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find_rightbrainTitle: I'm Nowhere and You're Everything
Characters/Pairing: Martha and Des, mention of Martha/Des/the Doctor, Jack and Rose
Word Count: 717
Rating: G
Summary: "And what's so special about blondes anyway?"
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kawaiispinel's birthday, which... okay, I'm a day late, but that's so not the point. Happy birthday, Chris! It's also for the ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
meritinabox table which, yes, I've decided to do for the Rift. This is for prompt #32, misplaced jealousy.
Disclaimer: I actually do sort of own the Rift. Ish. Share it, more like. *Grin* I do not own the Doctor or Martha, who belong to the BBC, or Des, who belongs tokawaiispinel.
"You know, it's bad enough when some guy shows up with my face."
Martha paused in inspecting the shelves and glanced up from her inventory to look at Des, who for some reason insisted on hovering in the medical room (until she insisted he at least sit down) and talking at her – and it was at her, not to her, and she had yet to determine what he was actually talking about. She hadn't even really been paying attention for the past couple minutes, but if she played back the conversation (as it were) in her head...
"Des, please tell me you're not going to pick a fight with Jack."
Des folded his arms across his chest. Martha considered telling him he was rivalling the Doctor for sulkiness, but she couldn't imagine that would help, and decided better of it.
"Why would I do that?"
Martha shrugged, turning back to the shelf. "Because you can't stop yourself from speaking."
"I won't."
"Good."
"Martha-"
"Because if you did get in a fight, he'd win."
"What?"
She smirked a little to herself, though Des couldn't see it with her back turned. "He does have the advantage of still being immortal."
"Oh, thanks, rub it in." She didn't have to turn around to know he was sulking again. She could hear it. "It's the principle of the thing. He just-"
Maybe she should stop him. Just to get him to backtrack and explain what even started it. Unless it was the simple presence of Jack in the hotel, which was always a possibility...
"-and with the suspenders-"
On the other hand, maybe not. Bandages. They were running out of those. Not surprising, at the rate people here managed to make themselves bleed.
"-so special about blondes anyway?"
Martha almost dropped her clipboard and spun around to face him, frowning. "What did you say?"
Des looked immediately guilty. "Not that I have anything against blondes. I mean, obviously. There's Paige... and I like Annie. I'm just saying-"
"Jack's not blond."
And now Des was looking at her like she was the crazy one. Just lovely. "Well, obviously."
Martha eyed him uncertainly, because somewhere along the way this conversation (if it could be called a conversation) had gone to a place she knew much too well. A place she would like to leave as soon as possible. She turned and crouched to look into the glass-fronted fridge with the medications that needed to be kept cold. Des, naturally, took this as a cue to start talking again.
"So it's not as if I have anything against blondes, generally speaking."
"Try living in one's shadow for a year," Martha muttered under her breath, marking down that they were almost out of painkillers – no surprise there either.
"Huh?" Des asked, and Martha fought the urge to close her eyes and rest her head against the fridge for just a second, because this was the last conversation she wanted to be having with him.
"It's nothing. Who were you talking about anyway?"
The only response she heard from Des was a suspicious silence, which led her to turn around. He sat there awkwardly in his chair, a little too stiff, not quite looking at her, but rather at a spot on the ceiling on the far side of the room.
"Des?"
His gaze snapped back to her face, and he stood abruptly, his movements still just a little stiff and clumsy. "Nothing. It's not important. I'm gonna leave you to... you know. Doctor stuff."
It was amazing how fast he could move when he wanted to, so soon after being shot. He was out of the room before Martha could even formulate a response to that, much less open her mouth to speak, and she was left standing there, clipboard in hand, staring after him. At least there was yet another constant about all the men she fancied. Not one of them was in the least comprehensible on their best days, much less any other time.
With a sigh, she turned back to the medical room, but couldn't quite pull her mind back to the task at hand. Somehow, it always did end up coming back to blondes.
