AU: Rory blinked in New York’s graveyard and waked up  in Broadchurch. Without Amy his life hadn’t sense and he
began to drink. The church saved him. Rory changed his name. And now he is Paul and the resident vicar in Broadchurch. And then Rory meet whit a Doctor again, in Broadchurch, and this Doctor is the Ten.



Words: 1,457

Summary: AU where Rory becomes Ten’s companion. First fic for the pairing, so excuse the pure rubbish this is. 

Rory hasn’t smiled since Amy left. Sure, he’s taken family pictures for Christmas and birthdays and the like, but he hasn’t been- happy.

And Amy, with her red hair and flaming temper and glowing skin- Amy was gone.

She didn’t even say goodbye.

They found a note on her bed –perfectly made-one morning a year or so ago (but God help him if it didn’t feel like fifty). Said she was sorry, but she couldn’t go through with it all (they were going to get married, and it would have been the best day of Rory’s life), that they wouldn’t find her and she hoped he’d understand.

And Rory did understand. Leadworth was the most boring place in all of Europe, everyone knew that. He knew that Amy would leave, that she had to leave. He just thought they’d leave together.

So Rory’s fiancée had run away and his family wasn’t much help in dealing with it all and Rory never smiled.

Then the TARDIS dropped out of the sky in the middle of his late night shift at the hospital.


Rory’s already tired, and the shift is supposed to last for at least four more hours. But he can’t help it, hides his face in his sleeve as another yawn overcomes his sense of decency.

There’s a crashing sound from outside and smoke billows up passed the second floor window he’s next to.

Rory drops the clipboard he’s holding on the bedside table of a coma patient and sprints into the hallway.

Outside, a man in a blue suit and long brown coat climbs out of a blue box.


There’s a police telephone box (hadn’t they gotten rid of those years ago?) in the middle of the lawn in front of the hospital. It’s smoking and a man with wild, gravity-defying hair is muttering to himself and gripping said wild, gravity-defying hair in both hands.


Rory hurries down the steps outside the entrance but stops a few yards away, dumbstruck. He lifts a finger, goes to say something, and closes his mouth, curls his fingers into a fist. He’ll be honest here-he has no idea what to do. (Why hadn’t anyone else seen it? He thinks, but then, Rory’s always had the worst luck, so maybe this is the universe trying to have a laugh again.)


The man whirls around and stares at him. His coat swirls around his legs and Rory wonders vaguely if he ever trips because of it.

“Do you, uh, need any…help?” He asks timidly, keeping enough space between them, because, honestly, Rory’s not sure he won’t be attacked by the guy who appeared in the middle of the night with a telephone box and an intent on talking to himself.

The man blinks once, and asks, “When am I? For that matter, where am I?”

Rory blinks too. Was his hearing going? “Sorry, what?”

The guy sighs, drops his hands. Rory takes an extra step back, just in case. “When. Am. I? Where am I? Come on, hurry up, haven’t got all day now.”

“It’s night,” is all that pops into Rory’s head.

The man looks around. “Yes, so it is. Doesn’t answer my questions, though, does it?”

“You’re in Leadworth. It’s June.” When the other’s face doesn’t change, still looking expectant, Rory furrows his brow. “Um, it’s 2010?” Was he drunk?

“Huh,” the guy says, and turns to look at the telephone box. “Why would I crash in Leadworth?” The box just spurts a bit more smoke in reply.

Rory frowns, the nurse in him kicking in at the word crash. He looks the guy over, checks for injuries. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, but a concussion is not out of the question, and with the way this guy is carrying on, Rory would say it’s even probable. Although, he might just be drunk, even though his body language and balance suggest otherwise.

“Crash?” Rory asks, because he is a nurse, and takes a step forward. “Crash what? You don’t seem to have a car…” But trails off when the man rolls his eyes at him and gestures to the box.

“I crashed. Well, not really, She crashed us, even though I wanted to go to Christmas 1867, very cold night, you know, but lovely all the same. Seems The TARDIS had other ideas though.”

TARDIS? Rory thinks, and it must show in his face, because the man stops and turns to him. “Stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space.” He pats the side of the box. “I’m The Doctor, and this is my spaceship. Cool, huh?”  

Rory considers going back inside and forgetting the whole thing, but something tugs at the edges of his mind. He has a feeling tonight is going to be very, very different.

“So, what’s your name?”

Rory can’t seem to find his voice. (Does he really want to give the very possibly mad man his name? He already knows where Rory works.)

Rory finds that, yes, he does. “Rory Williams.”

The Doctor grins at him, all straight, white teeth. He seems to be having a string of mood swings, and Rory wonders if he can keep up. “Williams. Will. I. Am. Shatner. Shakespeare. I know him, Shakespeare that is, did you know?”

Rory feels like he’s missing some vital part of the conversation. “Huh?”

“Yup, helped him with some trouble he had with some witches. Well, not really witches, but the people of that time didn’t really have the capacity for understanding alien life. Not like now, eh?” He’s still smiling, and Rory feels like the ground is slipping from beneath his feet.

“Sir-” He gives Rory a look, and Rory corrects himself-“Doctor, are you alright?”

“Yes, of course. Are you alright though? Don’t seem very happy. Life here’s not very exciting, is it?” He says.

Rory is bewildered. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”

The Doctor gives him a long, searching look. His face is serious now, and Rory forces himself to stay relaxed under his gaze. Then The Doctor starts talking again. “You’re not satisfied with normal life, but you try to make the best of it. Watching out for others, waiting until something exciting happens, even though you don’t think it will. Bit sad, that.”

Rory bristles, feeling slightly offended. “I’m not unsatisfied. My life is fine.”

