Fic - A Second Chance.
This is the fic I have written for who_otp Rare Ships Month. It's Martha Jones/Tom Milligan, (whom, since I decided to write this fic have since become canon, hurrah). I've written an explanation on why I ship them here.
To me at least, their relationship is still under-represented in fic and fandom generally, so this is my contribution to changing that. It was originally just meant to be a sweet little fic, giving a hint to how they met again, and then them on their first date. Alas, it turned into my first ever smut fic. It's not my fault though, they're both just too pretty!
Title: A Second Chance.
Author: LondonBeauty.
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones/Tom Milligan, Captain Jack, Tish Jones.
Spoilers: Last of the Time Lords.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of the BBC etc...
Summary: Having returned to a normal life after walking away from The Doctor, Martha finds her thoughts straying to another doctor. She just needs a little encouragement in the right direction...
Author’s notes: A massive thank you to persiflage_1 for her wonderful beta skills, and moral support.
Word Count: 9744
Martha Jones sat by her computer, with her legs tucked beneath her, wearing her favourite cream silk pyjamas. It was too late to be checking her e-mail, but lately she'd be doing it almost compulsively, every ten minutes or so. She bit on her lip and clicked 'Inbox', and there it was; the source of her two days of nervous hand-wringing and general emotional disquiet. She took a deep breath and clicked 'Open'. She chuckled to herself at the subject, Jack was such a tease.
Subject: Operation Stalk-a-Stud.
From: Harkness, Jack
To: Martha 'Chuck Norris' Jones.
Date: 11:23pm 14th September 2007.
Hey Martha.
Sorry it's taken so long to get back to you, we had a situation here with a...well actually it's confidential, but let's say it involved myself, an alien life-form resembling a cross between a centipede and a newt, and more slime than you could shake a sonic screwdriver at. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience...
Anyway, I have got some of that information you were not-so-subtly after (don't deny it, I can take a hint when I see it, or in your case not so much a hint as a clout over the head). I managed to pull some info on your new hot doctor (half the number of hearts as your old one, but just as many hunk points - you've got great taste lady). I've attached some relevant files, let me know if you need anything more.
From one friend to another, I think you should go for it. Between what you've told me about your first/last meeting with Tom, and from what I've managed to find out myself, I'd say he's your equal in heart, mind, and fortitude (and of course hotness). Of course I don't know him myself, but everything points to him being a stand-up kinda guy; no messy divorces or ex-girlfriends wishing him impotent (don't ask me how I know), devotes his time to helping those who need it, volunteers at his grandfather's nursing home, oh yeah, and he's sex on legs (I think it bears repeating)! Go on gal, you deserve to treat yourself for a change.
Ok, I've got to go, I've still got some of that gunk in my hair, and the other gorgeous Jones in my life in volunteering to help wash it out. Let me know how you get on ok? Send my love to your family.
Jack.
Martha opened the attachments and skimmed through the files quickly. Despite her brief surge of adrenaline, she was feeling groggy. Her late night studying was catching up with her, plus it didn't help that she wasn't getting enough sleep when she did lay down her head. Too many terrible images, still fresh in her memory, always lingering at the back of her mind, and coming out to haunt her when her head hit the pillow.
She wasn't the only one troubled by these late-night anxieties; she'd been staying with her family since she decided to stay on Earth and leave her old (albeit brief) life with The Doctor behind her, and they had their own demons to fight with. Her sister was the most troubled, often yelling out in her sleep to 'please just stop it'. Martha was always protective of Tish, despite the fact she was her older sister, and thanks to her gregarious nature was always getting herself into trouble. It was something Tish had inherited from her mother, and this trait served them both ill on board the Valiant, The Master would take strongly against any sign of insubordination, and despite the fact both Tish and Francine learned to keep their expressions as neutral as possible, he was excessively harsh toward them for a great many months, just to be sure any spark of resistance had died in them. At the time they learned to cope by just keeping their heads down and getting on with whatever task was at hand, but now that it was all over they had a long journey of letting go of their emotional burdens.
But tonight the house was quiet, it was just Martha and her own thoughts. She slipped between her bed sheets and leaned over to switch the light off. As she nestled down and closed her eyes, her mind skipped from one thought to the next, like a butterfly fluttering from flower to flower. Where was The Doctor now, was he safe, would he call on her if he was in trouble? Was she ready to go if he did? Would she ever be able to leave her family again? What if she had a job, could she leave that as easily if she qualified? What job would she do if she passed her medical exams? She had considered something in the surgical field before her travels, but now she wanted to do something that involved getting to know the people she was helping, not just physically healing them, but offering comfort too. A bit like Tom Milligan and his paediatric practice. Doctor Tom Milligan, Martha smiled to herself, 'Now that's more like it subconscious, throw a few more of those thoughts my way and I'll have a much more restful night'. It didn't take long for Martha to drift off to sleep, and her mind obliged her wish with a torrid dream of Tom and his bedside manner, which made for a far from restful slumber, but she wasn't going to complain this time...
* * *
Martha wrapped her jacket a little tighter around herself, a cool breeze was starting to pick up and was blowing the first autumn leaves off their branches. She'd get herself another coffee, but if one more drop passed her lips any time soon her bladder would burst. Maybe that would finally give her the excuse she was wracking her brains for, to finally get off that bench and walk into the hospital building opposite. She smirked to herself, she was acting like a teenager, which was a first for her because even in adolescence she was precocious, too busy swotting up on school work to bother with boys.
She was making up for it now though, first going off with The Doctor, a man she hardly knew, to travel to God knows where, and then promptly falling for him. It was a strong infatuation with him, it had to be for her to take such a risk and take off with him in the first place. But as time went on and her hormones calmed down, she had become more and more disheartened by his hot-and-cold attitude towards her. She still cared a great deal for The Doctor, in fact she could admit to herself that a part of her would always love him, especially after all they'd been through that last year. But her priorities changed during that time, he was no longer the centre of her world, other people needed her, and she needed them, their differing perspectives and opinions. Life is about variety, and she could only truly experience it when she was at the helm of her own life, even if it meant her future was going to be considerably less exotic.
She inhaled deeply to clear her head and stood up, smoothing down her creased trousers and stretching her legs. 'Not today Martha,' she quietly conceded to herself. She sighed dejectedly, she so wanted to cross that road and introduce herself (again) to Tom, a year ago she probably would have, as bold as brass. But she just wasn't ready, not yet. 'But soon, just you see.'
She tucked her hands into her pockets and set off home, silently chastising herself for not thinking this through better. What was she going to say to him when she met him? 'Hi, you don't know me, but you saved my life when I was travelling the world trying to stop a megalomaniac alien from handing our planet over to some floating metal balls.' Well, that would certainly get his attention, right up until she got thrown into a padded cell. She couldn't very well pretend to be a patient, not only would she feel guilty for wasting a doctor's time when he could be tending to someone genuinely ill, but he was a paediatrician. She considered 'bumping' into him outside of work, but according to Jack's files, his only real hobby was rugby on a Saturday morning with old school mates, and she didn't much fancy her tackling skills, even if it did mean coming into contact him all sweaty, out of breath, blood pumping faster, his clothes clinging to his body...
"Ow, oh God, sorry!"
"Watch where you're going love!"
"I'm really sorry, did I hurt you?" But the middle-aged man she'd nearly sent hurtling off the pavement was already walking on, wrapped up in his own thoughts again. Martha dared not go back to her stream of consciousness, instead she focused on putting one foot of the other until she got home, not bumping into strange men, not stepping on the cracks (a throw back to her childhood), and definitely not thinking of straddling Tom with her in a cheerleader outfit, 'Geez where did that image come from?' she thought to herself. She definitely needed to get home to a hot coffee and a cold shower, before her wandering thoughts injured any more passing pedestrians.
* * *
Subject: Re: Operation Stalk-a-Stud.
From: Martha Jones
To: Harkness, Jack.
Date: 6:27pm 15th September 2007.
Hello Jack.
Thanks again for the files you sent me on Tom. I must admit to a twinge of guilt when I read them, I mean he has no idea that there's some seemingly random woman out there reading up on his work, his hobbies and family history. The only thing missing was his underwear size, and I wouldn't put it past you to find that out either!
It's just weird, I would have thought after the weeks and months had passed since stepping out the TARDIS for the last time, I'd have moved on a bit more. I mean in a way I have, I'm only thinking about the Doctor 22 hours a day (joke, sort of). But I can't seem to quite let go of Tom. I only knew him such a short time, but his actions that night he sacrificed himself for me and for our cause still resonates. Even though time was reset, and he's alive and well, I still feel I owe him something, I couldn't possibly say what though (get that dirty thought out of your head now Mister). I mean he died so I wouldn't, and yet at the same time he's alive and he's out there, and I feel like I'd be a fool to just forget that (I just reread that last sentence, I love how that would sound completely bonkers to anyone else but us).
Of course I have to be honest, my views on the matter are being skewed, or perhaps fuelled by these feelings that keep rearing up whenever I think about him. But I think maybe I'm just building it up too much in my head now, I mean who knows, if/when I meet him again under these very different circumstances we may have no chemistry at all, not to mention I may not be his type at all. I'm just being silly now, when I decided that I wanted to look him up, it wasn't with the explicit intention of hooking up with him, so I just need to focus on the task at hand. Which I've now forgotten what it was thanks to all that waffling. I think it was to check up on him and see if he's all right, and if there's any possibility of a friendship. That sounds fair, yes?
Ok I've got to go, Mum's calling us down for dinner and I need to get to the table before Leo hogs all the potatoes.
Talk later, and thanks for listening (assuming you didn't just scroll past all that). The family sends their love back, especially Mum, you really made quite an impression on her (although if you even think about taking advantage of that fact, by the time I'm finished with you you'll WISH you could die ha ha).
Martha.
P.S. When are you going to stop calling me Chuck Jones for crying out loud?!
* * *
Subject: Don't make me come down there and kick your ass (figuratively speaking)!
From: Harkness, Jack
To: Chuck Jones.
Date: 7:14pm 15th September 2007.
Hey, what's all this talk now, what happened to the go-getting Martha Jones I know and love? How on earth could you ever not be 'his type,' I mean COME ON! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Because the last time I checked (oh and I have) you were absolutely rockin', with a butt that could out J-Lo Jennifer Lopez's, that's not exactly a turnoff you know.
But in all seriousness, I really think you should stop over thinking this and just go for it. If you had chemistry before, that's not going to have changed, he's still the same man and you're the same woman. Yes, friendship is fine and dandy, but don't talk yourself out of anything more if the opportunity arises. As I said before, you deserve some fun, and you are so worthy of him, the only question is if he's worthy of you. From what I've learned about him (by the way he favours Tommy Hilfiger shorts, medium size), I'd say probably yes (and I've got high standards for you you know), but only you can be the judge of that.
Just bite the bullet, stop thinking and just do it, it doesn't matter if you crash your trolley into his at the supermarket (Waitrose on Kings Road since you didn't ask), just go for it. In a way I envy him, he doesn't know what's about to hit him, the lucky bastard!
The next e-mail I read from you, I want to be written in a post-coital haze of ecstasy, or failing that just aim at exchanging phone numbers. Go on gal, make his year, and maybe yours too.
