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Story: Innocence
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loveslashangst
Characters: Ten, Martha Jones, Rose Tyler (implied)
Rated: R for some EXTREMELY suggestive banter and at least one scene that's not ready for primetime, though this is not -- strictly speaking -- a Ten/Martha fic
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, because if I did, there might be real science in Dr. Who instead of just the usual pseudo-science. (ophymirage adds: But Stephen Moffatt's welcome to steal the Universal Model Map any time. Because I want to see that on screen, dammit...)
Spoilers: AU, Sequel (kinda) to The Lady in the Fireplace.
Summary: Ten makes a decent proposal. Martha takes him up on it. Hilarity and adult-themed hijinks ensue. Not exactly a Martha/Ten, but more my love letter to her, hoping she finds what she's REALLY looking for.
Author & Beta's Note:
Apologies are owed to you, the fen;
The posting's due, we know, of Ecstasy.
'Oblivion' is coming; as to when,
Another day or so, or so say we.
The fault is mine; I sent her to go see
A rock-and-trad band that's Canadian,
Thus makes it to the Left Coast only rarely
(They'd played in SF Thursday, so I'd been.)
'Twixt that and work, our lives were occupied,
And so no drafts, though plot was much discussed;
Our Sunday posting schedule is a bust,
On Wednesday, though, the chapter count is plus'ed -
And meantime, behind "Innocence" we'll hide!
[makes complicated gesture of throwing something to hungry wolves]
The Doctor takes a deep breath. Lets it out all in a rush. “Would you sleep with me?”
Martha and he stare at each other for half a moment -- which feels like an eternity -- then the words tumble out.
“That’s not what I meant!” (Actually, the look on his face is priceless. She’d laugh if he hadn’t floored her.)
“You did not just ask me to sleep with you!” Because she wouldn’t. No. Really. She’s not about to be a rebound girl. (Mostly.)
“No. I mean I did but that’s not what I meant,” he says. “I meant to ask if you’d go to bed with me.”
“If I’d what?!” Shrill. She’s gone shrill. This is worse than mortifying.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Should she be offended at how fast he’s back-peddling? The twit!
“Dammit,” he says. “That is NOT what I meant. I did not mean sleep with me and I did not mean that kind of bed.”
“Then what kind of bed did you mean?” Her wounded pride seizes her hand and gives him a little shove. “Because you can’t just shut me out again and again and then expect me to--”
“No! No, of course not! I wouldn’t. That just came out wrong.” He recovers himself a little. (She relishes the high blush on his cheeks. Serves him right for blindsiding her.)
He puts his hands on her upper arms, quietly sincere. “I’m sorry, Martha. I really didn’t mean that to sound the way it did. I am not soliciting you for sex.”
Double twit! Now she’s really insulted. “Then what are you soliciting me for?”
“Nothing!” He’s a bit too quick and that warm voice squeaks. (Could he BE any more adorable? If she didn’t want to kill him she’d be grinning like a fool.) “Nothing! I...” As it so often does, his mood changes. He gets all serious again. “I’m sorry, Martha. Really, I am. I shouldn’t have--”
He takes his hands off her. “I’m sorry.” He leaves the room.
She follows him down the hall. Tries to catch his arm. Misses. “Doctor... Doctor!”
“Forget I asked.” He doesn’t turn. Hunches slightly as he strides away. Thrusts his hands back in his pockets. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s NOT nothing. Would you please wait?” She would say yes. She really would say yes if he’d just do a proper job and ask her. (And if she could be sure he wouldn’t shout the wrong name in the throes of passion. Though, depending on how good he was, she might even forgive him that too.)
“Doctor!”
He pulls up short. Looks away.
“Someone like you doesn’t ask for much.” Calm. Clinical. Maybe out-doctoring the Doctor is the best way to... (She is NOT in love with him. Well... Maybe in lust.)
She forces her voice to be calm. “I get the feeling you don’t ask for favours very often, so I’ll take it as a compliment. What’s more, I already said yes, so let’s have it. What did you want?”
“You’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?” There’s a bitter edge to his humour.
“You’re the one who kissed me.” And what a kiss it was. Breathless, it left her.
