Alternatives: Dreaming By the Fire
Who_Daily Link: < a href="http://persiflage-1.livejournal.com/201193.html">Alternatives: Dreaming By the Fire by < lj user=persiflage_1> (Characters: Human-Ten, Alt-Martha, Tyler family, Jones family | Rating: NC-17 | Spoilers: Seasons 2 - 4)
Title: Alternatives: Dreaming By the Fire
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Human-Ten/Alt-Martha, Jackie, Pete, Tony, Jones family
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Seasons 2 - 4
Summary: Martha and the Human-Doctor spend their first Winter holiday together.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish I did own it!
Author Notes: I wrote this from my own prompt for the dreambythefire Winter Holiday ficathon. It's a sequel to Alternatives: New Beginnings ( Part 1, Part 2).
Thanks to shadowturquoise and fourzoas for beta-reading and feedback on the ending!
* * * * * *
December 24, 5 am
John woke abruptly at 5 am on December 24, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear: Martha was coming over today to stay in his new home for a few days during the Yule break. He'd only been living here for two weeks after finally taking the plunge and moving out of the Tyler mansion, and this would be her first visit since she, Pete and Jackie had helped him to move in. He had spent all of his free time over the last two weeks, when he wasn't working at UNIT, trying to make the place more homely, and more of a reflection of his personality, even though he still wasn't entirely sure yet just who John Smith was.
The two and a half months since he and Martha had started dating had brought quite a few changes in his life. He'd started working for UNIT after a formal interview and a personnel meeting which Anna and Martha had attended with Colonel Chaudhry. Martha and Anna had been there to discuss John's mental and emotional health, something both women had been very positive about; Martha had fearlessly asserted that Colonel Chaudhry would be missing a golden opportunity if she allowed him to continue wasting his talents at Torchwood. It had been quite clear that the Colonel respected her young MO, and she'd agreed to take John on for a trial period of three months, with the promise of a permanent position provided everyone was satisfied at the end of the trial period.
John still had a month to work, but he felt it was going reasonably well. It was true that he'd almost got into a fist fight with Owen Harper, one of the science technicians, whom he'd overheard making crude remarks about Martha in the canteen after Harper had been for his annual medical check up. Trying to control the rage that had filled him had left John feeling exhausted and sick with fear afterwards, not least because he had thought he was going to kill Harper. Fortunately for John at least four people who barely knew him had spoken up for him to the Colonel, and he'd been reprimanded, but not punished further.
The day afterwards Martha, who had been away from the base for the rest of the day and had missed all the drama, had called him into her office. She had assured him that while she didn't need anyone to defend her honour, she was nevertheless grateful that he'd spoken up. She had taken to calling him her 'White Knight' in emails ever since, and had talked seriously about establishing a cause for the rages that overtook him for a few days each month.
It had taken her another month to be sure, but she had finally come up with a probable cause: John was suffering from the equivalent of Pre-Menstrual Tension. Initially he'd scoffed at the idea, reminding Martha that he was definitely male.
"Yes, but you're not 100% male, DNA-wise," Martha said patiently. "We did those DNA tests, remember, and you're about 48% human and most of that's Donna's DNA." She looked at his crimson cheeks. "I don't pretend to fully understand the intricacies of a human-Time Lord meta-crisis, but your body, on some level, is experiencing the equivalent of a woman's monthly cycle, and that's being expressed as three or four days of extreme anger."
She got up from her desk and sat down beside him on the sofa. "Remember what you told me the Doctor said about your birth?"
John nodded. "I was born in battle, full of blood, anger and revenge."
"Maybe he meant it more literally than you realised? Even if he didn't, I think that a specially designed course of hormone therapy might help you. At any rate, it won't do you any harm to try the drugs for three months, and if they don't help, I'll try something else. Will you try them?"
He nodded again. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She got up, then pulled him to his feet and slid her arms around him. "I want to help you any way I can."
"I know," he whispered.
* * * * * *
When John had mentioned his intention to move out, Rose had been indifferent: her resentment that he was dating Martha had dissipated by that point. Initially she'd indulged in bouts of weeping and shouting after Pete had let slip that he'd seen John and Martha one evening as they left the cinema arm in arm together. But no one had paid much heed to her tantrums and she'd eventually taken to sulking and giving John the cold shoulder, to the extent that she had refused to sit at the same table as him when they ate.
As well as going out to the cinema or the theatre once a week with Martha, John spent most of Saturday at her place: they would go food shopping together after a breakfast of coffee and croissants, which John always picked up on the way to Martha's, and then she would teach him how to cook a new dish.
John's confidence in his ability to cook had been boosted when he'd twice successfully cooked dinner for Jackie, Pete and Tony; Rose had been asked too, when Martha issued the first invitation, but she'd refused to have 'anything to do with that woman', so she hadn't been invited the second time.
To John's profound relief, they'd not only survived his cooking without developing food poisoning, they'd enjoyed the food he'd cooked, and he had enjoyed the cooking process too, which he'd agreed with Martha was a definite bonus.
John was about to face his biggest cooking challenge yet, though, as he'd offered to cook Yule lunch for them both the following day. Yesterday he'd spent ten minutes checking that there was sufficient food in the house that could be thrown into the microwave if everything went wrong. Martha, of course, had considerably more confidence in his cooking abilities than he did, and was quite certain everything would be fine.
As he lay in bed, John remembered the last few Christmases that the Doctor had experienced while wearing this face, and he recalled Donna's dislike of the season, which had been strengthened by her disastrous non-wedding to Lance; he wished he believed in a deity in order to offer up a prayer for a good tomorrow.
But as he thought about it, he wondered if praying for a good day today would also be a good idea: he was going to meet Martha's parents for the first time. Clive and Francine Jones' marriage in this universe hadn't survived the loss of their twin daughter and they had divorced eighteen months after Addy's death.
Martha had been quite philosophical when she had told John about it after he'd first, tentatively, suggested they might spend the winter holiday together. He'd been worried that she would rather spend the time with her family, but she had calmly told him that she hadn't had a family Yule since Addy's death.
We were all too upset the first year, and then Mum and Dad were divorced by the following year. So I go and see them on December 24 and we exchange gifts then, but I've spent the holiday either on my own or with friends ever since." Martha leant into John's body as they sat on the sofa drinking coffee late one evening. "This will be the first time that I've spent Yule with my 'boyfriend', though."
"I don't know whether to feel honoured or terrified," John said, laughing nervously.
"Neither," she answered. "Do you want to meet my parents? You could come with me when I take their presents round."
"Okay." John acknowledged to himself that he was curious to meet this universe's Francine and Clive Jones. "Will you come with me to take presents to the Tylers, then?"
"It's a deal," Martha answered.
* * * * * *
John looked at the time and saw it was still only 5.45 am, and groaned. Martha wouldn't be here until 8 am, and he was far too awake to be able to get another couple of hours sleep. He closed his eyes anyway and tried not to think too much about what he was planning for this evening. The reason he'd chosen to rent this house, rather than any of the others which he and Martha had looked at, was because it had a proper, functioning fireplace in the sitting room; the moment he'd seen it, he'd had a mental image of himself and Martha sitting in front of a real log fire, the room lit by candles and some pleasant music playing softly on the stereo.
The image had haunted his thoughts and dreams for the next two weeks while he'd looked at other places to rent until, in the end, he'd known he had to live here. Martha had been puzzled by his insistence on taking this place rather than somewhere more modern, particularly as he hadn't mentioned the image to her, but she'd shrugged, agreeing that it was convenient since it was roughly half way between UNIT HQ and her own house.
John was hoping to bring his image to life that evening after he and Martha had made their present giving trips; he'd stocked up on candles, selected some seasonal music, and bought a Yule log which was waiting, well wrapped against the elements, out by the back door.
He was also hoping, though he barely dared to acknowledge it even to himself, that he and Martha would sleep together tonight. He'd made up the bed in his spare room for her, but he was harbouring a secret hope that she wouldn't use it. Although they had indulged in a fair amount of what his Donna self termed 'canoodling' during the last two and a half months, they still hadn't made love, or even spent a night together, and John was finding it increasingly hard not to fantasise about their first time, although he also felt desperately nervous at the prospect.
As he considered the possibility now he felt his cock stirring and he moaned quietly, trying not to picture Martha's beautiful dark skin laid bare to his gaze, or to think about how it might feel for her to tease and stroke him, or suck on his nipples. He reached down under the bedclothes and cupped his burgeoning erection through the cotton of his pyjamas.
"Oh Martha," he moaned softly.
A few streets away Martha woke abruptly from an intense dream of John making love to her on a rug in front of his fire to find desire coursing through her veins and coiling in her belly as the images lingered in her sleepy mind. She allowed her right hand to wander into the waistband of her pyjama trousers, her fingers slipping through the downy hair at the juncture of her thighs, before one finger slipped inside her.
"Oh John," she gasped as she began to tease herself.
Although Martha hadn't broached the subject with John yet, she was hoping to use their time together during the holiday break to move their relationship to the next stage. She hadn't wanted them to rush into anything before since she'd wanted John to find his feet first and, if she was honest, she'd needed to be sure that it was her he really wanted to be with. What he'd told her of the Doctor and the other Martha had made her wonder just a little if John only wanted to be with her to make up for his other self's treatment of her counterpart. But the more they'd talked and the better she'd got to know him, the less of a worry that had become for her.
She was satisfied, too, that he was becoming better at managing his difficulties with having Donna and the Doctor in his head. The twice weekly psychotherapy sessions were having a positive effect: he was less likely to have 'spacing out' episodes when he'd get so caught up in Donna's or the Doctor's memories that he was oblivious to everything else. There were still times when his Donna side, in particular, was in charge, but he was gaining in confidence from his work at UNIT and that, in turn, helped him to be more positive about his worth as a person. It had been Colonel Chaudhry's suggestion that John combine his scientific and technological work with the teaching of new recruits. She had seen the value of John using the Doctor's centuries of experience and knowledge of aliens to educate and inform their new staff.