Jack.
P.S. I'll stop calling you Chuck Norris when you come up to Cardiff and make me. There, isn't that incentive enough to pay me a visit? Plus if you didn't want me calling you that you should have thought about that before you went ahead and saved the world.
P.P.S. I never did meet your brother did I....?
* * *
"I can't believe we're doing this" Martha grumbled, almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Tish to hear.
"Oh hush already! We're here now, so we may as well go through with it before you think up another thousand reasons that this will never work, and you end up alone, and miserable, and jaded, and lonely,"
"You already said 'alone'. And anyway, I always thought I'd make a rather fetching bachelorette; 'spinster' is so outdated you know..."
"Martha, shut up!"
"Oh nice!"
"No really, be quiet, I think I see him, quite tall, dark eyes, hair that says 'just been shagged' yeah?"
Martha chuckled, "Sounds about right. I can't believe we're doing this!" She said it with much more conviction this time. This is what happens when you forget to sign out of your e-mail account before going out, thus enabling your incredibly nosy sister to let curiosity get the better of her and click on your inbox when browsing eBay. Tish meant well, but could come on a little strong, especially when it came to playing cupid, and even more so when it came to her sister's love life. Martha still shuddered at the memory of the failed blind dates Tish had tried to set-up, thinking a little romance was what Martha needed to unwind from her studies. But finally she got the hint and gave up, half convinced Martha must be gay.
"Right, he's crossing the road, ready?"
"No." But Martha was already being dragged by the sleeve.
"Come on, walk! Pretend we're talking about something interesting."
"Ok, well, umm, I read online somewhere that the number of bees is falling dramatically, far out of proportion to be considered seasonal, and..."
"Bees, really? How fascinating, does this mean the price of honey is going to shoot up or something, or...OW, OH GOD MY ANKLE!" Tish fell to the floor clutching her left leg, and milking her part as damsel in distress for all she could. A fifty-something woman approached, concern on her face, but was rebutted by Tish, almost snarling between clenched teeth, "Just keep moving lady". Martha just about managed to catch the woman's eye as she hurried off, giving her best 'I'm sorry' grimace she could, but was soon distracted by the new figure looming over them.
"Are you ok?" Martha felt a rush of blood to her cheeks, and was grateful that it was never obvious when she blushed. She'd heard his voice (albeit briefly) when she phoned him to see if he was indeed alive, but the impact was all the more intense when accompanied by his smouldering look.
"It's my ankle, I think it's broken!" Martha had to bite her lip to stop from laughing, trust Tish to try and turn a tumble in the street into a Greek tragedy.
"May I look? I'm a doctor, not some random pervert trying to touch you up, promise." He gave a friendly smile, and Martha surprised them all (including herself) with a loud guffaw, completely out of context with his joke. She pursed her lips together and stared at the floor, absolutely mortified. She gathered herself enough to look up again, and very nearly lost her cool again; he was looking her straight in the eye, and giving her a wry smile. "I can show you my ID if the idea of me not being a pervert is that laughable?"
"No, not at all! You look very professional and, er, doctorly." Martha just wanted to sink into the ground, since when was she such a dork around men?
"Thank you very much, that took two years of training, they don't give you a medical license until you pass a rigorous exam on 'looking doctorly in event of a crisis' I'm Tom by the way." Martha reached out and shook his hand, trying not to let the jolt she felt at his contact show.
"Martha, it's nice to meet you. Umm, so you work at the hospital opposite?"
"Yeah, yeah I do, I was just on my lunch break, luckily for you, sorry, what was your name?"
"Tish," she said in between melodramatic gasps.
"Right, well Tish, do you think you can put your weight on your other leg to stand up? Martha and I will help you hobble over to that bench where I can look over it a little better."
"I think I'll manage." She stood up, leaning on Martha, and wrapped her other free arm around Tom, obliging him to do the same to her. As he encouraged Tish to let him shoulder some of his weight, she shifted so his hand slipped down her back a little, and made contact with Martha's. He and Martha gave each other a quick glance, but neither moved. They moved over to the bench, at a slightly slower pace than need be, with Tish in the middle, feeling very proud of herself.
* * *
Subject: Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!
From: Martha Jones
To: Harkness, Jack.
Date: 6:11pm 17th September 2007.
Hey Jack, sorry for not getting back to you, I've been a little busy, you know how it is: studying, chores, more studying, oh yeah and GETTING A DATE WITH TOM FLIPPING MILLIGAN! Oh, God bless my interminably nosy sister, she came across our correspondence, and before I knew it, I was being dragged by my ear (literally at one point) to the hospital, so she could practice her amateur dramatics (I'll explain that bit another time when my head's stopped spinning).
Basically, after we'd made 'first contact' with him, Tish made her excuses (a modelling assignment in Milan of all things) and left Tom and I alone. We made awkward small talk, because you know, Tish just buggered off and left us, and she was the reason we'd met at all (as far as he's concerned). But eventually I asked him if he would let me buy him a drink, to thank him for wasting half his lunch break indulging my sister's audition for E.R. Anyway, he said yes, as long as I let him buy me a drink in return, because he's 'not a cheap date'. At this point I'm practically giddy because he said 'date', and I think my face gave me away because he asked if he'd read the situation right, and if that was ok. And so here I am, emailing you while my face mask is setting, trying not to drive myself crazy with 'what ifs' and 'whys'.
On the off chance you're reading this just after I sent it (it's just before your pizza arrives, and just after your colleagues leave right? I know you too well), I've attached a couple of photos. Tell me, which do you think is better, the black trousers and wrap top, or the little black dress? I like the dress, but I think it's a bit dressy, and dare I say slutty for a first date in a pub. I know, I know, I need to stop over thinking it.
Thanks Jack, for everything.
Martha.
Martha hit 'send' and reclined in her chair, feeling the edge of her blueberry facemask with the tips of her fingers. She was drifting off into one of her all too frequent daydreams, only to be startled back to reality by her mobile buzzing to life on her pillow.
"Hello?"
"Definitely the little black dress!"
"Not too slutty then?" Martha chuckled, partly relieved it wasn't Tom calling to cancel last minute.
"Oh definitely too slutty! Plus I'm pretty sure you'd have to go without a bra, am I right?"
"Jack!"
"Seriously though, there's nothing wrong with the knock-'em-dead approach."
"I just don't want to seem, you know, too desperate."
"That's the last thing that's going to be going through his mind, trust me. Especially if you're braless."
"You're terrible you know that?" Martha enjoyed this new facet of their friendship. She and Jack had only just started getting to know each other before The Master took over, and during that time she had virtually no contact with him: she was travelling the Earth, he was taken prisoner. He did look after her family in whatever way he could, and they returned the favour. She would always feel she owed him a debt for that, on top of the bond they had developed between them. Since they had gone back to their respective everyday lives, they made sure to stay in contact, although she felt Jack was being a little cautious, like he didn't want to come on too strong in case she was suffering Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or if she was still mourning The Doctor. But she appreciated any contact with him, not only because going cold turkey on her old life was relatively tough, but she liked him as a man too. He'd started to warm up again though, and their friendship was getting back on track to where it was before, but now with much more trust and affection between them.
"So what time are you meeting him?"
"Seven-thirty, I'm meeting him there. He offered to pick me up here, and as brave as he is I can't inflict the rest of my family on him just yet."
"That's probably wise," Jack laughed. "Have you spoken to him since you last saw him?"
"Briefly, he called to ask how Tish's ankle was."
"He is keen! Finding excuses to talk to you, oh you are so on for tonight!"
"Stop making me laugh, you're making my face crack!" Martha felt her face mask again and looked in the mirror. Cracks had radiated around her mouth, she looked like The Joker's less threatening baby sister. But Jack wasn't listening, he was too busy singing porno movie music. "As if I would on a first date!"
"# Bom-chicka-wowow # Oh come on, you only live once, well you do anyway. # Bom-bom-chicka-chicka # I doubt he's the love-'em-and-leave-'em type, and even if he was, no man in his right mind is going to resist crawling back for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, and # when I get that feeling, I want Sexual Healing, Sexual Healing, oh baby, makes me feel so fine...#"
"Oh great, now the mask is falling off in clumps!" Martha was giggling uncontrollably now. "Oh, it feels good to laugh again."
Jack sighed.
"I know, and I've been around long enough to know that life goes on, for everyone, right up until it, well, doesn't. Which is why you need to grab these opportunities by the balls while you can, literally in your case. Don't think of all the things that'll go wrong, or why you don't deserve it, because then it'll all go to hell before you've even gotten started."
"You're right, of course you are. The black dress it is then."
"That's my girl. What colour thong are you wearing?"
"There's something wrong with you, you know that?"
"Come on, you can't tell me it's not something you're considering."
"Actually I was thinking of wearing my tummy control pants, especially in that dress."
"OK: one - you know that's not what I meant, and two - I WILL NOT LET YOU WEAR GRANNY PANTS ON YOUR DATE!"
"Whose date is this again?"
"I like to think it was a team effort, me doing my bit for the world, and hooking up two beautiful people does wonders for my karma, as well as my spank bank."
"Oh dear God! I'm hanging up now..."
"Ok, ok, I'll behave. Uh, I don't really know what to say now."
"Well, we've been talking so much about me, or more specifically me and Tom. How are you? How's work?"
"Fine, and fine thank you. Are you going to wear that perfume you wore when we first met? You know, when you were snogging the face off me? To this day, when someone walks past wearing Chanel Chance I feel a tingle..."
"Good bye Jack!"
"Promise you'll text me a photo of you in your dress before you leave?"
"OK I promise. Thank you for the chat, it was a good distraction, even if it left me with some worrying mental images!"
"Any time Ms Jones. Whatever you do tonight, promise you'll let yourself enjoy it ok?"
"I will. Now, go enjoy your pizza!"
"Actually Ianto's cooking for me tonight."
"Oh really, is this the other Jones in your life?"
"That's a whole other conversation for another night. 'Night Martha."
"Good night Jack."
* * *
Martha glanced at her watch again - 7:41pm. She took a deep breath and sighed, and went back to trying to work out the abstract paintings hanging on the pub walls. She was glad she had worn the little black dress now, Tom called this a pub, but it was closer to a trendy wine bar, and was currently populated by almost intimidatingly good looking people, most of them already paired up. The door swung opened with a bang, and she instinctually turned to look, it was just another gang of irritatingly jovial underwear models (or whatever), but as the door was slowly closing it was pushed open again, and she was greeted by the sight of Tom, holding a rather large plastic bag, and looking as flustered as she had been starting to feel. He made eye contact and gave a nervous smile, and strode over to her, already undoing his coat. As he got nearer she could see he was soaking wet.
"Martha, I'm so sorry, have you been waiting long?"
"No, not long, a few minutes. Has it started raining again?"
"Hmm? Oh this? No, it hasn't started raining again, but there's still huge puddles from this afternoon's down pour, huge puddles near the pavements..."
"Oh no! And you..."
"Bore the brunt of a Land Rover, who I swear deliberately swerved into the damn puddle." Martha gave a sympathetic chuckle and helped him with his coat.
"Do you want to sit down, I'll get you that drink I promised? And don't even think about arguing!"
Tom seemed to relax and gave her a warm smile.
