Tony always thought that Martha was a tough cookie, but once he stepped in the ring with her he realized that tough didn't even begin to cut it. "Have you had enough yet?" she asked with a pant as she lowered her gloved hands.
"This is me officially crying uncle," Tony replied as he began slip off his boxing gloves.
"Already?" Martha frowned slightly while loosening her own gloves. "You didn't put up much of a fight."
Tony stepped away to grab two bottles of water from the mini refrigerator inside the gym. "Call me old fashion, but I never liked the idea of men hitting women." He tossed one to her.
Martha caught her bottle one handed. "Honorable sentiment, but this isn't remotely the same as a genuinely abusive situation." She twisted the cap off and took a small sip of water. "Next time, don't hold back."
Tony paused mid sip. He swallowed and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Next time? Is there going to be a next time?"
"Could do." Martha gave a noncommittal shrug. "It was sort of fun."
"Martha Jones having fun with exercise?" Tony faked a surprised gasp.
"Maybe you were right about me just needing to find the right regime," she answered with another shrug. "Or at least the right partner."
Tony nodded. "Alright. The next time we spar I promise not to hold back."
"Good." She took another sip of water. "It won't do you any good, of course," she added with a grin.
Tony shook his head. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a scary little woman?"
Martha's smile widened. "Maybe once or twice."
"I don't know if I'm more frightened or turned on right now."
"Well while you figure that out I'm going to grab another shower."
"That answers that question," he said as his mind began to wonder to thoughts of hygiene.
"You really begging for a slap," Martha retorted as she lead the way out of the gym.
"How about a spanking instead? We can take turns."
"How about you stop running your mouth for five seconds and go cue up the show," Martha suggested with exasperation. "And don't forget the snacks."
When Martha returned from her shower, this time wearing his Bruce Lee Gung Fu Scratch t-shirt with a pair of his boxer shorts, Tony had secured a feast's worth of nibbles from the best food trucks on the block and the first season of Game of Thrones ready to go in the media room.
One episode in, Tony was admittedly intrigued about what exactly had drawn Martha's interest in the first place. It wasn't a kind of show he imaged she'd be into. It was fairly gratuitous in terms of violence and sex, the latter of which he was unsure of how to react to with Martha there. Halfway through the season, Tony was convinced he was more Lannister than Stark. Howard was certainly more Tywin than Ned Stark and Tony felt a certain connect with Tyrion. By the time the credits rolled on the final episode of that season, he was somewhat appeased by the dragons long-awaited appearance, but he was still waiting for that little bastard Joffrey to get what was coming to him.
"Please tell me that someone destroys that little monster soon," Tony commented.
"Nope. No spoilers. You have to wait and see."
"You know I can just look it up on the internet, right?"
Martha was in the middle of peeling the wrapper off a mini cupcake when she stopped to point a threatening finger at him. "Don't you dare! We've got two more series to get through before the fourth one premieres in April."
"April?" Tony scoffed. "What am I supposed to do for five months?"
Martha shrugged as she licked frosting from her fingers. "Read the books," she suggested before popping her cupcake in her mouth.
Tony frowned at her answer and reached over for one of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich cookies that came from a dessert truck. "I don't think I've ever been so intent to see harm done to a child since I was in boarding school."
"Were you bullied?"
"I was smart, rich, good looking and heir to an empire. What could the other kids possibly have not like about me?" he asked sarcastically.
Martha pursed her lips. "Perhaps they were put off by your overwhelming sense of modesty?"
Tony smirked. "Well I can definitely tell you it wasn't my laboratory skills that won them over. They helped ward them off though."
Martha lifted a brow. "What did you do?"
"Nothing fatal." Tony winked at her then took a bit of his cookie sandwich.
"Who's the scary one now?" Martha teased.
"Still you," he said between bites.
Martha laughed. "I find it hard to believe that you, of all people, could ever find me intimidating."
