[001] Ficlet: Late Night Confessions
title: late night confessions
pairing: sam/martha
rating: T
notes: so this is set in the middle of season one of supernatural, since i've only started season two. and, obviously, it's in the middle of season three of doctor who. i really like this pairing.
She woke with a start, her phone sounding like an explosion in the peace of the night. Groaning quietly, she checked the ID, and then groaned louder. Martha Jones wondered why her mother of all people was calling her at two in the morning.
And then she remembered the time difference between England and America.
"What?" she hissed into the phone, getting out of bed and walking towards an open window that overlooked the courtyard of the grotty motel in which they were staying. She tried to keep the annoyance from being woken up so early out of her voice, but that didn't work.
"Well, I'm sorry," her mother said on the other end, clearly offended by the tone her own daughter was using with her. "Perhaps I should call at a time which is more convenient for you?"
Martha sighed as she brought a chair to the window and sat down. "Sorry. I've just not had the best day." Indeed, she had not enjoyed sitting in a library all day, simply researching and getting no lead on the spirit that had killed five people already. Somehow, she had been stuck with Dean who, after giving up chatting her up, paid more attention to the young woman who was constantly sneaking looks at him from her computer terminal rather than finding more about the spirit.
There was no response on the other end of the line for some time. "No, it's my fault," her mother replied finally. "I'm always so harsh on you, and I shouldn't be." Martha felt a pang in her chest and now felt even worse for snapping. "I was calling because I was wondering when you're coming home. We all miss you here, and it's hard to cope without you."
Martha felt another pang. And another. And another. Every word hit her like a truck and almost crippled her as she realised just how homesick she really was. Because, although running with the Doctor through all of Time and Space was amazing and brilliant and oh-so-wonderful, she could never forget home. She was torn.
"Martha? Are you still there?" her mother's anxious voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Yes, yeah," she replied hurriedly, not wanting her mother to get wind of her sadness.
"So, what do you think? Will you come home?" The hope in her voice was unmistakenable and Martha found it so hard to crush it, but she couldn't do anything else. She couldn't just leave.
"I can't," she said softly, grudgingly. "I have to stay with the Doctor." She knew her mother would take it badly, but she couldn't lie.
Sure enough, her mother's voice hardened and sliced through her like a knife. "Martha, what have I said about this Doctor?" She said the word as if it was something you would find on the bottom of your shoe. "He's not good for you."
"Not now, Mum." Martha had hoped she had forgotten about this danger that the Time Lord supposedly put her in, but apparently not. Suddenly, she just felt so tired and her mother was the last person she wanted to talk to.
"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it now, fine. But you can't keep running away from it-we'll have to talk about it sometime. Go back to your precious Doctor and I'll call later." And then, she hung up without so much as a goodbye.
Martha sighed and closed her phone, looking out of the window. The houses and trees were bathed in the pale glow of the moon, an impassive, unblinking eye in the dark velvet sky.
"Family problems?"
Sam's voice behind her made her jump and he smiled at her reaction. He pulled a chair next to her and sat down.
"Yeah…" she replied pensively. Even though she had faced so many monsters and been in so many dangerous situations with the Doctor, being on bad terms with her family felt the worst.
"Hey, we all have them," Sam said, gazing intently at her. "I mean, my pain-in-the-ass of a brother must count as at least three of four." He gestured at Dean's figure splayed on one of the beds and Martha smiled genuinely, her eyes twinkling with natural happiness. Sam's breath caught in his throat; her smile was like sitting next to an open log fire in the dead of winter, and he wasn't able to look away.
"Did I wake you?" she asked, ever-concerned about the people around her. "I'm sorry if I did."
"No, it's alright. I don't get much sleep these days anyway," he dismissed, thinking about his nightmares.
Martha cocked her head, intrigued. "How come?"
He sighed, not really wanting to go over this now. "It's…a long story."
"I've got all night."
