for handysparehand: A day in the life.

[imnot_hisgirl]

It made sense to have him stay at her flat. Tom wasn't over a lot and if she wanted some alone time with him she could always go to his place. And the not-Doctor she'd taken to calling "Nameless" in her head needed somewhere to stay

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[handysparehand]

He wanders into the living room. Fresh out of the shower. Fresh and new and clean and still a little sleepy. The day is fresh and new as well. He has decided on willing it into a good day.

He's decided he's in a good mood today. He's practically bouncing. Smiling. Happy.

"Morning," he says.

His hair is still a bit damp. He was too lazy to dry it, and it's falling flatly, unstyled and a little messy. Water still drips a little, and he wipes away a drop from his forehead.

"What are you up to this early?"

He flops down on the sofa beside her, leaning forward towards the coffee table, examining whatever it is she's doing.

The wedding. He nearly forgot about that. It seemed a little early to be sending out invites.

"Wedding invites all ready?"

He tries to act like he's expressing interest, doing his best to hide away the resentment underneath those words. He's not entirely sure how good a job he's doing. He still keeps the smile from a few minutes ago plastered to his face.

[imnot_hisgirl]

"They're for Tom's friends overseas," she said, licking an envelope and sealing it. "They're going to need a good deal of time before the wedding to make arrangements to get here. I think Dad's going to help put them up in a hotel, but we're not even sure how many will show. Can you hand me that pen over there?"

The names were in blue, the address itself was in black. It made it look classier, in Martha's opinion.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I've got your invite somewhere under here. It may take a few more weeks to get the local ones out. And according to Mom, eight months until a wedding is like a week if you don't plan it right."

[handysparehand]

He leans over and grabs the pen. Handing it to her. Wordlessly. Watching her work. Licking the envelopes and writing it all out. The chaos of papers somehow seeming to have some kind of order.

He was rubbish at weddings. This one wasn't any different. Or maybe it was entirely different.

He watched her working, and he was half hoping his invitation would get lost in the shuffle.

He leaned back on the sofa, away from the wedding. Away from that stupid bride on the cover of that stupid magazine that was sitting on the table yesterday. It had been moved to the floor to make room for the invites and envelopes and various items. The bride on the cover still stared up at him. Blonde hair and blue eyes and looking stupidly happy.

Weddings were for idiots, and Martha was not an idiot. Yet there she was, wasting her time shuffling through cards and envelopes and different color inks.

He had half a mind to tell her his thoughts on the matter. But he kept his mouth shut. Trying to recapture that good mood from five minutes ago.

[imnot_hisgirl]

She sealed a few more envelopes and checked off names off of a long list. This wedding was going to be too big. There was going to be too much pressure and she could already feel her toes tingling like she was ready to run. Run off with Tom somewhere else to have a quick, fun wedding. Or maybe just "be together" for a while.

"Tom said you can be the third groomsman," she said, straightening the pile of envelopes and clicking her pen shut. "The vest design is Avriar, but I can get it cut a little thinner for you. And it'll be red, the bridesmaids are wearing red. Tish insists she can wear something different, being the maid of honor and all, but that's not what Mum wants, and you know how she can be..."

Martha sighed and leaned back on the couch with him. It was relaxing, moving away from the piles she still had to work on. Even if it was just for a minute.