Men's Clothes (1/1)
Title: Men's Clothes
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Martha
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Casting spoilers for TW S2.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Tish finds something surprising when she digs around in Martha's closet. A sequel to Whatever You Want It to Be and Lethe and Nepenthe.
"I'm still laughing imagining what Annelise's face must've looked like when Dad broke it off with her," Tish giggled as Martha tossed her car keys onto the table. "Good riddance to the slag, I say, but I wish I could've been there."
"Not very nice, Tish," Martha mock-scolded, but grinned herself. "Want something to drink? I've got this great new coffee."
"Sure, but we're running a bit late--why don't you make that and I'll go find some shoes?" Tish slipped into Martha's bedroom, frowning at the messy bed, and called through the open door, "How nice d'you think they have be, these shoes? I mean, how serious are Mum and Dad about this family dinner?"
"Pretty serious, it's a really nice place," Martha called. "Shoes are at the bottom."
Tish knelt and slid open the bottom drawer of the bureau, but there weren't any shoes. What there were, however, were a few folded shirts and trousers. Men's shirts and trousers.
"Oh. My. God!" Tish shrieked, and Martha came running in.
"What, what is it--" She froze, blinking at the open drawer, and stared at her gobsmacked sister. Hastily Martha darted forward and kicked the drawer closed. "I mean the bottom of the closet, Tish," she said in exasperation, and crossed purposefully to the closet, opening it and kneeling, digging through the hems of skirts and jeans for shoes.
"Wait. A minute." Tish pulled the drawer back open and stared down at the Men's Clothing Therein. "Oh, my God." She stood up so they could be eye to eye. "Men's clothes. In your flat. In your drawer, even. Men's clothes." She pointed for emphasis. "In your flat! Men's clothes! Explanation, please!"
"Tish, it's not a big--"
"Men's clothes, Martha! In your flat! Men's clothes!"
"They're Jack's!" Martha half-shouted over her, and Tish's eyes grew if possible even wider.
"Jack? Jack...Harkness, Jack? As in, muscular dark-haired blue-eyed Jack that doesn't die? His clothes? In your flat?" Tish gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, my G--"
"Tish! Shut up!" Martha hurled a shoe at her sister and stood up, sighing in frustration. "He comes to London on business sometimes and spends the night so he doesn't have to stay in a hotel! That's it!"
Tish lowered her hands, frowning. "...That's it? So, he sleeps on the couch?" Martha hesitated ever so slightly before answering, and Tish shrieked again. "Oh, my God! You didn't tell me!"
"Tish, leave it, okay? It's my business, not yours." Martha ran a hand through her hair in irritation and looked back down at the shoes in her closet. "Here." She seized a pair and tossed it to her still-stunned sister. "Put these on and grab your purse, we're gonna be late for dinner."
Tish's mouth was still hanging open as she followed her sister back into the kitchen. "How long--?"
"A couple months. Tish, leave it alone."
"How's he been?"
Martha groaned. There was no way Tish was going to let it go. No choice but to answer, she supposed. "He's okay. He wants me to take a job at his Torchwood, in Cardiff."
Tish frowned as she slipped the shoes on. "Is that why he's sleeping with you?"
"No!" Martha replied indignantly, reflexively, but then stopped. Could he...? No, of course not. She shook her head and tossed her sister the car keys. "Tish, I've got to go to the bathroom. Get the car started, okay?"
Tish nodded and ran out, the door closing with a slam behind her. As soon as she'd gone Martha reached into her bag for her cell phone, frowning as she speed-dialed.
The phone barely rang once before the line clicked on. "Hey, Martha," Jack's familiar, warm voice said, a note of pleasure evident. "Kind of busy, but it's nothing important--everything okay?"
"Maybe." She decided there was no point beating around the bush--plus, she was in a hurry. "Jack, you're not just sleeping with me to get me to take the job in Cardiff, are you?"
There was a short, stunned silence. To her swift guilt, Jack sounded truly hurt. "Martha...how could you even think that?"
She sighed, a little relieved. "I don't. I'm sorry. Tish was just here and she found your clothes and she said...well, never mind what she said. Don't even think about it." She was starting to babble, but if she was honest with herself she was more than 'a little relieved.' The thought that Jack was toying with her had been short-lived but painful, and she rushed on. "Listen, I've got the weekend free and I was thinking about coming up to see you--if, y'know, the world's not ending up there or anything. And..." Martha paused, deliberating. "I think I'd like to take a look at your Torchwood."
She could practically hear Jack beaming on the other end. "Great! That's great! Um--no, not that busy, no Armageddons on this end, all good here--we'll have to pick up the empty pizza boxes--but yeah, come whenever you want to." He was babbling a bit, too, and she grinned to think of his face. "I'll see you Saturday, then?"
"Saturday it is. See you then." Smiling, Martha snapped her phone shut and stuffed it into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and rushing out the door. She was going to be late for dinner.