When John had said that he was thinking of getting a place of his own, Martha had been pleased; she had worried about him continuing to live with the Tylers because of Rose's attitude. While she only knew the Doctor's former travelling companion by hearsay, mostly from John and Mickey, the reports had not been good, and although Martha wasn't given to prejudging people, she couldn't help feeling that John living in the same house as Rose would not do him much good in the long term.
Jackie had helped Martha to wash up after their first dinner together, and they had talked about John, and Rose's attitude towards him. The older woman had revealed that her daughter still harboured a belief that the Doctor would find a way to come back for her.
"An' she's always going on about 'the proper Doctor'," Jackie said, making air quotes. "As if John's some sort of impostor, or has no feelings to be hurt." She sighed. "I dunno where I went wrong with 'er, but I must 'ave done, somewhere."
"I don't think it's all your fault, though," Martha said. "From what I can gather, the Doctor turned her head. Not deliberately, perhaps, but the experience of travelling in Time and Space must be a heady one. Maybe she got addicted to it, and hasn't yet dealt with the effects of withdrawal?"
She dried her hands, then picked up the stack of plates Jackie had dried and left on the table, putting them away.
Jackie smiled at her. "I can see why John likes you," she observed. "You're obviously smart and thoughtful, as well as pretty."
Martha blushed a little as she thanked Jackie.
The young doctor hadn't been able to shake the feeling that if even Jackie didn't approve of her daughter's behaviour, then she wouldn't either. Martha had quietly suggested to Pete that they consider psychotherapy for Rose, to help her to adjust to the fact that the Doctor wouldn't be coming back, and he'd readily agreed that it was a good idea, but told her that Rose couldn't be persuaded to see anyone.
* * * * * *
When Martha arrived at John's house later that morning he'd been pacing for half an hour, unable to sit still from a combination of nerves and excitement. He opened his front door when she rang the bell at 7.55 am, and then stared, speechless, at her.
She couldn't help smirking at his reaction: she'd worn a new, emerald green dress that he hadn't seen before, together with matching shoes and a deep red hair band with tiny gold stars on it. The ensemble was completed by a deep red blazer.
"You look stunning," John said, sounding awed.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Mr Smith," Martha answered.
He smoothed his hands down the front of his burgundy velvet jacket, then tried not to shove his hands into the matching trousers. "Thank you, Dr Jones."
"I'd better bring my bag in from the car," she said, and John immediately started forward to fetch it while Martha got their breakfast from the front passenger seat.
He hurried upstairs with her bag, leaving it beside the bed in his spare room, then returned just as swiftly. He was surprised to find her still standing in the hall, not far from the spruce tree with its Yule decorations.
"I thought you might prefer to show me around," she explained when she saw his confused expression.
"Let's have our breakfast first, before the coffee gets cold," John suggested, and led the way into the kitchen.
Martha followed him down the hall into the well lit, spacious room, and found John had decorated the cream walls with intricate stencilled designs in silver and red, which she immediately felt drawn to study.
"What are these?" she asked, as she looked more closely at them.
"They're Gallifreyan text," John answered, coming to stand beside her. "It's a childhood rhyme about food and the kitchen being the heart of the home."
She turned and slid her arms around him. "That's lovely," she told him. "You're such a sweetheart."
"Takes one to know one," he teased, wrapping his arms around her in turn, then dipping his head for a quick kiss.
"Breakfast," he said.
"Yes."
They ate their breakfast and discussed in which order to make their gift-giving visits: finally deciding on Clive, then Francine, then the Tylers, which would take them in a rough circle around London.
After they had finished eating John led Martha through the house, showing her the various additions he'd made to the décor with pictures, stencils and soft furnishings.
"I didn't realise how much of an artist you are," Martha said as she looked at the painting of Donna and the Doctor which hung in an alcove near the bookshelves in his green and gold sitting room, that was also decorated with holly boughs and mistletoe.
"Do you - " He broke off, hesitating.
"Do I what?" she asked curiously.
"Do you want to see my journal?"
"Yes please," she said eagerly.
John reached up and lifted a large, foolscap book bound in dark blue leather from its resting place on top of some of the other books, then handed it to Martha. She took it from him, then slid her free hand into his and led him over to the sofa where they sat down side by side.
Opening the cover of the book, she saw the title page read 'A Time Traveller's Tales', and there was a blue box with the words Police Public Call Box on it; she traced a finger over the drawing, knowing from John's description, that this was the TARDIS.
Inside she found illustrated descriptions of the Doctor's meetings with a variety of people and aliens; the pictures were neatly labelled and she saw that some were of the Doctor's different incarnations as John had told her they were called, while other pictures were of his companions. She recognised Donna from the picture in the alcove, and saw that he'd drawn Mickey, Jackie and Rose.
"You haven't drawn the other Martha," she observed, reaching the last of the completed pages.
"No, not yet, because I've haven't written about the Doctor's travels with either Martha or Donna."
"He met Donna before Martha, then again afterwards," she said, remembering what John had told her.
"Yes." He accepted the book back from her, then returned it to the bookshelf. "Let me show you to your room."
"Okay." She slid her hand into his and let him lead her upstairs, pausing to admire the landscape drawings that decorated the staircase.
John showed her the guest room first, and she saw that the colour scheme was gold and russet, with drawings of autumnal views decorating the walls.
"You draw and paint beautifully," Martha observed as she looked at them. "You could sell these and make a living out of it."
John blushed and mumbled something indistinct, and she moved back to his side.
"Say again."
"I said that no one would want them, they're not that good."
She shook her head and hugged him again. "You're wrong," she told him, "on both counts, but we'll talk about it some other time." She stood up on tiptoes to kiss him, then took his left hand in her right. "Are you going to show me the rest?" she asked.
"Yes." He showed her the bathroom, which was decorated in light green and blue, then into his office-cum-workshop. There were two walls lined with bookshelves, and a long bench laden with a variety of items, including a dismantled laptop computer, against a third wall. Underneath the window in the fourth wall was a sturdy oak writing desk, one half of which was covered in papers and writing paraphernalia, and the other half of which held a functioning laptop computer and a flat screen monitor.
"Is it hard, living in a house with normal internal dimensions?" Martha asked.
"Sometimes," John admitted. "Sometimes I'm glad I've got the whole of this house at my disposal, but sometimes it feels horribly empty and vast, and I miss my granddad." He shook his head, remembering what Anna had told him. "My Donna-self misses Wilf, and my Doctor-self misses the hum of the TARDIS."
She embraced him, resting her right cheek against his chest. "It's not easy, learning to live alone," she said softly. "It takes time, just like everything else, and it hurts: physically, as much as emotionally."
"Yes," he whispered, a catch in his voice as he remembered the times when he had felt he could hardly breathe because of the tight, painful feeling in his chest.
"You'll get there, John," she told him, "one day you'll realise it's not as painful as it used to be."
"When?" he asked, his voice still shaky.
Martha pulled back and looked up into his face, seeing tears in his eyes. "Oh John," she said softly. "I don't know, I'm sorry." She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.
This time he was the one to pull away and she wondered if it was because he was aroused, but she didn't ask or look, she just allowed him to lead her into his bedroom.
The main bedroom, like the sitting room, was painted in green and gold, although a darker shade than the room downstairs. Martha noticed that the door to this room, like all the other internal doors, was painted a dark blue on the outside.
"Your house seems very cosy and inviting," she told him as she looked at the framed pencil drawing hanging above his bed.
"Thank you." He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "That's the TARDIS Control Room," he told her, and then lifted it down so that she could look at it more closely.
"You'll have to tell me more about the TARDIS, sometime," she said. He'd mostly talked about the people with whom the Doctor had travelled, and had said very little about either the ship, or the Doctor's home planet.
"I'd like that," he said, as he hung the drawing back in its accustomed spot. He turned back to Martha. "Shall we make our visits?"
"Yes," she answered decisively. "The sooner we get them done, the more time we'll have for ourselves."
He nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves in his belly.
Martha grinned at him, and he realised his expression must have betrayed his apprehension. "Don't worry," she said, "my parents don't bite."
He made himself smile and refrained from saying that he was more worried about being slapped.
* * * * * *
In the end, John found he'd been nervous for nothing: Clive and Francine were both courteous and welcoming of their daughter's new man. They also both gave him a neatly wrapped Yule gift, which he hadn't expected even though he'd insisted on contributing something to Martha's gifts to her parents. At Martha's suggestion, and despite his own misgivings, he'd baked for Francine since Martha said her mother had less time than she liked for baking. For Clive he'd written a suite of small computer programs to do a handful of tasks for him that he did regularly, such as checking online news sources for particular stories and adding their details to a database. To John's embarrassed relief, Mr Jones had virtually fallen on his neck when he accepted the CD-ROM, heaping praise on John's skills until he felt his face must match the colour of Martha's blazer.
"That went well," the young doctor observed as she drove them on towards the Tylers' mansion.
"Thank goodness," mutter John, hugely relieved.
She grinned at him. "You were a very brave little soldier, and I'm sure you'll be properly rewarded," she said teasingly.
There was a certain glint in her eyes that John had never seen before and he felt his groin tighten as he wondered wildly if she meant what he thought she did. Then he resolutely shoved those thoughts aside, concentrating instead on wondering nervously whether they'd see Rose. He couldn't help cravenly hoping that she wouldn't be there; while he wished her well enough, he'd still prefer not to have to deal with her hostility, particularly towards Martha.
