[no, she'd been after the thrill and rebellion and defiance of her aunt and his parents, like always; he'd been more concerned with getting caught, though the longer they went without being found out the more relaxed he got. Mostly, it was just two best friends spending time together the only way they could. Though the kissing was DEFINITELY an added bonus]

Story of our lives, probably.

[he turns his face to press a small kiss to her temple before settling back against her]

Your turn then ... give us a good memory.

[will absolutely be soaking that gesture of affection in like the somewhat rare thing it is, and barking out a short laugh]

That--that was horrid. [laughs more] And very embarrassing, I can't believe you remember that.

Easy for you to say. You weren't the one with a swollen face and a black eye.

[he's affected an air of wounded martyrdom, somewhat undercut by the fact that he's smiling]

He was being a pretty big git though. All--[he gestures vaguely with his free hand]--grabby.

Heeey. [he leans away a bit in order to look at her and make a genuine, totally put-upon Face] What are you trying to say? I resent that remark.

[go ahead and mention the Leaver's Ball, he dares you]

[affectionate eyeroll]

Maybe if I was, or you didn't play so bloody hard to get, we could've had ourselves sorted out ages ego, eh?

[and now he's just flat-out grinning, enough to make his eyes crinkle--he's definitely teasing her now]

None of that ... rubbish crossed wires stuff.

[and that makes him laugh a little, raising his eyebrows and making a 'well, you've got me there' face. Then he nudges her again]

It's impossible for you to bore me. Even if you were easy to get I probably still couldn't keep up with you.

he shifts a bit; he thinks there's a rock poking into his arse]

Right, so about that row ... [decides to roll with the spirit of things] Did you ever figure out why I was so angry?

[he rolls his eyes, barely, affectionately]

Besides that. That was the obvious reason, anyway.

[he makes as if to protest but stops that way, his open mouth stretching into a grin that's halfway between embarrassed and amused, and looks up at the sky, his jaw working while he decides what to say. He looks at her after a moment and his mouth is shut now, his lips pressed firmly together, but the effect is totally ruined because he's very obviously still smiling, and his shoulders are shaking lightly]

Well--

[he breathes out a laugh]

--I was just going to say I really quite fancied you, but if you want to put it that way--

[and then he stops, because he's spluttering around the edges now, trying not to laugh]

[he bumps his shoulders against hers right back]

You wouldn't have! You'd have laughed at me, teased me maybe, and never let me live it down. I know you. [waggles his eyebrows] You'd have made me work for it, too.

[he snorts, somewhat bashfully, and looks away though he's still grinning]

No you didn't. You were too busy eyeing up--I don't know--Tommy down the road.

[but after a beat he leans back toward her, wrapping both arms around her shoulders in a sort of sideways hug, and looks back at his headstone with a sigh]

[he considers this for a moment while focusing on the contrast between the chill autumn air and the warmth of Amy in his arms, the smell of her hair and that something which is indefinably her]

I ... don't know.

I mean--I guess you could look at it as just a stone. A stone with my name on, but it's just a stone, so it doesn't mean anything at all. Except ... [and here his mouth twists a little] Except I know I'm actually dead.

[a sigh; he's not sure how to properly articulate how he feels]

[he smiles a bit wanly, a small chuckle escaping his throat]

I'm Rory, the physical impossibility.

[it's even harder for him to accept, because even though he knows he's plastic he--feels alive, in most of the ways that count. As long as he keeps up the simulated breathing and heartbeat, he can almost forget he's not alive. But the longer he stays in Paradisa, the more it almost begins to feel like whatever happens at home doesn't matter. Because they're here, making this life, and it's sort of useless agonizing over what happens at home when they have no hope of influencing or changing it.

After a pause, he kisses her temple]

But I'm not dead here.

[it's a good thing she is, because he wouldn't be, not fully, not yet; he keeps up the simulations not only for Amy's sake for the illusion of humanity, but also for his own sanity. He feels less manufactured and fake when he can feel his own pulse and when he yawns after coming out of his resting state.

They sit there in companionable silence for a few minutes more before Rory gently squeezes the arm about her shoulder and turn his face toward hers, saying lightly]

Are you about done here? Because I think I am.