“I had good reason for that.” It’s actually kind of fun to bait him.
“And invited me to stay on this ship.”
“TARDIS,” he corrects. Did he just hide a smile?
“Whatever,” she says. “Talk to me.”
He looks at the floor. Has another long think. Mumbles something so quietly that she can’t make it out.
“What?” She strains to hear.
“Companionship,” he says, defensive. He’s blushing. The Time Lord is actually blushing. The man who took on witches and Judoon and plasmavores and the traffic jam of the millennium. Blushing. In front of her. If she didn’t know his heart(s) better, it’d feel like a victory. “I just wanted your companionship because I’m...” Again, he shuts his mouth on the words. Goes inscrutable.
“Lonely,” she finishes for him. WHY does this have to be so damn difficult? Surely she’s at least a little bit attractive. (And why is she throwing herself at him when she just KNOWS he’ll break her heart? Rebound, remember? Not in love with him?) “You’re lonely.”
He nods. Smiles with almost painful melancholy. And quite in spite of herself, she swears she’d shag him just to make him smile for real again. (Well, she’d do it for other reasons too... And that still doesn’t mean she’s in love with him. It’s just that he’s well hot, for an alien rocket scientist.)
She smiles at him. “It’s all right to be lonely. Normal people get lonely all the time.”
“I’m not normal.” And as he always does, he recovers his composure. “But it really doesn’t matter what I feel.”
“Yes, it does,” she says.
“Because,” he continues. “I like you, Martha Jones. You’re the proverbial good egg. Clever and brave and you act at all the right times. Those are all traits I value in a Companion.”
Something about the emphasis makes it sound like a title. “Companion?” she says. “Like more than a friend?” A girl can always hope. Not that she’s hoping. (He thinks she’s CLEVER!)
“Friend. Ally. Travelling partner.” There’s the smile. Travelling always brings it out in him. “A little bit of everything.” The smile vanishes. “But there are rules.” His face goes impassive. “Rules a Time Lord should never break. If he does, people get hurt.”
It all makes sense. “Rules you broke with Rose.”
She can tell by the way he almost glows with bittersweet sadness that she was right.
“Rose was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He glances up. “I mean. I like you, Martha. You’re a good person and you’ve saved my life -- several times, come to think of it. I love your intensity and drive. They’re so wonderfully human.”
“But I’m not her.” God, does she really sound that bitter?
“I’m sorry.” He usually says it as a reflex. Almost an autonomic response to any unpleasant situation. This time, he almost sounds like he means it.
He thinks she’s all those wonderful things, but he’s still clinging to a girl who’s gone. (And come to think of it, has he ever told her WHERE Rose went?)
“But even knowing all that, you’re still asking me to sleep with you?” She folds her arms, well pissed as she gives what he’s doing a good think. “Do I really look that desperate?”
He looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not soliciting sex--”
“Then what are you soliciting?” God, why is she doing this to herself? All it’s accomplishing is making her want to kill him. Or shag him. Or shag him and then kill him and dammit she is NOT in love with him.
“I want you... to sleep with me,” he says. “And I don’t mean sex so please stop looking at me like that. I mean just... just... just BE with me. Just let me pretend for a few hours that I’m not the only person in the entire universe. That everything is mostly all right.”
She sets her jaw. “That She’s not gone.”
“That too.” The warm brown gaze is unrepentant.
She gapes. “You could at least have the decency to lie to me!”
“Tried that.” He shrugs. “Nearly lost you because of it. No. I’m not losing anyone else if it’s in my power to keep them. I’m going all honesty from here on out so here I go.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re right, Martha: I don’t ask things of people very often. Usually gets me in trouble to get overly involved.” He sighs. “So let’s just have done with this damn conversation and get back to the point. I’m tired. I’m lonely. I need to sleep. I would like not to sleep alone. I’m not going to seduce you -- let me assure you there are no etchings in my bedroom -- but I would like...” There’s that blush again. “... t-to hold you. To be near you.”
“So I’m your teddy bear?” Dammit, why doesn’t she just say yes? This is the chance to get to see that Inner Sanctum of his. Anything could happen once she’s in there. (Not that she wants it to.)