He and Martha had spent quite some time discussing what Yule gift to get for Rose, wanting to avoid giving her anything too generic since their gifts to the others were all fairly personalised. John had initially suggested a Yule Cactus, but Martha had vetoed that in case Rose took it the wrong way. In the end he'd produced an ink drawing of the Doctor's ninth self and the TARDIS, explaining that he was the first incarnation Rose had known. Tony was getting a collection of wooden animals, while they'd got Jackie some of her favourite French perfume, and Pete (after consultation with Jackie) had been signed up for some golfing lessons.
* * * * * *
To John's relief, Rose wasn't at home: Jackie made haste to tell them that she had gone out for Yule lunch with some of the people she worked with at Torchwood. Martha thought that Pete seemed quite as relieved as John, and she wondered how hard it was to both live and work with his stepdaughter.
When Jackie invited them to stay for lunch, Martha quickly agreed, sensing that John would enjoy spending more than just ten or fifteen minutes with his surrogate family. She left him and Tony involved in setting up an elaborate game with some of his toys, while she went to help Jackie in the kitchen.
"You're not fond of small children?" Jackie asked.
Martha shrugged. "I'm not really familiar with dealing with them on a regular basis."
"You don't want children of your own, then?" asked the older woman.
"I can't say that I've given it much thought," Martha answered. "I've been concentrating on my career since I was 14, when I first began studying with the intention of becoming a doctor."
Jackie looked impressed. "That's dedication," she said as she began getting out things for lunch, having sent away the cook. "She doesn't like it when I cook," she confided to Martha, "but sometimes I miss doing things for meself." When the younger woman nodded her understanding, she continued. "I wasn't born to this being waited on hand and foot lark, an' having servants seems a bit, I dunno - "
"Decadent?" suggested Martha, when Jackie paused uncertainly.
"Yeah," agreed Jackie. "I don't think Pete really approves, but 'e lets me get on with it."
"Wise man," Martha answered. "There's no sense in him objecting if it makes you uncomfortable to not do anything for yourself."
Jackie gave her a grateful smile, pleased to be understood, and the two were soon deep in conversation as they prepared the lunch.
* * * * * *
"You and Jackie seemed to get on better today than you did before," John observed as Martha drove them back to his place. "When she's been over for dinner, I got the feeling you were desperate to make a good impression, but today you seemed more relaxed."
"You're right, on both counts, but I realised that Jackie's a good-hearted woman," Martha said, "very caring, and intelligent, too, and that it was okay to just be myself."
"She slapped me, the first time we met," John said. "Not that I could blame her, of course, since I'd taken her daughter travelling in Time and Space, and then brought her back 12 months later, instead of 12 hours."
"The Doctor," Martha said as she pulled into John's drive.
"What?" asked John, confused.
"You said Jackie slapped you, but you meant the Doctor, if the slap was for losing 12 months of Rose's life through time travel."
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah, I suppose. I forgot."
"It's okay," Martha reassured him, reaching across to squeeze his arm before getting out of the car.
They went inside and she noticed that he seemed subdued, but when she suggested having some coffee and listening to some seasonal music, he brightened up a bit. While Martha concentrated on making their drinks, he fetched the Yule log in and got a fire going, then he sorted out the music he'd selected, feeling glad that he'd bought a stereo which allowed him to line up several CDs at a time to play in succession.
When Martha came in carrying their mugs of coffee, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Yule log on the fire; he gave her a shy smile, then hit the play button on the remote for his stereo, before gesturing at the floor cushions he'd placed in front of the fire.
"Is this okay?" he asked, sounding tentative.
She grinned. "It looks perfect to me." She passed him a mug of coffee and he took it from her, setting it down on the edge of the fireplace, then took the second one, before taking her hand in his.
"I wanted to say thank you for spending Yule with me," John said, then leaned forward and kissed her carefully.
She made an inarticulate noise as she slid her hands under his jacket and stroked his back while kissing him. Then she leant her head against him, breathing heavily.
"Thank you for inviting me. And now, I think we'd better sit down before I fall down," she observed.
"Okay."
They settled on the floor cushions and she leaned in for another kiss, causing John to make inarticulate noises this time as she stroked the nape of his neck with her fingertips.
"You know, this tie's very nice, but I don't think it's really necessary now, do you?" Martha asked when they came up for air.
John shook his head as she began working the knot loose; he felt as nervous as he had when he'd met her the first time, so much so that he hardly dared to speak in case his fear got the better of him and he stopped her.
"And since we're sitting in front of the fire, you don't need your jacket on either." She tossed the tie onto the sofa, then eased the jacket off him while kissing him again.
She gave him an expectant look after she released him, and he realised she wanted him to take off her jacket. He swallowed hard, then carefully eased her red blazer off while nuzzling the side of her neck. She gave him a seductive smile when he put her jacket on the sofa with his.
"Martha, I - "
"Shh, John, it's okay." She cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled at him. "It's okay to be nervous," she told him. "I am too."
"You are?" he asked, doubt colouring his voice.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Always am, the first time with a new lover."
He ducked his head, blushing, and Martha lifted his chin again. "Why the blush?" she asked softly.
He mumbled something indistinct, and she leaned closer, until her breath was tickling his cheek. "You can tell me, John."
"You said 'lover'," he whispered. "I've never been anyone's lover before."
She smiled and kissed him gently on the cheek. "There's a first time for everything." She began to undo his shirt buttons. "You can stop me if it gets a bit too much," she said.
He watched, mesmerised, as she unfastened his shirt, then stroked gentle fingers through his chest hair.
"You're beautiful," she told him.
"Me?" he asked disbelievingly. "But I'm too skinny, all bones and angles."
"You're not as skinny as you were," she pointed out.
John knew that was true: his human metabolism didn't work like a Time Lord's, and since he wasn't running around as much as the Doctor, he'd actually filled out a little bit in the last three and a half months, just enough that his bones no longer protruded quite so obviously.
"Anyway, all human bodies are beautiful to me," Martha told him, her hand stroking down his ribcage to his belly. "And this, I love this." She ran a finger down the line of hair that went from where his navel would have been, down into his trousers, eliciting a shiver from him. She glanced up at his face and saw a flare of excitement in his eyes.
"I think one of us is currently overdressed," she observed quietly.
He swallowed. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at her dress.
She nodded, a smile playing about her lips, and he reached out to stroke her bare shoulders with his fingertips, then he leant forward so he could reach around her to unzip her dress before carefully easing the top part down to reveal a cream silk bra.
"You're very beautiful," he said softly, bending to kiss the top of her breasts which he carefully cupped in each hand, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples.
"John!" she gasped.
He started back from her, his hands dropping to his sides. "I'm sorry, I didn't - "
"It's okay," she said quickly. "You don't need to apologise. That was nice, you just startled me, that's all." She reached out and took his hands in hers. "You don't have to be scared, or so tentative."
He blushed again, looking down at their hands. "I've been wanting this since we first met," he said, "and I'm scared of messing it up."
"Don't be scared," she repeated softly.
She lifted his hands to her breasts, then leaned in to kiss him a second time as he began touching her again. While he was distracted, she unfastened his trousers and carefully slipped her hand inside to stroke his erection.
"Martha!" he moaned breathily.
"Lie down," she told him, and waited while he did, then she took off his shoes and socks, before removing her dress properly.
John watched her, his mind in a daze of arousal; she removed his trousers, then knelt beside him on the other floor cushion and began to stroke him properly. After a few minutes he had enough presence of mind to prop himself up on one elbow while he unfastened and removed her bra, then he slipped his hand carefully between her thighs and stroked his fingertips lightly over her silk-covered entrance. It was Martha's turn to moan breathily as his long slender fingers teased and aroused her.
"John?" Her voice was low and a little husky when she spoke.
"Yes?" His voice was equally low and husky.
"Make love to me, please?" she asked.
He sat up properly and kissed her as he eased her knickers down, then she moved away so that she could take them off, along with her shoes, which he hadn't noticed she was still wearing.
She sat down beside him again, and he got up, moving his floor cushion behind hers so that she could lie on them both, then he positioned himself between her legs. She smiled up at him encouragingly, and he smiled back as he pushed inside her. Martha hooked one leg around his waist and held his shoulders.
"Don't stop," she whispered, and he thrust deeper with a soft grunt.
John made love to her carefully, as if he was afraid of hurting her, and although she was eager, she let him go at his own pace instead of trying to get him to move faster, not wanting to upset him. She stroked his back and shoulders, murmuring words of encouragement to him, until he came with a gasping cry, her name falling from his lips, as her muscles clenched around him.
He slumped down on top of her and she kissed his cheek, and caressed his back. "Was that okay?" he asked once he'd caught his breath again.
"Definitely okay," she assured him.
"Good." He moved off her and Martha curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. "Does this - " He paused, as if uncertain.
"What?" she asked softly.
"Does this mean you won't be using the guest bedroom?" he asked, then blushed.
"I'd rather share with you, if that's okay."
He gave her a goofy grin. "Brilliant!" he said softly.
* * * * * *
Martha woke first the next morning, momentarily wondering where she was until she registered John's body beside hers. She smiled then, remembering how they'd spent the evening exploring each other's bodies. They'd shared a bath, which had been a bit of a novelty for John, and eaten a meal together, then made love again in front of the fire with the lights off and more than a dozen candles providing illumination. John had revealed why he'd been so adamant about renting this particular house, explaining the image that had come into his head on seeing the fireplace, and stressing that they'd been fully dressed in that image.
"I like your image," Martha had told him, softly, "although I think I like this reality better."
They'd gone to bed fairly early, deciding that the floor cushions were not as comfortable as John's bed would be.
Now she was awake, Martha stretched, then rolled onto her side and watched John sleeping for a few moments until she had the irresistible urge to touch him. She stroked a finger down his sideburn, then gently traced his lips, smiling at the memory of those same lips exploring her body the night before. She leant forward and kissed his lips softly, then his Adam's apple, before continuing to caress and kiss a path down his body using the lightest touches of fingers and mouth.