Seeing her expression, Sam knew it would be pointless trying to convince her otherwise. So, Sam spilled it all out-the dreams about Jess and his mother and the weird abilities and the headaches and how he was just so tired of simply hunting since it was getting them no closer to Dad. Throughout the whole thing, Martha listened. All she saw was Sam's face, his feelings written all over his features like a book and those beautiful eyes that spoke volumes more than what he was saying. She hardly noticed even that, concentrating only on his dimples and the strands of hair that fell into those eyes-small details only the observant saw.
When Sam had finished gushing his feelings, he was no longer looking at Martha but gazing into the distance with a forlorn expression on his features. She was okay with that, actually, because she was used to being overlooked, to being second best, especially since the Doctor always burned the brightest and so she just let the echo of his words roll over her like waves until they faded into nothing.
"I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all that," Sam bumbled, snapping out of his trance-like state, aware that he may have said too much. "Too much information, right?"
"No, no, it's fine, really. Everyone needs to let it all out sometime."
"Well, I'm glad it was you who heard all that."
The words simply slipped off his tongue before his brain could even register what he was saying. He regretted it the moment he said them. Crap, I've done it now, he mentally scolded himself, cursing his rash words and thinking of a hundred different excuses to cover himself up. Their gazes locked.
"I'm glad too."
That took him by surprise and he couldn't think of one word to say. It was like there was a knot in his throat that just wouldn't unravel and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the way Martha was looking at him-like she was really seeing him-and he felt like he was the only person that mattered to her. Which was silly, of course; she had the full works at home, she said so herself. What could a pathetic demon-hunter possible mean to her?
Then, the moment passed, and Martha yawned, her delicate mouth opening big and wide. "I should get to bed," she said, getting up softly. "No doubt there'll be tons of work to do tomorrow or today or whatever it is." Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leant down and placed a small kiss on Sam's cheek. "Goodnight Sam."
With that, she made her way to her bed, sighed once, twice, and lay down. Sam was left with the warm glow of the fading embers of a fire and the tingling electrical feeling in his body.
-finis-
pairing: sam/martha
rating: T
notes: so this is set in the middle of season one of supernatural, since i've only started season two. and, obviously, it's in the middle of season three of doctor who. i really like this pairing.
She woke with a start, her phone sounding like an explosion in the peace of the night. Groaning quietly, she checked the ID, and then groaned louder. Martha Jones wondered why her mother of all people was calling her at two in the morning.
And then she remembered the time difference between England and America.
"What?" she hissed into the phone, getting out of bed and walking towards an open window that overlooked the courtyard of the grotty motel in which they were staying. She tried to keep the annoyance from being woken up so early out of her voice, but that didn't work.
"Well, I'm sorry," her mother said on the other end, clearly offended by the tone her own daughter was using with her. "Perhaps I should call at a time which is more convenient for you?"
Martha sighed as she brought a chair to the window and sat down. "Sorry. I've just not had the best day." Indeed, she had not enjoyed sitting in a library all day, simply researching and getting no lead on the spirit that had killed five people already. Somehow, she had been stuck with Dean who, after giving up chatting her up, paid more attention to the young woman who was constantly sneaking looks at him from her computer terminal rather than finding more about the spirit.
There was no response on the other end of the line for some time. "No, it's my fault," her mother replied finally. "I'm always so harsh on you, and I shouldn't be." Martha felt a pang in her chest and now felt even worse for snapping. "I was calling because I was wondering when you're coming home. We all miss you here, and it's hard to cope without you."
Martha felt another pang. And another. And another. Every word hit her like a truck and almost crippled her as she realised just how homesick she really was. Because, although running with the Doctor through all of Time and Space was amazing and brilliant and oh-so-wonderful, she could never forget home. She was torn.
"Martha? Are you still there?" her mother's anxious voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Yes, yeah," she replied hurriedly, not wanting her mother to get wind of her sadness.
"So, what do you think? Will you come home?" The hope in her voice was unmistakenable and Martha found it so hard to crush it, but she couldn't do anything else. She couldn't just leave.