“Fine but not good?” The Doctor asks. “Don’t you want something different to happen? You spend all this time waiting, but what are you waiting for?”

Rory feels something in his chest tighten, and he knows that this loon is just a little bit right. Life in Leadworth bores him, but he’s fine, really, he’s fine. Rory’s fine with watching over coma patients and being underpaid and having his fiancée run away from him and being alone and not smiling, really, he’s just fine. “I don’t know.” He says.

The Doctor smiles and holds out a hand, slender fingers are an invitation. “Come along, Rory Williams. Come travel with me.”

“I-” Rory can’t figure out if he’s going mad or not, but if he can’t believe that this man is who he says he is, then how did he get here? How did he know about Rory?

“I’m no one. Just a nurse.” Why would he ask this of Rory? Who in their right mind would ever offer a wonder like this to boring, meek little Rory?

The Doctor shrugs. “And I’m just a man in a blue box.”

Rory can’t speak, but he stares at The Doctor and wishes, wishes. Rory wishes he knew what to do now, wishes he could go, wishes for this to be real, real and not a dream. He thinks of his patients and his coworkers and his parents. He thinks of his tiny flat and never being happy. He thinks of Amy.

He wants to forget, to forget the boring long hours that stretch between the days, slow a syrup, to forget the days where he just can’t get out of bed he’s so tired of it all, forget the hollowness in his chest. He can’t remember what it’s like to love someone like he loved Amy, but this man is offering him the world and beyond, and Rory thinks that for The Doctor, Rory could try to remember.

The Doctor doesn’t drop his hand when Rory slides his palm into the other’s. He just smiles a little, and opens the doors to the TARDIS. Rory catches sight of the inside, all otherworldly and bronze shine. He can feel his eyes widen and his grip on The Doctor’s hand tightens. The Doctor squeezes back.

“We’ve got all of time and space, Rory Williams. Where do you want to start?”

Rory smiles.

The Oncoming Roman

Hi guys!

Just wanted to let everyone know that this blog is strictly Ten x Rory (well…I say that, but as long as it’s Ten x Rory related…). It’s for all the fangirls we know are hiding in the darkest, loneliest corners of tumblr hungrily searching for any scraps they can find. But fear no more! Our goal here is to make Ten x Rory a thing (our *official* ship name is the oncoming roman) and make sure we get the headcannons, fics, AU’s we desperate deserve. 

Rory’s self esteem isn’t the best, he would be the first in line to admit that. There are some things (a lot of things) that he doesn’t like about his own face and body, but it’s not a problem for him, not any more.

Because now there’s someone else to love it, and it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t really like the shape of his nose, that he sometimes thinks his mouth is too small, because the Doctor loves it.

The Doctor loves Rory for just being Rory, he loves drawing his thumb along Rory’s jawline, loves tracing Rory’s lip with his own, he loves writing and drawing on Rory’s back. He loves telling Rory about all this, sometimes in English, but most of the time in other languages he picked up during his travels, some of it Rory understands but even when he doesn’t even know what language the Doctor’s speaking he still understands what it means.

“I love you.” the Doctor whispers, and he whispers it in so many ways.

“I love how you look when you’ve just woken up. Your gorgeous, beautiful… Brilliant! My brilliant, brilliant Rory.”

And after months of the Doctor’s soft care, he slowly starts to believe it himself.

The first day of spring

Rory had somehow been lucky enough to end up with the early shift the first day of spring, and silently thanked the poor who had to take over after him when he left the boiling hot hospital full of people for the calmer and cooler outside. Here and there he saw people who had been starved of sun during the winter rejoice in the warm afternoon, kids buying ice-cream on the way home and elderly people walking hand in hand down the streets.

He couldn’t help but smiling at the overall happiness that seemed to fill the air, and as he got home to finding the doctor sprawled out on the grass in the backyard, coat and blazer spread around him, that smile grew into a soft laugh.

“You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Mhm.” the Doctor opened one eye and squinted up at him “It’s not that wet.” Rory doubtfully sat down next him, the grass felt damp but the sun had dried up most of the rain that had fallen earlier. Following the other man’s gaze he too looked up at the sky.

“That cloud looks like a whale.”

“It does. A sky-whale.” the Doctor gave a small chuckle, having some sort of inside joke with himself, Rory had given up on ever understanding all of his references and jokes, he just smiled back and lied down next to the Doctor, finding the other’s hand with his own and squeezing it. The doctor squeezed back and pointed up at the sky with his free hand.

“That looks like a pear. Ugh” he pretended to hide his face in the grass above Rory’s shoulder, pressing his nose against the soft skin under his ear.

“Shh it’s ok now. The pear-cloud is gone.” he turned to face the Doctor and looked straight into the familiar brown eyes as the Doctor grinned at him. Rory reached out to remove some grass that had stuck to his chin and let his fingers rest against the Doctor’s face.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” he closed his eyes as the Doctor leaned in to kiss his forehead before he started to trace Rory’s face with his lips, as he reached his mouth the kiss deepened and Rory rolled over on his side to better reach as he put his arms around the Doctor’s neck, the Doctor wrapped his arms around Rory and pulled him closer until they were so entangled that they more resembled one person than two.

The Doctor moved his hands along Rory’s spine, avoiding all the ticklish spots but slowly caressing the tense parts until Rory felt himself relax, sinking into the Doctor’s embrace as his eyelids got heavier. He never noticed how tense work made him, luckily the Doctor always seemed to notice and immediately brought him a cup of tea or gave him a quick massage like just now.

“We’re going to catch a cold.”

“Nah, I think we’ll be fine.” he pulled his coat over himself and Rory as they scurried even closer, enjoying the last hours of sunlight.