By the time she reached his groin, she saw that his body was beginning to respond to her touches even though he hadn't yet woken up, and she grinned before administering the same feather light touches of her mouth and fingers to his cock, watching his face the whole time.
John woke abruptly from a very vivid dream about Martha giving him oral pleasure to find it wasn't a dream at all; he gaped in astonishment as she winked at him from her position between his legs.
"Morning," she said, moving back up the bed to kiss him thoroughly, leaving him achingly hard.
"Morning," he said faintly. "That's a hell of a wake up call."
"Not an unwelcome one, I trust?" Martha asked.
"God, no!" John said fervently.
"Good."
They made love again, then lay curled up together afterwards. "Who needs presents?" John asked as Martha nuzzled the side of his neck.
"You don't want your presents?" she asked.
"I think you're the best present I could ever receive," he said. "Although the presents you brought with you - " He tailed off as Martha's hand drifted down his body, distracting him. She had set two intriguing looking presents in elegant paper and ribbons under his Yule tree the night before, and he was curious to discover what they contained.
"You're definitely one of the best presents I've ever had," she told him. "Possibly the best, in conjunction with the trip I had to see A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Globe for my 30th birthday."
"I took Martha to see Shakespeare at the Globe - the man himself, I mean," John observed, his gaze distant.
"You didn't," she said softly.
"I did! It was her first trip in the TARDIS - " He broke off, then sighed heavily. "The Doctor took the other Martha," he corrected himself in an expressionless tone.
"You're not him, you've just got a lot of his memories," she reminded him gently.
"I wish I was him," John said.
"Why?" asked Martha.
"Why? Because he's got the TARDIS, and he can go anywhere he wants, any century he wants. Sometimes I feel utterly trapped, stuck on this one planet."
"Then we will have to find ways for you to feel less trapped," she said. "And don't forget that you're living the kind of life you told me the Doctor cannot: you've got a family, of sorts, and friends."
She snuggled up closer to him, draping her lower body over his, and heard him laugh. "What?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him.
"I've got something he hasn't, something he could have had, if he hadn't allowed it to slip through his fingers." At her puzzled look, he grinned and slid his right hand down her back and over her bottom until his fingers entered her. "You, in my bed, with me," he breathed, then smirked at her moan of pleasure.
* * * * * *
They got up at 8 am and had their breakfast, then opened their presents since John refused to wait any longer.
"I've never had Yule presents before," he protested, when Martha teased him about being even more impatient than Tony.
She leaned forward and kissed his nose. "I know," she told him. "I think it's sweet."
He pouted at her, and she laughed, then kissed him properly, sucking on his bottom lip. The next moment she squeaked when he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap.
"You're a bewitching woman, Martha Jones," he growled, "but I am not going to let you distract me from opening my presents."
She giggled, wriggling in his lap and enjoying the way his jaw slackened and his eyes seemed to glaze over. Then she leaned sideways and picked up the first of his presents from the coffee table.
"Here you are then, Mr Smith." She handed him the package, which was wrapped in pale blue paper and silver ribbons.
John took it from her, trying to ignore his body's responses to Martha's wriggling, and carefully unwrapped it.
Inside was a book and an envelope. The book was Dr Eckener's Dream Machine: A History of the Zeppelin; he opened it carefully and saw that it had been written by an engineer, not an historian, which made it seem promising in terms of technical information.
"Thank you," he said, a slight catch in his voice; he kissed her cheek, then turned over the envelope to open it.
"You're welcome," she answered, waiting eagerly to see what his reaction would be to the rest of this present.
He opened the envelope, wondering at the intense expression she wore, and slipped out a piece of heavy cream-coloured card. He read it aloud:
"The Eckener Zeppelin Company invites the bearer plus one to the opening of its new museum and workshop created to celebrate the history of the company on January 15, 2014 at noon. Black tie required. A champagne lunch will follow the opening ceremony. RSVP." He gave her a dazed look. "However did you manage to get this?"
"Pete helped," was all she said.
"Thank you." He kissed her soundly until they were both breathless.
"I'm glad you like it," Martha said once he finally released her.
"It's brilliant!" He set the book and the invitation down on the sofa beside him, then accepted his second present which was large and irregular in shape.
"Don't you want to open yours?" he asked.
"In a minute," she answered.
John unwrapped his second present and found it was two metal boxes stacked one on top of the other. He opened the topmost smaller one, and saw that it held a wealth of electronic components, all neatly arranged. She took it from him while he opened the larger box which yielded the finest set of tools for building electronic devices that he'd ever seen.
"There's no sonic screwdriver, I'm afraid," she said, "but maybe now you've got the tools and parts to build one."
"Oh god, Martha!" he exclaimed shakily.
She grinned, clearly pleased with the success of her gifts. "Happy Yule, John Smith."
"Thank you!" He hugged her, then kissed her deeply. "Your turn now," he said, hoping desperately that she would like his presents; he felt quite nervous now he'd seen her gifts.
She picked up the first present, a rectangular shaped parcel in red paper and gold ribbons, and opened it. Inside was a DVD boxset of the acclaimed TV series The Blue Planet.
"I noticed that you didn't have it," he said quickly, as if afraid she wouldn't like it, "although you've got all the others that he's done."
"You're right, I haven't. Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek, then picked up the second, heavier present. Opening it she found an old book on herbs and their medicinal and culinary properties.
"Wow! Thank you, John, I'll enjoy exploring that."
He accepted the kiss she gave him, swallowing his disappointment that she wasn't more excited about the DVD boxset. You great big space dumbo! Donna scolded in his head. It's been out for a few years, if she'd really wanted it, she would have bought it by now! He wished, now, that he'd got Martha something more personal, like perfume or something.
She moved off his lap. "We should probably start thinking about lunch," she said.
"Yes, okay."
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Me? I'm fine," he said, leading the way to the kitchen.
"I was thinking about what you said earlier," she said as she perched on a chair, watching John as he rolled up his sleeves and donned an apron.
"About what?" he asked, washing his hands.
"About you feeling trapped. You're a new man now, building a new life without the Doctor or Donna, which means you can be whoever you want to be: an artist, an engineer, a scientist, a teacher, a lover." She grinned when he looked up with a blush at the last item on her list.
"You could start a book about your life here," she went on. "An illustrated diary, perhaps; you could put in things like the opening of the Zeppelin Museum. Your other book tells the story of where you've come from, and the new one could be the story of where you're going."
He grinned. "Martha Jones, I do like you!" he said.
She laughed. "I'd be a bit worried if you didn't," she said, "after the way we've spent some of the last 24 hours." She smirked when he blushed.
"I've got another blank book upstairs," he observed as he began getting out pineapple slices, cherries, and cloves with which to decorate the ham.
"There you go, then," Martha said. "You can start your own traditions, too." He gave her a puzzled look, so she elaborated. "Most families have traditions associated with Yule, birthdays, or other seasonal events."
John looked thoughtful. "Donna's family did, although the traditional family fight is probably one I can dispense with."
She laughed softly. "No doubt. You could make it a tradition that you have breakfast in bed on Yule morning, or that you go carolling or wassailing on the night before."
"Or that a sexy woman wakes me up on Yule morning," he suggested with a smirk to rival her earlier one; a smirk that became an outright grin when Martha ducked her head in response to this remark.
"That too," she agreed once she'd recovered from her surprise. "You could have a tree-decorating party, with punch and games."
She got up and joined John at the kitchen counter, slipping her arms around his middle from behind. "You could invent entirely spurious traditions," she suggested.
"Like my lover helping me preparing Yule lunch?" he asked.
"Cheeky!" She laughed. "Do you want me to prepare the veggies?"
"Would you mind?" John asked.
"Of course not!"
"Thanks."
As they prepared lunch, they continued tossing around ideas, which became increasingly silly, but helped to pass the time as they worked.
* * * * * *
After they had eaten John went up to his study and fetched his sketch book and some pencils, Martha having agreed to sit for him to draw her portrait to go in his new book.
"Where do you want me to position myself?" she asked when he returned. "And should I sit, stand, lie or what?"
"Make yourself comfortable," he told her, "and if you want to use props, like holding a book, then do that."
She picked up the floor cushions from the night before and placed them in front of the fire where the Yule log was still burning, then grabbed the book which John had given her, and settled down, half sitting, half lying on the cushions.
He settled a few feet away, cross-legged on the floor, and pressed play on the stereo to start one of the CDs that were still in there from the previous evening, then he began to sketch Martha.
"Am I allowed to talk to you?" she asked curiously.
"You are, but I may not answer," he warned, with a half smile in her direction.
"I'll read aloud then," she said, turning the pages of the book.
After two hours, John had completed a number of sketches of Martha, not all of them based on her exact pose in front of him. He got up and moved to join her, and allowed her to look at the drawings.
"You drew me in my underwear," she said, looking down at the black jeans and red jumper she wore.
"Do you mind?" he asked.
"Of course not, silly." She kissed his cheek. "What about nude though?"
His eyes widened in surprise. "You want me to draw you nude?"
"Would you like to?"
He looked away, blushing faintly. "Yes," he whispered.
"Good." She got up. "Sit on the sofa," she said, "and watch."
John moved, watching in fascination as Martha slowly undressed, then stretched out on the cushions. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he picked up his sketch book, forcing himself to ignore his growing arousal, so that he could draw her.
When he'd finished, he showed her the drawing, joining her on the floor.
"Very nice," she purred. "And so is this." She cupped the bulge in his trousers in her right hand, smirking at his gasp. "I think you need some relief after all that drawing."
Minutes later, John was naked, and Martha was straddling him.
"I definitely think that sex in front of the fire should be on your list of traditions," she told him, as she began to move.