“Teddy bear?” He actually grins. “I like that. Teddy bear. Yes. That’s very good. Well done. You’re a teddy bear because what I’m asking is innocent as a child’s toy.”
“Now you’re innocent?” How can she fancy a man she wants to kill this much?
He gives her a look so angelic she could swear for a second he sprouts a halo. “Completely.”
“So you don’t sleep in the buff or anything?” Bollocks. She actually said that. And she is not flirting with him.
“Well, actually...” He bites down hard on whatever the next words would’ve been. Looks mortified. (She hadn’t thought he could turn that colour.)
“You sleep naked?” Not imagining. She’s not imagining that! Not imagining all the smooth planes of his body on dark sheets to show off the pale skin...
He gives a slightly sheepish shrug. “Saves wear and tear on the clothes. But I do have pyjamas... Somewhere.” His face lights up. He clicks his fingers as inspiration strikes. “Sleepover! That’s what it’ll be. A sleepover. You. Me. Jim-jams. Sound sleep. Perfectly innocent.”
“Perfectly innocent?” She can’t believe she’s actually considering the idea. She also can’t believe she’s hesitating about the idea. (Is it better to be a Rebound Girl than not to bound at all?)
“Perfectly innocent,” he says. “You have my word on that.” He gives her a cajoling look. “We can have milk and cookies. Tell ghost stories. Giggle.”
She resists the urge to either burst out laughing, roll her eyes at him, strangle him, or some combination of the three. “All right. Sleepover. But if I play along with your perfectly innocent fantasy, what do I get in return?”
The guarded look is back, though slightly more playful. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like the terms?” He’s not flirting with her, is he?
“Prat.” She is still not flirting with him... much.
“Probably,” he concedes. “Your terms, Miss Jones?” He is so adorable. May Rose never come back from wherever she’s got to.
“You’ll have your sleepover...” She steps toe to toe with him. “...When I get my kiss.”
Link to All Previous Chapters
Author: Love! Slash! Angst!
loveslashangst Characters: Ten, Martha Jones, Rose Tyler (implied)
Rated: R for some EXTREMELY suggestive banter and at least one scene that's not ready for primetime, though this is not -- strictly speaking -- a Ten/Martha fic
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, because if I did, there might be real science in Dr. Who instead of just the usual pseudo-science. (
ophymirage adds: But Stephen Moffatt's welcome to steal the Universal Model Map any time. Because I want to see that on screen, dammit...) Spoilers: AU, Sequel (kinda) to The Lady in the Fireplace.
Summary: Ten makes a decent proposal. Martha takes him up on it. Hilarity and adult-themed hijinks ensue. Not exactly a Martha/Ten, but more my love letter to her, hoping she finds what she's REALLY looking for.
Author & Beta's Note:
Apologies are owed to you, the fen;
The posting's due, we know, of Ecstasy.
'Oblivion' is coming; as to when,
Another day or so, or so say we.
The fault is mine; I sent her to go see
A rock-and-trad band that's Canadian,
Thus makes it to the Left Coast only rarely
(They'd played in SF Thursday, so I'd been.)
'Twixt that and work, our lives were occupied,
And so no drafts, though plot was much discussed;
Our Sunday posting schedule is a bust,
On Wednesday, though, the chapter count is plus'ed -
And meantime, behind "Innocence" we'll hide!
[makes complicated gesture of throwing something to hungry wolves]
The Doctor takes a deep breath. Lets it out all in a rush. “Would you sleep with me?”
Martha and he stare at each other for half a moment -- which feels like an eternity -- then the words tumble out.
“That’s not what I meant!” (Actually, the look on his face is priceless. She’d laugh if he hadn’t floored her.)
“You did not just ask me to sleep with you!” Because she wouldn’t. No. Really. She’s not about to be a rebound girl. (Mostly.)
“No. I mean I did but that’s not what I meant,” he says. “I meant to ask if you’d go to bed with me.”
“If I’d what?!” Shrill. She’s gone shrill. This is worse than mortifying.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Should she be offended at how fast he’s back-peddling? The twit!