"Thank you, I'll have a glass of red."
"I'll tell you what, I'll make it a bottle, I think we both need it." She gave him a wink, and headed for the bar, with a little swagger in her step.
"Here you are." It only took a couple of minutes to get served, but Martha had already been getting impatient. She sat opposite Tom, who was already pouring them both a glass.
"Thank you, the next bottle's on me though."
"The next bottle, are you trying to get me drunk?" Tom gave a laugh.
"You're the one who insisted on the bottle in the first place!" Martha gave an embarrassed laugh and bit her lip, hoping she hadn't come on too strong, or come across as a raging drunkard. Tom sensed her discomfort, so continued, "To be honest the day I've had, I may end up having this whole bottle myself!"
"That bad huh? Well, looking at the state of you I don't really need to ask. Not that you look bad! Just, uh, wet." 'Five minutes into the date and you're already making a tit of yourself' she lamented to herself. She looked up and Tom was giving her a warm grin.
"Well, the undue shower didn't help! Oh, you know how it is; your boss buries you in paperwork, little Billy's parents act like it's your fault that they keep having to bring him into A&E because he won't stop sticking things up his nose, you get stuck behind the pensioner at the shop who wants to pay for her week's worth of groceries in loose change she carries around in a sock," Martha nearly choked on her drink.
"A sock?!"
"Well that's what it looked like from where I was standing. Oh, that reminds me, I got you something!" He leaned down and picked up the dripping wet plastic bag, and placed it on the table in front of her. "I was going to get you roses, but then I thought that was such a cliché, so I thought I was being offbeat and different getting you this, but now I realise it's just going to be a pain for you to get home, and that maybe triteness has it's place, you know, for convenience sake.." But Martha cut him off,
"Oh my God, Tom, you really didn't have to!" She had pulled the plastic down to reveal a long glass vase, encasing a tall purple orchid. She slowly rotated the vase, admiring the flower, but appreciating the gesture even more. "It's so beautiful, thank you."
"It's my pleasure, I don't know, it just seemed more 'you', which is a bit presumptuous considering we've only just met."
"It is! I mean it is more 'me', not that it was presumptuous," Martha sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this, the whole dating thing. I'm very out of practice."
"You've got nothing to be sorry about. So what was it, a long term relationship? Why you're out of practice I mean. I find it incredibly hard to believe anyone as cute as you is short on date offers, so I can only surmise that you've been off the market for some time." Martha shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Damn, I'm sorry, I was too forward wasn't I?"
"No, no it's ok, I.."
"No, I was, and I'm sorry. Honestly, just tell me to shut up if I start, I don't mean to pry, I think I'm just naturally inquisitive, and well, I'm a little out of practice at this too if I'm honest?"
"Oh, was it a relationship for you?"
"It's probably more accurate to call it a marriage...to my job". Martha gave a smile, mostly out of relief at how he ended that sentence.
"I know! Well, I'm not qualified yet, but the hours I've already put in at the hospital, it's a hell of a commitment."
"That it is. But you know, you have to sometimes sit back and take stock and prioritise, you can't let life just pass you by, you know?"
"I do, I really do. I've been doing some soul searching myself lately, oh I won't bore you with it, but as a friend of mine said to me recently, life's too short."
"Look at us, getting all deep, before we're even half way through the bottle!" They both smiled and took a sip of wine, feeling comfortable in the ensuing silence. Martha reclined a little in her seat, idly running her finger up the cool glass of the vase. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she was already relaxing into his company.
* * *
"No way! He actually kept you handcuffed there all night?!"
"In fairness to him, I think he had every intention of coming back to uncuff me, it's just that he, well, passed out."
"I would have killed him! What did he say the next time he saw you?"
"Not much, I think he was concentrating too hard on not throwing up, which wouldn't have gone down well with the congregation. I considered getting him back by doing the whole 'oops I've forgotten the rings' shtick, but to be honest the bride scared the bejesus out of me." Tom said wryly.
"Bit of Bridezilla was she?"
"Bridezilla? I like that!" The wine was flowing, and Tom had been keeping Martha entertained with his anecdotes all night, in between trying to gently wheedle some information from her. But she was happy to sit back and let him do most of the talking, for several reasons: his stories were very entertaining, most of her tales ended in the death of an alien or her running for her life, and she had become accustomed to listening to people. That last year she had travelled so far and met so many people, she had craved to learn more about the human condition, no matter how seemingly mundane. Even though her experiences had hardened her in some ways, her affection for the human race had grown considerably. But during that time she had also had to go on the defensive, to make sure she divulged as little as possible about herself, to protect herself and those whom she loved. She was finding it hard to open up tonight, despite the alcohol, and Tom sensed it, but he was careful not to push her. "And that's the end of that bottle. Should I get in another?"
"Ooh, I think I've reached my limit I'm afraid. Actually I think I reached it about half an hour ago!" Martha giggled, the drink had definitely gone to her head, especially as she hadn't been drunk in such a long time. But she was in charge enough of her faculties to know that if she had any more, she'd cross the line from pleasantly mellow, to making a complete show of herself.
"Yeah you may have a point there, I got a little carried away with this evening as well. Not that I'm complaining." He leaned across the table slightly, and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. She opened her hand to hold his, and held his gaze.
"Me neither." The moment was rudely interrupted by a deafening smash. A waitress had managed to drop two full trays of empty glasses, and presently a particularly rowdy group of young men where whistling and applauding her. "Ugh, poor woman, you think we should go and help?"
"No, it looks like her colleagues are coming to the rescue." Tom paused and reached for her hand again. "But I love that you were actually willing to go help, most people on a night out just couldn't be bothered, you're such a sweetheart." The alcohol had loosened Tom's tongue, but neither of them were embarrassed by his new found candidness. But Martha still found herself biting on her bottom lip in response to the compliment. "You know what I love even more? When you bite down on your lip like that, in fact, it could drive a man to distraction when you do that." Martha was now hyper aware of the feeling of her tooth still on her lip, and instinctually loosened her bite and ran her tongue over the same spot. His eyes fixated on her mouth, he mirrored her and licked his lip. She gave his hand a squeeze, and he brought his eye-line back to hers. She didn't know if it was the conversation she'd had with Jack earlier still playing on her subconscious, but she surprised herself with what she said next.
"It's getting a little wild in here now, do you want to take this some place a little more...private?" He obviously wasn't expecting her to say that, and couldn't suppress his surprise.
"Private...You want..I mean..." He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself. "What I'm trying to say is, are you sure? I wasn't pushing you was I?" She gave him a reassuring smile.
"No, of course you weren't. I don't usually do this you know."
"I think I do know. It's only been one night, but I think I already do know, enough to.... Oh I can't think straight now!" Martha laughed and took his free hand with hers.
"It's ok, lets just say, we both know."
"Yeah, that's much easier," he half chuckled. "Umm, did you want to get a coffee or something?"
"I guess I could do with a night-cap. Do you have coffee at your place?" Martha was sure she must be channelling Jack, she couldn't believe she was being so forward.
"As a matter of fact I do." They sat there, almost weighed down by the momentousness of what was happening, afraid that moving might somehow break the spell. But Martha's now raging hormones compelled her to talk.
"Right. So..."
"Are you absolutely sure Martha?"
"Most definitely, you?"
"Ooh yeah. Actually you may need to give me a minute." Martha threw her head back with a hearty laugh.
"Right then. You'd better say there, I'll go to the bar, ask if they have the number of a minicab, ok?" She stood up and smoothed her dress down.
"Hang on, I need to do this right." She had no time to ask what he meant, he had already stood up and taken a step towards her. He put a hand on her waist and drew her near, and cupped her face with the other. He gave a little smile, and gently brushed his lips against hers. She held his face with both hands, and stood on her toes, forcing her mouth more firmly against his. Her breathing getting heavier, she parted her lips, and he tenderly let his tongue brush against hers. She emitted a light moan, causing him to wrap his arm more tightly around her waist, and delve deeper into the kiss. She let a hand slip round to the back of his head, and stroked the flesh between his hairline and neck. They parted, both breathing heavily, and she slipped her hands down to his shoulders, he in turn leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. They embraced for a while, but became gradually aware of the growing din in the background. Tom looked up, making sure that their private corner was indeed private, and was relieved to see that their spontaneous display of affection had been largely ignored. "You know, I think I saw a taxi rank nearby on my way here, what do you say we take in some fresh air and head that way?"
"Sure, fresh air sounds good." Martha was still leaning into him, and it took a concerted effort to take a step back, to pick up her bag and put on her coat. She gave the orchid a final glance before putting it back in its bag. Tom, ever the gentleman, took it from her, and offered his free arm for her to hold. She gratefully accepted and snuggled up close. He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, and they headed toward the door, entirely oblivious to the rest of the world.
* * *
The taxi ride home had been sweet torture. With Martha sitting by the door, and Tom taking the middle seat, they sat with their thighs touching, and his arm resting on top of the seat behind her head, his fingers straying down every so often to tease the sensitive flesh between her neck and shoulder. It was becoming more and more difficult to stifle her little moans of pleasure, but it was necessary to; they were stuck with a taxi driver with an opinion on everything, and who felt compelled to share every single one of them with the pair, looking in his rear-view mirror every minute or so to check they were still paying attention. Normally, Tom would have been easily drawn into a debate with the driver, he too was a man of strong convictions (but on the opposite end of the scale) and had no problem vocalising his stand. But tonight he was far too preoccupied with a new game; seeing how much he could tease Martha before she relented and mounted him right there in the back-seat.
He was impressed (if not a little frustrated) with her staying power, but he was less confident in his own. As much as he couldn't resist touching her, feeling her almost undetectable shivers when he breathed on her neck, he was pushing himself to the limit of his self-restraint too. This hadn't gone unnoticed by Martha, whose gaze kept straying down, to the now unavoidable bulge in Tom's trousers. She decided that two could play at his game, and gradually slid her hand up his thigh, until her little finger could easily graze the material at his crotch, causing his breath to hitch while he was mid-sentence telling the driver which house to park in front of, forcing him to give a little cough and pretend he was clearing his throat. As far as they were both concerned, the ride couldn't have ended soon enough, even if it had been the perfect pre-foreplay.
Tom fumbled with his keys, unable to keep his hands steady long enough to single out the right key, and push it in the lock.
"Damn it!"
"Calm down, we have the whole night Tom."
"I know, but I want to savour every second." Martha slipped her arms around his hips and pulled him close so their pelvises met, and tilted her head back so she could look him in the eye.
"And you will, WE will, but we actually have to get in first, so slow down. Which key is it?" Martha took the bunch from him, and he pointed out a gold one. Calmly she separated it from the bunch and placed it into the lock and turned. She pulled it out the lock and gave the key-ring a cursory glance before handing it back, her eyebrow arched and with a devilish grin.
"What?" Tom chuckled nervously.
"SpongeBob Square Pants?!"
"My niece gave it to me on my last birthday, bought it with her own pocket money."
"Ah bless, that's so sweet, how old is she?"
"Seven, her name's Ellie. I'm not being funny here, but do you mind if we don't talk about little girls whilst I'm standing here full mast?" Martha gave a hearty laugh and rested her hand on his chest.