He could only nod speechlessly in fervent agreement at this suggestion.
Title: Alternatives: Dreaming By the Fire
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Human-Ten/Alt-Martha, Jackie, Pete, Tony, Jones family
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Seasons 2 - 4
Summary: Martha and the Human-Doctor spend their first Winter holiday together.
Disclaimer: I occasionally wish I did own it!
Author Notes: I wrote this from my own prompt for the dreambythefire Winter Holiday ficathon. It's a sequel to Alternatives: New Beginnings ( Part 1, Part 2).
Thanks to shadowturquoise and fourzoas for beta-reading and feedback on the ending!
* * * * * *
December 24, 5 am
John woke abruptly at 5 am on December 24, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear: Martha was coming over today to stay in his new home for a few days during the Yule break. He'd only been living here for two weeks after finally taking the plunge and moving out of the Tyler mansion, and this would be her first visit since she, Pete and Jackie had helped him to move in. He had spent all of his free time over the last two weeks, when he wasn't working at UNIT, trying to make the place more homely, and more of a reflection of his personality, even though he still wasn't entirely sure yet just who John Smith was.
The two and a half months since he and Martha had started dating had brought quite a few changes in his life. He'd started working for UNIT after a formal interview and a personnel meeting which Anna and Martha had attended with Colonel Chaudhry. Martha and Anna had been there to discuss John's mental and emotional health, something both women had been very positive about; Martha had fearlessly asserted that Colonel Chaudhry would be missing a golden opportunity if she allowed him to continue wasting his talents at Torchwood. It had been quite clear that the Colonel respected her young MO, and she'd agreed to take John on for a trial period of three months, with the promise of a permanent position provided everyone was satisfied at the end of the trial period.
John still had a month to work, but he felt it was going reasonably well. It was true that he'd almost got into a fist fight with Owen Harper, one of the science technicians, whom he'd overheard making crude remarks about Martha in the canteen after Harper had been for his annual medical check up. Trying to control the rage that had filled him had left John feeling exhausted and sick with fear afterwards, not least because he had thought he was going to kill Harper. Fortunately for John at least four people who barely knew him had spoken up for him to the Colonel, and he'd been reprimanded, but not punished further.
The day afterwards Martha, who had been away from the base for the rest of the day and had missed all the drama, had called him into her office. She had assured him that while she didn't need anyone to defend her honour, she was nevertheless grateful that he'd spoken up. She had taken to calling him her 'White Knight' in emails ever since, and had talked seriously about establishing a cause for the rages that overtook him for a few days each month.
It had taken her another month to be sure, but she had finally come up with a probable cause: John was suffering from the equivalent of Pre-Menstrual Tension. Initially he'd scoffed at the idea, reminding Martha that he was definitely male.
"Yes, but you're not 100% male, DNA-wise," Martha said patiently. "We did those DNA tests, remember, and you're about 48% human and most of that's Donna's DNA." She looked at his crimson cheeks. "I don't pretend to fully understand the intricacies of a human-Time Lord meta-crisis, but your body, on some level, is experiencing the equivalent of a woman's monthly cycle, and that's being expressed as three or four days of extreme anger."
She got up from her desk and sat down beside him on the sofa. "Remember what you told me the Doctor said about your birth?"
John nodded. "I was born in battle, full of blood, anger and revenge."
"Maybe he meant it more literally than you realised? Even if he didn't, I think that a specially designed course of hormone therapy might help you. At any rate, it won't do you any harm to try the drugs for three months, and if they don't help, I'll try something else. Will you try them?"
He nodded again. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." She got up, then pulled him to his feet and slid her arms around him. "I want to help you any way I can."
"I know," he whispered.
* * * * * *
When John had mentioned his intention to move out, Rose had been indifferent: her resentment that he was dating Martha had dissipated by that point. Initially she'd indulged in bouts of weeping and shouting after Pete had let slip that he'd seen John and Martha one evening as they left the cinema arm in arm together. But no one had paid much heed to her tantrums and she'd eventually taken to sulking and giving John the cold shoulder, to the extent that she had refused to sit at the same table as him when they ate.
As well as going out to the cinema or the theatre once a week with Martha, John spent most of Saturday at her place: they would go food shopping together after a breakfast of coffee and croissants, which John always picked up on the way to Martha's, and then she would teach him how to cook a new dish.
John's confidence in his ability to cook had been boosted when he'd twice successfully cooked dinner for Jackie, Pete and Tony; Rose had been asked too, when Martha issued the first invitation, but she'd refused to have 'anything to do with that woman', so she hadn't been invited the second time.
To John's profound relief, they'd not only survived his cooking without developing food poisoning, they'd enjoyed the food he'd cooked, and he had enjoyed the cooking process too, which he'd agreed with Martha was a definite bonus.
John was about to face his biggest cooking challenge yet, though, as he'd offered to cook Yule lunch for them both the following day. Yesterday he'd spent ten minutes checking that there was sufficient food in the house that could be thrown into the microwave if everything went wrong. Martha, of course, had considerably more confidence in his cooking abilities than he did, and was quite certain everything would be fine.
As he lay in bed, John remembered the last few Christmases that the Doctor had experienced while wearing this face, and he recalled Donna's dislike of the season, which had been strengthened by her disastrous non-wedding to Lance; he wished he believed in a deity in order to offer up a prayer for a good tomorrow.
But as he thought about it, he wondered if praying for a good day today would also be a good idea: he was going to meet Martha's parents for the first time. Clive and Francine Jones' marriage in this universe hadn't survived the loss of their twin daughter and they had divorced eighteen months after Addy's death.
Martha had been quite philosophical when she had told John about it after he'd first, tentatively, suggested they might spend the winter holiday together. He'd been worried that she would rather spend the time with her family, but she had calmly told him that she hadn't had a family Yule since Addy's death.
We were all too upset the first year, and then Mum and Dad were divorced by the following year. So I go and see them on December 24 and we exchange gifts then, but I've spent the holiday either on my own or with friends ever since." Martha leant into John's body as they sat on the sofa drinking coffee late one evening. "This will be the first time that I've spent Yule with my 'boyfriend', though."
"I don't know whether to feel honoured or terrified," John said, laughing nervously.
"Neither," she answered. "Do you want to meet my parents? You could come with me when I take their presents round."
"Okay." John acknowledged to himself that he was curious to meet this universe's Francine and Clive Jones. "Will you come with me to take presents to the Tylers, then?"
"It's a deal," Martha answered.
* * * * * *
John looked at the time and saw it was still only 5.45 am, and groaned. Martha wouldn't be here until 8 am, and he was far too awake to be able to get another couple of hours sleep. He closed his eyes anyway and tried not to think too much about what he was planning for this evening. The reason he'd chosen to rent this house, rather than any of the others which he and Martha had looked at, was because it had a proper, functioning fireplace in the sitting room; the moment he'd seen it, he'd had a mental image of himself and Martha sitting in front of a real log fire, the room lit by candles and some pleasant music playing softly on the stereo.
The image had haunted his thoughts and dreams for the next two weeks while he'd looked at other places to rent until, in the end, he'd known he had to live here. Martha had been puzzled by his insistence on taking this place rather than somewhere more modern, particularly as he hadn't mentioned the image to her, but she'd shrugged, agreeing that it was convenient since it was roughly half way between UNIT HQ and her own house.
John was hoping to bring his image to life that evening after he and Martha had made their present giving trips; he'd stocked up on candles, selected some seasonal music, and bought a Yule log which was waiting, well wrapped against the elements, out by the back door.
He was also hoping, though he barely dared to acknowledge it even to himself, that he and Martha would sleep together tonight. He'd made up the bed in his spare room for her, but he was harbouring a secret hope that she wouldn't use it. Although they had indulged in a fair amount of what his Donna self termed 'canoodling' during the last two and a half months, they still hadn't made love, or even spent a night together, and John was finding it increasingly hard not to fantasise about their first time, although he also felt desperately nervous at the prospect.
As he considered the possibility now he felt his cock stirring and he moaned quietly, trying not to picture Martha's beautiful dark skin laid bare to his gaze, or to think about how it might feel for her to tease and stroke him, or suck on his nipples. He reached down under the bedclothes and cupped his burgeoning erection through the cotton of his pyjamas.
"Oh Martha," he moaned softly.
A few streets away Martha woke abruptly from an intense dream of John making love to her on a rug in front of his fire to find desire coursing through her veins and coiling in her belly as the images lingered in her sleepy mind. She allowed her right hand to wander into the waistband of her pyjama trousers, her fingers slipping through the downy hair at the juncture of her thighs, before one finger slipped inside her.
"Oh John," she gasped as she began to tease herself.
Although Martha hadn't broached the subject with John yet, she was hoping to use their time together during the holiday break to move their relationship to the next stage. She hadn't wanted them to rush into anything before since she'd wanted John to find his feet first and, if she was honest, she'd needed to be sure that it was her he really wanted to be with. What he'd told her of the Doctor and the other Martha had made her wonder just a little if John only wanted to be with her to make up for his other self's treatment of her counterpart. But the more they'd talked and the better she'd got to know him, the less of a worry that had become for her.
She was satisfied, too, that he was becoming better at managing his difficulties with having Donna and the Doctor in his head. The twice weekly psychotherapy sessions were having a positive effect: he was less likely to have 'spacing out' episodes when he'd get so caught up in Donna's or the Doctor's memories that he was oblivious to everything else. There were still times when his Donna side, in particular, was in charge, but he was gaining in confidence from his work at UNIT and that, in turn, helped him to be more positive about his worth as a person. It had been Colonel Chaudhry's suggestion that John combine his scientific and technological work with the teaching of new recruits. She had seen the value of John using the Doctor's centuries of experience and knowledge of aliens to educate and inform their new staff.