“Dammit,” he says. “That is NOT what I meant. I did not mean sleep with me and I did not mean that kind of bed.”
“Then what kind of bed did you mean?” Her wounded pride seizes her hand and gives him a little shove. “Because you can’t just shut me out again and again and then expect me to--”
“No! No, of course not! I wouldn’t. That just came out wrong.” He recovers himself a little. (She relishes the high blush on his cheeks. Serves him right for blindsiding her.)
He puts his hands on her upper arms, quietly sincere. “I’m sorry, Martha. I really didn’t mean that to sound the way it did. I am not soliciting you for sex.”
Double twit! Now she’s really insulted. “Then what are you soliciting me for?”
“Nothing!” He’s a bit too quick and that warm voice squeaks. (Could he BE any more adorable? If she didn’t want to kill him she’d be grinning like a fool.) “Nothing! I...” As it so often does, his mood changes. He gets all serious again. “I’m sorry, Martha. Really, I am. I shouldn’t have--”
He takes his hands off her. “I’m sorry.” He leaves the room.
She follows him down the hall. Tries to catch his arm. Misses. “Doctor... Doctor!”
“Forget I asked.” He doesn’t turn. Hunches slightly as he strides away. Thrusts his hands back in his pockets. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s NOT nothing. Would you please wait?” She would say yes. She really would say yes if he’d just do a proper job and ask her. (And if she could be sure he wouldn’t shout the wrong name in the throes of passion. Though, depending on how good he was, she might even forgive him that too.)
“Doctor!”
He pulls up short. Looks away.
“Someone like you doesn’t ask for much.” Calm. Clinical. Maybe out-doctoring the Doctor is the best way to... (She is NOT in love with him. Well... Maybe in lust.)
She forces her voice to be calm. “I get the feeling you don’t ask for favours very often, so I’ll take it as a compliment. What’s more, I already said yes, so let’s have it. What did you want?”
“You’re not going to leave me alone about this, are you?” There’s a bitter edge to his humour.
“You’re the one who kissed me.” And what a kiss it was. Breathless, it left her.
“I had good reason for that.” It’s actually kind of fun to bait him.
“And invited me to stay on this ship.”
“TARDIS,” he corrects. Did he just hide a smile?
“Whatever,” she says. “Talk to me.”
He looks at the floor. Has another long think. Mumbles something so quietly that she can’t make it out.
“What?” She strains to hear.
“Companionship,” he says, defensive. He’s blushing. The Time Lord is actually blushing. The man who took on witches and Judoon and plasmavores and the traffic jam of the millennium. Blushing. In front of her. If she didn’t know his heart(s) better, it’d feel like a victory. “I just wanted your companionship because I’m...” Again, he shuts his mouth on the words. Goes inscrutable.
“Lonely,” she finishes for him. WHY does this have to be so damn difficult? Surely she’s at least a little bit attractive. (And why is she throwing herself at him when she just KNOWS he’ll break her heart? Rebound, remember? Not in love with him?) “You’re lonely.”
He nods. Smiles with almost painful melancholy. And quite in spite of herself, she swears she’d shag him just to make him smile for real again. (Well, she’d do it for other reasons too... And that still doesn’t mean she’s in love with him. It’s just that he’s well hot, for an alien rocket scientist.)
She smiles at him. “It’s all right to be lonely. Normal people get lonely all the time.”
“I’m not normal.” And as he always does, he recovers his composure. “But it really doesn’t matter what I feel.”
“Yes, it does,” she says.
“Because,” he continues. “I like you, Martha Jones. You’re the proverbial good egg. Clever and brave and you act at all the right times. Those are all traits I value in a Companion.”
Something about the emphasis makes it sound like a title. “Companion?” she says. “Like more than a friend?” A girl can always hope. Not that she’s hoping. (He thinks she’s CLEVER!)
“Friend. Ally. Travelling partner.” There’s the smile. Travelling always brings it out in him. “A little bit of everything.” The smile vanishes. “But there are rules.” His face goes impassive. “Rules a Time Lord should never break. If he does, people get hurt.”