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Martha
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Casting spoilers for TW S2.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Tish finds something surprising when she digs around in Martha's closet. A sequel to Whatever You Want It to Be and Lethe and Nepenthe.
"I'm still laughing imagining what Annelise's face must've looked like when Dad broke it off with her," Tish giggled as Martha tossed her car keys onto the table. "Good riddance to the slag, I say, but I wish I could've been there."
"Not very nice, Tish," Martha mock-scolded, but grinned herself. "Want something to drink? I've got this great new coffee."
"Sure, but we're running a bit late--why don't you make that and I'll go find some shoes?" Tish slipped into Martha's bedroom, frowning at the messy bed, and called through the open door, "How nice d'you think they have be, these shoes? I mean, how serious are Mum and Dad about this family dinner?"
"Pretty serious, it's a really nice place," Martha called. "Shoes are at the bottom."
Tish knelt and slid open the bottom drawer of the bureau, but there weren't any shoes. What there were, however, were a few folded shirts and trousers. Men's shirts and trousers.
"Oh. My. God!" Tish shrieked, and Martha came running in.
"What, what is it--" She froze, blinking at the open drawer, and stared at her gobsmacked sister. Hastily Martha darted forward and kicked the drawer closed. "I mean the bottom of the closet, Tish," she said in exasperation, and crossed purposefully to the closet, opening it and kneeling, digging through the hems of skirts and jeans for shoes.
"Wait. A minute." Tish pulled the drawer back open and stared down at the Men's Clothing Therein. "Oh, my God." She stood up so they could be eye to eye. "Men's clothes. In your flat. In your drawer, even. Men's clothes." She pointed for emphasis. "In your flat! Men's clothes! Explanation, please!"
"Tish, it's not a big--"
"Men's clothes, Martha! In your flat! Men's clothes!"
"They're Jack's!" Martha half-shouted over her, and Tish's eyes grew if possible even wider.
"Jack? Jack...Harkness, Jack? As in, muscular dark-haired blue-eyed Jack that doesn't die? His clothes? In your flat?" Tish gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, my G--"
"Tish! Shut up!" Martha hurled a shoe at her sister and stood up, sighing in frustration. "He comes to London on business sometimes and spends the night so he doesn't have to stay in a hotel! That's it!"
Tish lowered her hands, frowning. "...That's it? So, he sleeps on the couch?" Martha hesitated ever so slightly before answering, and Tish shrieked again. "Oh, my God! You didn't tell me!"
"Tish, leave it, okay? It's my business, not yours." Martha ran a hand through her hair in irritation and looked back down at the shoes in her closet. "Here." She seized a pair and tossed it to her still-stunned sister. "Put these on and grab your purse, we're gonna be late for dinner."
Tish's mouth was still hanging open as she followed her sister back into the kitchen. "How long--?"
"A couple months. Tish, leave it alone."
"How's he been?"
Martha groaned. There was no way Tish was going to let it go. No choice but to answer, she supposed. "He's okay. He wants me to take a job at his Torchwood, in Cardiff."
Tish frowned as she slipped the shoes on. "Is that why he's sleeping with you?"
"No!" Martha replied indignantly, reflexively, but then stopped. Could he...? No, of course not. She shook her head and tossed her sister the car keys. "Tish, I've got to go to the bathroom. Get the car started, okay?"
Tish nodded and ran out, the door closing with a slam behind her. As soon as she'd gone Martha reached into her bag for her cell phone, frowning as she speed-dialed.
The phone barely rang once before the line clicked on. "Hey, Martha," Jack's familiar, warm voice said, a note of pleasure evident. "Kind of busy, but it's nothing important--everything okay?"
"Maybe." She decided there was no point beating around the bush--plus, she was in a hurry. "Jack, you're not just sleeping with me to get me to take the job in Cardiff, are you?"
There was a short, stunned silence. To her swift guilt, Jack sounded truly hurt. "Martha...how could you even think that?"
She sighed, a little relieved. "I don't. I'm sorry. Tish was just here and she found your clothes and she said...well, never mind what she said. Don't even think about it." She was starting to babble, but if she was honest with herself she was more than 'a little relieved.' The thought that Jack was toying with her had been short-lived but painful, and she rushed on. "Listen, I've got the weekend free and I was thinking about coming up to see you--if, y'know, the world's not ending up there or anything. And..." Martha paused, deliberating. "I think I'd like to take a look at your Torchwood."
She could practically hear Jack beaming on the other end. "Great! That's great! Um--no, not that busy, no Armageddons on this end, all good here--we'll have to pick up the empty pizza boxes--but yeah, come whenever you want to." He was babbling a bit, too, and she grinned to think of his face. "I'll see you Saturday, then?"
"Saturday it is. See you then." Smiling, Martha snapped her phone shut and stuffed it into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and rushing out the door. She was going to be late for dinner.