'*****

While Louisa uses the bathroom, Martin takes some time to catch his breath. He lies across the bed, almost smiling, and listens to the sound of splashing water.

"Bugger," he suddenly remembers something. He quickly gets up and puts on his vest and boxers. He glances at the crumpled pants, grunts, and runs downstairs to the surgery.

Once there, Martin rummages through the wall cabinet, until he finds what he is looking for. Before heading back, he locks the front and kitchen doors. At the sink full of soapy water and some unwashed cutlery and such, he hesitates, grunts once more, but then, with a deep sight, moves on.

When he comes back to the bedroom, Louisa is waiting for him. She is leaning on the door frame, her arms crossed on her chest. She gives him her best "teacher's" stern look. Of course, "the look" would've worked much better, were she not wearing nothing but Martin's wrinkled shirt, very sparsely buttoned at that. Martin freezes, openly staring at her.

"You were not trying to sneak off, were you?" Louisa asks. "From your own house?"

He gulps and quickly responds, "No, no!" Then, he lowers his gaze. "Locked up…and…" He opens his hand to show her three foil-wrapped small packets on his palm.

Louisa blushes, "It is very ambitious of you, Martin."

He ducks his head, "That was the last one I had," he waves vaguely to the bed and looks away from Louisa. "Hmm…"

"I like it when you are so thoughtful," slowly, she walks up to him and puts her hand on his chest, "and thorough. So very thorough, Martin."

He exhales loudly and peers down at her. "Louisa?"

She runs her hand across his chest. "Martin?" She then moves her hand to the back of his neck, pulls him down a little, and kisses the underside of his jaw.

The three packets fall to the floor, as both his hands dive under the shirt, Louisa is kind of wearing, and he leans in to capture her lips with his. The kiss quickly becomes heated, and very soon, without breaking the contact, he is walking her backwards into the bedroom. As the back of Louisa legs catch the edge of the bed, Martin carefully helps her down and ends up on his knees in front of her. Louisa giggles...

A long while later, when they are settled for the night, Louisa remembers something. "There is no need?"

"What?" Martin arches a brow at her.

"You said there was no need to take off your shirt…"

"Yes." His arm, which gently holds Louisa curled into his side, stiffens.

"What did you mean? Need?" Louisa persists.

Martin swallows and, trying his best under circumstances –in bed, wearing nothing but his boxers - to project a 'doctor mode', begins to explain. "The mechanics of male arousal is…"

"Don't," she interrupts him. "I don't want to hear a medical lecture right about now. You know it."

"Yes," he nods stiffly, but stops at that.

"Martin?" she prompts.

He sighs and says very quietly, "See, there is no need, because every time I look at you, I…hmm…" pointedly, he stares at the ceiling, "And when I touch you…hmm… "

"You what, Martin?" she almost snaps, "Martin?" And then it dawns on her. "Oh." She blushes. A few long moments pass before she raises herself on the elbow to examine his face. "Every time?"

He closes his eyes, sighs, and nods.

"Oh," she repeats.

His ears brighten. "Not when I am treating you as a doctor," suddenly, he rushes to clarify. "Medically…professionally…hmm."

She smiles. "Of course, Martin." She chews on her lip for a short while, before pressing on, "But what about when there is only sort of a brush, not truly a touch? Or when you hold my hand? Or when you just hug me, like now?"

He does that thing of his - half nod, half shrug, and sighs again. "But…umm," he hesitates, "I am not… I will not…" He looks intently at the ceiling, "I can control any…imprudent urges…"

She smiles. "Oh Martin, I understand." Then adds thoughtfully, "It's actually normal. And it is flattering."

"Bloody nuisance," he grumbles. "And I am working on it…"

"Don't work too hard," Louisa say, and it doesn't sound as playful as she probably intends it to.

He glances at her, and his ears seem to turn bright red permanently.

Louisa lies back down, and for a while it seems like they both are drifting off to sleep, when suddenly she says, "But, Martin, you talk about…this," she waives vaguely between the two of them, "as if it is only about…needs and," she hesitates, "urges..." She slowly slides her hand along Martin's bare rib cage. He stiffens instantaneously. "Surely, there is more than a simple…mechanics."

"Of course," he hastily agrees. "There is also chemical component, which…"

"Martin!"

"What?" He clearly is confused.

Louisa slides her hand from his side to his chest. Martin inhales sharply and moves his own hand to hover over hers. "You are not obligated to explain everything away with some scientific…rubbish."

"It's not rubbish," Martin was going for indignation, but Louisa's fingers, drawing patterns on the bare skin of his chest, make his voice hitch and his message muddle.

"It is, Martin..." She insists, and he is too preoccupied with the movement of her fingers to argue.

They both watch her hand as it glides over his chest, then down to his stomach. Martin follows it with his hand, almost touching hers.

"You are amazing…at this," Louisa continues, glancing at him. "You make me feel…," she blushes and clears her throat. "So, does this." her hand skims along the edge of Martin's boxers, "feel mechanical to you?"

He seems to have hard time concentrating. "Umm…" is all he manages.

"Martin?" Louisa frowns.

"Yes?" It looks like he is clueless as to what this conversation is about, but he sees the frown deepens on Louisa's face and tries again. "No?"

"So, which one is it?" Louisa's hand now travels slightly over the edge of his boxers.

Martin swallows hard, "I…Umm…" He is starting to have difficulty breathing, let alone thinking.

"Was it your medical studies that made you think like that?" she contemplates, "because I can't believe there were a woman, who'd agreed to this silly 'no need to touch' notion." Louisa pauses the movement of her hand and looks at him, "Martin?"

With Louisa's hand still, Martin exhales shakily and manages to recollect at least some of his reasoning abilities. He glances at his hand hovering over Louisa's, sighs, and says softly. "Why don't you tell me what it is that is bothering you, so we can go to sleep. I have… surgery in the morning, you have…"

"Bothering me? That's how you call it?" Louisa raises herself higher to look down at him. "Of course, I am happy to learn that you touch me for mechanical reasons, and if I want to touch you it's not necessary, because the mechanics is already taking care of." Her words are dripping with sarcasm, and she glares at him. "Oh, and not to forget I am emotional due to some premenstrual chemical reaction, and…and…and what we did tonight, twice," she blushes slightly, "is taking care of the urges! Did I get everything right? Or there is some physics I missed?" Louisa snatches her hand away from Martin's body.

Martin stares at her with his mouth open. "Umm…"

She waits, but nothing else is coming. She puffs loudly, turns away from him, and moves to the other side of the bed, leaving plenty of space between them. Martin slowly puts his hand on the spot on his stomach, where Louisa's hand was just a short while ago, and glances at her back. "Louisa?"

"Go to sleep, Martin," she says into the pillow. "Just… go to sleep."

With an expression of total confusion on his face, Martin stares at Louisa's bare shoulder, peering over the edge of the blanket. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and stares some more. Finally, he sighs and murmurs, "Yes…"

Martin wakes up, when it is still dark outside. He scowls at the clock, but as he moves his eyes away from it to the top of Louisa's head, the expression on his face softens. It looks like Louisa has shifted back to his side of the bed sometime during the night, and currently snores softly, tucked into the crook of his arm. He almost smiles, as he watches her. Then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Martin makes an effort to fall asleep, but it seems that the sound of Louisa's snoring is keeping him awake. And so, after a while, he opens his eyes again to look at her. By now the night sky begin to brighten up, dissipating the darkness of the room. He smiles, shifts a little to make himself comfortable and to have a better view of Louisa's face, and spends the rest of the night simply watching her…

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A/N Thank you for reading and reviewing.