Well, you know me, I never learn. So peel me off the hook.

[trivialsublime0]

Rusty Hunt leans against a tree in a park with his face pressed up against the bark. There's only partial awareness of his surroundings right now. He's supposed to be working. He hasn't sold shit this week. Rusty feels like shit. Sick as fuck. The trashcan sitting a foot away from him is filled with trash and his vomit. He may have seriously fucked

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[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor, not entirely uncharacteristically, is in the kitchen already, poking around in the cupboards for biscuits or chocolate or something, considering the toaster and wondering if Martha would ever have to know if he disassembled it a little, took out a few of the less necessary parts and put it back together just the way he found it...

Also, she never left any notes about not disassembling the refrigerator.

He jumps a little as he hears Martha's footsteps coming toward the kitchen, and spins toward the doorway, looking pointedly innocent. "I didn't touch the toaster."

[smithnjones]

Martha almost jumps seeing him in there. The previous times that she'd waken from the nightmare usually has her walking down the stairs and to the kitchen, and he had never been there before, much as she had hoped that he would be. She didn't quite expect him there.

She snorts at his reaction to her.

"Didn't say you did. Wasn't actually... even thinking it." She smirks. "Glad to see you reacting appropriately to the note."

Martha pauses as the thought occurs to her, and she steps quickly into the kitchen. "You're not... touching anything else you want to take apart, are you? I like my appliances. They make me happy!"

[thatsortofaman]

"No!" he says, his voice sliding just a little higher than usual. The way it does when he's not quite lying, but possibly omitting a few facts. "I was just... here. Thinking." He does not shoot a guilty look at the refrigerator at that comment. Absolutely not.

He blinks after a second, and glances to the clock on the microwave like he's double checking something he'd already suspected. "Isn't it a bit early for you to be up? I mean... sleeping... sort of necessary for you humans..."

[smithnjones]

Martha raises her eyebrows. Yes, it's suspicion that crosses her features briefly as she looks at him. "I'll be watching you, Mister."

She points her finger at him. Fear the finger, or fear the wrath behind the finger. She'll put sticky notes on everything in this room if she has to. More than once.

Martha hoists herself onto a counter near him.

"I was... sleeping. I just..." She takes in a deep breath. The residual feelings from that nightmare hit her hard, and she has to resist jumping from the counter and grabbing hold of him. "I just woke up, again, is all..."

He's here. He isn't leaving, and she's being silly to let nightmares affect her like she's a child.

[thatsortofaman]

He raises an eyebrow at her. She woke up. In the middle of the night.

Nightmares, then. And he won't ask her about them, because of all the horrible things she could be dreaming about... He just doesn't want to know. He sighs and leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest. "You should have some tea," he suggests. "You'll feel better."

He's still watching her, obviously more than a little worried, but he doesn't have to say that. He assumes she'll just... know. (Because that worked so well for him the first time around with her.)

[smithnjones]

Martha knows by now that he worries, that he can't ask sometimes, because he doesn't want to know, but that doesn't mean he doesn't care. She didn't want to tell him. She didn't want to see him when she stepped down the stairs tonight even if she, also, needed to see him.

There's a possibility that she might be able to get back to sleep at some point, because she has seen him. She knows that he blames himself for too much, and she doesn't want the silly nightmares that affect her so deeply to simply add to it.

At the same time, she wishes there was a way she could grab him and be sure. That she could say, Are you ever going to walk away from me like you did that day, because it's the only thing that keeps me up at night?, without him knowing and feeling guilty, again

[thatsortofaman]

"Mmm," he says, noncommittal. "Well, you're... sleepy. Silly human brains, don't work properly when you're tired..."

He grins at her, and reaches over to grab the kettle off the stove. He even goes to the sink to fill it with water - more helpful than usual for him, but... well, Martha's sleepy, and he's just a little concerned about her. And feels the need to make up for... thinking about disassembling her appliances. Just in case she knows somehow.

"Everything... alright besides the nightmares? The nephilim? Des? ...the cat?" Yes, the whistler is totally a cat. Never mind that the bigger it gets, the less it looks like that.

[smithnjones]

"Yeah. I s'pose you're right."

Martha raises her eyebrows when he does all of that. It's... not exactly normal. Yes, he must have figured it out. It's not like it's all that difficult. The heat of embarrassment rises inside her. Now she feels even more ridiculous.

She smacks her head back against the cupboard. It's like headwalling only backwards.

