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"I just don't understand why you won't consider it a possibility."
"Ben."
"Just listen-"
"Ben."
"Everyone gathers in, and the whole place is empty. Middle of the room - a massive Tardis and-"
"Ben!"
"What?"
"We aren't getting married in a Tardis, will you shut up?"
Benedick huffed, falling back so he was splayed out across the sofa. All he wanted was a few little Doctor Who references in the wedding. A few Dalek place holders, maybe a sonic screwdriver in place of a pocket handkerchief, the vicar stood in the doors of a life sized Tardis...
Just little things!
But no, apparently head-bridesmaid-turned-wedding-planner-turned-evil-dictator (in Ben's opinion) Hero thought the wedding should be 'vintage' and 'classic', and in some awful twist of fate she'd gotten Bea to agree with her. Benedick was almost 97% sure that his fiancée had been brainwashed, but that was something for another day.
Feeling Bea's exasperated stare on him, Ben upped the pout slightly in the hopes it'd make things go his way.
"Stop pouting, Benedick." The name fell from her mouth in a taunting way, and years of being together had taught him that the moment he responded he'd lose either the Tardis, or his pride. Or, most likely, both.
A heavy sigh fell from Ben's lips and he rolled onto his side and faced the wall away from Beatrice. He heard the sheets rustling on the other side of the bed followed by a long silence and willed himself not to turn around and see whether Bea was still paying attention to him.
"If you're just going to sulk I'm never going to listen to your ideas."
"I'm not sulking" He retorted, leg kicking out reflexively to knock her shin before he could realise his mistake.
Stilling, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Bea lunge forwards, hands attacking his sides until he was a giggling, writhing mess. Attempting to push her off was useless, and the attack continued until he was wheezing out desperate pleas for the tickling to end.
"Stop! Uncle! Uncle! You win, you win! I'm sulking!" He shrieked out through what can only be described as half screams half laughs, arms coming up to wrap Bea in a hug as she stopped, giggling into his shoulder.
He jerked slightly so that she rolled off of him and onto her side of the bed, his arms still curled around her waist. "You're just...mean." He grumbled, all insults slipping from his mind as Bea began nuzzling into his neck.
"Would a mean person say that we can have Tardis wedding favours?"
Ben's face lit up at the comment and he hugged her in tighter, his grin growing so large that it almost ached, "No! No, they wouldn't!"
"Oh. Well. I guess I won't be saying that then."
"Beatrice!"