bakerstreet | insomnia

insomnia

the i n s o m n i a meme

It happens to everyone - sometimes, you have nights where you just can't fall asleep, no matter what you do. It could be for a number of reasons, or no reason at all. And this is what's happened now: you've been laying in bed for what feels like hours, just tossing and turning, and nothing seems to help. So what's left to do? Get out of bed and go wake someone else up, of course. If you're not getting any sleep, then why should they?

i n s t r u c t i o n s

• Post with your character (note the name and fandom in the subject).
• Other people reply to you by generating a number from 1 to 10.
• Have fun!

o p t i o n s

01 • FEAR. Maybe you're hearing strange, indeterminable noises; maybe there's a severe storm happening outside; maybe you watched a scary movie before bed? Whatever the reason, you're terrified and it's keeping you awake. You just want to wake someone else up so they can protect you from the monster in your closet.
02 • HUNGER. Your stomach is growling and it just won't stop. Or perhaps your throat is so dry you could cough up a tumbleweed? Well, you've gone to the kitchen to remedy this and hey, that was a pan that just dropped on the floor. It was loud enough to wake the dead! Oops.
03 • PAIN. Your body is completely worn out, be it from exercise, battle, sickness, or what have you. Either way you're in enough pain to keep you from sleeping, so maybe someone else has a home remedy or something, or can at least help you take your mind off of it.
04 • SOLITUDE. For some reason, your bed just feels so empty at the moment. You're feeling terribly lonely and really just want someone to keep you company for a while. Maybe it'd be easier to fall asleep if you're with them...
05 • DISCOMFORT. Your room is an oven. Either that or a freezer. Or maybe this bed is just really uncomfortable? Who knows why you can't get to sleep, it feels like it could be anything. Why even bother trying? Maybe someone else can preoccupy you until you feel tired enough to ignore your discomfort.
06 • PENSIVE. Something's on your mind, and no matter how hard you try to focus elsewhere, it's just not going to work. Your body may be tired, but your mind is incredibly busy and it's virtually impossible to get to sleep. Surely, talking it out with someone else will help?
07 • SADNESS. Something terrible has happened that day, perhaps; or you could just be severely depressed. Either way you're trying your hardest not to cry yourself to sleep, and it's not working at all. Better find a way to get it out of your system somehow; you need a shoulder to cry on.
08 • ANGER. You are just... fuming. Who knows why - that annoying dog is barking again, or maybe the people next door are getting busy and keeping you awake. Whatever the reason for your ire is, you'd better put an end to it so you can get some damn rest already! Go wake up a friend so you can complain to them.
09 • RESTLESS. You're far too energetic to sleep right now. Maybe you're just trying to do so out of necessity - you have to be up early tomorrow! But you just don't think you'll be able to fall asleep for a while now, so why waste the time trying to sleep when you could be doing something else? Namely bothering someone else - you're totally jealous because they're getting more sleep than you.
10 • WILDCARD. Choose one of the options above, or make up your own scenario.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only | Expand All

"Flatterer," Martha snorts. She doesn't feel very strong right now; she feels like she just wants to fall over and sleep for about a week.

She tries not to stare at the Doctor's door, but it's hard. She's spent a fair bit of time exploring the TARDIS, and she's never seen it before; she has no idea where they are. (Of course, she's fairly certain the TARDIS keeps the rooms she uses easy to find, out of courtesy to her.) It's so out of place compared to every other door she's seen in the corridors - simple and plain, but somehow fitting for him.

"Er-" She hesitates. "How do I-" Martha gestures vaguely to the hallway, indicating that she has no idea where the hell they are.

"...Um." He looks around them, unsure. "That's a really good question, actually." One that'd be easy to answer if the TARDIS was fully operational. "One that has a very good answer."

If he knew it. He frowns. He can't lead her back, because then he'd be stuck. She can't just wander, because the risk of getting lost has increased tenfold. He can't expect her to sleep out here. He glances at his still-closed door. It isn't like they haven't shared a bed before, but that was in Elizabethan London... not his bedroom.

"Uh."

"I can sleep in a chair or something," she offers, in a tone of voice that clearly implies that he's being a complete idiot. What she wants to say is that she's obviously not going to be overcome with lust and start groping him in the middle of the night and she's sure they can share a bed perfectly platonically like two adults. "I've slept in worse places, believe me."

That doesn't mean she wants to, though.

As though there is a chair.

"No it's... It's fine. You're fine."

He opens the door and it really is just a bed, the dark blueish sheets only askew because he tried to sleep hours before.

He stands there a little awkwardly. He's never had anyone in his room, can't you tell? Thousand or so years (give or take a hundred) and he's still barely ever in it.

He gestures silently into the room in offering, then draws the hand back to scratch at his hairline. "Not much," is all he says, then crosses the room in a few strides and pulls back the sheets.

Her own room on the TARDIS is cosy - furnished by the ship herself, she reckons, but the TARDIS must somehow know what she likes, or is at least good at guessing. There are things she's never seen before in her room, books she's never read, and a few trinkets of her own she's picked up here and there.