"Fair enough. Go on then, aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Well, I thought that was a given!" Tom stroked a strand of hair that had fallen loose and was framing her face, then with the same hand cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. She placed her hand over his and moved her head so she could kiss the palm of his hand. "Come on, we'd better get inside before we end up putting on a hell of a show for the neighbours."
"Sounds promising!" But before Martha could continue that thought, Tom had scooped her into his arms, causing her to make a sound almost resembling a squeal, before holding on around his neck, and giggling as she clumsily carried her over the threshold, banging her head on the door frame as he went.
"Sorry, that wasn't the sweeping romantic gesture it was meant to be."
"You get full marks for trying though," she rubbed her head where it had been bumped, still laughing. He pulled her into him, and kissed where she had been rubbing, then moved to kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally her lips. His arm supporting her in the small of her back as she stood on tiptoes, they kissed more thoroughly than their urgent first kiss, learning each other's taste and feel. His hand inched lower, until it was grazing the top of her buttocks. She gave a contented sigh, and a small jerk with her body, encouraging his hand to move down. She reached round and gave his ass a firm squeeze, his hips involuntarily bucked against her, causing her to gasp.
Grasping onto his shirt, she backed towards the wall, pulling him with her until he had her pinned with his body, one hand placed against the surface for balance. He broke off their kiss to move down to her neck, sucking and gently teasing the flesh with his teeth. Her panting had turned into breathy moans, which spurred him on, with his free hand he stroked from her stomach to her ribs, stopping just under her breast. Martha gave a protesting groan, he smiled against her skin and gently moved his hand upward, until it was covering her breast. He brushed his thumb slowly over her nipple, and back again, repeating the motion until he could feel it hardening under his touch. Her moans were becoming more pleading, she lifted her leg and hitched it over his thigh, causing him to buck his hips again.
"Oh God!" She met his buck with her own, then began gyrate against his pelvis. He pushed with the arm he was using to balance himself, to pull away from her.
"Not like this. Bed." This was all he was capable of saying, by now most of his blood had drained downwards away from his brain. He took her by the hand and led her upstairs, looking back at her the entire time. As soon as they reached the top he picked her up and started kissing her again, she wrapped her legs around his midriff and matched the passion in his kiss, but kept one eye open to make sure he didn't whack her on any door frames again. Entering his room, he fumbled for a few seconds against the wall until he found the light switch. He staggered to the foot of the bed and sat on the end, Martha's legs still wrapped around him, but now in this new position their crotches met with strong friction, making them groan in unison. Martha unwrapped her legs enough to put her feet on the bed and give her better leverage. She broke off their kiss and moved her lips across his face until reaching his ear. She lightly traced the contours with her tongue, whilst slowly grinding her hips.
"Martha, I think we'd better take this down a notch, I don't know how much I can take." She leaned back to look at him.
"We'll have plenty of time for Tantric sex by candlelight, but tonight..." She took his arms and guided them up to her dress straps, and shrugged her shoulders slightly. He got the message and slipped his fingers under the fabric. She licked her lips with anticipation her breathing getting heavier again. She was surprised at how quickly Tom had changed pace, from nearly taking her in the hallway, to now taking his time, savouring every inch of her flesh as it was gradually exposed to him. He leaned forward and kissed her chest, moving down as he lowered her dress. Finally he pulled the front down to her ribcage, leaving her exposed. Unable to take his eyes off her, he gently moved his hands upwards, feeling her soft skin with his fingertips, taking in every inch of her. He brushed her nipples with his thumbs, teasing them into hardened peaks, before pulling her close with one hand; cupping her breast with the other, he dropped his head to take her in his mouth.
She arched her back, sighing, she grabbed onto his head and pulled at his hair, her hips rocking against him more forcefully. Moving onto her other breast, he sucked and licked with even more enthusiasm, moving his hands to slide her dress further down her body until it bunched at her waist. He grabbed onto her hips and thrust his pelvis forward, she tugged his hair again before letting go and turning her attentions to getting his shirt off. She briskly undid the top four buttons, giving him enough leeway to pull the shirt off over his head. Her hands caressed his chest, then quickly moved down to the waistband of his trousers. He leaned back so he was resting on his elbow, and she tugged down. They didn't budge, so she knelt down to find the zip. She stroked the bulge in his pants, and grinned at the satisfied moan she elicited. She carefully pulled down the zipper, and moved her hand back up to the waistband, this time tucking her fingers under his boxers too. It only took a couple of tugs to undress him, but she didn't have time to look at him like she wanted before her pulled her onto the bed with him.
He pulled her dress down over her hips, and her underwear quickly followed. He licked her abdomen hungrily, moving up towards her breasts again. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, instinctually lifting her knees up to circle his waist. He reached down to guide himself into her, lowering himself slowly. She threw her head back against the pillow, crying out at the sensation. It had been so long since she'd done this, she had expected it to hurt the first time she slept with a man again, but he'd made her wet already. She reached down to his butt and bucked her hips, encouraging him to match her speed and thrust harder. He obliged, and they made love at a frantic pace, hungry for each other's, and their own climax, not wanting it to stop, but needing that final release.
* * *
Martha blinked against the light and squeezed her eyes closed. She really wasn't a morning person. She let her consciousness drift back into the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, enveloped in a sea of well-being and contentment; the first time she'd felt that way in a very long time. Her senses were starting to wake now, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was rousing her again. She squirmed and gave a contented sigh.
"Morning gorgeous." Martha managed to open one eye: Tom was lying beside her propped up by his elbow, watching over her with a soft smile.
"Hey," she stretched languidly and reached out to hold his hand, he raised hers to his lips and kissed it. "What time is it? Have you been up long?"
"It's nine-thirty, but it's a Saturday morning so our laziness is allowed. As for your question, I've barely been down for the last twelve hours." He looked down and she followed his gaze, and gave a giggle.
"What's the story, Morning Glory!"
"Well, you put a beautiful, naked woman in bed with a man, nature's going to take its course."
"Oh I'm not complaining! I'm just surprised, or I should say impressed. After last night...well, it was pretty epic!" Indeed it had been, they had only fallen asleep three hours previously. The whole night had been devoted to their lovemaking, from the frenzied first couple of screws, to the slow and passionate, to the moderately kinky. "I'm amazed it hasn't gone on strike. And grateful of course." She rolled onto her side so she was facing him, and gave him a long, deep kiss. Her hand traced an invisible line down his torso, until reaching his boxers - Tommy Hilfigers. She slipped her hand under the band, and slowly stroked the length of his cock. She removed her hand and gently pushed on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie on his back. She sat up and planted a firm kiss on his mouth, before following the same line down his midriff with her tongue. When she reached his underwear she patted his thigh; his cue to lift his hips so she could relieve him of his superfluous garment.
"Ms Jones, I really can't fault your bedside manner."
"Trust me, they don't teach this in medical school." She held his erection in one hand, and gave him a sultry half-smile, before lowering her head to take him in her mouth. She tightened her grip slightly, and started running her hand firmly up and down his shaft. He swore under his breath and rested one hand on the back of her head, with his other arm he pushed on the bed to support him, so he could tilt forward to watch her. She took more of him in her mouth, and started to move her head rhythmically to match her hand's increasing momentum. His moans grew louder and he was pulling at her hair, she knew he was fast approaching the point of no return. She gave him one final, hard suck, and pulled away. She had to stifle a laugh at his protesting groan, but couldn't resist looking up and giving him a wicked grin.
Without saying a word she sat up on her knees and crawled toward him, he was now sitting upright and reached out to help her steady herself. He pulled her onto his lap and she draped her arms around his shoulders, and they kissed deeply while she positioned herself over his cock. Reaching down with one hand, she guided him to her entrance, before lowering herself onto him, arching her back as she did so. She leaned in to kiss him again, as she adjusted her legs to encircle him, giving herself better leverage. She broke off their kiss gripped his shoulders, and finally jerked her hips forward, causing them both to moan loudly. She picked up the pace, and he met her thrusts, holding onto her hips to give her extra momentum. His breathing was starting to hitch, and his thrusts becoming irregular, she knew he must be close to coming. She lowered her hand between her legs to start rubbing her clitoris, she wanted to come with him, and it wasn't going to take much work to get her there.
"Let me," Tom managed to grunt. He moved his hand to where hers was, and she helped position his fingers to the right spot. His wrist was at an awkward angle, but he managed to work his fingers in time with their bodies. Immediately she threw her head back and cried out. Her movements became more forceful and her speed picked up, before finally embracing him and burying her face in his neck, muffling her cry as she reached her crashing climax. Her muscles clamped and flexed on his penis, pushing him over the edge toward his own orgasm. He lifted her hips and pushed himself forward until she was on her back and he was on top of her, pumping into her with all he could muster, as she brought her knees up, giving him more friction inside her, this was enough to bring his climax. He collapsed on top of her, she hugged his limp body and kissed the top of his head. They lay that way for a few minutes, letting their breathing slow, and enjoying the intimacy their closeness brought. Finally Tom spoke.
"Do you mind if I stay like this for the rest of the day? Or maybe the rest of our lives?"
"Hmm, fine by me." She kissed his forehead and stroked his back. They lay there a little longer, before being interrupted by his phone ringing. Tom grunted.
"Nope, not moving, don't care."
"What if it's important?"
"More important than this?"
"It's hard to believe such a thing exists, I know. What if it's your rugby buddies wondering where you are? They're just going to keep on calling, all day..."
"Ok, alright, I'm going," he lifted himself off the bed and staggered downstairs, muttering obscenities under his breath. Martha moved to climb under the sheets, but changed her mind and got up to go to the bathroom instead. On her way to the door she spotted her handbag on his desk. At one point in the night she had made her way downstairs for some water, and picked up her bag from where she had dumped it in the hallway. She had taken out her phone to drop Tish a quick text to tell her not to worry, that she wasn't going home last night, with the code they had long used between them for when a date had gone successfully (and they didn't want their curious mother to figure out): Flying Fox. She took out her phone and unlocked the keypad, sure enough there was a message from Tish.
'OMG for real? I'm so proud, I never thought I'd read those words from you. Call me when you can, I need details, about EVERYTHING.'
Martha gave a smile and went to put the phone down, but as she did she happened to look back into the room. She gave a quiet chuckle at the scene in front of her; hers and Tom's clothes were piled on the floor at the foot of the bed, the top sheets were such a mess they were practically knotted, and one of his ties was still secured to the headboard from when things got particularly heated and she has used it as makeshift handcuffs. An idea struck her. She picked up her phone again and switched it to camera mode. She zoomed in enough so that the tie and heap of clothes could be made out, and took the photo, then got it ready to send, adding the caption 'Mission: Accomplished'. She scrolled down her contact numbers and found Jack's number, and clicked 'send', and gave a quiet laugh. She placed the phone down, and walked over to pick her knickers off the floor and pulled them on, then reached down to pick up Tom's shirt from last night, and slipped it on. She hadn't finished pulling it over her head before her phone started ringing.
'Sorry Jack, this is going to have to wait,' she thought to herself with a wry grin. She switched her phone to silent mode, and headed downstairs, that coffee wasn't going to drink itself.
The End.
* * * *
ETA: It's now posted in the Teaspoon archives too.
