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magicallawAuthor: Madge
Title: Being Human
Rating: R
Characters: Other!Ten/Alt!Martha
Summary: A lesson in being human. The old fashioned way.
Disclaimer: Nothing to do with me...
Author's Note: Sequel to What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger. In other words, here be porn, yes.
“I went to the moon today,” Martha says.
Where he’s from – where he’s really from – people don’t experience de ja vu; they can actually live it twice. But this? This... He has no other way to describe it.
“Not for too long, though,” the (almost) Doctor says.
“Oh, so that makes it completely normal then.”
She’s being sarcastic and mocking him (again) and because there’s no wooden box to whisk her away in, he simply offers her his hand like it’s the most natural thing in this universe. “Come with me.”
She looks at his hand, then back up at him and it’s only then that she realises he’s completely serious. “My mum told me never to follow strange men.”
“I’m hardly a stranger.”
“No, I said strange men.”
“Come with me,” he says again. He’s not asking, nor telling; just saying it, really, because he knows that she’s going to follow him.
“Why?” she asks.
“There’s something – somewhere - I want to show you.”
“Where?”
“Where I work.”
“It just felt right” is hardly a good excuse to follow a strange man on a dark night, but it was really all that Martha had.
+++
Standing in the middle of a vast room, wires strewn on the floor, cobwebs and dust everywhere, Martha was a little unsure as to why she had been brought here. “Why –” she starts, but she stops as she feels his hand slip away from hers and she watches him, silently, walk to towards the wall at the far end of the room so that he can tell her just what’s on the other side:
The Daleks and the Cybermen; Shakespeare; never ending motorways; the depression; monsters; burning flames; a (different) war; 1969; and a man, a man who ruled the world, a man defeated by Martha Jones; and of course, the most important woman in the whole of creation.
“So, she just followed you, that night, after the moon?”
“Why do you find that so hard to believe? You did it just now.”
‘Bastard,’ she thinks because he’s got her there, no denying. “But you’re not him?” she asks, trying to clarify thoughts in her head which she doubts will ever make sense again, but she has to try.
“No,” he tells her, “I’m half human.”
She asks “which half?” just to defuse some of the tension in the air and it works, for a moment at least as they both laugh. But he tells her that he’s not really sure and she’s just as confused as before.
“Why did you tell me this though?”
“Because you’re Martha Jones,” he tells her.
“I’m not The Martha Jones; I’m just a doctor.”
He takes her hand again at last and says, “Exactly.”
+++
“Tell me. Would the other you have continued to annoy the other me if I – I mean they - hadn’t got in that magic blue box you told me about?” Martha asks the Doctor who is standing in the exact same place as he was the night before.
“Tell me,” he starts, mocking her tone. “Would the other you have searched the streets of London looking for me –”he pauses and grins – “I mean him - if you hadn’t got in that magic blue box I told you about?”
“I’m guessing you’re quite similar so I’m not entirely sure how anyone else could fit in that box along with that ego.”
“I did tell you that it’s – ”
“Bigger on the inside,” she says, smiling, “yes, you did.”
They stand across the road from the pub in silence, waiting for the next part of the conversation to follow but nothing comes. They are both quite content to wait.
“You could always buy me a drink, you know,” Martha offers, pointing across the road.
“I could,” he agrees, nodding.
“So?”
“But...”
“Why do I get the impression that there’s always going to be a ‘but’ with you?” she sighs. “Let me guess: you’ve left your wallet at home. Typical bloke. And you reckon you’re only half human?”
“No, it’s not that,” he follows after her. “It’s just I’m not used to this budgeting stuff. I had bills to pay and no one told me Sky TV cost so much money. Plus, and I’m not exactly sure how, but I managed to lose a bet with Rose’s two year old brother.” Martha raises her eyebrows at him. “He’s a lot smarter than people give him credit, you know.”
“Urgh. You make a rubbish human. C’mon. Looks like it’s my round.”
He says nothing and follows her inside.
+++
“Is this a date?” he asks, downing the rest of his drink.
“What? With me paying? I hope not,” she laughs.
“Sorry, it’s just I’ve never had one before, so I’ve got nothing to compare it to.”
“Of course, I forget you’re about a fortnight old.”
“Eleven days, to be precise.”
“Right.” She pauses to play with her wine glass in a way that Tish has told her is supposedly flirty but she’s sure she might spill it everywhere soon. “Why did you ask?”
“Well I was going to offer to walk you home but you’ll be all right getting a taxi or walking or something, won’t you? I mean, if it’s not a date that is,” he grins mischievously.
Definitely not a date, Martha tells herself, somehow forgetting to say it out loud.
They leave.
+++
“Does it look the same?” she asks as she lets him in to her flat.
“Erm,” he says, looking around, “well, the thing is, the last memory I have of this place, it had been blown up by the Prime Minister so I’m not sure what it looks like now.”
“So that was the last time he saw her?”
“Well, no, not really... Wait a minute,” he’s had a sudden thought, “you don’t happen to know anyone called Tom Milligan, do you?”
“Who?” she asks.
“About 6 foot, dark hair, paediatrician, annoyingly handsome... in a... rugged sort of way.”
“No, but I’ll be keeping my eye out,” she tells him with a tiny glint in her eye.
Another silence falls over them but it’s not so comfortable this time; there’s a rather big elephant in the room and it’s called ‘what the hell happens next?’
“So, thanks then,” she tells him, at last, filling this awkward quiet patch, but he looks at her as if she’s got two heads because he can’t remember what he’s done that needs thanking. “For walking me home, I mean.”
“Right, yeah. I had best walk myself home really. It’s late.”
“Yeah,” she says and she shows him to the door even though he just walked through it less than five minutes ago.
He stops suddenly. “Is this how these things end? Boy meets girl, boy and girl have a date, boy walks girl home, boy leaves.”
“Not always,” she ponders. “When it’s a boy that’s half human, I’m pretty sure that’s the case, though.”
“Right, see, the thing is, Martha, how do you know that’s the case? Has this ever happened before?”
“You tell me, you seem to be the expert.”
Martha was pretty sure that wasn’t an invitation to kiss her, but he took it as one anyway. Holding both sides of her face as he kisses her softly but backing her against the nearest hard surface with great urgency. Martha bumps into the coffee table, sending a few items that lay on top of it onto the floor, and pulls away. “What are you doing?” she asks.
He’s not re-writing history because that’s impossible, but there’s a tiny part of his brain that thinks he wants to, so he tells her that he’s “trying to be human” and he kisses her again, but more passionately this time. He lifts her slightly so that she sits on the table and he can get even closer to her now that she’s opened her legs.
His hands are on her shoulders as he continues to kiss her and she feels a bit awkward with her hands on either side of her, holding on to the table, so she eventually reaches out and puts her arms around him. Their kiss stops only for him to trail his lips along her jaw line until he reaches her earlobe and he begins to tug on it gently with his teeth. She’s pleased that he’s guessed right and that he’s found a particular sensitive spot for her. Then a thought creeps into her mind and she wonders if he knew from a past life, a distant reality. She considers asking for a moment but he’d have to stop in order to answer and she’s not sure if she knows what it is she wants to hear. Besides, his hands are in her hair and she’s trying really hard not to wrap her legs around his waist to pull him closer to her because when did she become this easy? She sighs when one of his hands finds its way up her top and starts stroking her back because she’s gone, she’s totally gone and if there was any small part of her that could stop this it’s left her because now he’s scratching her lightly and she’s moaning, she’s actually moaning. She feels a little silly because no one’s even naked yet but she can’t really help it.
She moves her arms around his neck and he quickly hoists her up into his arms and she finally gives in and wraps her legs around him – for practical reasons, obviously. He realises he has no idea where he’s leading her so she just lets go of him with one hand and points to the door to their left.
He remembers what happens here – in the bedroom – but this is still very... new, different, alternate. He doesn’t take her to the bed, he’s standing in the middle of the room and she’s kissing him but he’s not really kissing back, so she stops, lets go of him and goes to sit on her bed.
“So how’s it working out for you?” she asks.
“How’s what working out for me?”
“Being human.”
“Well, about a minute ago it felt fantastic.”
“And now?”
“A bit awkward to be honest,” he tells her, his hand playing with the hair at the back of his neck. A trait that the other Martha would recognise all too well.
“Sounds perfectly normal then.”
He sits next to her on the bed, takes her hand in his and just... looks at them.
“Did they...?” Martha asks, quietly, and he knows exactly what she means, because he's really rather clever actually.
“No. Never,” he answers quickly. Too quickly.
“So no case of ‘what happens in 1969, stays in 1969’ then?” And he doesn’t say anything because either answer could be bad and end this.
“Right,” she says.
“Does it really matter?”
She takes her free hand and places it to his chest and feels one heart beating away – quite fast, she’s pleased to feel – and says “no.”
Then it’s happening:
The discarding of clothes –
‘Is this, like, the only suit you own?’ she asks, over him, flinging his jacket on the floor.
‘Do you not approve?’ he asks, smirking, his voice low, as if he’s figured out how this seduction thing works.
‘Let me see the alternative,’ she says, unbuckling his belt, before kissing him.
The shortening of breath –
Her hot breath so close to him.
She takes him in her mouth and, oh, he nearly, not quite but nearly, forgot how good that feels.
She looks up at him with her big, beautiful eyes and he forgets to stop breathing altogether.
The whispering of names –
‘Doctor,’ she breathes, not thinking about when it was exactly she started calling him that.
Two of his fingers are inside her, his thumb rubbing her clitoris and he is lying right next to her, his mouth at her ear. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he tells her. ‘Martha Jones, so beautiful.’
The movements –
It is slow and gorgeous.
She’s trying her hardest not to think about who or what he is; she focuses on his movements inside of her.
And then on her own: her hips arching, her legs pulling him to her, her fingers scratching. –
The ending. An ending quite perfect actually, because quite frankly, Martha hasn’t come like that in, well, forever; and of course, neither has he.
“They did this before,” he says, lying on his back, next to Martha, the pair of them trying to catch their breath. Martha looks at him. “Share a bed, I mean.”
“How did that go?” she asks.
He thinks, the reddening on his face burning him is a distraction because he doesn’t remember that at all.
“Different,” he says. “It was different.”
Title: Being Human
Rating: R
Characters: Other!Ten/Alt!Martha
Summary: A lesson in being human. The old fashioned way.
Disclaimer: Nothing to do with me...
Author's Note: Sequel to What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger. In other words, here be porn, yes.
“I went to the moon today,” Martha says.
Where he’s from – where he’s really from – people don’t experience de ja vu; they can actually live it twice. But this? This... He has no other way to describe it.
“Not for too long, though,” the (almost) Doctor says.
“Oh, so that makes it completely normal then.”
She’s being sarcastic and mocking him (again) and because there’s no wooden box to whisk her away in, he simply offers her his hand like it’s the most natural thing in this universe. “Come with me.”
She looks at his hand, then back up at him and it’s only then that she realises he’s completely serious. “My mum told me never to follow strange men.”
“I’m hardly a stranger.”
“No, I said strange men.”
“Come with me,” he says again. He’s not asking, nor telling; just saying it, really, because he knows that she’s going to follow him.
“Why?” she asks.
“There’s something – somewhere - I want to show you.”
“Where?”
“Where I work.”
“It just felt right” is hardly a good excuse to follow a strange man on a dark night, but it was really all that Martha had.
+++
Standing in the middle of a vast room, wires strewn on the floor, cobwebs and dust everywhere, Martha was a little unsure as to why she had been brought here. “Why –” she starts, but she stops as she feels his hand slip away from hers and she watches him, silently, walk to towards the wall at the far end of the room so that he can tell her just what’s on the other side:
The Daleks and the Cybermen; Shakespeare; never ending motorways; the depression; monsters; burning flames; a (different) war; 1969; and a man, a man who ruled the world, a man defeated by Martha Jones; and of course, the most important woman in the whole of creation.
“So, she just followed you, that night, after the moon?”
“Why do you find that so hard to believe? You did it just now.”
‘Bastard,’ she thinks because he’s got her there, no denying. “But you’re not him?” she asks, trying to clarify thoughts in her head which she doubts will ever make sense again, but she has to try.
“No,” he tells her, “I’m half human.”
She asks “which half?” just to defuse some of the tension in the air and it works, for a moment at least as they both laugh. But he tells her that he’s not really sure and she’s just as confused as before.
“Why did you tell me this though?”
“Because you’re Martha Jones,” he tells her.
“I’m not The Martha Jones; I’m just a doctor.”
He takes her hand again at last and says, “Exactly.”
+++
“Tell me. Would the other you have continued to annoy the other me if I – I mean they - hadn’t got in that magic blue box you told me about?” Martha asks the Doctor who is standing in the exact same place as he was the night before.
“Tell me,” he starts, mocking her tone. “Would the other you have searched the streets of London looking for me –”he pauses and grins – “I mean him - if you hadn’t got in that magic blue box I told you about?”
“I’m guessing you’re quite similar so I’m not entirely sure how anyone else could fit in that box along with that ego.”
“I did tell you that it’s – ”
“Bigger on the inside,” she says, smiling, “yes, you did.”
They stand across the road from the pub in silence, waiting for the next part of the conversation to follow but nothing comes. They are both quite content to wait.
“You could always buy me a drink, you know,” Martha offers, pointing across the road.
“I could,” he agrees, nodding.
“So?”
“But...”
“Why do I get the impression that there’s always going to be a ‘but’ with you?” she sighs. “Let me guess: you’ve left your wallet at home. Typical bloke. And you reckon you’re only half human?”
“No, it’s not that,” he follows after her. “It’s just I’m not used to this budgeting stuff. I had bills to pay and no one told me Sky TV cost so much money. Plus, and I’m not exactly sure how, but I managed to lose a bet with Rose’s two year old brother.” Martha raises her eyebrows at him. “He’s a lot smarter than people give him credit, you know.”
“Urgh. You make a rubbish human. C’mon. Looks like it’s my round.”
He says nothing and follows her inside.
+++
“Is this a date?” he asks, downing the rest of his drink.
“What? With me paying? I hope not,” she laughs.
“Sorry, it’s just I’ve never had one before, so I’ve got nothing to compare it to.”
“Of course, I forget you’re about a fortnight old.”
“Eleven days, to be precise.”
“Right.” She pauses to play with her wine glass in a way that Tish has told her is supposedly flirty but she’s sure she might spill it everywhere soon. “Why did you ask?”
“Well I was going to offer to walk you home but you’ll be all right getting a taxi or walking or something, won’t you? I mean, if it’s not a date that is,” he grins mischievously.
Definitely not a date, Martha tells herself, somehow forgetting to say it out loud.
They leave.
+++
“Does it look the same?” she asks as she lets him in to her flat.
“Erm,” he says, looking around, “well, the thing is, the last memory I have of this place, it had been blown up by the Prime Minister so I’m not sure what it looks like now.”
“So that was the last time he saw her?”
“Well, no, not really... Wait a minute,” he’s had a sudden thought, “you don’t happen to know anyone called Tom Milligan, do you?”
“Who?” she asks.
“About 6 foot, dark hair, paediatrician, annoyingly handsome... in a... rugged sort of way.”
“No, but I’ll be keeping my eye out,” she tells him with a tiny glint in her eye.
Another silence falls over them but it’s not so comfortable this time; there’s a rather big elephant in the room and it’s called ‘what the hell happens next?’
“So, thanks then,” she tells him, at last, filling this awkward quiet patch, but he looks at her as if she’s got two heads because he can’t remember what he’s done that needs thanking. “For walking me home, I mean.”
“Right, yeah. I had best walk myself home really. It’s late.”
“Yeah,” she says and she shows him to the door even though he just walked through it less than five minutes ago.
He stops suddenly. “Is this how these things end? Boy meets girl, boy and girl have a date, boy walks girl home, boy leaves.”
“Not always,” she ponders. “When it’s a boy that’s half human, I’m pretty sure that’s the case, though.”
“Right, see, the thing is, Martha, how do you know that’s the case? Has this ever happened before?”
“You tell me, you seem to be the expert.”
Martha was pretty sure that wasn’t an invitation to kiss her, but he took it as one anyway. Holding both sides of her face as he kisses her softly but backing her against the nearest hard surface with great urgency. Martha bumps into the coffee table, sending a few items that lay on top of it onto the floor, and pulls away. “What are you doing?” she asks.
He’s not re-writing history because that’s impossible, but there’s a tiny part of his brain that thinks he wants to, so he tells her that he’s “trying to be human” and he kisses her again, but more passionately this time. He lifts her slightly so that she sits on the table and he can get even closer to her now that she’s opened her legs.
His hands are on her shoulders as he continues to kiss her and she feels a bit awkward with her hands on either side of her, holding on to the table, so she eventually reaches out and puts her arms around him. Their kiss stops only for him to trail his lips along her jaw line until he reaches her earlobe and he begins to tug on it gently with his teeth. She’s pleased that he’s guessed right and that he’s found a particular sensitive spot for her. Then a thought creeps into her mind and she wonders if he knew from a past life, a distant reality. She considers asking for a moment but he’d have to stop in order to answer and she’s not sure if she knows what it is she wants to hear. Besides, his hands are in her hair and she’s trying really hard not to wrap her legs around his waist to pull him closer to her because when did she become this easy? She sighs when one of his hands finds its way up her top and starts stroking her back because she’s gone, she’s totally gone and if there was any small part of her that could stop this it’s left her because now he’s scratching her lightly and she’s moaning, she’s actually moaning. She feels a little silly because no one’s even naked yet but she can’t really help it.
She moves her arms around his neck and he quickly hoists her up into his arms and she finally gives in and wraps her legs around him – for practical reasons, obviously. He realises he has no idea where he’s leading her so she just lets go of him with one hand and points to the door to their left.
He remembers what happens here – in the bedroom – but this is still very... new, different, alternate. He doesn’t take her to the bed, he’s standing in the middle of the room and she’s kissing him but he’s not really kissing back, so she stops, lets go of him and goes to sit on her bed.
“So how’s it working out for you?” she asks.