When John had said that he was thinking of getting a place of his own, Martha had been pleased; she had worried about him continuing to live with the Tylers because of Rose's attitude. While she only knew the Doctor's former travelling companion by hearsay, mostly from John and Mickey, the reports had not been good, and although Martha wasn't given to prejudging people, she couldn't help feeling that John living in the same house as Rose would not do him much good in the long term.
Jackie had helped Martha to wash up after their first dinner together, and they had talked about John, and Rose's attitude towards him. The older woman had revealed that her daughter still harboured a belief that the Doctor would find a way to come back for her.
"An' she's always going on about 'the proper Doctor'," Jackie said, making air quotes. "As if John's some sort of impostor, or has no feelings to be hurt." She sighed. "I dunno where I went wrong with 'er, but I must 'ave done, somewhere."
"I don't think it's all your fault, though," Martha said. "From what I can gather, the Doctor turned her head. Not deliberately, perhaps, but the experience of travelling in Time and Space must be a heady one. Maybe she got addicted to it, and hasn't yet dealt with the effects of withdrawal?"
She dried her hands, then picked up the stack of plates Jackie had dried and left on the table, putting them away.
Jackie smiled at her. "I can see why John likes you," she observed. "You're obviously smart and thoughtful, as well as pretty."
Martha blushed a little as she thanked Jackie.
The young doctor hadn't been able to shake the feeling that if even Jackie didn't approve of her daughter's behaviour, then she wouldn't either. Martha had quietly suggested to Pete that they consider psychotherapy for Rose, to help her to adjust to the fact that the Doctor wouldn't be coming back, and he'd readily agreed that it was a good idea, but told her that Rose couldn't be persuaded to see anyone.
* * * * * *
When Martha arrived at John's house later that morning he'd been pacing for half an hour, unable to sit still from a combination of nerves and excitement. He opened his front door when she rang the bell at 7.55 am, and then stared, speechless, at her.
She couldn't help smirking at his reaction: she'd worn a new, emerald green dress that he hadn't seen before, together with matching shoes and a deep red hair band with tiny gold stars on it. The ensemble was completed by a deep red blazer.
"You look stunning," John said, sounding awed.
"You don't look so bad yourself, Mr Smith," Martha answered.
He smoothed his hands down the front of his burgundy velvet jacket, then tried not to shove his hands into the matching trousers. "Thank you, Dr Jones."
"I'd better bring my bag in from the car," she said, and John immediately started forward to fetch it while Martha got their breakfast from the front passenger seat.
He hurried upstairs with her bag, leaving it beside the bed in his spare room, then returned just as swiftly. He was surprised to find her still standing in the hall, not far from the spruce tree with its Yule decorations.
"I thought you might prefer to show me around," she explained when she saw his confused expression.
"Let's have our breakfast first, before the coffee gets cold," John suggested, and led the way into the kitchen.
Martha followed him down the hall into the well lit, spacious room, and found John had decorated the cream walls with intricate stencilled designs in silver and red, which she immediately felt drawn to study.
"What are these?" she asked, as she looked more closely at them.
"They're Gallifreyan text," John answered, coming to stand beside her. "It's a childhood rhyme about food and the kitchen being the heart of the home."
She turned and slid her arms around him. "That's lovely," she told him. "You're such a sweetheart."
"Takes one to know one," he teased, wrapping his arms around her in turn, then dipping his head for a quick kiss.
"Breakfast," he said.
"Yes."
They ate their breakfast and discussed in which order to make their gift-giving visits: finally deciding on Clive, then Francine, then the Tylers, which would take them in a rough circle around London.
After they had finished eating John led Martha through the house, showing her the various additions he'd made to the décor with pictures, stencils and soft furnishings.
"I didn't realise how much of an artist you are," Martha said as she looked at the painting of Donna and the Doctor which hung in an alcove near the bookshelves in his green and gold sitting room, that was also decorated with holly boughs and mistletoe.
"Do you - " He broke off, hesitating.
"Do I what?" she asked curiously.
"Do you want to see my journal?"
"Yes please," she said eagerly.
John reached up and lifted a large, foolscap book bound in dark blue leather from its resting place on top of some of the other books, then handed it to Martha. She took it from him, then slid her free hand into his and led him over to the sofa where they sat down side by side.
Opening the cover of the book, she saw the title page read 'A Time Traveller's Tales', and there was a blue box with the words Police Public Call Box on it; she traced a finger over the drawing, knowing from John's description, that this was the TARDIS.
Inside she found illustrated descriptions of the Doctor's meetings with a variety of people and aliens; the pictures were neatly labelled and she saw that some were of the Doctor's different incarnations as John had told her they were called, while other pictures were of his companions. She recognised Donna from the picture in the alcove, and saw that he'd drawn Mickey, Jackie and Rose.
"You haven't drawn the other Martha," she observed, reaching the last of the completed pages.
"No, not yet, because I've haven't written about the Doctor's travels with either Martha or Donna."
"He met Donna before Martha, then again afterwards," she said, remembering what John had told her.
"Yes." He accepted the book back from her, then returned it to the bookshelf. "Let me show you to your room."
"Okay." She slid her hand into his and let him lead her upstairs, pausing to admire the landscape drawings that decorated the staircase.
John showed her the guest room first, and she saw that the colour scheme was gold and russet, with drawings of autumnal views decorating the walls.
"You draw and paint beautifully," Martha observed as she looked at them. "You could sell these and make a living out of it."
John blushed and mumbled something indistinct, and she moved back to his side.
"Say again."
"I said that no one would want them, they're not that good."
She shook her head and hugged him again. "You're wrong," she told him, "on both counts, but we'll talk about it some other time." She stood up on tiptoes to kiss him, then took his left hand in her right. "Are you going to show me the rest?" she asked.
"Yes." He showed her the bathroom, which was decorated in light green and blue, then into his office-cum-workshop. There were two walls lined with bookshelves, and a long bench laden with a variety of items, including a dismantled laptop computer, against a third wall. Underneath the window in the fourth wall was a sturdy oak writing desk, one half of which was covered in papers and writing paraphernalia, and the other half of which held a functioning laptop computer and a flat screen monitor.
"Is it hard, living in a house with normal internal dimensions?" Martha asked.
"Sometimes," John admitted. "Sometimes I'm glad I've got the whole of this house at my disposal, but sometimes it feels horribly empty and vast, and I miss my granddad." He shook his head, remembering what Anna had told him. "My Donna-self misses Wilf, and my Doctor-self misses the hum of the TARDIS."
She embraced him, resting her right cheek against his chest. "It's not easy, learning to live alone," she said softly. "It takes time, just like everything else, and it hurts: physically, as much as emotionally."
"Yes," he whispered, a catch in his voice as he remembered the times when he had felt he could hardly breathe because of the tight, painful feeling in his chest.
"You'll get there, John," she told him, "one day you'll realise it's not as painful as it used to be."
"When?" he asked, his voice still shaky.
Martha pulled back and looked up into his face, seeing tears in his eyes. "Oh John," she said softly. "I don't know, I'm sorry." She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.
This time he was the one to pull away and she wondered if it was because he was aroused, but she didn't ask or look, she just allowed him to lead her into his bedroom.
The main bedroom, like the sitting room, was painted in green and gold, although a darker shade than the room downstairs. Martha noticed that the door to this room, like all the other internal doors, was painted a dark blue on the outside.
"Your house seems very cosy and inviting," she told him as she looked at the framed pencil drawing hanging above his bed.
"Thank you." He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "That's the TARDIS Control Room," he told her, and then lifted it down so that she could look at it more closely.
"You'll have to tell me more about the TARDIS, sometime," she said. He'd mostly talked about the people with whom the Doctor had travelled, and had said very little about either the ship, or the Doctor's home planet.
"I'd like that," he said, as he hung the drawing back in its accustomed spot. He turned back to Martha. "Shall we make our visits?"
"Yes," she answered decisively. "The sooner we get them done, the more time we'll have for ourselves."
He nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves in his belly.
Martha grinned at him, and he realised his expression must have betrayed his apprehension. "Don't worry," she said, "my parents don't bite."
He made himself smile and refrained from saying that he was more worried about being slapped.
* * * * * *
In the end, John found he'd been nervous for nothing: Clive and Francine were both courteous and welcoming of their daughter's new man. They also both gave him a neatly wrapped Yule gift, which he hadn't expected even though he'd insisted on contributing something to Martha's gifts to her parents. At Martha's suggestion, and despite his own misgivings, he'd baked for Francine since Martha said her mother had less time than she liked for baking. For Clive he'd written a suite of small computer programs to do a handful of tasks for him that he did regularly, such as checking online news sources for particular stories and adding their details to a database. To John's embarrassed relief, Mr Jones had virtually fallen on his neck when he accepted the CD-ROM, heaping praise on John's skills until he felt his face must match the colour of Martha's blazer.
"That went well," the young doctor observed as she drove them on towards the Tylers' mansion.
"Thank goodness," mutter John, hugely relieved.
She grinned at him. "You were a very brave little soldier, and I'm sure you'll be properly rewarded," she said teasingly.
There was a certain glint in her eyes that John had never seen before and he felt his groin tighten as he wondered wildly if she meant what he thought she did. Then he resolutely shoved those thoughts aside, concentrating instead on wondering nervously whether they'd see Rose. He couldn't help cravenly hoping that she wouldn't be there; while he wished her well enough, he'd still prefer not to have to deal with her hostility, particularly towards Martha.
He and Martha had spent quite some time discussing what Yule gift to get for Rose, wanting to avoid giving her anything too generic since their gifts to the others were all fairly personalised. John had initially suggested a Yule Cactus, but Martha had vetoed that in case Rose took it the wrong way. In the end he'd produced an ink drawing of the Doctor's ninth self and the TARDIS, explaining that he was the first incarnation Rose had known. Tony was getting a collection of wooden animals, while they'd got Jackie some of her favourite French perfume, and Pete (after consultation with Jackie) had been signed up for some golfing lessons.