To me at least, their relationship is still under-represented in fic and fandom generally, so this is my contribution to changing that. It was originally just meant to be a sweet little fic, giving a hint to how they met again, and then them on their first date. Alas, it turned into my first ever smut fic. It's not my fault though, they're both just too pretty!
Title: A Second Chance.
Author: LondonBeauty.
Rating: NC-17 (to be safe)
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones/Tom Milligan, Captain Jack, Tish Jones.
Spoilers: Last of the Time Lords.
Disclaimer: These characters are the property of the BBC etc...
Summary: Having returned to a normal life after walking away from The Doctor, Martha finds her thoughts straying to another doctor. She just needs a little encouragement in the right direction...
Author’s notes: A massive thank you to persiflage_1 for her wonderful beta skills, and moral support.
Word Count: 9744
Martha Jones sat by her computer, with her legs tucked beneath her, wearing her favourite cream silk pyjamas. It was too late to be checking her e-mail, but lately she'd be doing it almost compulsively, every ten minutes or so. She bit on her lip and clicked 'Inbox', and there it was; the source of her two days of nervous hand-wringing and general emotional disquiet. She took a deep breath and clicked 'Open'. She chuckled to herself at the subject, Jack was such a tease.
Subject: Operation Stalk-a-Stud.
From: Harkness, Jack
To: Martha 'Chuck Norris' Jones.
Date: 11:23pm 14th September 2007.
Hey Martha.
Sorry it's taken so long to get back to you, we had a situation here with a...well actually it's confidential, but let's say it involved myself, an alien life-form resembling a cross between a centipede and a newt, and more slime than you could shake a sonic screwdriver at. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience...
Anyway, I have got some of that information you were not-so-subtly after (don't deny it, I can take a hint when I see it, or in your case not so much a hint as a clout over the head). I managed to pull some info on your new hot doctor (half the number of hearts as your old one, but just as many hunk points - you've got great taste lady). I've attached some relevant files, let me know if you need anything more.
From one friend to another, I think you should go for it. Between what you've told me about your first/last meeting with Tom, and from what I've managed to find out myself, I'd say he's your equal in heart, mind, and fortitude (and of course hotness). Of course I don't know him myself, but everything points to him being a stand-up kinda guy; no messy divorces or ex-girlfriends wishing him impotent (don't ask me how I know), devotes his time to helping those who need it, volunteers at his grandfather's nursing home, oh yeah, and he's sex on legs (I think it bears repeating)! Go on gal, you deserve to treat yourself for a change.
Ok, I've got to go, I've still got some of that gunk in my hair, and the other gorgeous Jones in my life in volunteering to help wash it out. Let me know how you get on ok? Send my love to your family.
Jack.
Martha opened the attachments and skimmed through the files quickly. Despite her brief surge of adrenaline, she was feeling groggy. Her late night studying was catching up with her, plus it didn't help that she wasn't getting enough sleep when she did lay down her head. Too many terrible images, still fresh in her memory, always lingering at the back of her mind, and coming out to haunt her when her head hit the pillow.
She wasn't the only one troubled by these late-night anxieties; she'd been staying with her family since she decided to stay on Earth and leave her old (albeit brief) life with The Doctor behind her, and they had their own demons to fight with. Her sister was the most troubled, often yelling out in her sleep to 'please just stop it'. Martha was always protective of Tish, despite the fact she was her older sister, and thanks to her gregarious nature was always getting herself into trouble. It was something Tish had inherited from her mother, and this trait served them both ill on board the Valiant, The Master would take strongly against any sign of insubordination, and despite the fact both Tish and Francine learned to keep their expressions as neutral as possible, he was excessively harsh toward them for a great many months, just to be sure any spark of resistance had died in them. At the time they learned to cope by just keeping their heads down and getting on with whatever task was at hand, but now that it was all over they had a long journey of letting go of their emotional burdens.
But tonight the house was quiet, it was just Martha and her own thoughts. She slipped between her bed sheets and leaned over to switch the light off. As she nestled down and closed her eyes, her mind skipped from one thought to the next, like a butterfly fluttering from flower to flower. Where was The Doctor now, was he safe, would he call on her if he was in trouble? Was she ready to go if he did? Would she ever be able to leave her family again? What if she had a job, could she leave that as easily if she qualified? What job would she do if she passed her medical exams? She had considered something in the surgical field before her travels, but now she wanted to do something that involved getting to know the people she was helping, not just physically healing them, but offering comfort too. A bit like Tom Milligan and his paediatric practice. Doctor Tom Milligan, Martha smiled to herself, 'Now that's more like it subconscious, throw a few more of those thoughts my way and I'll have a much more restful night'. It didn't take long for Martha to drift off to sleep, and her mind obliged her wish with a torrid dream of Tom and his bedside manner, which made for a far from restful slumber, but she wasn't going to complain this time...
* * *
Martha wrapped her jacket a little tighter around herself, a cool breeze was starting to pick up and was blowing the first autumn leaves off their branches. She'd get herself another coffee, but if one more drop passed her lips any time soon her bladder would burst. Maybe that would finally give her the excuse she was wracking her brains for, to finally get off that bench and walk into the hospital building opposite. She smirked to herself, she was acting like a teenager, which was a first for her because even in adolescence she was precocious, too busy swotting up on school work to bother with boys.
She was making up for it now though, first going off with The Doctor, a man she hardly knew, to travel to God knows where, and then promptly falling for him. It was a strong infatuation with him, it had to be for her to take such a risk and take off with him in the first place. But as time went on and her hormones calmed down, she had become more and more disheartened by his hot-and-cold attitude towards her. She still cared a great deal for The Doctor, in fact she could admit to herself that a part of her would always love him, especially after all they'd been through that last year. But her priorities changed during that time, he was no longer the centre of her world, other people needed her, and she needed them, their differing perspectives and opinions. Life is about variety, and she could only truly experience it when she was at the helm of her own life, even if it meant her future was going to be considerably less exotic.
She inhaled deeply to clear her head and stood up, smoothing down her creased trousers and stretching her legs. 'Not today Martha,' she quietly conceded to herself. She sighed dejectedly, she so wanted to cross that road and introduce herself (again) to Tom, a year ago she probably would have, as bold as brass. But she just wasn't ready, not yet. 'But soon, just you see.'
She tucked her hands into her pockets and set off home, silently chastising herself for not thinking this through better. What was she going to say to him when she met him? 'Hi, you don't know me, but you saved my life when I was travelling the world trying to stop a megalomaniac alien from handing our planet over to some floating metal balls.' Well, that would certainly get his attention, right up until she got thrown into a padded cell. She couldn't very well pretend to be a patient, not only would she feel guilty for wasting a doctor's time when he could be tending to someone genuinely ill, but he was a paediatrician. She considered 'bumping' into him outside of work, but according to Jack's files, his only real hobby was rugby on a Saturday morning with old school mates, and she didn't much fancy her tackling skills, even if it did mean coming into contact him all sweaty, out of breath, blood pumping faster, his clothes clinging to his body...
"Ow, oh God, sorry!"
"Watch where you're going love!"
"I'm really sorry, did I hurt you?" But the middle-aged man she'd nearly sent hurtling off the pavement was already walking on, wrapped up in his own thoughts again. Martha dared not go back to her stream of consciousness, instead she focused on putting one foot of the other until she got home, not bumping into strange men, not stepping on the cracks (a throw back to her childhood), and definitely not thinking of straddling Tom with her in a cheerleader outfit, 'Geez where did that image come from?' she thought to herself. She definitely needed to get home to a hot coffee and a cold shower, before her wandering thoughts injured any more passing pedestrians.
* * *
Subject: Re: Operation Stalk-a-Stud.
From: Martha Jones
To: Harkness, Jack.
Date: 6:27pm 15th September 2007.
Hello Jack.
Thanks again for the files you sent me on Tom. I must admit to a twinge of guilt when I read them, I mean he has no idea that there's some seemingly random woman out there reading up on his work, his hobbies and family history. The only thing missing was his underwear size, and I wouldn't put it past you to find that out either!
It's just weird, I would have thought after the weeks and months had passed since stepping out the TARDIS for the last time, I'd have moved on a bit more. I mean in a way I have, I'm only thinking about the Doctor 22 hours a day (joke, sort of). But I can't seem to quite let go of Tom. I only knew him such a short time, but his actions that night he sacrificed himself for me and for our cause still resonates. Even though time was reset, and he's alive and well, I still feel I owe him something, I couldn't possibly say what though (get that dirty thought out of your head now Mister). I mean he died so I wouldn't, and yet at the same time he's alive and he's out there, and I feel like I'd be a fool to just forget that (I just reread that last sentence, I love how that would sound completely bonkers to anyone else but us).
Of course I have to be honest, my views on the matter are being skewed, or perhaps fuelled by these feelings that keep rearing up whenever I think about him. But I think maybe I'm just building it up too much in my head now, I mean who knows, if/when I meet him again under these very different circumstances we may have no chemistry at all, not to mention I may not be his type at all. I'm just being silly now, when I decided that I wanted to look him up, it wasn't with the explicit intention of hooking up with him, so I just need to focus on the task at hand. Which I've now forgotten what it was thanks to all that waffling. I think it was to check up on him and see if he's all right, and if there's any possibility of a friendship. That sounds fair, yes?
Ok I've got to go, Mum's calling us down for dinner and I need to get to the table before Leo hogs all the potatoes.
Talk later, and thanks for listening (assuming you didn't just scroll past all that). The family sends their love back, especially Mum, you really made quite an impression on her (although if you even think about taking advantage of that fact, by the time I'm finished with you you'll WISH you could die ha ha).
Martha.
P.S. When are you going to stop calling me Chuck Jones for crying out loud?!
* * *
Subject: Don't make me come down there and kick your ass (figuratively speaking)!
From: Harkness, Jack
To: Chuck Jones.
Date: 7:14pm 15th September 2007.
Hey, what's all this talk now, what happened to the go-getting Martha Jones I know and love? How on earth could you ever not be 'his type,' I mean COME ON! Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? Because the last time I checked (oh and I have) you were absolutely rockin', with a butt that could out J-Lo Jennifer Lopez's, that's not exactly a turnoff you know.
But in all seriousness, I really think you should stop over thinking this and just go for it. If you had chemistry before, that's not going to have changed, he's still the same man and you're the same woman. Yes, friendship is fine and dandy, but don't talk yourself out of anything more if the opportunity arises. As I said before, you deserve some fun, and you are so worthy of him, the only question is if he's worthy of you. From what I've learned about him (by the way he favours Tommy Hilfiger shorts, medium size), I'd say probably yes (and I've got high standards for you you know), but only you can be the judge of that.
Just bite the bullet, stop thinking and just do it, it doesn't matter if you crash your trolley into his at the supermarket (Waitrose on Kings Road since you didn't ask), just go for it. In a way I envy him, he doesn't know what's about to hit him, the lucky bastard!
The next e-mail I read from you, I want to be written in a post-coital haze of ecstasy, or failing that just aim at exchanging phone numbers. Go on gal, make his year, and maybe yours too.
Jack.
P.S. I'll stop calling you Chuck Norris when you come up to Cardiff and make me. There, isn't that incentive enough to pay me a visit? Plus if you didn't want me calling you that you should have thought about that before you went ahead and saved the world.
