Work Text:
Wide awake, with the echoes of the Dream Lord ringing in her ears, Amy slipped out of bed, leaving Rory to snore, open-mouthed, and dribble into his pillow. She kissed his hair for the hundredth time and crept away.
She found the Doctor reading in an old leather chair, legs dangling across one arm. Over the rim of his glasses, he watched her flop down into the chair’s twin and shut his book.
“Not sleeping, Pond?”
Amy shook her head.
“How do you sleep?” she asked.
“I try not to,” he murmured. “I don’t like what I see in the dark.”