Characters/Pairing: Martha and Des, mention of Martha/Des/the Doctor, Jack and Rose
Word Count: 717
Rating: G
Summary: "And what's so special about blondes anyway?"
Notes: Written for
kawaiispinel's birthday, which... okay, I'm a day late, but that's so not the point. Happy birthday, Chris! It's also for the meritinabox table which, yes, I've decided to do for the Rift. This is for prompt #32, misplaced jealousy.Disclaimer: I actually do sort of own the Rift. Ish. Share it, more like. *Grin* I do not own the Doctor or Martha, who belong to the BBC, or Des, who belongs to
kawaiispinel."You know, it's bad enough when some guy shows up with my face."
Martha paused in inspecting the shelves and glanced up from her inventory to look at Des, who for some reason insisted on hovering in the medical room (until she insisted he at least sit down) and talking at her – and it was at her, not to her, and she had yet to determine what he was actually talking about. She hadn't even really been paying attention for the past couple minutes, but if she played back the conversation (as it were) in her head...
"Des, please tell me you're not going to pick a fight with Jack."
Des folded his arms across his chest. Martha considered telling him he was rivalling the Doctor for sulkiness, but she couldn't imagine that would help, and decided better of it.
"Why would I do that?"
Martha shrugged, turning back to the shelf. "Because you can't stop yourself from speaking."
"I won't."
"Good."
"Martha-"
"Because if you did get in a fight, he'd win."
"What?"
She smirked a little to herself, though Des couldn't see it with her back turned. "He does have the advantage of still being immortal."
"Oh, thanks, rub it in." She didn't have to turn around to know he was sulking again. She could hear it. "It's the principle of the thing. He just-"
Maybe she should stop him. Just to get him to backtrack and explain what even started it. Unless it was the simple presence of Jack in the hotel, which was always a possibility...
"-and with the suspenders-"
On the other hand, maybe not. Bandages. They were running out of those. Not surprising, at the rate people here managed to make themselves bleed.
"-so special about blondes anyway?"
Martha almost dropped her clipboard and spun around to face him, frowning. "What did you say?"
Des looked immediately guilty. "Not that I have anything against blondes. I mean, obviously. There's Paige... and I like Annie. I'm just saying-"
"Jack's not blond."
And now Des was looking at her like she was the crazy one. Just lovely. "Well, obviously."
Martha eyed him uncertainly, because somewhere along the way this conversation (if it could be called a conversation) had gone to a place she knew much too well. A place she would like to leave as soon as possible. She turned and crouched to look into the glass-fronted fridge with the medications that needed to be kept cold. Des, naturally, took this as a cue to start talking again.
"So it's not as if I have anything against blondes, generally speaking."
"Try living in one's shadow for a year," Martha muttered under her breath, marking down that they were almost out of painkillers – no surprise there either.
"Huh?" Des asked, and Martha fought the urge to close her eyes and rest her head against the fridge for just a second, because this was the last conversation she wanted to be having with him.
"It's nothing. Who were you talking about anyway?"
The only response she heard from Des was a suspicious silence, which led her to turn around. He sat there awkwardly in his chair, a little too stiff, not quite looking at her, but rather at a spot on the ceiling on the far side of the room.
"Des?"
His gaze snapped back to her face, and he stood abruptly, his movements still just a little stiff and clumsy. "Nothing. It's not important. I'm gonna leave you to... you know. Doctor stuff."
It was amazing how fast he could move when he wanted to, so soon after being shot. He was out of the room before Martha could even formulate a response to that, much less open her mouth to speak, and she was left standing there, clipboard in hand, staring after him. At least there was yet another constant about all the men she fancied. Not one of them was in the least comprehensible on their best days, much less any other time.
With a sigh, she turned back to the medical room, but couldn't quite pull her mind back to the task at hand. Somehow, it always did end up coming back to blondes.