P.P.S. I never did meet your brother did I....?
* * *
"I can't believe we're doing this" Martha grumbled, almost inaudibly, but loud enough for Tish to hear.
"Oh hush already! We're here now, so we may as well go through with it before you think up another thousand reasons that this will never work, and you end up alone, and miserable, and jaded, and lonely,"
"You already said 'alone'. And anyway, I always thought I'd make a rather fetching bachelorette; 'spinster' is so outdated you know..."
"Martha, shut up!"
"Oh nice!"
"No really, be quiet, I think I see him, quite tall, dark eyes, hair that says 'just been shagged' yeah?"
Martha chuckled, "Sounds about right. I can't believe we're doing this!" She said it with much more conviction this time. This is what happens when you forget to sign out of your e-mail account before going out, thus enabling your incredibly nosy sister to let curiosity get the better of her and click on your inbox when browsing eBay. Tish meant well, but could come on a little strong, especially when it came to playing cupid, and even more so when it came to her sister's love life. Martha still shuddered at the memory of the failed blind dates Tish had tried to set-up, thinking a little romance was what Martha needed to unwind from her studies. But finally she got the hint and gave up, half convinced Martha must be gay.
"Right, he's crossing the road, ready?"
"No." But Martha was already being dragged by the sleeve.
"Come on, walk! Pretend we're talking about something interesting."
"Ok, well, umm, I read online somewhere that the number of bees is falling dramatically, far out of proportion to be considered seasonal, and..."
"Bees, really? How fascinating, does this mean the price of honey is going to shoot up or something, or...OW, OH GOD MY ANKLE!" Tish fell to the floor clutching her left leg, and milking her part as damsel in distress for all she could. A fifty-something woman approached, concern on her face, but was rebutted by Tish, almost snarling between clenched teeth, "Just keep moving lady". Martha just about managed to catch the woman's eye as she hurried off, giving her best 'I'm sorry' grimace she could, but was soon distracted by the new figure looming over them.
"Are you ok?" Martha felt a rush of blood to her cheeks, and was grateful that it was never obvious when she blushed. She'd heard his voice (albeit briefly) when she phoned him to see if he was indeed alive, but the impact was all the more intense when accompanied by his smouldering look.
"It's my ankle, I think it's broken!" Martha had to bite her lip to stop from laughing, trust Tish to try and turn a tumble in the street into a Greek tragedy.
"May I look? I'm a doctor, not some random pervert trying to touch you up, promise." He gave a friendly smile, and Martha surprised them all (including herself) with a loud guffaw, completely out of context with his joke. She pursed her lips together and stared at the floor, absolutely mortified. She gathered herself enough to look up again, and very nearly lost her cool again; he was looking her straight in the eye, and giving her a wry smile. "I can show you my ID if the idea of me not being a pervert is that laughable?"
"No, not at all! You look very professional and, er, doctorly." Martha just wanted to sink into the ground, since when was she such a dork around men?
"Thank you very much, that took two years of training, they don't give you a medical license until you pass a rigorous exam on 'looking doctorly in event of a crisis' I'm Tom by the way." Martha reached out and shook his hand, trying not to let the jolt she felt at his contact show.
"Martha, it's nice to meet you. Umm, so you work at the hospital opposite?"
"Yeah, yeah I do, I was just on my lunch break, luckily for you, sorry, what was your name?"
"Tish," she said in between melodramatic gasps.
"Right, well Tish, do you think you can put your weight on your other leg to stand up? Martha and I will help you hobble over to that bench where I can look over it a little better."
"I think I'll manage." She stood up, leaning on Martha, and wrapped her other free arm around Tom, obliging him to do the same to her. As he encouraged Tish to let him shoulder some of his weight, she shifted so his hand slipped down her back a little, and made contact with Martha's. He and Martha gave each other a quick glance, but neither moved. They moved over to the bench, at a slightly slower pace than need be, with Tish in the middle, feeling very proud of herself.
* * *
Subject: Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD!
From: Martha Jones
To: Harkness, Jack.
Date: 6:11pm 17th September 2007.
Hey Jack, sorry for not getting back to you, I've been a little busy, you know how it is: studying, chores, more studying, oh yeah and GETTING A DATE WITH TOM FLIPPING MILLIGAN! Oh, God bless my interminably nosy sister, she came across our correspondence, and before I knew it, I was being dragged by my ear (literally at one point) to the hospital, so she could practice her amateur dramatics (I'll explain that bit another time when my head's stopped spinning).
Basically, after we'd made 'first contact' with him, Tish made her excuses (a modelling assignment in Milan of all things) and left Tom and I alone. We made awkward small talk, because you know, Tish just buggered off and left us, and she was the reason we'd met at all (as far as he's concerned). But eventually I asked him if he would let me buy him a drink, to thank him for wasting half his lunch break indulging my sister's audition for E.R. Anyway, he said yes, as long as I let him buy me a drink in return, because he's 'not a cheap date'. At this point I'm practically giddy because he said 'date', and I think my face gave me away because he asked if he'd read the situation right, and if that was ok. And so here I am, emailing you while my face mask is setting, trying not to drive myself crazy with 'what ifs' and 'whys'.
On the off chance you're reading this just after I sent it (it's just before your pizza arrives, and just after your colleagues leave right? I know you too well), I've attached a couple of photos. Tell me, which do you think is better, the black trousers and wrap top, or the little black dress? I like the dress, but I think it's a bit dressy, and dare I say slutty for a first date in a pub. I know, I know, I need to stop over thinking it.
Thanks Jack, for everything.
Martha.
Martha hit 'send' and reclined in her chair, feeling the edge of her blueberry facemask with the tips of her fingers. She was drifting off into one of her all too frequent daydreams, only to be startled back to reality by her mobile buzzing to life on her pillow.
"Hello?"
"Definitely the little black dress!"
"Not too slutty then?" Martha chuckled, partly relieved it wasn't Tom calling to cancel last minute.
"Oh definitely too slutty! Plus I'm pretty sure you'd have to go without a bra, am I right?"
"Jack!"
"Seriously though, there's nothing wrong with the knock-'em-dead approach."
"I just don't want to seem, you know, too desperate."
"That's the last thing that's going to be going through his mind, trust me. Especially if you're braless."
"You're terrible you know that?" Martha enjoyed this new facet of their friendship. She and Jack had only just started getting to know each other before The Master took over, and during that time she had virtually no contact with him: she was travelling the Earth, he was taken prisoner. He did look after her family in whatever way he could, and they returned the favour. She would always feel she owed him a debt for that, on top of the bond they had developed between them. Since they had gone back to their respective everyday lives, they made sure to stay in contact, although she felt Jack was being a little cautious, like he didn't want to come on too strong in case she was suffering Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or if she was still mourning The Doctor. But she appreciated any contact with him, not only because going cold turkey on her old life was relatively tough, but she liked him as a man too. He'd started to warm up again though, and their friendship was getting back on track to where it was before, but now with much more trust and affection between them.
"So what time are you meeting him?"
"Seven-thirty, I'm meeting him there. He offered to pick me up here, and as brave as he is I can't inflict the rest of my family on him just yet."
"That's probably wise," Jack laughed. "Have you spoken to him since you last saw him?"
"Briefly, he called to ask how Tish's ankle was."
"He is keen! Finding excuses to talk to you, oh you are so on for tonight!"
"Stop making me laugh, you're making my face crack!" Martha felt her face mask again and looked in the mirror. Cracks had radiated around her mouth, she looked like The Joker's less threatening baby sister. But Jack wasn't listening, he was too busy singing porno movie music. "As if I would on a first date!"
"# Bom-chicka-wowow # Oh come on, you only live once, well you do anyway. # Bom-bom-chicka-chicka # I doubt he's the love-'em-and-leave-'em type, and even if he was, no man in his right mind is going to resist crawling back for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, and # when I get that feeling, I want Sexual Healing, Sexual Healing, oh baby, makes me feel so fine...#"
"Oh great, now the mask is falling off in clumps!" Martha was giggling uncontrollably now. "Oh, it feels good to laugh again."
Jack sighed.
"I know, and I've been around long enough to know that life goes on, for everyone, right up until it, well, doesn't. Which is why you need to grab these opportunities by the balls while you can, literally in your case. Don't think of all the things that'll go wrong, or why you don't deserve it, because then it'll all go to hell before you've even gotten started."
"You're right, of course you are. The black dress it is then."
"That's my girl. What colour thong are you wearing?"
"There's something wrong with you, you know that?"
"Come on, you can't tell me it's not something you're considering."
"Actually I was thinking of wearing my tummy control pants, especially in that dress."
"OK: one - you know that's not what I meant, and two - I WILL NOT LET YOU WEAR GRANNY PANTS ON YOUR DATE!"
"Whose date is this again?"
"I like to think it was a team effort, me doing my bit for the world, and hooking up two beautiful people does wonders for my karma, as well as my spank bank."
"Oh dear God! I'm hanging up now..."
"Ok, ok, I'll behave. Uh, I don't really know what to say now."
"Well, we've been talking so much about me, or more specifically me and Tom. How are you? How's work?"
"Fine, and fine thank you. Are you going to wear that perfume you wore when we first met? You know, when you were snogging the face off me? To this day, when someone walks past wearing Chanel Chance I feel a tingle..."
"Good bye Jack!"
"Promise you'll text me a photo of you in your dress before you leave?"
"OK I promise. Thank you for the chat, it was a good distraction, even if it left me with some worrying mental images!"
"Any time Ms Jones. Whatever you do tonight, promise you'll let yourself enjoy it ok?"
"I will. Now, go enjoy your pizza!"
"Actually Ianto's cooking for me tonight."
"Oh really, is this the other Jones in your life?"
"That's a whole other conversation for another night. 'Night Martha."
"Good night Jack."
* * *
Martha glanced at her watch again - 7:41pm. She took a deep breath and sighed, and went back to trying to work out the abstract paintings hanging on the pub walls. She was glad she had worn the little black dress now, Tom called this a pub, but it was closer to a trendy wine bar, and was currently populated by almost intimidatingly good looking people, most of them already paired up. The door swung opened with a bang, and she instinctually turned to look, it was just another gang of irritatingly jovial underwear models (or whatever), but as the door was slowly closing it was pushed open again, and she was greeted by the sight of Tom, holding a rather large plastic bag, and looking as flustered as she had been starting to feel. He made eye contact and gave a nervous smile, and strode over to her, already undoing his coat. As he got nearer she could see he was soaking wet.
"Martha, I'm so sorry, have you been waiting long?"
"No, not long, a few minutes. Has it started raining again?"
"Hmm? Oh this? No, it hasn't started raining again, but there's still huge puddles from this afternoon's down pour, huge puddles near the pavements..."
"Oh no! And you..."
"Bore the brunt of a Land Rover, who I swear deliberately swerved into the damn puddle." Martha gave a sympathetic chuckle and helped him with his coat.
"Do you want to sit down, I'll get you that drink I promised? And don't even think about arguing!"
Tom seemed to relax and gave her a warm smile.
"Thank you, I'll have a glass of red."
"I'll tell you what, I'll make it a bottle, I think we both need it." She gave him a wink, and headed for the bar, with a little swagger in her step.
