Dr. Who Fic -First Attempt
Title: In Place Of
Fandom: Dr. Who
Word Count: 976
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Jack (unrequited Jack/Ten and Martha/Ten)
Rating: PG-13/R
Set: Post New Who Season 3
Written for silver_fic who asked for Martha fic and loves Jack so.
"And so then he says: I've learned to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow."
Then they laugh; because, it’s easier than the alternative.
It’s always like this: late nights when she should be studying (there’s no more TARDIS to turn back wasted hours), sometimes exciting adventure, inevitably more to drink than is probably prudent, and always ending up like this with them lying side by side recounting what it had been like.
Sometimes Martha wonders how far from the truth their memories have wandered.
He’s always Captain, though he hasn’t had a ship in over half a century, or longer depending on your perspective of time. Titles are soothing. Sometimes he calls her Doctor Jones and she lets him, half because he’s kidding and half because he isn’t. That’s a whole different species of little white lie.
“You know you really ought to think about joining us at Torchwood. We could certainly use your skills and you should be doing more than living life like nothing’s changed.”
Sometimes she sort of wants to say yes, but she’s been dreaming of being a doctor since she was a little girl and she doesn’t particularly think his colleagues like her terribly much. Besides, that would be giving up, whereas these nights they have are just a little bit of cheating, like chocolate cake snuck sometimes while on a diet.
“Tell me something, Jack. What would you do if I actually said yes one of these days?”
This is becoming all too comfortable and familiar. Martha’s pretty sure it is supposed to be like a nicotine gum. You reach for it instead of the cigarette, so when she finds herself holding that phone Martha calls Jack, and Jack calls Martha (she isn’t sure what his trigger is). She isn’t sure that this arrangement isn’t worse than actually making the call she longs to. It’s definitely easier though.
Jack’s aftershave is a bit stronger than she might like, but he’s warm and real when he leans over her. Her mother was right to be surprised when Martha showed up with the Doctor; before he showed up in her life, Martha had been altogether too focused on school. That isn’t a problem anymore. She’s anywhere as focused as she should be. This is a better distraction than some others, she supposes.
His kisses are practiced. Martha tries not to think about how many people or species they’ve been practiced on. It’s a welcome relief from inexperienced classmates and awkward mistaken fumbling. She realizes she’s not entirely sure what the Doctor would be like. Maybe it’s quite different for Time Lords. She thinks it would be like everything with him though: exciting and full of energy with endless possibility.
He likes how her nails run over the nape of his neck. His breath is hot on her skin as he unbuttons her blouse, his face trailing done her body to each bit of new flesh. Whoever this is really about, Jack knows Martha is there.
He’s a generous one, takes his time and pays attention. Martha sometimes wonders if the Doctor might not be a tad selfish and disconnected from her needs. Not that he’d mean to ignore them; it just might not occur to him. It never did occur to him. All that time they both were aching and it never once occurred to him.
Jack’s going to live almost forever. He’s got millions of years to come to terms with it. Martha doesn’t tell him this because this way they are more together in the struggle.
He’s the same salty sweet as other men. Immortality has not changed his basic makeup. If she’s disappointing compared to the variety of partners he’s encountered, he never shows it. His fists clench the sheets as he arches his hips upward, the same dazed expression as every man across the galaxy, well every one that she knows of.
He knows by now where to reach in the top right drawer. He’s strong enough to lift her up; she’s muscled well enough to help.
Martha knows that it’s far too late when she sees the light streaming in her window as she climbs off of him. But the past hours have been free, not of the Doctor but of the eternal solitude that the rest of the time is filled with in his absence.
Day has come again though, and she has not gotten the sleep she needed. Long hours lie before her and it’s time to get out of bed.
“I’m making eggs, you want any?”
Careless smile, sometimes it reminds her a little of Him. But it’s not quite the same and it’s far too easy to stand around in the kitchen cooking breakfast and acting like the possibility of being late to work in the only thing on her mind. He knows where the juice glasses are in the cupboard by now.
She notices he clutches the watch periodically, twisting it around his wrist absentmindedly.
The eggs are perhaps a little overcooked but neither of them comments on it. Jack’s gone when she gets out of the shower, but Martha doesn’t think it’s rude that he didn’t say goodbye. They will doubtless see each other again, and there has been too much of goodbye for them both. She’s only running 5 minutes behind and if she hurries maybe she won’t be late.
There’s a text message from Jack on her phone. It says: Remember, your departure wasn’t his choice.
Martha knows it’s supposed to be a comforting message. However, all whatit makes her think about is that if the Doctor had even considered that she might need to leave him, then maybe she wouldn’t have had to.
Her fingers hover for a moment between the 2 and 3 keys. She contents herself with telling Jack to shut up.
Fandom: Dr. Who
Word Count: 976
Characters/Pairings: Martha/Jack (unrequited Jack/Ten and Martha/Ten)
Rating: PG-13/R
Set: Post New Who Season 3
Written for silver_fic who asked for Martha fic and loves Jack so.
"And so then he says: I've learned to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow."
Then they laugh; because, it’s easier than the alternative.
It’s always like this: late nights when she should be studying (there’s no more TARDIS to turn back wasted hours), sometimes exciting adventure, inevitably more to drink than is probably prudent, and always ending up like this with them lying side by side recounting what it had been like.
Sometimes Martha wonders how far from the truth their memories have wandered.
He’s always Captain, though he hasn’t had a ship in over half a century, or longer depending on your perspective of time. Titles are soothing. Sometimes he calls her Doctor Jones and she lets him, half because he’s kidding and half because he isn’t. That’s a whole different species of little white lie.
“You know you really ought to think about joining us at Torchwood. We could certainly use your skills and you should be doing more than living life like nothing’s changed.”
Sometimes she sort of wants to say yes, but she’s been dreaming of being a doctor since she was a little girl and she doesn’t particularly think his colleagues like her terribly much. Besides, that would be giving up, whereas these nights they have are just a little bit of cheating, like chocolate cake snuck sometimes while on a diet.
“Tell me something, Jack. What would you do if I actually said yes one of these days?”
This is becoming all too comfortable and familiar. Martha’s pretty sure it is supposed to be like a nicotine gum. You reach for it instead of the cigarette, so when she finds herself holding that phone Martha calls Jack, and Jack calls Martha (she isn’t sure what his trigger is). She isn’t sure that this arrangement isn’t worse than actually making the call she longs to. It’s definitely easier though.
Jack’s aftershave is a bit stronger than she might like, but he’s warm and real when he leans over her. Her mother was right to be surprised when Martha showed up with the Doctor; before he showed up in her life, Martha had been altogether too focused on school. That isn’t a problem anymore. She’s anywhere as focused as she should be. This is a better distraction than some others, she supposes.
His kisses are practiced. Martha tries not to think about how many people or species they’ve been practiced on. It’s a welcome relief from inexperienced classmates and awkward mistaken fumbling. She realizes she’s not entirely sure what the Doctor would be like. Maybe it’s quite different for Time Lords. She thinks it would be like everything with him though: exciting and full of energy with endless possibility.
He likes how her nails run over the nape of his neck. His breath is hot on her skin as he unbuttons her blouse, his face trailing done her body to each bit of new flesh. Whoever this is really about, Jack knows Martha is there.
He’s a generous one, takes his time and pays attention. Martha sometimes wonders if the Doctor might not be a tad selfish and disconnected from her needs. Not that he’d mean to ignore them; it just might not occur to him. It never did occur to him. All that time they both were aching and it never once occurred to him.
Jack’s going to live almost forever. He’s got millions of years to come to terms with it. Martha doesn’t tell him this because this way they are more together in the struggle.
He’s the same salty sweet as other men. Immortality has not changed his basic makeup. If she’s disappointing compared to the variety of partners he’s encountered, he never shows it. His fists clench the sheets as he arches his hips upward, the same dazed expression as every man across the galaxy, well every one that she knows of.
He knows by now where to reach in the top right drawer. He’s strong enough to lift her up; she’s muscled well enough to help.
Martha knows that it’s far too late when she sees the light streaming in her window as she climbs off of him. But the past hours have been free, not of the Doctor but of the eternal solitude that the rest of the time is filled with in his absence.
Day has come again though, and she has not gotten the sleep she needed. Long hours lie before her and it’s time to get out of bed.
“I’m making eggs, you want any?”
Careless smile, sometimes it reminds her a little of Him. But it’s not quite the same and it’s far too easy to stand around in the kitchen cooking breakfast and acting like the possibility of being late to work in the only thing on her mind. He knows where the juice glasses are in the cupboard by now.
She notices he clutches the watch periodically, twisting it around his wrist absentmindedly.
The eggs are perhaps a little overcooked but neither of them comments on it. Jack’s gone when she gets out of the shower, but Martha doesn’t think it’s rude that he didn’t say goodbye. They will doubtless see each other again, and there has been too much of goodbye for them both. She’s only running 5 minutes behind and if she hurries maybe she won’t be late.
There’s a text message from Jack on her phone. It says: Remember, your departure wasn’t his choice.
Martha knows it’s supposed to be a comforting message. However, all whatit makes her think about is that if the Doctor had even considered that she might need to leave him, then maybe she wouldn’t have had to.
Her fingers hover for a moment between the 2 and 3 keys. She contents herself with telling Jack to shut up.