For the fifth day in a row, Rory sprang to full consciousness as a thud rang through his head.
There was no gradual waking, slipping slowly and softly from dreamland to reality.
No, there was simply a loud crash, followed by the harsh reality of consciousness.
Rolling onto his back, Rory stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes. Instead of looking at the pale yellow paint, he was listening. Another thud, then crash and what could only be described as a skittering spill, which was followed up by a few choice swear words.
For a few minutes the room went silent and Rory strained his ears, wondering where Amy was now. He was shocked that, after almost a week of this morning ritual, that she had any place left to look. But this was Amy and he understood that her curiosity wouldn't let her stop looking. She would sooner overturn their flat than admit defeat.
A wee bit later, as long as it had taken her to clean up the mess, he guessed, Amy stalked past their room mumbling to herself. Rory caught small snatches along the lines of, "It has to be here, he's not that good at hiding things." And "I will find my present if it's the last thing I do…" as she rummaged, yet again, through their hall closet.
Smirking to himself, Rory rolled back onto his side, completely confident in the fact that Amy would notfind her Christmas present because he hadn't bought it yet. Oh, it was picked out and on hold at the store, but he wasn't about to bring it anywhere near their flat until Christmas Eve.
Drifting back to sleep, Rory smirked at Amy's irritation and thought to himself, "It's only three more days. Let her keep looking."
Squeeka Cuomo's Notes
- This was written for Erin as a little Christmas gift. I hope you like it! :)
- Erin: Thank you so much for the beta. *hugs*
- Reviews are love.