"Here you are." It only took a couple of minutes to get served, but Martha had already been getting impatient. She sat opposite Tom, who was already pouring them both a glass.
"Thank you, the next bottle's on me though."
"The next bottle, are you trying to get me drunk?" Tom gave a laugh.
"You're the one who insisted on the bottle in the first place!" Martha gave an embarrassed laugh and bit her lip, hoping she hadn't come on too strong, or come across as a raging drunkard. Tom sensed her discomfort, so continued, "To be honest the day I've had, I may end up having this whole bottle myself!"
"That bad huh? Well, looking at the state of you I don't really need to ask. Not that you look bad! Just, uh, wet." 'Five minutes into the date and you're already making a tit of yourself' she lamented to herself. She looked up and Tom was giving her a warm grin.
"Well, the undue shower didn't help! Oh, you know how it is; your boss buries you in paperwork, little Billy's parents act like it's your fault that they keep having to bring him into A&E because he won't stop sticking things up his nose, you get stuck behind the pensioner at the shop who wants to pay for her week's worth of groceries in loose change she carries around in a sock," Martha nearly choked on her drink.
"A sock?!"
"Well that's what it looked like from where I was standing. Oh, that reminds me, I got you something!" He leaned down and picked up the dripping wet plastic bag, and placed it on the table in front of her. "I was going to get you roses, but then I thought that was such a cliché, so I thought I was being offbeat and different getting you this, but now I realise it's just going to be a pain for you to get home, and that maybe triteness has it's place, you know, for convenience sake.." But Martha cut him off,
"Oh my God, Tom, you really didn't have to!" She had pulled the plastic down to reveal a long glass vase, encasing a tall purple orchid. She slowly rotated the vase, admiring the flower, but appreciating the gesture even more. "It's so beautiful, thank you."
"It's my pleasure, I don't know, it just seemed more 'you', which is a bit presumptuous considering we've only just met."
"It is! I mean it is more 'me', not that it was presumptuous," Martha sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this, the whole dating thing. I'm very out of practice."
"You've got nothing to be sorry about. So what was it, a long term relationship? Why you're out of practice I mean. I find it incredibly hard to believe anyone as cute as you is short on date offers, so I can only surmise that you've been off the market for some time." Martha shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Damn, I'm sorry, I was too forward wasn't I?"
"No, no it's ok, I.."
"No, I was, and I'm sorry. Honestly, just tell me to shut up if I start, I don't mean to pry, I think I'm just naturally inquisitive, and well, I'm a little out of practice at this too if I'm honest?"
"Oh, was it a relationship for you?"
"It's probably more accurate to call it a marriage...to my job". Martha gave a smile, mostly out of relief at how he ended that sentence.
"I know! Well, I'm not qualified yet, but the hours I've already put in at the hospital, it's a hell of a commitment."
"That it is. But you know, you have to sometimes sit back and take stock and prioritise, you can't let life just pass you by, you know?"
"I do, I really do. I've been doing some soul searching myself lately, oh I won't bore you with it, but as a friend of mine said to me recently, life's too short."
"Look at us, getting all deep, before we're even half way through the bottle!" They both smiled and took a sip of wine, feeling comfortable in the ensuing silence. Martha reclined a little in her seat, idly running her finger up the cool glass of the vase. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she was already relaxing into his company.
* * *
"No way! He actually kept you handcuffed there all night?!"
"In fairness to him, I think he had every intention of coming back to uncuff me, it's just that he, well, passed out."
"I would have killed him! What did he say the next time he saw you?"
"Not much, I think he was concentrating too hard on not throwing up, which wouldn't have gone down well with the congregation. I considered getting him back by doing the whole 'oops I've forgotten the rings' shtick, but to be honest the bride scared the bejesus out of me." Tom said wryly.
"Bit of Bridezilla was she?"
"Bridezilla? I like that!" The wine was flowing, and Tom had been keeping Martha entertained with his anecdotes all night, in between trying to gently wheedle some information from her. But she was happy to sit back and let him do most of the talking, for several reasons: his stories were very entertaining, most of her tales ended in the death of an alien or her running for her life, and she had become accustomed to listening to people. That last year she had travelled so far and met so many people, she had craved to learn more about the human condition, no matter how seemingly mundane. Even though her experiences had hardened her in some ways, her affection for the human race had grown considerably. But during that time she had also had to go on the defensive, to make sure she divulged as little as possible about herself, to protect herself and those whom she loved. She was finding it hard to open up tonight, despite the alcohol, and Tom sensed it, but he was careful not to push her. "And that's the end of that bottle. Should I get in another?"
"Ooh, I think I've reached my limit I'm afraid. Actually I think I reached it about half an hour ago!" Martha giggled, the drink had definitely gone to her head, especially as she hadn't been drunk in such a long time. But she was in charge enough of her faculties to know that if she had any more, she'd cross the line from pleasantly mellow, to making a complete show of herself.
"Yeah you may have a point there, I got a little carried away with this evening as well. Not that I'm complaining." He leaned across the table slightly, and brushed his thumb across the back of her hand. She opened her hand to hold his, and held his gaze.
"Me neither." The moment was rudely interrupted by a deafening smash. A waitress had managed to drop two full trays of empty glasses, and presently a particularly rowdy group of young men where whistling and applauding her. "Ugh, poor woman, you think we should go and help?"
"No, it looks like her colleagues are coming to the rescue." Tom paused and reached for her hand again. "But I love that you were actually willing to go help, most people on a night out just couldn't be bothered, you're such a sweetheart." The alcohol had loosened Tom's tongue, but neither of them were embarrassed by his new found candidness. But Martha still found herself biting on her bottom lip in response to the compliment. "You know what I love even more? When you bite down on your lip like that, in fact, it could drive a man to distraction when you do that." Martha was now hyper aware of the feeling of her tooth still on her lip, and instinctually loosened her bite and ran her tongue over the same spot. His eyes fixated on her mouth, he mirrored her and licked his lip. She gave his hand a squeeze, and he brought his eye-line back to hers. She didn't know if it was the conversation she'd had with Jack earlier still playing on her subconscious, but she surprised herself with what she said next.
"It's getting a little wild in here now, do you want to take this some place a little more...private?" He obviously wasn't expecting her to say that, and couldn't suppress his surprise.
"Private...You want..I mean..." He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself. "What I'm trying to say is, are you sure? I wasn't pushing you was I?" She gave him a reassuring smile.
"No, of course you weren't. I don't usually do this you know."
"I think I do know. It's only been one night, but I think I already do know, enough to.... Oh I can't think straight now!" Martha laughed and took his free hand with hers.
"It's ok, lets just say, we both know."
"Yeah, that's much easier," he half chuckled. "Umm, did you want to get a coffee or something?"
"I guess I could do with a night-cap. Do you have coffee at your place?" Martha was sure she must be channelling Jack, she couldn't believe she was being so forward.
"As a matter of fact I do." They sat there, almost weighed down by the momentousness of what was happening, afraid that moving might somehow break the spell. But Martha's now raging hormones compelled her to talk.
"Right. So..."
"Are you absolutely sure Martha?"
"Most definitely, you?"
"Ooh yeah. Actually you may need to give me a minute." Martha threw her head back with a hearty laugh.
"Right then. You'd better say there, I'll go to the bar, ask if they have the number of a minicab, ok?" She stood up and smoothed her dress down.
"Hang on, I need to do this right." She had no time to ask what he meant, he had already stood up and taken a step towards her. He put a hand on her waist and drew her near, and cupped her face with the other. He gave a little smile, and gently brushed his lips against hers. She held his face with both hands, and stood on her toes, forcing her mouth more firmly against his. Her breathing getting heavier, she parted her lips, and he tenderly let his tongue brush against hers. She emitted a light moan, causing him to wrap his arm more tightly around her waist, and delve deeper into the kiss. She let a hand slip round to the back of his head, and stroked the flesh between his hairline and neck. They parted, both breathing heavily, and she slipped her hands down to his shoulders, he in turn leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. They embraced for a while, but became gradually aware of the growing din in the background. Tom looked up, making sure that their private corner was indeed private, and was relieved to see that their spontaneous display of affection had been largely ignored. "You know, I think I saw a taxi rank nearby on my way here, what do you say we take in some fresh air and head that way?"
"Sure, fresh air sounds good." Martha was still leaning into him, and it took a concerted effort to take a step back, to pick up her bag and put on her coat. She gave the orchid a final glance before putting it back in its bag. Tom, ever the gentleman, took it from her, and offered his free arm for her to hold. She gratefully accepted and snuggled up close. He gave her a quick kiss on the top of her head, and they headed toward the door, entirely oblivious to the rest of the world.
* * *
The taxi ride home had been sweet torture. With Martha sitting by the door, and Tom taking the middle seat, they sat with their thighs touching, and his arm resting on top of the seat behind her head, his fingers straying down every so often to tease the sensitive flesh between her neck and shoulder. It was becoming more and more difficult to stifle her little moans of pleasure, but it was necessary to; they were stuck with a taxi driver with an opinion on everything, and who felt compelled to share every single one of them with the pair, looking in his rear-view mirror every minute or so to check they were still paying attention. Normally, Tom would have been easily drawn into a debate with the driver, he too was a man of strong convictions (but on the opposite end of the scale) and had no problem vocalising his stand. But tonight he was far too preoccupied with a new game; seeing how much he could tease Martha before she relented and mounted him right there in the back-seat.
He was impressed (if not a little frustrated) with her staying power, but he was less confident in his own. As much as he couldn't resist touching her, feeling her almost undetectable shivers when he breathed on her neck, he was pushing himself to the limit of his self-restraint too. This hadn't gone unnoticed by Martha, whose gaze kept straying down, to the now unavoidable bulge in Tom's trousers. She decided that two could play at his game, and gradually slid her hand up his thigh, until her little finger could easily graze the material at his crotch, causing his breath to hitch while he was mid-sentence telling the driver which house to park in front of, forcing him to give a little cough and pretend he was clearing his throat. As far as they were both concerned, the ride couldn't have ended soon enough, even if it had been the perfect pre-foreplay.
Tom fumbled with his keys, unable to keep his hands steady long enough to single out the right key, and push it in the lock.
"Damn it!"
"Calm down, we have the whole night Tom."
"I know, but I want to savour every second." Martha slipped her arms around his hips and pulled him close so their pelvises met, and tilted her head back so she could look him in the eye.
"And you will, WE will, but we actually have to get in first, so slow down. Which key is it?" Martha took the bunch from him, and he pointed out a gold one. Calmly she separated it from the bunch and placed it into the lock and turned. She pulled it out the lock and gave the key-ring a cursory glance before handing it back, her eyebrow arched and with a devilish grin.
"What?" Tom chuckled nervously.
"SpongeBob Square Pants?!"
"My niece gave it to me on my last birthday, bought it with her own pocket money."
"Ah bless, that's so sweet, how old is she?"
"Seven, her name's Ellie. I'm not being funny here, but do you mind if we don't talk about little girls whilst I'm standing here full mast?" Martha gave a hearty laugh and rested her hand on his chest.
