His hand, vice-like, clenched around the Doctor's hand even tighter. He tried to look calm and forced a smile onto his face.

"How many?" inquired the Sontaran, looking curiously at the Doctor's outfit in contrast with Rory's.

"Two, please; my boyfriend and I are having a night out –"

Rory's hand gripped the Doctor's even tighter than before; his fingernails dug angrily into the Time Lord's hand.

"Boyfriend? Doctor, I am NOT your boyfriend!" whispered Rory through clenched teeth, his face still in a forced smile. The Doctor kicked Rory lightly in the shin.

"Yes, you are. Just play along," whispered the Doctor, also through a clenched-teeth smile, "Now, where's our table?"

"Follow me, sir."

The Sontaran led them to a table surrounded by other tables filled with various alien races eating dinner. He handed them menus and walked away. As soon as the two sat down and the Sontaran was out of sight, Rory released his grip and began throttling the Doctor.

"Doctor, what the hell? Sontarans are supposed to evil! What's wrong with this place?"

"Calm down, Rory... people are staring at us," whispered the Doctor, as the aliens sitting around them, seemingly on cue, began to stare.

"No... this place is TOO WEIRD. Doctor, I've seen a lot over the past few weeks, and this is ridiculous. I mean, a restaurant at the end of the universe? This is like a Douglas Adams novel – "

"Rory... they're staring..."

"I don't care, Doctor, this is crazy. First you strip in front of me, then you put on a velvet suitcoat like some sort of Victorian dandy, then you whisk me away to a fancy restaurant where we're probably going to get drunk on bubbly and end up singing a bad acapella karaoke rendition of something by Westlife–"

"Rory! Shut up and – just kiss me, Rory! They're staring at us."

"Wait, wha–"

Before he could even finish his reaction, the Doctor pulled Rory up to his face and planted a kiss on his lips. Rory felt tingly and punch-drunk the moment their lips met. All his anger, past and present, at the Doctor felt as if it had simply washed away... he was surprised... this kiss felt even better than all the times when Amy did the exact same thing... the world around him melted away as the only thing keeping him buoyed to this moment was the kiss of the Doctor, the warm, wonderful kiss of the wonderful madman with a wonderful box and a cool bowtie and a ridiculously awesome fez...

Meanwhile, back in the TARDIS, Amy lay in bed, eating soup and watching TV.

She was watching a show on BBC called "Doctor Who" that featured characters remarkably similar to her own life, even featuring a young girl named Amy with a similar obsession with a raggedy Doctor.

"What the hell is this crap?" shouted Amy, throwing her soup spoon at the TV. "These people are illegally telling my life story, and they don't even use good actors; I mean, really, who is this Karen Gillan poser? She doesn't look anything like me. I give them credit, though, whoever cast this Matt Smith person as the Doctor did a brilliant job... he's bloody gorgeous." As the show continued, Amy continued to rant. "This Arthur Darvill person has no right playing my husband... his nose is too big! And who in the name of God is responsible for all this?" Amy fast-forwarded through the show and managed to catch the credits in time to catch his name.

"Steven Moffat..." Amy whispered. "Steven Moffat... he must die..."