* * * * * *
To John's relief, Rose wasn't at home: Jackie made haste to tell them that she had gone out for Yule lunch with some of the people she worked with at Torchwood. Martha thought that Pete seemed quite as relieved as John, and she wondered how hard it was to both live and work with his stepdaughter.
When Jackie invited them to stay for lunch, Martha quickly agreed, sensing that John would enjoy spending more than just ten or fifteen minutes with his surrogate family. She left him and Tony involved in setting up an elaborate game with some of his toys, while she went to help Jackie in the kitchen.
"You're not fond of small children?" Jackie asked.
Martha shrugged. "I'm not really familiar with dealing with them on a regular basis."
"You don't want children of your own, then?" asked the older woman.
"I can't say that I've given it much thought," Martha answered. "I've been concentrating on my career since I was 14, when I first began studying with the intention of becoming a doctor."
Jackie looked impressed. "That's dedication," she said as she began getting out things for lunch, having sent away the cook. "She doesn't like it when I cook," she confided to Martha, "but sometimes I miss doing things for meself." When the younger woman nodded her understanding, she continued. "I wasn't born to this being waited on hand and foot lark, an' having servants seems a bit, I dunno - "
"Decadent?" suggested Martha, when Jackie paused uncertainly.
"Yeah," agreed Jackie. "I don't think Pete really approves, but 'e lets me get on with it."
"Wise man," Martha answered. "There's no sense in him objecting if it makes you uncomfortable to not do anything for yourself."
Jackie gave her a grateful smile, pleased to be understood, and the two were soon deep in conversation as they prepared the lunch.
* * * * * *
"You and Jackie seemed to get on better today than you did before," John observed as Martha drove them back to his place. "When she's been over for dinner, I got the feeling you were desperate to make a good impression, but today you seemed more relaxed."
"You're right, on both counts, but I realised that Jackie's a good-hearted woman," Martha said, "very caring, and intelligent, too, and that it was okay to just be myself."
"She slapped me, the first time we met," John said. "Not that I could blame her, of course, since I'd taken her daughter travelling in Time and Space, and then brought her back 12 months later, instead of 12 hours."
"The Doctor," Martha said as she pulled into John's drive.
"What?" asked John, confused.
"You said Jackie slapped you, but you meant the Doctor, if the slap was for losing 12 months of Rose's life through time travel."
John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah, I suppose. I forgot."
"It's okay," Martha reassured him, reaching across to squeeze his arm before getting out of the car.
They went inside and she noticed that he seemed subdued, but when she suggested having some coffee and listening to some seasonal music, he brightened up a bit. While Martha concentrated on making their drinks, he fetched the Yule log in and got a fire going, then he sorted out the music he'd selected, feeling glad that he'd bought a stereo which allowed him to line up several CDs at a time to play in succession.
When Martha came in carrying their mugs of coffee, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the Yule log on the fire; he gave her a shy smile, then hit the play button on the remote for his stereo, before gesturing at the floor cushions he'd placed in front of the fire.
"Is this okay?" he asked, sounding tentative.
She grinned. "It looks perfect to me." She passed him a mug of coffee and he took it from her, setting it down on the edge of the fireplace, then took the second one, before taking her hand in his.
"I wanted to say thank you for spending Yule with me," John said, then leaned forward and kissed her carefully.
She made an inarticulate noise as she slid her hands under his jacket and stroked his back while kissing him. Then she leant her head against him, breathing heavily.
"Thank you for inviting me. And now, I think we'd better sit down before I fall down," she observed.
"Okay."
They settled on the floor cushions and she leaned in for another kiss, causing John to make inarticulate noises this time as she stroked the nape of his neck with her fingertips.
"You know, this tie's very nice, but I don't think it's really necessary now, do you?" Martha asked when they came up for air.
John shook his head as she began working the knot loose; he felt as nervous as he had when he'd met her the first time, so much so that he hardly dared to speak in case his fear got the better of him and he stopped her.
"And since we're sitting in front of the fire, you don't need your jacket on either." She tossed the tie onto the sofa, then eased the jacket off him while kissing him again.
She gave him an expectant look after she released him, and he realised she wanted him to take off her jacket. He swallowed hard, then carefully eased her red blazer off while nuzzling the side of her neck. She gave him a seductive smile when he put her jacket on the sofa with his.
"Martha, I - "
"Shh, John, it's okay." She cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled at him. "It's okay to be nervous," she told him. "I am too."
"You are?" he asked, doubt colouring his voice.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Always am, the first time with a new lover."
He ducked his head, blushing, and Martha lifted his chin again. "Why the blush?" she asked softly.
He mumbled something indistinct, and she leaned closer, until her breath was tickling his cheek. "You can tell me, John."
"You said 'lover'," he whispered. "I've never been anyone's lover before."
She smiled and kissed him gently on the cheek. "There's a first time for everything." She began to undo his shirt buttons. "You can stop me if it gets a bit too much," she said.
He watched, mesmerised, as she unfastened his shirt, then stroked gentle fingers through his chest hair.
"You're beautiful," she told him.
"Me?" he asked disbelievingly. "But I'm too skinny, all bones and angles."
"You're not as skinny as you were," she pointed out.
John knew that was true: his human metabolism didn't work like a Time Lord's, and since he wasn't running around as much as the Doctor, he'd actually filled out a little bit in the last three and a half months, just enough that his bones no longer protruded quite so obviously.
"Anyway, all human bodies are beautiful to me," Martha told him, her hand stroking down his ribcage to his belly. "And this, I love this." She ran a finger down the line of hair that went from where his navel would have been, down into his trousers, eliciting a shiver from him. She glanced up at his face and saw a flare of excitement in his eyes.
"I think one of us is currently overdressed," she observed quietly.
He swallowed. "May I?" he asked, gesturing at her dress.
She nodded, a smile playing about her lips, and he reached out to stroke her bare shoulders with his fingertips, then he leant forward so he could reach around her to unzip her dress before carefully easing the top part down to reveal a cream silk bra.
"You're very beautiful," he said softly, bending to kiss the top of her breasts which he carefully cupped in each hand, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples.
"John!" she gasped.
He started back from her, his hands dropping to his sides. "I'm sorry, I didn't - "
"It's okay," she said quickly. "You don't need to apologise. That was nice, you just startled me, that's all." She reached out and took his hands in hers. "You don't have to be scared, or so tentative."
He blushed again, looking down at their hands. "I've been wanting this since we first met," he said, "and I'm scared of messing it up."
"Don't be scared," she repeated softly.
She lifted his hands to her breasts, then leaned in to kiss him a second time as he began touching her again. While he was distracted, she unfastened his trousers and carefully slipped her hand inside to stroke his erection.
"Martha!" he moaned breathily.
"Lie down," she told him, and waited while he did, then she took off his shoes and socks, before removing her dress properly.
John watched her, his mind in a daze of arousal; she removed his trousers, then knelt beside him on the other floor cushion and began to stroke him properly. After a few minutes he had enough presence of mind to prop himself up on one elbow while he unfastened and removed her bra, then he slipped his hand carefully between her thighs and stroked his fingertips lightly over her silk-covered entrance. It was Martha's turn to moan breathily as his long slender fingers teased and aroused her.
"John?" Her voice was low and a little husky when she spoke.
"Yes?" His voice was equally low and husky.
"Make love to me, please?" she asked.
He sat up properly and kissed her as he eased her knickers down, then she moved away so that she could take them off, along with her shoes, which he hadn't noticed she was still wearing.
She sat down beside him again, and he got up, moving his floor cushion behind hers so that she could lie on them both, then he positioned himself between her legs. She smiled up at him encouragingly, and he smiled back as he pushed inside her. Martha hooked one leg around his waist and held his shoulders.
"Don't stop," she whispered, and he thrust deeper with a soft grunt.
John made love to her carefully, as if he was afraid of hurting her, and although she was eager, she let him go at his own pace instead of trying to get him to move faster, not wanting to upset him. She stroked his back and shoulders, murmuring words of encouragement to him, until he came with a gasping cry, her name falling from his lips, as her muscles clenched around him.
He slumped down on top of her and she kissed his cheek, and caressed his back. "Was that okay?" he asked once he'd caught his breath again.
"Definitely okay," she assured him.
"Good." He moved off her and Martha curled up against his side, her head on his shoulder. "Does this - " He paused, as if uncertain.
"What?" she asked softly.
"Does this mean you won't be using the guest bedroom?" he asked, then blushed.
"I'd rather share with you, if that's okay."
He gave her a goofy grin. "Brilliant!" he said softly.
* * * * * *
Martha woke first the next morning, momentarily wondering where she was until she registered John's body beside hers. She smiled then, remembering how they'd spent the evening exploring each other's bodies. They'd shared a bath, which had been a bit of a novelty for John, and eaten a meal together, then made love again in front of the fire with the lights off and more than a dozen candles providing illumination. John had revealed why he'd been so adamant about renting this particular house, explaining the image that had come into his head on seeing the fireplace, and stressing that they'd been fully dressed in that image.
"I like your image," Martha had told him, softly, "although I think I like this reality better."
They'd gone to bed fairly early, deciding that the floor cushions were not as comfortable as John's bed would be.
Now she was awake, Martha stretched, then rolled onto her side and watched John sleeping for a few moments until she had the irresistible urge to touch him. She stroked a finger down his sideburn, then gently traced his lips, smiling at the memory of those same lips exploring her body the night before. She leant forward and kissed his lips softly, then his Adam's apple, before continuing to caress and kiss a path down his body using the lightest touches of fingers and mouth.
