No Time for Trespassers
Author: Lilac Summers (lilsum4)
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: R for implied naughtiness
Category: Humor, fluff
A/N: And this completes the "No Time" series...which was supposed to be a oneshot anyway, so looks, 3 for 1! I'm pretty sure this plot bunny came to me because of a line from a story by nostalgia_lj, but I can't for the life of me remember which one by now. I apologize to Martha for using her solely as a plot device, in advance.
Martha was enjoying a leisurely walk through Central Park, heading back to work after lunch. She'd taken to New York a lot more than she thought she would, and the massive park with its walkways and jogging trails appealed to her.
And then, there, out of the corner of her eye, a shade of blue she would recognize anywhere.
She froze, disbelieving, then smiled like a child at Christmas and pelted across the green to the police box.
Her key -- a dented old thing that nevertheless never left her person -- was in her hand in a heartbeat, fitting into the old Yale lock. She turned the key, pushed and...nothing.
Stupid door, always sticking. She pushed more forcefully and when it didn't budge she abandoned any attempt at dignity and began to pound on the door, yelling, "Doctor! Hey, Doctor, open up!"
There was a lag. Martha imagined the Doctor and/or Donna making their way through labyrinthine corridors, but finally she heard scrambling behind the door, and a hearty pull opened it wide.
"Martha! What a completely unexpected surprise!" the Doctor boomed at her in a not-quite-natural pitch.
"But you did show up in my backyard, so to speak, so I'm assuming you came to see me!" she laughed, moving forward for the expected hug.
He returned the embrace awkwardly, and not completely enthusiastically. Martha pulled back, thrown by his reticence, and took a better look at him.
The Doctor was uncharacteristically ruffled, in shirtsleeves and with tie askew. His hair stood on end more so than usual, and his lips glistened with juice.
Martha rolled her eyes. He had such horrible table manners! You'd think a 900+ year-old Time Lord would be a bit neater. "Were you eating? Did I interrupt your meal?" she asked, and the Doctor flushed bright red.
"Errr...ah...in a matter of speaking. Why do you ask?"
"You have a little--" Martha motioned towards her lips and chin in the universal sign of 'something on your face.'
To Martha's bafflement, the Doctor's eyes grew wide and he hurriedly wiped his mouth on his sleeve. It was funny, since he'd never seemed embarrassed by his messy eating habits before.
She tried to put him at ease by patting his arm fondly. "No worries, Doctor. I'm familiar with your messiness -- no need to stand on ceremony now. I've seen worse."
She entered and spied Donna sitting primly on the jump seat (and was the jump seat slightly larger than she remembered?), smoothing a wrinkled skirt over her thighs.
"Donna!" Martha danced over to give Donna a tight hug before plonking herself down beside her on the elongated jump seat. "Sorry I barged in during lunch."
Donna shot her a confused look. "We weren't having lunch," she said slowly.
"Oh, but, the Doctor said I interrupted his meal."
Donna, for no reason Martha could figure, turned a rather becoming shade of pink, eyes sliding nervously to the Doctor. "Oh! Oh, yes, but, umm, only he was eating."
Martha nodded wisely, knowing well the Doctor's penchant for stuffing his face. It was absolutely maddening, as a woman trying to keep her figure, to be around a man who constantly ate and never gained an ounce. "Well, his neatness hasn't improved, by the looks of it. Got it all over his face. What was it this time, Doctor, more bananas?"
The Doctor shuffled uncertainly, as if caught between wanting to come closer to them and needing to have the console between them. "No, actually. Quite the opposite of bananas."
Martha tilted her head in intrigued thought. "What's the opposite of a banana?"
The Doctor was opening his mouth to respond when Donna started coughing loudly. Martha patted Donna's back helpfully, but was still interested enough to push the subject. "No, seriously, there's an opposite of bananas? What is it? Mango? Pear?"
The Doctor pulled such a disgusted face it was comical. "Urgh, no! No pears! It's a..well, it's a rare fruit."
His face took on a dreamy look, and Martha figured he must really love the stuff, whatever it was. Perhaps even more than bananas!
"Sweet and juicy and utterly delicious," the Doctor rhapsodized, as Donna made an odd choked noise beside Martha.
"Doctor..." warned Donna.
Martha couldn't for the life of her figure out why Donna sounded vexed at the Doctor, other than to think perhaps Donna wasn't as big a fan. "You don't like it, Donna?"
With both the Doctor and Martha looking at her curiously, Donna colored brightly once more and stammered out, "More of a banana girl, myself."
Martha turned back to the Doctor to catch him beaming at Donna with a mysterious twinkle in his eye that was partly humor and partly something warm she couldn't readily identify. "But you, Doctor, it's become your new favorite?"