The Doctor's room? It's sparse, barely even a room. It doesn't even look lived in, and Martha finds that incredibly sad. He's got an entire TARDIS to live in, yeah, but a bedroom is something personal, a space you're meant to make your own. That's not what this is. She's been in hotel rooms with more personality.

"Least we won't be sharing it with the fleas this time," she points out wryly. "You don't kick, do you? Or steal the blankets, or put your cold feet against other people's legs?" All questions you should probably ask before you decide to share a bed with someone else.

Martha takes the side that's against the wall, nestling in and trying to make herself as small as possible. Suddenly, she feels awkward about this, like she's invading what little privacy he's got.

Telling her that he literally "sleeps like he's dead" is probably not the best thing to say, even if it's true. He also had to be able to fall asleep, first, to sleep that "soundly" and that's a completely different struggle. The TARDIS will be fine--that's all he has to keep telling himself.

"Can't say I've ever slept next to myself, so I don't know." He grins and flops down next to her, burrowing under sheets since they're not infested with fleas like the last time. "Just don't kick me off the bed and we'll be good."

"If you do steal the blankets," she informs him bluntly, "I bloody well will kick you off the bed." Blankets are serious business for Martha Jones, apparently.

Martha doesn't ask him how he doesn't know what sort of bed partner he is; it's probably the sort of thing that changes with every regeneration, and it's doubtful he's allowed anyone to get that close...well, certainly not in this lifetime, and although she hasn't met the one just previous, she bets it hasn't happened since the Time War.

It's incredibly sad, she thinks, to not even allow yourself that much intimacy with another sentient creature. The Doctor is lonely; she knows that. She's known that practically since she met him. She even understands, on an objective level, why he does it. Subjectively, though, it breaks her heart, and she doesn't understand why it doesn't break his.

Maybe it does.

Can't break hearts that are already broken.

He's shared a bed with other people before, sure, but it's always been... impersonal. Like it had been with Martha that first time, before he really knew her and he was just trying to show off, while not thinking of... well.

"Right. No stealing of blankets." He settles on his back and doesn't roll towards her, trying to give her space, like she's giving him. He wants to tell her she doesn't have to, but he keeps the words in.

He's asleep before he realizes it. He even sleeps like the dead for a good ten minutes, but without the TARDIS to soothe him, he shifts somewhere along the way and ends up pressed against Martha.

Hey, at least she still has blankets.

She doesn't wake up, just feels a body pressed against her and instinctively nestles into it, throwing an arm over him. She hasn't shared a bed with anyone since Tom - probably subconsciously thinks he is Tom, even if he's too skinny and tall. Though it hasn't been as long for her as it has for him, Martha likes physical contact, and she's felt a bit starved for it lately.

This probably explains how her head ends up pillowed on his chest and both an arm and a leg are slung over him a few hours later. She'll probably be incredibly embarrassed when she wakes up, but right now, she's blissfully comfortable after a rough few days of trying and mostly failing to sleep.

The Doctor only stirs some time through sleeping because the TARDIS hums through his consciousness, delighted and rested, much the same as himself.

Except when he tries to move to check on her, he can't. Which is very weird, because this isn't supposed to be a problem for him. Is never a problem for him, so why? Did something break aboard his ship while her defenses were down? Was he captured? Did he need to launch a rescue mission for him and Martha--

Martha.

Feeling a bit foolish, he supposes his ship wouldn't seem so happy if there were intruders boarding her.

He remembers that there's another body in his bed, and realizes that some of the fault in the entanglement is on him, just as much as Martha. He also realizes that he's awfully comfortable, and doesn't really want to deal with the awkwardness of pulling apart yet.

Besides, humans need more sleep than Time Lords. He's just doing Martha a favor. It'd be rude to wake her up so early in her sleep cycle.

So he doesn't move and goes back to sleep. It's the right thing to do, after all.

She stirs after a couple more hours, nuzzles his chest sleepily, brushes her lips against his neck - a neck that's too thin -

Oh god.

Martha jerks awake with a start and pulls away frantically, pressing against the wall. "Sorry!" she apologises quickly, in a bit of a panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear, I just-"

Actually felt comfortable while sleeping for the first time in ages?

If he was more awake, he would likely be mortified from the gesture, thinking that he did invite the risk of... of... well, this. But he's still half asleep and he doesn't freeze stiff as a board, instead reaching down and brushing her hair back just once.

"Don't panic," he murmurs, "I know you didn't," and he seems very certain in his words.

Edited (giolkmnbgh) 2016-06-14 05:12 (UTC)

Martha's the one who freezes instead at the unexpected intimate touch, ducking her head with an uncharacteristic shyness. "I just, you know, I was asleep, and I must've been confused, that's all." God, of all the people to snuggle up to in her sleep, it had to be the Doctor.

Though it's probably better than waking him up with nightmares, if only because then she'd have to explain.

"I. Er." She settles back down into the bed instead of trying to worm her way down the sheets and out the foot of the bed. "Sorry." She said that already, didn't she?