By the time she reached his groin, she saw that his body was beginning to respond to her touches even though he hadn't yet woken up, and she grinned before administering the same feather light touches of her mouth and fingers to his cock, watching his face the whole time.
John woke abruptly from a very vivid dream about Martha giving him oral pleasure to find it wasn't a dream at all; he gaped in astonishment as she winked at him from her position between his legs.
"Morning," she said, moving back up the bed to kiss him thoroughly, leaving him achingly hard.
"Morning," he said faintly. "That's a hell of a wake up call."
"Not an unwelcome one, I trust?" Martha asked.
"God, no!" John said fervently.
"Good."
They made love again, then lay curled up together afterwards. "Who needs presents?" John asked as Martha nuzzled the side of his neck.
"You don't want your presents?" she asked.
"I think you're the best present I could ever receive," he said. "Although the presents you brought with you - " He tailed off as Martha's hand drifted down his body, distracting him. She had set two intriguing looking presents in elegant paper and ribbons under his Yule tree the night before, and he was curious to discover what they contained.
"You're definitely one of the best presents I've ever had," she told him. "Possibly the best, in conjunction with the trip I had to see A Midsummer Night's Dream at the Globe for my 30th birthday."
"I took Martha to see Shakespeare at the Globe - the man himself, I mean," John observed, his gaze distant.
"You didn't," she said softly.
"I did! It was her first trip in the TARDIS - " He broke off, then sighed heavily. "The Doctor took the other Martha," he corrected himself in an expressionless tone.
"You're not him, you've just got a lot of his memories," she reminded him gently.
"I wish I was him," John said.
"Why?" asked Martha.
"Why? Because he's got the TARDIS, and he can go anywhere he wants, any century he wants. Sometimes I feel utterly trapped, stuck on this one planet."
"Then we will have to find ways for you to feel less trapped," she said. "And don't forget that you're living the kind of life you told me the Doctor cannot: you've got a family, of sorts, and friends."
She snuggled up closer to him, draping her lower body over his, and heard him laugh. "What?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him.
"I've got something he hasn't, something he could have had, if he hadn't allowed it to slip through his fingers." At her puzzled look, he grinned and slid his right hand down her back and over her bottom until his fingers entered her. "You, in my bed, with me," he breathed, then smirked at her moan of pleasure.
* * * * * *
They got up at 8 am and had their breakfast, then opened their presents since John refused to wait any longer.
"I've never had Yule presents before," he protested, when Martha teased him about being even more impatient than Tony.
She leaned forward and kissed his nose. "I know," she told him. "I think it's sweet."
He pouted at her, and she laughed, then kissed him properly, sucking on his bottom lip. The next moment she squeaked when he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap.
"You're a bewitching woman, Martha Jones," he growled, "but I am not going to let you distract me from opening my presents."
She giggled, wriggling in his lap and enjoying the way his jaw slackened and his eyes seemed to glaze over. Then she leaned sideways and picked up the first of his presents from the coffee table.
"Here you are then, Mr Smith." She handed him the package, which was wrapped in pale blue paper and silver ribbons.
John took it from her, trying to ignore his body's responses to Martha's wriggling, and carefully unwrapped it.
Inside was a book and an envelope. The book was Dr Eckener's Dream Machine: A History of the Zeppelin; he opened it carefully and saw that it had been written by an engineer, not an historian, which made it seem promising in terms of technical information.
"Thank you," he said, a slight catch in his voice; he kissed her cheek, then turned over the envelope to open it.
"You're welcome," she answered, waiting eagerly to see what his reaction would be to the rest of this present.
He opened the envelope, wondering at the intense expression she wore, and slipped out a piece of heavy cream-coloured card. He read it aloud:
"The Eckener Zeppelin Company invites the bearer plus one to the opening of its new museum and workshop created to celebrate the history of the company on January 15, 2014 at noon. Black tie required. A champagne lunch will follow the opening ceremony. RSVP." He gave her a dazed look. "However did you manage to get this?"
"Pete helped," was all she said.
"Thank you." He kissed her soundly until they were both breathless.
"I'm glad you like it," Martha said once he finally released her.
"It's brilliant!" He set the book and the invitation down on the sofa beside him, then accepted his second present which was large and irregular in shape.
"Don't you want to open yours?" he asked.
"In a minute," she answered.
John unwrapped his second present and found it was two metal boxes stacked one on top of the other. He opened the topmost smaller one, and saw that it held a wealth of electronic components, all neatly arranged. She took it from him while he opened the larger box which yielded the finest set of tools for building electronic devices that he'd ever seen.
"There's no sonic screwdriver, I'm afraid," she said, "but maybe now you've got the tools and parts to build one."
"Oh god, Martha!" he exclaimed shakily.
She grinned, clearly pleased with the success of her gifts. "Happy Yule, John Smith."
"Thank you!" He hugged her, then kissed her deeply. "Your turn now," he said, hoping desperately that she would like his presents; he felt quite nervous now he'd seen her gifts.
She picked up the first present, a rectangular shaped parcel in red paper and gold ribbons, and opened it. Inside was a DVD boxset of the acclaimed TV series The Blue Planet.
"I noticed that you didn't have it," he said quickly, as if afraid she wouldn't like it, "although you've got all the others that he's done."
"You're right, I haven't. Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek, then picked up the second, heavier present. Opening it she found an old book on herbs and their medicinal and culinary properties.
"Wow! Thank you, John, I'll enjoy exploring that."
He accepted the kiss she gave him, swallowing his disappointment that she wasn't more excited about the DVD boxset. You great big space dumbo! Donna scolded in his head. It's been out for a few years, if she'd really wanted it, she would have bought it by now! He wished, now, that he'd got Martha something more personal, like perfume or something.
She moved off his lap. "We should probably start thinking about lunch," she said.
"Yes, okay."
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"Me? I'm fine," he said, leading the way to the kitchen.
"I was thinking about what you said earlier," she said as she perched on a chair, watching John as he rolled up his sleeves and donned an apron.
"About what?" he asked, washing his hands.
"About you feeling trapped. You're a new man now, building a new life without the Doctor or Donna, which means you can be whoever you want to be: an artist, an engineer, a scientist, a teacher, a lover." She grinned when he looked up with a blush at the last item on her list.
"You could start a book about your life here," she went on. "An illustrated diary, perhaps; you could put in things like the opening of the Zeppelin Museum. Your other book tells the story of where you've come from, and the new one could be the story of where you're going."
He grinned. "Martha Jones, I do like you!" he said.
She laughed. "I'd be a bit worried if you didn't," she said, "after the way we've spent some of the last 24 hours." She smirked when he blushed.
"I've got another blank book upstairs," he observed as he began getting out pineapple slices, cherries, and cloves with which to decorate the ham.
"There you go, then," Martha said. "You can start your own traditions, too." He gave her a puzzled look, so she elaborated. "Most families have traditions associated with Yule, birthdays, or other seasonal events."
John looked thoughtful. "Donna's family did, although the traditional family fight is probably one I can dispense with."
She laughed softly. "No doubt. You could make it a tradition that you have breakfast in bed on Yule morning, or that you go carolling or wassailing on the night before."
"Or that a sexy woman wakes me up on Yule morning," he suggested with a smirk to rival her earlier one; a smirk that became an outright grin when Martha ducked her head in response to this remark.
"That too," she agreed once she'd recovered from her surprise. "You could have a tree-decorating party, with punch and games."
She got up and joined John at the kitchen counter, slipping her arms around his middle from behind. "You could invent entirely spurious traditions," she suggested.
"Like my lover helping me preparing Yule lunch?" he asked.
"Cheeky!" She laughed. "Do you want me to prepare the veggies?"
"Would you mind?" John asked.
"Of course not!"
"Thanks."
As they prepared lunch, they continued tossing around ideas, which became increasingly silly, but helped to pass the time as they worked.
* * * * * *
After they had eaten John went up to his study and fetched his sketch book and some pencils, Martha having agreed to sit for him to draw her portrait to go in his new book.
"Where do you want me to position myself?" she asked when he returned. "And should I sit, stand, lie or what?"
"Make yourself comfortable," he told her, "and if you want to use props, like holding a book, then do that."
She picked up the floor cushions from the night before and placed them in front of the fire where the Yule log was still burning, then grabbed the book which John had given her, and settled down, half sitting, half lying on the cushions.
He settled a few feet away, cross-legged on the floor, and pressed play on the stereo to start one of the CDs that were still in there from the previous evening, then he began to sketch Martha.
"Am I allowed to talk to you?" she asked curiously.
"You are, but I may not answer," he warned, with a half smile in her direction.
"I'll read aloud then," she said, turning the pages of the book.
After two hours, John had completed a number of sketches of Martha, not all of them based on her exact pose in front of him. He got up and moved to join her, and allowed her to look at the drawings.
"You drew me in my underwear," she said, looking down at the black jeans and red jumper she wore.
"Do you mind?" he asked.
"Of course not, silly." She kissed his cheek. "What about nude though?"
His eyes widened in surprise. "You want me to draw you nude?"
"Would you like to?"
He looked away, blushing faintly. "Yes," he whispered.
"Good." She got up. "Sit on the sofa," she said, "and watch."
John moved, watching in fascination as Martha slowly undressed, then stretched out on the cushions. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he picked up his sketch book, forcing himself to ignore his growing arousal, so that he could draw her.
When he'd finished, he showed her the drawing, joining her on the floor.
"Very nice," she purred. "And so is this." She cupped the bulge in his trousers in her right hand, smirking at his gasp. "I think you need some relief after all that drawing."
Minutes later, John was naked, and Martha was straddling him.
"I definitely think that sex in front of the fire should be on your list of traditions," she told him, as she began to move.
He could only nod speechlessly in fervent agreement at this suggestion.