“How’s what working out for me?”
“Being human.”
“Well, about a minute ago it felt fantastic.”
“And now?”
“A bit awkward to be honest,” he tells her, his hand playing with the hair at the back of his neck. A trait that the other Martha would recognise all too well.
“Sounds perfectly normal then.”
He sits next to her on the bed, takes her hand in his and just... looks at them.
“Did they...?” Martha asks, quietly, and he knows exactly what she means, because he's really rather clever actually.
“No. Never,” he answers quickly. Too quickly.
“So no case of ‘what happens in 1969, stays in 1969’ then?” And he doesn’t say anything because either answer could be bad and end this.
“Right,” she says.
“Does it really matter?”
She takes her free hand and places it to his chest and feels one heart beating away – quite fast, she’s pleased to feel – and says “no.”
Then it’s happening:
The discarding of clothes –
‘Is this, like, the only suit you own?’ she asks, over him, flinging his jacket on the floor.
‘Do you not approve?’ he asks, smirking, his voice low, as if he’s figured out how this seduction thing works.
‘Let me see the alternative,’ she says, unbuckling his belt, before kissing him.
The shortening of breath –
Her hot breath so close to him.
She takes him in her mouth and, oh, he nearly, not quite but nearly, forgot how good that feels.
She looks up at him with her big, beautiful eyes and he forgets to stop breathing altogether.
The whispering of names –
‘Doctor,’ she breathes, not thinking about when it was exactly she started calling him that.
Two of his fingers are inside her, his thumb rubbing her clitoris and he is lying right next to her, his mouth at her ear. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he tells her. ‘Martha Jones, so beautiful.’
The movements –
It is slow and gorgeous.
She’s trying her hardest not to think about who or what he is; she focuses on his movements inside of her.
And then on her own: her hips arching, her legs pulling him to her, her fingers scratching. –
The ending. An ending quite perfect actually, because quite frankly, Martha hasn’t come like that in, well, forever; and of course, neither has he.
“They did this before,” he says, lying on his back, next to Martha, the pair of them trying to catch their breath. Martha looks at him. “Share a bed, I mean.”
“How did that go?” she asks.
He thinks, the reddening on his face burning him is a distraction because he doesn’t remember that at all.
“Different,” he says. “It was different.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 09:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 08:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 09:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 08:51 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked this, so thanks for commenting. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 09:42 pm (UTC)(I think you have a typo here, though: She takes him in his mouth ... . "His" should be "her.")
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 08:52 am (UTC)Oh, and typo fixed, thanks for letting me know.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 10:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 08:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-13 10:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 12:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 01:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:12 am (UTC)And as I said upthread, I have something in mind but I'm not sure when it will be finished as I have a couple of other fics for ficathons that I need to work on.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 01:45 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-15 05:46 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:09 am (UTC)I truly [heart] 10.5 and alt!Martha together. I've even been considering doing a story about the pairing myself as I can really see the two of them working out -- especially as he has that little bit of Donna in him. ;)
Yay! This story makes me feel epically gleeful -- great job! *does a little happy dance*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 09:16 am (UTC)Oh and I'd love to read your version of these two, so please give it some more though. (Have just caught up on your Martha/Dr John fics, too. I love the thought of them to together, heh.)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-15 10:45 pm (UTC)Oh, there are definitely great! Honestly, I even received a few more belly-wibbles upon re-reading the fic as well. :)
Oh and I'd love to read your version of these two, so please give it some more thought.
I think I will. I really can't resist the idea of the two of them together -- especially in the sense that the Doctor sort of has the chance to do things over with Martha without the shadow of his relationship with Rose looming over them. You illustrated this beautifully in your two fics. I hope I can do the same.
The problem with me is that I keep taking it to an angsty place is my head (such as how, now that 10.5 knows what it's like to feel "second best," he seeks out alt!Martha to make sure she doesn't feel second best with him...or something). We'll see. Maybe I'll try and find some prompts that will work for them. That is, if I can think of any myself!
(Have just caught up on your Martha/Dr John fics, too. I love the thought of them to together, heh.)
Thanks! They are a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine, I must admit! It just all started from a spark where I thought John might be an interesting match for Martha (super-hot doctors in love and all that), but it just sort of grew from that. They've been fun to write though -- even if I've mostly been neglecting Ten/Martha on the whole.
I'll have to work on more Ten/Martha or at least 10.5/alt!Martha. Yeah.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 04:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 04:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 04:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 07:02 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-14 08:16 pm (UTC)Please write more?
I am making no promises.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-16 04:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-16 06:23 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-30 04:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-30 06:24 pm (UTC)