"Oh, absolutely. Can't go a day without it. Breakfast or lunch or dinner. Anytime, really. The urge hits at the most inopportune moments, sometimes, and drives me -- and by extension, Donna -- to distraction."
"Now I'm curious. Got any left you'd care to share?" ventured Martha.
The Doctor looked at her gravely, before shaking his head decisively even as Donna dropped her head in her hands with a groan. "I consider myself a modern man, Martha, but I must insist that I simply cannot share. I'm rather possessive about it."
"Oh, god, Martha," began Donna, seemingly dying of mortification.
"Nah, don't worry about it, Donna. I'm well used to the Doctor's strange obsession with his food. And not that I'm not fascinated by what could possibly have become your new snack-time favorite, but I'm sure you didn't come to New York just to tell me about that, Doctor."
The Doctor made a little distracted noise, tearing his gaze away from a still-blushing Donna to focus on Martha. "Oh, is that where we are?"
With raised eyebrows, Martha strung out a disbelieving, "Yeeeees. Didn't you know?"
"Ah." The Doctor cast a baleful look at the ceiling. "I didn't actually set a destination. The TARDIS must have wanted to stop by and ... say hi."
"Oh. So you didn't want to stop by and say 'hi', the TARDIS did. That's...flattering, I suppose." Her tone of voice made it clear that it was anything but.
Realizing his mistake, the Doctor stumbled over his words in a rush to correct himself. "Not that I'm not delighted to say 'hi', however we got here! Brilliant Martha Jones, hello, it's always a joy to see you! Why just the other day I was saying 'Donna, you know what we should do? Visit Martha Jones!' Right, Donna? Right?"
Donna, seeing Martha's brows furrowing in growing insult as the Doctor blabbered on, made a quick zipping motion with her fingers that had the Doctor snapping his mouth shut. "Ignore the jabbering idiot in the room, Martha. Last few trips have been nonstop running, so I demanded some time doing nothing. If we haven't made the rounds by your neighborhood it's my fault. No doubt the TARDIS knew some time with friends would be better than floating around alone." She smiled sincerely at Martha until the lingering hurt cleared from Martha's gaze.
"Yeah, I know how it can get," admitted Martha with little pat to Donna's hand that indicated they were forgiven. "How about I let you guys relax a bit, then. I'm late for work anyway. But we can get together later at my favorite place for dinner and you," she whipped a look at the Doctor, "are paying. Be assured it will be terribly expensive."
She stood, straightened her dark slacks, and air kissed Donna's cheeks before sauntering toward the TARDIS doors. "Eight p.m. sharp, Doctor! And it may help your cause if you bring along some of that fruit you were talking about, to share." With a friendly wave, she headed out the front door.
"Not sharing!" the Doctor called out after her, just as the TARDIS door clicked closed. The TARDIS twittered around them, catching the Doctor's attention.
"YOU are a bad girl!" he scolded the console. "Why did you land here, anyway? I specifically set us into the vortex. You can't go around choosing destinatio--"
"What was that all about?!" Donna's shout interrupted the Doctor's one-sided conversation with the TARDIS, as did the hurled shoe that came his way where the Doctor was peering at the location settings.
The Doctor looked up just in time to dodge. "What? What'd I do?"
"What did you do? Embarrassed me to pieces, for one!"
"How'd I do that?" he scratched his head in contemplation.
"Comparing my bits to...to...to fruit? What, did you think it was all some great uncrackable code you were speaking in?!" she seethed.
"Now, Donna. S'not my fault if Martha walked in smack dab in the middle of my 'meal'," he sauntered over wearing a ridiculous leer. Falling to his knees before her, his fingers trailed past her knees to start inching her skirt up. For all her temper, he noted that Donna made no attempt to stop the inexorable hitching of her skirt.
"You practically spelled it out in fancy neon lettering. 'Donna and the Doctor, shagging!'" She splayed out her fingers in a mimicry of flashing lights.
The Doctor, who had been more intent on his goal of going back to 'lunch' than putting much stock in Donna's ire, suddenly paused with his hands warm upon her thighs. He tilted his head up to look at her. "Would that be so bad, if she knew?" he asked quietly.
"Well, if she knows, then everybody knows," Donna exclaimed.
"...And?" he bit out.
"A-and," stuttered Donna, unnerved by the sudden hard tone of his voice. "And there's no need for people to think that you and I...me and you...Umm, paradox, remember! We're only doing this because of a paradox thingy 'cos it's already happened so we have to make sure it happens so..." She sounded like an idiot, and she knew it, so she ended on a final, "Paradox."
The Doctor abruptly wrapped his arms around her knees and pulled her forward; she slid off the slick, worn leather to land with a surprised yelp, straddling his lap.
"I don't recall the video the TARDIS played showing us engaging quite so often or so vigorously in sexual escapades in the control room," he pointed out, holding on tight as she tried to squirm away. "In fact, we were quite obviously not in the control room."