"Fair enough. Go on then, aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Well, I thought that was a given!" Tom stroked a strand of hair that had fallen loose and was framing her face, then with the same hand cupped her face, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip. She placed her hand over his and moved her head so she could kiss the palm of his hand. "Come on, we'd better get inside before we end up putting on a hell of a show for the neighbours."
"Sounds promising!" But before Martha could continue that thought, Tom had scooped her into his arms, causing her to make a sound almost resembling a squeal, before holding on around his neck, and giggling as she clumsily carried her over the threshold, banging her head on the door frame as he went.
"Sorry, that wasn't the sweeping romantic gesture it was meant to be."
"You get full marks for trying though," she rubbed her head where it had been bumped, still laughing. He pulled her into him, and kissed where she had been rubbing, then moved to kiss her forehead, then the tip of her nose and finally her lips. His arm supporting her in the small of her back as she stood on tiptoes, they kissed more thoroughly than their urgent first kiss, learning each other's taste and feel. His hand inched lower, until it was grazing the top of her buttocks. She gave a contented sigh, and a small jerk with her body, encouraging his hand to move down. She reached round and gave his ass a firm squeeze, his hips involuntarily bucked against her, causing her to gasp.
Grasping onto his shirt, she backed towards the wall, pulling him with her until he had her pinned with his body, one hand placed against the surface for balance. He broke off their kiss to move down to her neck, sucking and gently teasing the flesh with his teeth. Her panting had turned into breathy moans, which spurred him on, with his free hand he stroked from her stomach to her ribs, stopping just under her breast. Martha gave a protesting groan, he smiled against her skin and gently moved his hand upward, until it was covering her breast. He brushed his thumb slowly over her nipple, and back again, repeating the motion until he could feel it hardening under his touch. Her moans were becoming more pleading, she lifted her leg and hitched it over his thigh, causing him to buck his hips again.
"Oh God!" She met his buck with her own, then began gyrate against his pelvis. He pushed with the arm he was using to balance himself, to pull away from her.
"Not like this. Bed." This was all he was capable of saying, by now most of his blood had drained downwards away from his brain. He took her by the hand and led her upstairs, looking back at her the entire time. As soon as they reached the top he picked her up and started kissing her again, she wrapped her legs around his midriff and matched the passion in his kiss, but kept one eye open to make sure he didn't whack her on any door frames again. Entering his room, he fumbled for a few seconds against the wall until he found the light switch. He staggered to the foot of the bed and sat on the end, Martha's legs still wrapped around him, but now in this new position their crotches met with strong friction, making them groan in unison. Martha unwrapped her legs enough to put her feet on the bed and give her better leverage. She broke off their kiss and moved her lips across his face until reaching his ear. She lightly traced the contours with her tongue, whilst slowly grinding her hips.
"Martha, I think we'd better take this down a notch, I don't know how much I can take." She leaned back to look at him.
"We'll have plenty of time for Tantric sex by candlelight, but tonight..." She took his arms and guided them up to her dress straps, and shrugged her shoulders slightly. He got the message and slipped his fingers under the fabric. She licked her lips with anticipation her breathing getting heavier again. She was surprised at how quickly Tom had changed pace, from nearly taking her in the hallway, to now taking his time, savouring every inch of her flesh as it was gradually exposed to him. He leaned forward and kissed her chest, moving down as he lowered her dress. Finally he pulled the front down to her ribcage, leaving her exposed. Unable to take his eyes off her, he gently moved his hands upwards, feeling her soft skin with his fingertips, taking in every inch of her. He brushed her nipples with his thumbs, teasing them into hardened peaks, before pulling her close with one hand; cupping her breast with the other, he dropped his head to take her in his mouth.
She arched her back, sighing, she grabbed onto his head and pulled at his hair, her hips rocking against him more forcefully. Moving onto her other breast, he sucked and licked with even more enthusiasm, moving his hands to slide her dress further down her body until it bunched at her waist. He grabbed onto her hips and thrust his pelvis forward, she tugged his hair again before letting go and turning her attentions to getting his shirt off. She briskly undid the top four buttons, giving him enough leeway to pull the shirt off over his head. Her hands caressed his chest, then quickly moved down to the waistband of his trousers. He leaned back so he was resting on his elbow, and she tugged down. They didn't budge, so she knelt down to find the zip. She stroked the bulge in his pants, and grinned at the satisfied moan she elicited. She carefully pulled down the zipper, and moved her hand back up to the waistband, this time tucking her fingers under his boxers too. It only took a couple of tugs to undress him, but she didn't have time to look at him like she wanted before her pulled her onto the bed with him.
He pulled her dress down over her hips, and her underwear quickly followed. He licked her abdomen hungrily, moving up towards her breasts again. She arched her back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, instinctually lifting her knees up to circle his waist. He reached down to guide himself into her, lowering himself slowly. She threw her head back against the pillow, crying out at the sensation. It had been so long since she'd done this, she had expected it to hurt the first time she slept with a man again, but he'd made her wet already. She reached down to his butt and bucked her hips, encouraging him to match her speed and thrust harder. He obliged, and they made love at a frantic pace, hungry for each other's, and their own climax, not wanting it to stop, but needing that final release.
* * *
Martha blinked against the light and squeezed her eyes closed. She really wasn't a morning person. She let her consciousness drift back into the limbo between sleep and wakefulness, enveloped in a sea of well-being and contentment; the first time she'd felt that way in a very long time. Her senses were starting to wake now, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was rousing her again. She squirmed and gave a contented sigh.
"Morning gorgeous." Martha managed to open one eye: Tom was lying beside her propped up by his elbow, watching over her with a soft smile.
"Hey," she stretched languidly and reached out to hold his hand, he raised hers to his lips and kissed it. "What time is it? Have you been up long?"
"It's nine-thirty, but it's a Saturday morning so our laziness is allowed. As for your question, I've barely been down for the last twelve hours." He looked down and she followed his gaze, and gave a giggle.
"What's the story, Morning Glory!"
"Well, you put a beautiful, naked woman in bed with a man, nature's going to take its course."
"Oh I'm not complaining! I'm just surprised, or I should say impressed. After last night...well, it was pretty epic!" Indeed it had been, they had only fallen asleep three hours previously. The whole night had been devoted to their lovemaking, from the frenzied first couple of screws, to the slow and passionate, to the moderately kinky. "I'm amazed it hasn't gone on strike. And grateful of course." She rolled onto her side so she was facing him, and gave him a long, deep kiss. Her hand traced an invisible line down his torso, until reaching his boxers - Tommy Hilfigers. She slipped her hand under the band, and slowly stroked the length of his cock. She removed her hand and gently pushed on his shoulder, encouraging him to lie on his back. She sat up and planted a firm kiss on his mouth, before following the same line down his midriff with her tongue. When she reached his underwear she patted his thigh; his cue to lift his hips so she could relieve him of his superfluous garment.
"Ms Jones, I really can't fault your bedside manner."
"Trust me, they don't teach this in medical school." She held his erection in one hand, and gave him a sultry half-smile, before lowering her head to take him in her mouth. She tightened her grip slightly, and started running her hand firmly up and down his shaft. He swore under his breath and rested one hand on the back of her head, with his other arm he pushed on the bed to support him, so he could tilt forward to watch her. She took more of him in her mouth, and started to move her head rhythmically to match her hand's increasing momentum. His moans grew louder and he was pulling at her hair, she knew he was fast approaching the point of no return. She gave him one final, hard suck, and pulled away. She had to stifle a laugh at his protesting groan, but couldn't resist looking up and giving him a wicked grin.
Without saying a word she sat up on her knees and crawled toward him, he was now sitting upright and reached out to help her steady herself. He pulled her onto his lap and she draped her arms around his shoulders, and they kissed deeply while she positioned herself over his cock. Reaching down with one hand, she guided him to her entrance, before lowering herself onto him, arching her back as she did so. She leaned in to kiss him again, as she adjusted her legs to encircle him, giving herself better leverage. She broke off their kiss gripped his shoulders, and finally jerked her hips forward, causing them both to moan loudly. She picked up the pace, and he met her thrusts, holding onto her hips to give her extra momentum. His breathing was starting to hitch, and his thrusts becoming irregular, she knew he must be close to coming. She lowered her hand between her legs to start rubbing her clitoris, she wanted to come with him, and it wasn't going to take much work to get her there.
"Let me," Tom managed to grunt. He moved his hand to where hers was, and she helped position his fingers to the right spot. His wrist was at an awkward angle, but he managed to work his fingers in time with their bodies. Immediately she threw her head back and cried out. Her movements became more forceful and her speed picked up, before finally embracing him and burying her face in his neck, muffling her cry as she reached her crashing climax. Her muscles clamped and flexed on his penis, pushing him over the edge toward his own orgasm. He lifted her hips and pushed himself forward until she was on her back and he was on top of her, pumping into her with all he could muster, as she brought her knees up, giving him more friction inside her, this was enough to bring his climax. He collapsed on top of her, she hugged his limp body and kissed the top of his head. They lay that way for a few minutes, letting their breathing slow, and enjoying the intimacy their closeness brought. Finally Tom spoke.
"Do you mind if I stay like this for the rest of the day? Or maybe the rest of our lives?"
"Hmm, fine by me." She kissed his forehead and stroked his back. They lay there a little longer, before being interrupted by his phone ringing. Tom grunted.
"Nope, not moving, don't care."
"What if it's important?"
"More important than this?"
"It's hard to believe such a thing exists, I know. What if it's your rugby buddies wondering where you are? They're just going to keep on calling, all day..."
"Ok, alright, I'm going," he lifted himself off the bed and staggered downstairs, muttering obscenities under his breath. Martha moved to climb under the sheets, but changed her mind and got up to go to the bathroom instead. On her way to the door she spotted her handbag on his desk. At one point in the night she had made her way downstairs for some water, and picked up her bag from where she had dumped it in the hallway. She had taken out her phone to drop Tish a quick text to tell her not to worry, that she wasn't going home last night, with the code they had long used between them for when a date had gone successfully (and they didn't want their curious mother to figure out): Flying Fox. She took out her phone and unlocked the keypad, sure enough there was a message from Tish.
'OMG for real? I'm so proud, I never thought I'd read those words from you. Call me when you can, I need details, about EVERYTHING.'
Martha gave a smile and went to put the phone down, but as she did she happened to look back into the room. She gave a quiet chuckle at the scene in front of her; hers and Tom's clothes were piled on the floor at the foot of the bed, the top sheets were such a mess they were practically knotted, and one of his ties was still secured to the headboard from when things got particularly heated and she has used it as makeshift handcuffs. An idea struck her. She picked up her phone again and switched it to camera mode. She zoomed in enough so that the tie and heap of clothes could be made out, and took the photo, then got it ready to send, adding the caption 'Mission: Accomplished'. She scrolled down her contact numbers and found Jack's number, and clicked 'send', and gave a quiet laugh. She placed the phone down, and walked over to pick her knickers off the floor and pulled them on, then reached down to pick up Tom's shirt from last night, and slipped it on. She hadn't finished pulling it over her head before her phone started ringing.
'Sorry Jack, this is going to have to wait,' she thought to herself with a wry grin. She switched her phone to silent mode, and headed downstairs, that coffee wasn't going to drink itself.
The End.
* * * *
ETA: It's now posted in the Teaspoon archives too.