Title: Twelve Cliches That Never Happened To Martha Jones
Rating: Maybe an R for sexual stuff and swearing.
Disclaimer: The BBC own the Doctor, Martha, and the TARDIS, and would not approve of this work of fiction.
Notes: Belated submission for the Martha Clichefic Challenge. Cliche numbers 5, 6, 7, 8, 14, 17, 19, 20, 22, 23, 34 & 35.
5. they arrive in the middle of a sex/fertility festival
"I thought you were supposed to be a doctor?" he said, kneeling to deftly untie his shoelaces.
Martha defiantly remained fully-clothed. "Nearly a doctor. Besides, even if I pass my exams I don't plan on wandering about naked all the time."
The Doctor tucked his socks neatly into his discarded trainers and tugged off his tie. "It's only skin. I'm sure neither of us has anything the other hasn't seen before."
"I don't want us seeing those things! Not like this!" Damn, had she really said that last part?
The Doctor raised an eyebrow and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Does it help," he asked, "if I said it would be terribly offensive to these people if we didn't have sex with each other? Fertility festival and all."
It did help, oddly enough.
6. shag/marry or die / aliens made us do it
"I can't believe aliens made us do it," said the Doctor, stretching lazily.
"So I take it this doesn't happen a lot?" Martha was slightly upset about the situation, but mostly she felt really, really good.
"Nah. Common misconception. As it were."
"Ah," said Martha. "Speaking of which..."
"I'm on the pill," said the Doctor, waving a hand vaguely. "But as I was saying, aliens very rarely make people have sex with each other. It just doesn't make xenoanthropological sense."
"Mmm," said Martha, still somewhat dazed by all the sex.
"I mean, why should any culture want to make other people have sex? I don't see how it would affect the tribal sense of belonging, or help to construct a framework with which to understand the world around them. What do you think, Martha? ...Martha?"
Martha was, much to the Doctor's annoyance, asleep.
"Women," he muttered, bitterly.
7. trapped in a confined space
"Move your elbow."
"That's not my elbow..."
8. pretending to be a couple
"We're married," said the Doctor, lying swiftly and easily.
"What?" whispered a surprisingly angry Martha.
"Been married fifteen years."
Martha raised an eyebrow. There was no way that sentence didn't sound bad.
"She's older than she looks," he added, making Martha wonder if they'd somehow suddenly become telepathic. "She's seventy years old. I'm only fifty. She's a cradle-snatcher."
It was wrong, she knew, but there was something impressive about how freely the Doctor told lies. He always said he had a special relationship with time, and from the looks of things he had a similar relationship with truth.
"So, we can't marry anyone else," he finished. "Sorry."
Their audience seemed disappointed, but agreed that forced marriages were struck from the agenda.
"She jealous very easily," the Doctor continued. "Won't let me so much as look at another woman without going on about it for days."
Yes, decided Martha, he really did have some sort of deathwish.
"I don't know why I married her. She's so controlling."
"If you don't shut up, dearest husband, I'm going to get a divorce and then you can marry one of these nice carnivorous plants."
14. Doctor and Martha swap bodies
"I like these hands," said the Doctor, staring at them and wriggling his new fingers. "Small but perfectly formed."
"You're not keeping my body," sighed Martha, trying not to think about what she now had between her legs.
"I didn't say I wanted to keep it, I just said these are good hands." He prodded a bit of wiring with said hands.
"I know what you're like. But that's my body and I want it back. In one piece, with no weird marks on it."
"Excuse me, Miss Jones, but do you have any idea what your posture might be doing to my spine?"
She pulled herself up to her new height. "It's not my fault! I'm just not used to being a foot taller than I usually am."
"Can you always see right up my nose? Hand me a spanner."
"I try not to look at it," she said, searching the toolbox. "Not that there's much chance of that now. How do you see past this thing?"
"I could ask you the same about your breasts," said the Doctor, with no sense of self-preservation.
"Stop looking at my tits!"
"This bra doesn't fit right, by the way. Are you trying to make them look bigger or are you just not sure of your cup size?"
"I mean it!"
"They're falling out of this thing. No wonder you run like a girl."
"Just fix this bloody thing," she said, passing him a spanner from the box. "I need to pee."
The Doctor shrugged. "I don't mind. Just make sure you don't miss the toilet."
"I mind. If I wanted to do things like that I'd have become a nurse, not a doctor."
The Doctor muttered something incomprehensible and poked the Completely Pointless Body-Swapping Machine a bit more.
"There really are brilliant hands," he said after a while. "Are you sure we can't just-"
"No," said Martha, who really really really needed to pee. "Now get a move on before I lose your dignity."
17. Martha gets pregnant / Doctor has male pregnancy
"You can't be," she said, because he couldn't be.
The Doctor seemed offended by this belief. "How would you know? I'm an alien to you. You don't know the first thing about how my innards are arranged."
"I know you're male. I know that male animals don't have wombs. That's why they're male."
"Male seahorses give birth," he protested. "Besides, you can't approach alien biology as though Earth got everything right."
"What makes you so sure you're pregnant then?" she asked, deciding to leave the womb thing until he'd calmed down a bit.
"I did a pregnancy test."
"An alien one or a human one?"
"Human one, I think. I found it in that cupboard under those stairs next to the swimming pool. In a box of women's clothes. No idea who they belonged to. Do you think I'm going senile?"
That would explain a lot, she thought. "And you took the test why exactly?"
"To see if I'm pregnant, obviously."
"But we've been having safe sex. That's what safe sex is."
"Accidents happen," said the Doctor, determined to win what really shouldn't have been an argument. "One defective batch of latex and I'd have human DNA all over me."
"Fine," she said, sitting him down at the kitchen table. "Have you ever been pregnant before?"
The Doctor thought for a moment. "No."
"Are you aware of any family history of male pregnancy?"
"I had an uncle who got pregnant, but she was a woman at the time."
"Any male pregnancies while the mother was actually male?"
"Nah, they wouldn't have wombs then."
Martha stared at him. "So how can you be pregnant if you don't have a womb?"
"I might have grown one by accident. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to get pregnant."
She was sure he was mocking her. "Have you missed any periods?"
"Martha," he said, seriously, "I don't menstruate."
"Are Time Lords supposed to menstruate?"
"Don't be daft, that's a waste of blood. Just because you don't have the sense to reabsorb your womb lining, doesn't mean no one else does."
"So what made you think you might be pregnant?"
"The test I took said I was."
"And you didn't think it might be because human pregnancy tests aren't designed for Time Lords?"
"Martha! This is serious!"
"Right. Okay. Fine." She sighed, because it was that or violence. "Symptoms of pregnancy in a normal Gallifreyan?"
"Having a baby."
"Apart from that."
"Just the usual. Hormonal changes, mood swings, increasing weight, tiredness, dizzy spells, food cravings, uncontrollable telepathic outbursts, accidentally hearing a few seconds into the future."
"And do you have any of those?"
"No. Hang on... no. None of that."
"Right. Well, in my opinion as a partly-qualified doctor not trained in alien biology, I really don't think you're pregnant."
"Can't you at least use a stethoscope on me?" he asked, hope obvious in his voice.
Martha looked at him carefully. "You're bored, aren't you?"
"You're bored and you want me to do pointless medical tests on you so you can laugh at the silly human and then feel really clever about it."
"No," he said, less convincingly.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time!" he yelped.
"It's not funny."
"Not to you maybe. There's hours of fun to be had with a game of Fake An Unusual Medical Condition. On some planets it's considered a highly-respected sport."
"Where's the fun for me?"
"You get to see how fast you can work out that I'm faking it. It's not fair, though, what with you almost being a doctor. I think we should call that one a draw. Stalemate. Two opposing and equally matched forces."
"Flattery won't get you anywhere."
"That's not what you said on Mintaka 4."
"Let's play a game called Hit The Doctor Repeatedly With A Teatowel."
"Let's not," he said.
But they did.
19. someone shows up and decides to help the two of them get together (subset: the TARDIS and/or Jack decide to help them get together)
The TARDIS was bored. This happened to her a lot, since she was incredibly clever and not very imaginative. She turned the internal gravity off for a bit, but it wasn't as funny as she'd expected and the Doctor didn't seem too happy about it.
She decided that it might be funny to make him shag his companion. That was always a laugh. Watching their funny little limbs flailing about, listening to their little hearts thumping with the effort. Those adorable noises they made.
Yes. Yes, she would do it.
She started with Martha's wardrobe. Far too many clothes in it, she decided. She shifted her walls to swap the jeans and quite modest tops for a very short black dress that would look lovely on her. And some nice shoes. Sparkly but sensible, the sort the Doctor quite liked.
He liked women who argued with him, so she made sure there was no hot water when Martha took a shower, just to get her nice and irritable.
What else did he like. The TARDIS thought for several nanoseconds, carefully considering her options.
Clever women were something he always fell for, but Martha was Human and it seemed wrong to change that. Still, she was quite bright for her species and maybe the Doctor would look past that shortcoming to her quite nice breasts.
He liked healthy young men with a discreetly muscular build. The TARDIS was fairly certain Martha was a woman. She certainly spent enough hours in the bathroom every morning to be one.
Licking things. He liked licking things. The TARDIS altered her airflow a bit to make Martha's scent as tempting as possible. Yes, pheromones were a good start. Perhaps the Doctor might lick Martha. And then they could have sex.
Turning her attention to her beloved pilot, she prodded his synapses gently but firmly, offering a quite graphic vision of Martha doing that thing she did in the shower most mornings that the TARDIS felt sure must be rather unhygienic.
The Doctor shook the image off, so she offered another one based on things he'd done in the past with humans of Martha's probable gender. Tempting thoughts of DNA didn't seem to do anything, but there was definite reaction to the idea of Martha in bed with her clothes off. The TARDIS felt sure that humans couldn't bend in all those places, but the Doctor seemed quite keen on the idea that they might.
She prodded the Doctor off to Martha's room, because she wasn't having them doing that on her nice clean console.
If she had hands she would have rubbed them together. This was going well. She increased the temperature a bit and started resonating her floors on a frequency that Time Lords found pleasing and that humans tended to politely ignore.
She was pleased to note that the Doctor seemed to be measuring Martha's legs in his head, which was apparently sexual for animals. And there seemed to be more flesh on display now, which was a good sign.
Go on, my son! she thought to herself, as her occupants began their strange and amusing mating ritual.
It was so strange that they grew their young inside themselves and had to have two of them to make more copies of themselves. She wondered, yet again, what crazed machine had made them in the first place, and for what purpose.
Whatever they were originally designed for, the TARDIS thought they made excellent pets.
20. Sex against/in usual spot in TARDIS (special mention of the console)
"I think I pressed a button with my knee. Oh, that's nice."
"Which one? I really like your arms, have I ever told you that?"
"No, you haven't. That one there. The blue one."
"The big blue one or the little blue one? Can you move your... yeah, like that."
"Big blue one. Is it important? I like that."
"Don't know. I've never been able to work out what it does. Can I lick your-"
And then the TARDIS exploded, killing everyone in the universe. Which teaches us all a vital lesson about safe sex.
22. epiphany about feelings
"I've had an epiphany about my feelings," said the Doctor, suddenly.
Martha looked up from a Mills & Boon about a woman who ran off with a pirate. "Yeah?"
Martha waited some more.
"Well?" she asked, finally.
"Well what was your epiphany about your feelings?"
The Doctor moved to stand directly in front of her, gazing at her with adjective-laden brown eyes. "Martha Jones," he said, almost forcing the words from his mouth, "I love kittens."
23. Doctor takes Martha shopping
"You really didn't need to come with me."
"Course I did. My fault we left in such a hurry." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Though I did offer you anything you could find in the wardrobe."
"Yeah, my pick of shiny catsuits and leather miniskirts. Where did you get all that stuff anyway?"
"Around," he said with a slightly worrying vagueness. "I like this," he said, picking up a coathanger and holding it up in front of her. "You'd look lovely in that."
Martha snatched the coathanger quickly. "Stop that! People'll think we're together."
"But we are together."
"I mean," she said, slowly, "people might think we're a couple. Boyfriend and girlfriend. That sort of thing."
"Just because we're in a shop together? That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?"
"In a shop full of underwear." She sighed. "If anyone asks, we'll just say you're gay."
"Alright," he said, cheerfully.
Martha turned her attention to the bra he'd decided would suit her. It was pink satin with bright fluffy bits on the edges. And sequins. Maybe he really was gay. She put it back on the railing and continued on her quest. "I don't need suggestions," she said. "I know my size, I know what I like, I don't need you picking out daft things you think are funny."
The Doctor looked over her shoulder at the bra she was examining. "That's the wrong size," he said, helpfully.
"That's the size I always wear!"
"Yeah, and you always hang out a bit over the top."
Martha stared at him. He'd been staring at her breasts and she hadn't noticed? "I do not wear the wrong bra size."
"How would you know? You're not even a woman!"
"Nine hundred years old," he said, with a wink and a rather filthy smile.
Martha decided not to think about that. "I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions about my own breasts."
The Doctor shrugged. "Fine. But I think you should get measured sometime." He picked up a flimsy piece of silk and waved it at her. "This'd be nice. I think you'd look good in red."
Martha raised an eyebrow. "You do understand that my underwear is not for your benefit, yeah?"
"But it's nice! Look, it's got a little bow that opens it at the front!"
"It's not very practical."
"It'd feel nice against your skin."
"There's not enough of it to feel."
"Fine," he sulked, putting the offending item back where he found it.
Martha finally found a few nice bras that weren't too absurd and looked like they'd be good for running in. They were expensive, but the Doctor had assured her his credit card was good until Google went out of business. Which sounded like an abuse of time-travel, but she really did need underwear.
"A good bra is worth ten times its weight in gold," he offered.
"Thanks for the advice."
"And don't get crotchless knickers, they're just silly."
"I thought men were supposed to like those."
"Silly men do," he said. "Silly men who don't have any sense of the appeal of a good mystery. Proper knickers could be hiding anything. You don't know what you're getting until you get them off. Keeps life interesting." He coughed. "I would assume."
"That's your fetish?" she asked, more amused than she'd have expected. "Knickers?"