"Yeah," he answers, rather thickly. Intended or not, her words strike out at the space between his hearts and it aches. He starts to move. Thinks he should because clearly she's expecting someone else to be besides her--which is fine, that's how it is, that's how it always is and always should be and he encourages that, so--

Ah, but she is settling back down. He can. He can work with that. They're adults.

He wishes he'd fall back asleep, that would make this a whole lot easier, just to ignore the situation completely.

"You don't have to keep apologizing." He gets it, really.

Martha rolls over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling in silence.

"I tried to tell him everything, you know," she says after a long pause. "I couldn't keep living a lie. That's not the sort of person I am, not the sort of person I could be."

Besides, it had been getting harder and harder to keep everything hidden. The scars on her back and the nightmares had been tricky enough, but everything she did for work? It made it impossible to conceal.

"He didn't believe me." She shrugs, trying to look more casual than she feels. "Thought I was mental. Said it couldn't be real, not any of it. He died for me before, Doctor. I thought- I thought it would work. I thought he'd listen."

"People can't always believe what they don't see, Martha. Even if they can, sometimes it's... just best they don't."

Sometimes he wishes he could take it all back; that he was the only one on the Valiant to remember what happened. The Jones family, and Jack, and Lucy... None of them should have suffered because he couldn't stop the Master before that year started.

But at least the world forgot.

"Events change people, for better or for worse. Without those events though, they can't be what you want them to be."

He tightens an arm around her in a squeeze to mimic a hug.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," she sighs. "He was a good man, though. Even without what happened. You would've liked him, I think." Martha flashes a teasing grin at him. "Assuming you remembered to show up for the wedding." Which is something she doubts.

Martha scoots a little closer to him again. "I had a great dress, too." She knows he doesn't care about the dress. "I was going to make you dance with me, just once. You would've hated it." She thinks about John Smith, dancing with Joan, about how the way it had made her feel - although at the time, she'd also been fairly concerned with saving the Doctor and the village, so jealousy hadn't been her top priority.

"I'd show up as long as I didn't have to wear a tux."

And he didn't mess the timing up.

"I would have, but I'm sure your mum would've glared at me if I said tried to weasel out of it, and that would be rightfully terrifying." He wishes he was joking. "You would have looked beautiful, had there been a wedding, Martha."

"You look good in a tux," she protests. "Bad things can't happen every time." On the other hand, she knows exactly who her mum would blame if things went wrong, so he's probably got a point there.

"I don't know why you think my mum's so scary." Martha rolls her eyes. "Just 'cos she slapped you." Among other things. "Just be glad she hasn't got any sisters; you would've skipped the wedding just so you wouldn't have to meet any more of her relatives."

"Nope. Every time. I wouldn't do it, wouldn't risk ruining your wedding." He could imagine all sorts of disasters the moment he put on a tux and went to a wedding.

"All mums are scary, Martha. It's their job." He's not even joking, that's the sad part. "And that's when you have two ceremonies; a big one with all the craz--alll the relatives, and a small one for all your strange friends like Jack and I. You do not want him with your mum's relatives."

Martha's never been scared by her mum, but that's the whole 'good kid' thing again. She's willing to bet Leo's been scared a time or two. (Tish has never really cared about being punished.) Martha's been chastened, but never particularly scared.

"I don't want him with my bridesmaids," she points out. "Or groomsmen." Or her relatives; he's got that one right. "Bit of a moot point now, though, I reckon." Martha sighs, settling back into the pillows. Even she has moments of feeling sorry for herself.

"...Well, yes, but it's still ah..."

He hadn't meant to make her--sad? Upset? Feeling something not entirely great, sure.

"It's good to keep in mind. For the future. Because Jack's still Jack." And Martha's still Martha, and he assumes one days she'll be happy with someone.

"Next time I'll elope, and only invite you and Jack."

Assuming she finds someone who can accept all of her and her past. It's daft to feel sorry for herself; she's still young, and there are plenty of fish in the hypothetical sea. And she doesn't have to get married, anyway - she'd like to, but it's not really a necessity. She's perfectly capable of leading a happy and fulfilling life on her own, even if her mum keeps pestering her about grandchildren for the next couple decades.

"Though I'll probably have to count on you to keep Jack from inviting himself along on the honeymoon," she adds wryly.

"We'd make the best witnesses."

No, Martha, they'd make the worst witnesses. Never invite them. Save yourself.

"I'm sure I could convince him to follow me back to the TARDIS and you'd be free. Although, then you might have to save me from him, eventually. An eternal pass-Jack-off, which in the end, really, it might just be best to take him on your hypothetical honeymoon, anyway. I'm sure he could hook you up with all sorts of discounts just by flirting with every single person you meet."

"Uh-huh." She gives him a slightly dubious look. "I bet you would."

"He'd hook up with my husband," Martha points out acerbically. "I can do without the discounts, you're stuck with the hot potato." If Jack were here, he'd argue for the benefits of a threesome on one's honeymoon, which, really, is why it's a good thing he isn't.

(Actually, if Jack were here, he would be arguing for the benefits of a threesome right now. This is why Martha's allowed in the Doctor's bedroom and Jack isn't.)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject