Interlude
Title: Interlude
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones/Harry Sullivan
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None - set pre-Season 4.
Summary: A brief interlude in the shared lives of Martha and Harry.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: This is by way of being a teaser for my next full length Martha/Harry fic and is a brief sequel to When Harry Met Martha.
~~~~~~
"Well, I think that's it," Harry said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief and leaning wearily against the doorframe.
"Good," sighed Martha as she straightened up. "Cuppa?"
"Oh, yes please!" He levered himself away from the doorframe and followed her down the hall to her - no their, now - kitchen. They'd just spent the weekend moving Harry's things into Martha's flat, after sorting out what he wanted to keep and what she could get rid of to accommodate them living together.
Initially Harry had suggested they move into his flat, but they'd quickly established that Martha's was the bigger of the two. He'd then suggested they find a flat together and Martha had agreed that they could go flat-hunting, but in the meantime, she wanted him to move in.
"Why?" he asked, as they lay in bed together one Sunday morning; he'd been staying over with her since he'd turned up at UNIT HQ so unexpectedly and she had told him she wanted him in her life.
"Don't you want to move in properly?" Martha countered. "It would be easier than traipsing back and forth to your flat."
He kissed the top of her head where it rested on his shoulder. "It would be much easier," he agreed, "I just wondered why you were so urgent for me to move in with you."
She pushed herself up to look him in the eye. "Because I love you and I want you to be here with me," she answered, as if surprised that he had to ask.
He blushed. "You say the nicest things, Martha Jones." He lifted his head to kiss her and she moved to drape herself on top of him.
* * * * * *
Martha made them both some tea and they sank down onto the kitchen chairs with a feeling of relief at having finished their task.
"I could sleep for a week," Harry said.
She quirked an eyebrow at him and he saw a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"I meant actually sleep," he pointed out. "You seem to forget I'm an old man now."
"You're as old as you think you are, Harry Sullivan," she retorted.
"Well, right now, I think I'm 96."
She cupped his cheek in her hand. "You're daft," she told him, leaning in for a lengthy kiss.
"Oh I say," he gasped when she finally released him. "You really do take my breath away."
"Good." She smirked at him, before getting up and putting their empty mugs on the counter by the sink. Then she pulled him up from his chair. "Come on then, bed."
"It's only four o'clock in the afternoon," he protested.
"And? You were the one who said you wanted to sleep," she reminded him as she led him into their bedroom.
He chuckled as he lifted her t-shirt up over her head. "You've got me wrapped around your little finger, haven't you?"
"And who is it that lets me boss him around?" she asked quizzically as she lowered her arms again and began to unbutton his shirt. She started to kiss her way down his chest, her mouth following her fingers as they unfastened his buttons; she smiled when she felt him give a little shiver of pleasure.
"M-me," he stuttered.
"Exactly." She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and tugged it free of his arms. "By the way, now we're officially a couple, you'll have to meet my parents."
He gave her a horrified look. "Meet your parents?" he echoed. "Oh my!"
She chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, they won't bite."
"But won't they be upset that you're - that I'm - "
Martha paused with her hands on his belt buckle. "Care to be a little more coherent, Doctor Sullivan?" she asked, a teasing light in her eyes.
"Well, the age difference," he said, blushing.
She wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her chin against his chest, looking up into his face. "Harry, the last man I seriously fancied was several centuries older than me, so I'm quite sure they'll be positively relieved that you're only a few decades older."
He smiled faintly. "Oh. Well, yes, I suppose you might be right."
"Trust me, they'll love you." She went back to his buckle and he soon found himself dressed only in his socks and underpants.
He helped Martha out of her jeans, then they removed each other's underwear and settled on the bed, spooning up together.
"So, how long before I meet your parents?" he asked, then stifled a yawn.
"Probably in the next week," she answered. "I'll give mum a ring tomorrow and see what she says. I'll probably get a lecture for keeping you 'secret' until now."
He tightened his arms around her middle, knowing she still felt residual guilt that she hadn't told her family about travelling with the Doctor, and all the consequences of keeping that particular secret.
"Best we get it over with sooner rather than later, then," he said.
"Yeah." She yawned. "Nap would be good," she mumbled. Within a few minutes they were both asleep.
* * * * * *
The following Saturday Harry dressed with more than his customary care, hoping that he would feel less nervous about meeting Francine and Clive Jones if he knew he looked smart.
He finished tying his cravat, then pulled on his navy blazer. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice betraying a slight anxiety.
Martha looked up from her seat at the dressing table. "You look gorgeous," she answered, her eyes filled with warmth and affection.
"Oh. I was going for respectable."
She finished putting in her second hoop earring, stood and turned to face him. "That too," she assured him. She crossed to stand in front of him and tweaked his lapels.
"You've got nothing to worry about," she said softly. "My mum will probably only just refrain from falling on your neck in relief; she thinks I don't know, but she's desperate for me to settle down a bit more."
Harry's eyebrows rose and she hastened to clarify. "I don't mean she'll be expecting you to propose or anything. She just worries about the lack of stability in my life because I work for UNIT."
"Working for UNIT's not stable?" he asked, looking confused.
"Well it's a military organisation that deals with aliens; which doesn’t offer quite the same stability as becoming Chief Surgeon for a hospital, or Chief Consultant in some specialist field." She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "That's what she's been expecting since I decided to train as a doctor."
He shook his head. "She should be glad that you're doing what you do best."
She smiled up at him as she picked up the deep red wrap that she'd chosen to go with her deep gold dress. "She is, but it's not exactly something she can boast about at dinner parties."
Harry took the wrap from her and settled it around her shoulders. "Parents." He kissed her forehead. "Come on, then, let's go and get this over with."
* * * * * *
To Harry's relief Martha's parents had, as she had predicted, liked him. Francine had covered her surprise at the age gap between them very well, and after asking him a number of questions, seemed positively delighted with the relationship. Clive had shaken hands firmly, asked only two questions, and then simply listened to Harry and Francine's conversation.
"Your father was very quiet," he observed as Martha drove them home afterwards.
Martha nodded. "He's not been the same man since the Master captured them, but he's getting there slowly since I found him a good psychiatrist on the UNIT staff."
He put a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. "You're a very caring woman, it's what I love most about you."
"And here I was, all this time, thinking it was my sexy black stealth outfit you loved." She shot him a teasing look, then laughed aloud when he blushed.
"I swear you say these things just to embarrass me," he complained.
"Would I?" she asked, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
"You know you would," he retorted.
"Is it my fault you look adorable when you blush?"
"Oh I say, that's not fair."
When she glanced across at him she noticed that he was smiling. "You love it really," she asserted.
"Maybe," he answered, his smile becoming a grin.
She snorted, but didn't comment further, concentrating instead on negotiating the gateway into the car park, and then parking the car.
Harry let them in and Martha barely waited before they were inside before turning to grab his lapels and kiss him.
"I've been wanting to do that all evening," she said after she'd let him go again.
He raised his eyebrows. "Do I take it you just want to go to bed now?" he asked with a smirk.
"I do." She caught hold of his hand and tugged him after her, wasting no time in beginning to strip off his clothes once they were in their room.
"I think I might ravage you," she told him breathlessly.
"Oh I say!"
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Martha Jones/Harry Sullivan
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None - set pre-Season 4.
Summary: A brief interlude in the shared lives of Martha and Harry.
Disclaimer: I don't even own my brain any more, never mind Doctor Who!
Author Notes: This is by way of being a teaser for my next full length Martha/Harry fic and is a brief sequel to When Harry Met Martha.
~~~~~~
"Well, I think that's it," Harry said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief and leaning wearily against the doorframe.
"Good," sighed Martha as she straightened up. "Cuppa?"
"Oh, yes please!" He levered himself away from the doorframe and followed her down the hall to her - no their, now - kitchen. They'd just spent the weekend moving Harry's things into Martha's flat, after sorting out what he wanted to keep and what she could get rid of to accommodate them living together.
Initially Harry had suggested they move into his flat, but they'd quickly established that Martha's was the bigger of the two. He'd then suggested they find a flat together and Martha had agreed that they could go flat-hunting, but in the meantime, she wanted him to move in.
"Why?" he asked, as they lay in bed together one Sunday morning; he'd been staying over with her since he'd turned up at UNIT HQ so unexpectedly and she had told him she wanted him in her life.
"Don't you want to move in properly?" Martha countered. "It would be easier than traipsing back and forth to your flat."
He kissed the top of her head where it rested on his shoulder. "It would be much easier," he agreed, "I just wondered why you were so urgent for me to move in with you."
She pushed herself up to look him in the eye. "Because I love you and I want you to be here with me," she answered, as if surprised that he had to ask.
He blushed. "You say the nicest things, Martha Jones." He lifted his head to kiss her and she moved to drape herself on top of him.
* * * * * *
Martha made them both some tea and they sank down onto the kitchen chairs with a feeling of relief at having finished their task.
"I could sleep for a week," Harry said.
She quirked an eyebrow at him and he saw a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
"I meant actually sleep," he pointed out. "You seem to forget I'm an old man now."
"You're as old as you think you are, Harry Sullivan," she retorted.
"Well, right now, I think I'm 96."
She cupped his cheek in her hand. "You're daft," she told him, leaning in for a lengthy kiss.
"Oh I say," he gasped when she finally released him. "You really do take my breath away."
"Good." She smirked at him, before getting up and putting their empty mugs on the counter by the sink. Then she pulled him up from his chair. "Come on then, bed."
"It's only four o'clock in the afternoon," he protested.
"And? You were the one who said you wanted to sleep," she reminded him as she led him into their bedroom.
He chuckled as he lifted her t-shirt up over her head. "You've got me wrapped around your little finger, haven't you?"
"And who is it that lets me boss him around?" she asked quizzically as she lowered her arms again and began to unbutton his shirt. She started to kiss her way down his chest, her mouth following her fingers as they unfastened his buttons; she smiled when she felt him give a little shiver of pleasure.
"M-me," he stuttered.
"Exactly." She pushed his shirt off his shoulders and tugged it free of his arms. "By the way, now we're officially a couple, you'll have to meet my parents."
He gave her a horrified look. "Meet your parents?" he echoed. "Oh my!"
She chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, they won't bite."
"But won't they be upset that you're - that I'm - "
Martha paused with her hands on his belt buckle. "Care to be a little more coherent, Doctor Sullivan?" she asked, a teasing light in her eyes.
"Well, the age difference," he said, blushing.
She wrapped her arms around his middle and rested her chin against his chest, looking up into his face. "Harry, the last man I seriously fancied was several centuries older than me, so I'm quite sure they'll be positively relieved that you're only a few decades older."
He smiled faintly. "Oh. Well, yes, I suppose you might be right."
"Trust me, they'll love you." She went back to his buckle and he soon found himself dressed only in his socks and underpants.
He helped Martha out of her jeans, then they removed each other's underwear and settled on the bed, spooning up together.
"So, how long before I meet your parents?" he asked, then stifled a yawn.
"Probably in the next week," she answered. "I'll give mum a ring tomorrow and see what she says. I'll probably get a lecture for keeping you 'secret' until now."
He tightened his arms around her middle, knowing she still felt residual guilt that she hadn't told her family about travelling with the Doctor, and all the consequences of keeping that particular secret.
"Best we get it over with sooner rather than later, then," he said.
"Yeah." She yawned. "Nap would be good," she mumbled. Within a few minutes they were both asleep.
* * * * * *
The following Saturday Harry dressed with more than his customary care, hoping that he would feel less nervous about meeting Francine and Clive Jones if he knew he looked smart.
He finished tying his cravat, then pulled on his navy blazer. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice betraying a slight anxiety.
Martha looked up from her seat at the dressing table. "You look gorgeous," she answered, her eyes filled with warmth and affection.
"Oh. I was going for respectable."
She finished putting in her second hoop earring, stood and turned to face him. "That too," she assured him. She crossed to stand in front of him and tweaked his lapels.
"You've got nothing to worry about," she said softly. "My mum will probably only just refrain from falling on your neck in relief; she thinks I don't know, but she's desperate for me to settle down a bit more."
Harry's eyebrows rose and she hastened to clarify. "I don't mean she'll be expecting you to propose or anything. She just worries about the lack of stability in my life because I work for UNIT."
"Working for UNIT's not stable?" he asked, looking confused.
"Well it's a military organisation that deals with aliens; which doesn’t offer quite the same stability as becoming Chief Surgeon for a hospital, or Chief Consultant in some specialist field." She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "That's what she's been expecting since I decided to train as a doctor."
He shook his head. "She should be glad that you're doing what you do best."
She smiled up at him as she picked up the deep red wrap that she'd chosen to go with her deep gold dress. "She is, but it's not exactly something she can boast about at dinner parties."
Harry took the wrap from her and settled it around her shoulders. "Parents." He kissed her forehead. "Come on, then, let's go and get this over with."
* * * * * *
To Harry's relief Martha's parents had, as she had predicted, liked him. Francine had covered her surprise at the age gap between them very well, and after asking him a number of questions, seemed positively delighted with the relationship. Clive had shaken hands firmly, asked only two questions, and then simply listened to Harry and Francine's conversation.
"Your father was very quiet," he observed as Martha drove them home afterwards.
Martha nodded. "He's not been the same man since the Master captured them, but he's getting there slowly since I found him a good psychiatrist on the UNIT staff."
He put a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. "You're a very caring woman, it's what I love most about you."
"And here I was, all this time, thinking it was my sexy black stealth outfit you loved." She shot him a teasing look, then laughed aloud when he blushed.
"I swear you say these things just to embarrass me," he complained.
"Would I?" she asked, trying and failing to keep a straight face.
"You know you would," he retorted.
"Is it my fault you look adorable when you blush?"
"Oh I say, that's not fair."
When she glanced across at him she noticed that he was smiling. "You love it really," she asserted.
"Maybe," he answered, his smile becoming a grin.
She snorted, but didn't comment further, concentrating instead on negotiating the gateway into the car park, and then parking the car.
Harry let them in and Martha barely waited before they were inside before turning to grab his lapels and kiss him.
"I've been wanting to do that all evening," she said after she'd let him go again.
He raised his eyebrows. "Do I take it you just want to go to bed now?" he asked with a smirk.
"I do." She caught hold of his hand and tugged him after her, wasting no time in beginning to strip off his clothes once they were in their room.
"I think I might ravage you," she told him breathlessly.
"Oh I say!"