"It's not a fetish!" he protested, going a bit red. "I just like surprises in life. I like... finding things people have hidden."
"I'm wearing knickers right now," she whispered, feeling brazen.
They were having sexual tension again. Tense sexual tension. Martha hoped that one day this would lead to actual sex. She quite liked sex.
He was probably about to say something that ruined the moment. He did that. He had some sort of primal urge to stop her having sex. Something about Rose having nicer knickers, maybe. Or about how they were wasting time talking about pants.
Instead he said something quite explicit and very suggestive and, yes, they did end up having sex after all.
34. Aphrodisiacs/Sex pollen
"Fuck off, Tish."
"Martha, it's me."
"Fuck off, Doctor."
"Maaaarthaaa," he whined, pulling the sheet from over her head.
"What?" She opened her eyes and found the Doctor leaning over her, face a mere inch from her own. "If you've woken me up because you're bored, I'm going to do something painful to important parts of your body."
"I'm not bored," he said, and leaned down to lick her ear.
Martha stayed silent. There was a good chance this was just an erotic dream, and those often ended quite well.
"I want to have sex," mumbled the Doctor, nuzzling against her neck.
Yep, erotic dream. Martha smiled and waited for the inevitable to happen.
The Doctor leapt from the bed before anything good happened.
"Sorry," he said. "I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean to sexually harrass you."
Martha reconsidered the dream theory. This was far too in-character by the standards of her imagination. She checked she was wearing clothes (she didn't always, in case the Doctor really did decide he wanted sex in the middle of the night) and sat up to look at him.
"I know you're an alien, but this isn't the usual method of seducing a woman."
"I'm not seducing you," he said, "I'm just telling you that I want to have sex."
"Right, and if you want sex you need to go through the seduction first."
"I only want sex because the TARDIS wants me to have sex." He said this with the frustrated tone of one stating the obvious in the face of unrelenting stupidity. Which was much like his usual tone, only slightly more so.
"Come again?" asked Martha, unaware of her own cheap innuendo.
The Doctor sat on the edge of her bed, then stood up, then sat down again a bit further away. "She and I have a symbiotic relationship," he said, apparently unaware that he'd started taking his clothes off. "She thinks things and I think things and sometimes it gets a bit blurred. Like now," he added, dropping his tie onto the bed, "with this sudden and quite powerful urge to have sex with someone. Well, I say someone. There's some thoughts about phone boxes, but let's pretend I never said that."
Martha tried not to look at the Doctor's increasingly naked body. "And why's your spaceship suddenly aroused? Is that normal? Does it happen a lot?"
"Sex pollen," he said, undoing his shoelaces. "Last place we landed she got sex pollen on her nanomanipulation plates."
"Can't you clean it off?"
"I could," he said, neatly tucking his socks into his trainers. "I could. But I need you to stop me thinking about sex."
Martha thought about this. "Cold shower? Think about football?"
"Football," said the Doctor, tasting the word. "Lots of fit, healthy young men running about. Wearing shorts. Their muscular legs running with testosterone-rich sweat. The elation when someone scores a goal. All that hugging. That thing where they take their shirts off for no good reason." He blinked at her.
Martha tried not to think about sex. And failed. "What if you... had sex?"
"That might work," he agreed. "Should we go somewhere that people are likely to offer sex? Some cultures have sex as a polite greeting."
Subtle was over-rated. Martha leapt onto the Doctor, trapping him between her legs. "Pollinate me, Time Lord."
35. Caught masturbating
"I've fixed that problem with the hot water," said the Doctor.
Martha threw the sheets over herself and moved her hands to less incriminating possitions. "Don't just walk in!"
"Oh, sorry." He didn't sound very sincere. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
"I wasn't doing anything," she said, quickly and unconvincingly.
"Martha, I've had humans in the TARDIS before. I know what you lot get up to when you think no one's looking. I don't mind. It's like dogs humping the furniture, isn't it? Just one of those things you have to live with."
"Oh, thanks," said Martha. She'd almost been finished and was quite seriously frustrated.
"I'll leave you alone for a bit. Let you finish off."
"I can't do it now! Not when I know you'll be wondering when I'm done!"
"Nah, you're really loud. Telepathically. I was going to ask if you could maybe be a bit quieter in future."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get deafened while listening to me having a wank."
"Don't worry about it." He was so oblivious sometimes. Martha suspected it was deliberate. "I'm sure I'd disturb you if you were telepathic. Though I'm careful not to be too noisy, just in case."
"Oh. My. God."
"What? We're both healthy adults. We both have needs. Are you ashamed of your natural sexual drives? Because you shouldn't be. There's some books about it in the library. Might even pick up a few hints as to how to improve your technique."
"Doctor, I never thought I'd say it in such appopriate circumstances, but you're a complete wanker."