"I can't," she said softly, grudgingly. "I have to stay with the Doctor." She knew her mother would take it badly, but she couldn't lie.
Sure enough, her mother's voice hardened and sliced through her like a knife. "Martha, what have I said about this Doctor?" She said the word as if it was something you would find on the bottom of your shoe. "He's not good for you."
"Not now, Mum." Martha had hoped she had forgotten about this danger that the Time Lord supposedly put her in, but apparently not. Suddenly, she just felt so tired and her mother was the last person she wanted to talk to.
"Fine. If you don't want to talk about it now, fine. But you can't keep running away from it-we'll have to talk about it sometime. Go back to your precious Doctor and I'll call later." And then, she hung up without so much as a goodbye.
Martha sighed and closed her phone, looking out of the window. The houses and trees were bathed in the pale glow of the moon, an impassive, unblinking eye in the dark velvet sky.
"Family problems?"
Sam's voice behind her made her jump and he smiled at her reaction. He pulled a chair next to her and sat down.
"Yeah…" she replied pensively. Even though she had faced so many monsters and been in so many dangerous situations with the Doctor, being on bad terms with her family felt the worst.
"Hey, we all have them," Sam said, gazing intently at her. "I mean, my pain-in-the-ass of a brother must count as at least three of four." He gestured at Dean's figure splayed on one of the beds and Martha smiled genuinely, her eyes twinkling with natural happiness. Sam's breath caught in his throat; her smile was like sitting next to an open log fire in the dead of winter, and he wasn't able to look away.
"Did I wake you?" she asked, ever-concerned about the people around her. "I'm sorry if I did."
"No, it's alright. I don't get much sleep these days anyway," he dismissed, thinking about his nightmares.
Martha cocked her head, intrigued. "How come?"
He sighed, not really wanting to go over this now. "It's…a long story."
"I've got all night."
Seeing her expression, Sam knew it would be pointless trying to convince her otherwise. So, Sam spilled it all out-the dreams about Jess and his mother and the weird abilities and the headaches and how he was just so tired of simply hunting since it was getting them no closer to Dad. Throughout the whole thing, Martha listened. All she saw was Sam's face, his feelings written all over his features like a book and those beautiful eyes that spoke volumes more than what he was saying. She hardly noticed even that, concentrating only on his dimples and the strands of hair that fell into those eyes-small details only the observant saw.
When Sam had finished gushing his feelings, he was no longer looking at Martha but gazing into the distance with a forlorn expression on his features. She was okay with that, actually, because she was used to being overlooked, to being second best, especially since the Doctor always burned the brightest and so she just let the echo of his words roll over her like waves until they faded into nothing.
"I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all that," Sam bumbled, snapping out of his trance-like state, aware that he may have said too much. "Too much information, right?"
"No, no, it's fine, really. Everyone needs to let it all out sometime."
"Well, I'm glad it was you who heard all that."
The words simply slipped off his tongue before his brain could even register what he was saying. He regretted it the moment he said them. Crap, I've done it now, he mentally scolded himself, cursing his rash words and thinking of a hundred different excuses to cover himself up. Their gazes locked.
"I'm glad too."
That took him by surprise and he couldn't think of one word to say. It was like there was a knot in his throat that just wouldn't unravel and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the way Martha was looking at him-like she was really seeing him-and he felt like he was the only person that mattered to her. Which was silly, of course; she had the full works at home, she said so herself. What could a pathetic demon-hunter possible mean to her?
Then, the moment passed, and Martha yawned, her delicate mouth opening big and wide. "I should get to bed," she said, getting up softly. "No doubt there'll be tons of work to do tomorrow or today or whatever it is." Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leant down and placed a small kiss on Sam's cheek. "Goodnight Sam."
With that, she made her way to her bed, sighed once, twice, and lay down. Sam was left with the warm glow of the fading embers of a fire and the tingling electrical feeling in his body.
-finis-