"Or in the kitchen, the gardens, the library," he continued.
"Or the observatory, laundry room, shower, hallways..."
"Nor the bouncy ball room or even the tangerine beaches of the seventh moon of Hur!"
"Oi!" snapped Donna, more embarrassed than angry now. She opened her mouth for a long objection of how it certainly wasn't her fault the TARDIS had shown them a future sexual encounter in some unknown location. And if they happened to shag all over the place like oversexed rabbits, surely it was solely for the good cause of covering all their bases and saving the Universe.
But the words died as she saw the seriousness in the Doctor's eyes. She stopped squirming and proceeded to pluck nervously at his crumpled shirt collar, instead.
"Won't you admit that we're not doing this because of any efforts on the TARDIS' part? But because I want to? And that maybe you want me, too?" inquired the Doctor softly to the top of her bent head.
She skewed her gaze away, feeling more exposed by this candid conversation than by anything they'd ever done in the bedroom. "You said 'just mates,'" she whispered, half accusingly.
"I think we dispensed with the 'just' quite a while back. We can't go back to that."
She chanced a quick glance his way, then offered, "If we knew for sure that the paradox was averted, we could --"
"No, you don't understand. I've got you now and I won't go back to that, Donna."
There was a long beat of heavy silence as Donna processed that comment and all the implications that went with it. She spread her hands carefully over his hearts, feeling them beat furiously.
Donna looked up at him through ginger eyelashes. "You won't?"
"Nope. Not giving up my favorite fruit for anything in the world, ever."
Her lips tilted in a smile, growing bolder. "Don't I get a say in the matter?"
It was the Doctor's turn to pluck at the skirt of her dress nervously. "I thought...I thought you liked m--" he gulped loudly, faltering as he suddenly reached his 'honesty' quota and lost his nerve, "uh...bananas."
Donna's smile was turning sly -- his favorite, favorite kind of smile. "Why yes," she drawled. "I love..." the smile went wicked at his sharp, indrawn breath,"...bananas."
The Doctor's deep gaze was a strange mix of appreciation and shyness. "And I love..."
Donna cut the rest of that sentence off by tipping him over and attacking his mouth with hers, since she had a good idea how the sentence ended, anyway. And she hadn't had a chance to finish her own "meal," either.
Many hours later, the Doctor and Donna were a sweaty tangle on the console floor. The TARDIS, in exceptionally good humor, had strategically added padding to the normally rough floor. Not that they noticed, poor simple, oblivious humanoids. And she was keeping an eye on the clock, too, because 8 p.m. wasn't that far off, after all.
Donna was idly tracing stick figures onto his chest when the Doctor stirred.
“Are we,” the Doctor fidgeted with a strand of ginger hair. “Umm, can we be a couple, then?”
Donna grinned. “Guess so.”
"And we don't have to keep this a secret anymore?”
Donna took a deep breath, marshaling courage. “Guess not. But let's not dive in tonight, after that mess you made with Martha. Let's wait until we get back to Cardiff.”
The Doctor joyfully snuggled her under his chin, beaming. They lay quiet a while longer.
"The fourth guestroom on level Smurple of the TARDIS," he said suddenly, apropos to nothing.
Donna propped her head on his chest. "What? What about it? And what's Smurple?"
“Smurfs are blue,” she pointed out.
“Not drowned Smurfs,” he returned, logically.
Donna rolled her eyes. “Nevermind. What's on level Smurple?”
"In the video the TARDIS showed us, the guestroom, that's where we were," he explained, guilty color creeping slowly up his neck. "There's very specific angles in that room."
Donna's eyes were narrowing into a suspicious glare.
"I'd recognize it anywhere," he continued.
"So you're telling me that you've known, since the moment the TARDIS showed us that video weeks ago, where that room was," clarified Donna in a dangerous voice.
"We could have 'averted a paradox apocalypse,' as you claimed, right off the bat.”
"You weasel!" she cried.
Donna raised a hand for what might very well be a slap to end all slaps...and then quite unexpectedly seemed to deflate, resting her chin back on his chest, instead. "Thank you," she said, softly.
"My pleasure, entirely," he said with a goofy grin.
The pair exited the TARDIS within Torchwood, Donna in the lead.
Jack glanced up from where he tapped away at a laptop, took one look and broke into a grin. "Oh ho! Been sexin' up the TARDIS have you?"
Donna and the Doctor stumbled to a halt. The Doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times, then threw his hands in the air and did an about turn, marching back into the TARDIS while hauling Donna in after him.
She turned her head just in time to catch Jack's eye again. "How could you possibly...?"
But the Doctor was already slamming the door, and all she heard back was Jack's cheery call of, "Call me if you're ever up for a threesome!"
Hope you enjoyed it.