"Ow." That was a mistake. Martha blinks as what he's saying catches up with her. "But I didn't mention the..." nightmares.

"Right. Everything's... fine. Good. I mean, as good as they can be what with the CLf running about and the nephilim kids getting antsy. She's not really here that often, but I think-" Martha looks at him. "You're not talking about Cy, are you? You mean the... yeah. I honestly don't know. It keeps getting bigger so it isn't dying so far as I know? Unless it's going to explode on us or something."

How getting bigger implies eventual explosion is not based on the least bit of logic.

[thatsortofaman]

"It's not going to explode," he says, as if he knows anything about that particular species. "It's just a growing young... thing. Of course it's getting bigger." He sets the kettle on the stove and switches it on - which is about the extent of his ability to be helpful in the tea preparation process. It's not that he can't, more that his attention span won't stand up to it.

"Also, don't... hit your head on the cupboards. I'd have to heal you, and then you'd be annoyed at me and I'd have a concussion."

[smithnjones]

Martha raises her eyebrows at him. "I hope it doesn't grow too much more. I'm a little afraid that if I don't pay enough attention to it, it'll start having the children for snacks." Because that's all they will be to it. A snack!

She slides off of the counter and rubs the back of her head. It's not as if there's a knot there or hurts, anymore.

"I was trying to knock some sense into my head," she explains, and then glances sideways at him as she approaches the stove. "You wouldn't have to heal me, anyway. I can heal myself."

It seems necessary to remind him of that. Very necessary.

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor shrugs a little, grinning at her. "Who says I have to? Just though the combination of children and a concussion is something you might like to avoid..." And it's not as if he wouldn't be able to deal with a little bump on the head himself. He's resilient. And it's happened to him before. A lot.

After a moment, though, he decides not to argue it any further, and goes to sit on the table, pulling his feet up underneath him so he's sitting cross-legged. "Although... if we're looking for someone to knock sense into... well, anyone, you could just get Donna up. She's good for that." And he would know.

[smithnjones]

"Yeah, but I'm not sure I'd trust you with a concussion. It seems like a bad idea... so unless you were willing to lie down for a while..."

Martha shakes her head and waves a hand, paying attention to the pot. Vaguely. Well. She needs tea packets... did she already get the tea out? She can't remember. Maybe it's back on the counter...

It's all rather counter productive. That conversation. The point of the matter is that if she needs to get injured (not that she is looking for those instances) to not be around the Doctor.

She snorts and turns sideways to look back at him while sti.

"That's true. I'm not sure I could handle getting the sense knocked into me by her. She's good. I think I'll just leave that to you."

[thatsortofaman]

The Doctor pouts a little, though it's obvious he doesn't mean it - after a moment, he gives up and leans forward with a sigh, bracing his forearms against his thighs, hands folded in front of him.

"Yeah. Well." He studies her for a moment, while she deals with the tea. Watching her movements, watching her face...

"You are having nightmares, then."

[smithnjones]

Martha nearly has the tea ready when he says that. She stares down at the pot. It really isn't anything she thought he'd bring up so directly.

She smiles, but it's the kind that doesn't have much emotion to it beyond perhaps regret.

"Yeah. Not often. At least not often enough for me to remember. It's hard to sleep after them so I... don't." Until I see you, again. Martha pushes that away, turns toward him, and smiles more sincerely now that she's actually looking at him. "Come downstairs and try to plan a big breakfast, which can take me hours when I get started. At least, a few failed attempts so it's not like I'm not utilizing the time."

[thatsortofaman]

He nods a little. Most people would ask what the nightmares are about, but he won't. He knows already, and doesn't want to hear. So instead, he turns his attention elsewhere.

"A few failed attempts? You haven't gotten better at that yet?" Feel free to smack him, Martha. If his smirk is any indication, he almost expects it.

[smithnjones]

Martha grabs a nearby spatula and smacks him on the arm with it lightly, granted, but smacking the Doctor with a spatula seems somehow more effective than with her hand. Perhaps she feels like spicing up the way she reprimands her boys. It's not really clear.

At any rate, the spatula will need a wash.

"I am a lot better, but when I have all that time the breakfast gets more elaborate and complicated. I happen to overshoot my level of capability on occasion." She scrunches up her nose. "It isn't as if I'm still stuck on pancakes. I've figured pancakes. You're looking at the master of pancakes."

She tosses it on to the counter and pours out the tea when it's ready.