It all makes sense. “Rules you broke with Rose.”
She can tell by the way he almost glows with bittersweet sadness that she was right.
“Rose was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He glances up. “I mean. I like you, Martha. You’re a good person and you’ve saved my life -- several times, come to think of it. I love your intensity and drive. They’re so wonderfully human.”
“But I’m not her.” God, does she really sound that bitter?
“I’m sorry.” He usually says it as a reflex. Almost an autonomic response to any unpleasant situation. This time, he almost sounds like he means it.
He thinks she’s all those wonderful things, but he’s still clinging to a girl who’s gone. (And come to think of it, has he ever told her WHERE Rose went?)
“But even knowing all that, you’re still asking me to sleep with you?” She folds her arms, well pissed as she gives what he’s doing a good think. “Do I really look that desperate?”
He looks uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not soliciting sex--”
“Then what are you soliciting?” God, why is she doing this to herself? All it’s accomplishing is making her want to kill him. Or shag him. Or shag him and then kill him and dammit she is NOT in love with him.
“I want you... to sleep with me,” he says. “And I don’t mean sex so please stop looking at me like that. I mean just... just... just BE with me. Just let me pretend for a few hours that I’m not the only person in the entire universe. That everything is mostly all right.”
She sets her jaw. “That She’s not gone.”
“That too.” The warm brown gaze is unrepentant.
She gapes. “You could at least have the decency to lie to me!”
“Tried that.” He shrugs. “Nearly lost you because of it. No. I’m not losing anyone else if it’s in my power to keep them. I’m going all honesty from here on out so here I go.” He takes a deep breath. “You’re right, Martha: I don’t ask things of people very often. Usually gets me in trouble to get overly involved.” He sighs. “So let’s just have done with this damn conversation and get back to the point. I’m tired. I’m lonely. I need to sleep. I would like not to sleep alone. I’m not going to seduce you -- let me assure you there are no etchings in my bedroom -- but I would like...” There’s that blush again. “... t-to hold you. To be near you.”
“So I’m your teddy bear?” Dammit, why doesn’t she just say yes? This is the chance to get to see that Inner Sanctum of his. Anything could happen once she’s in there. (Not that she wants it to.)
“Teddy bear?” He actually grins. “I like that. Teddy bear. Yes. That’s very good. Well done. You’re a teddy bear because what I’m asking is innocent as a child’s toy.”
“Now you’re innocent?” How can she fancy a man she wants to kill this much?
He gives her a look so angelic she could swear for a second he sprouts a halo. “Completely.”
“So you don’t sleep in the buff or anything?” Bollocks. She actually said that. And she is not flirting with him.
“Well, actually...” He bites down hard on whatever the next words would’ve been. Looks mortified. (She hadn’t thought he could turn that colour.)
“You sleep naked?” Not imagining. She’s not imagining that! Not imagining all the smooth planes of his body on dark sheets to show off the pale skin...
He gives a slightly sheepish shrug. “Saves wear and tear on the clothes. But I do have pyjamas... Somewhere.” His face lights up. He clicks his fingers as inspiration strikes. “Sleepover! That’s what it’ll be. A sleepover. You. Me. Jim-jams. Sound sleep. Perfectly innocent.”
“Perfectly innocent?” She can’t believe she’s actually considering the idea. She also can’t believe she’s hesitating about the idea. (Is it better to be a Rebound Girl than not to bound at all?)
“Perfectly innocent,” he says. “You have my word on that.” He gives her a cajoling look. “We can have milk and cookies. Tell ghost stories. Giggle.”
She resists the urge to either burst out laughing, roll her eyes at him, strangle him, or some combination of the three. “All right. Sleepover. But if I play along with your perfectly innocent fantasy, what do I get in return?”
The guarded look is back, though slightly more playful. “Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like the terms?” He’s not flirting with her, is he?
“Prat.” She is still not flirting with him... much.
“Probably,” he concedes. “Your terms, Miss Jones?” He is so adorable. May Rose never come back from wherever she’s got to.
“You’ll have your sleepover...” She steps toe to toe with him. “...When I get my kiss.”
Link to All Previous Chapters
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