"Then you're not giving yourself enough credit," Tony insisted. Martha met his eyes, but looked away quickly while biting back a smile.
After they cleaned up the remnants of their binge watching session, the two of them headed off to the guest room to sleep. Martha's plan seemed to have worked, because Tony fell asleep with no trouble and, thankfully, there were no nightmares about battling alien invaders. He did, however, have a strange dream where he was the Lord of Winterfell and Martha was the Mother of Dragons.
The next day commenced with their standard breakfast ritual, after which, Tony convinced Martha to blow off her plans for the day so they could continue their binge. "Yea, alright," she conceded easily. "But I need to go back to my flat for a bit to get some clean clothes."
"What's wrong with my wardrobe?" Tony asked. "You look better in it than I do."
"It's decidedly lacking in knickers."
Tony froze as he lifted his coffee cup to his mouth. "You've been wearing the same underwear this whole time?"
"No," Martha answered casually as she finished off her coffee. She headed upstairs to presumably get dressed while Tony wrestled with what to do with that spectacular mental image.
Martha returned to the Tower with a suitcase larger than her usual overnight bag and the two of them spent the next few days holed up inside. A fair chunk of time was devoted to finishing up seasons two and three of Game of Thrones, but they also made room in their schedule for sparring. And when Tony couldn't sleep, Martha joined him in his lab, keeping him company while he worked.
When the weekend rolled around, Tony was sad to see Martha go, but she had forfeited the majority of her week to him and they both knew that the real world waited outside the Tower's walls. So instead of takeout, he treated her to a home cooked meal.
"How in the world do you know how to make goulash?" Martha asked with a wide grin as they sat across from one another in the dining room instead of their usual eating spot in the kitchen.
"Jarvis' wife Anna was Hungarian. It was her recipe," Tony responded. "More wine?"
"If we keep drinking, I don't think I'll be able to make it home tonight," she pointed out with a sly smile.
Tony filled her glass to the brim with red wine. "That would just be tragic."
After dinner, they returned to Tony's bedroom for the first time since his bedwetting accident. They had slept in the guest room those first two nights and afterwards made their bed anywhere they could get comfortable, including the media room floor or the sofa in his workroom that he occasional slept on. It didn't take much, Tony found. All he needed for a good night's sleep was a pillow, a blanket and Martha in his arms.
On Sunday afternoon, after breakfast, Martha returned to her apartment and they resumed their rotation as usual. Tony managed to keep both the nightmares and his loneliness at bay until the following weekend when he joined Martha at her place for a sleepover. By the time the third weekend of the month arrived, he was definitely like himself again.
While he waited for Martha's arrival, Tony busied himself with making improvements to the Mark XLIII armor and going over the preliminary design he had drawn up for a Mark XLIV. The latter of the two was based on an idea he developed with Bruce and he was keen to get the doctor's input on his progress. It wasn't until he journeyed up to the kitchen for a fresh pot of coffee that he took note of the time. It was after midnight and Martha was nowhere to be seen.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., any word from Martha?"
"Sorry, sir. There have been no attempts at communication. Shall I call her for you now?"
"No," Tony replied, already headed for the front door. "I'll check on her myself."
Tony was certain that he had broken more than a few rules of the road as he sped towards Martha's place, but none of that mattered. Something's wrong. He could feel it. Upon reaching her apartment, Tony let himself inside with the key she had given him. Martha was in heap on the ground next to her bed when he found her. There was a corkscrew and an empty bottle of wine on the floor next to her as well as her cellphone. She was still in her pajamas and her face was wet with tears.
Tony rushed to her side. "What happened?"
Martha stared at him in confusion as if she had only just noticed his arrival. "He…he…he's back…he…no she…" She stammered. "Back…she…the…she…" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"Who's back?" Tony prompted gently.
"She…she…"
"Hey." Tony crouched in front of her and took her face between to his hands. "Martha…talk to me, sweetheart. Who's back?"
Martha met his eyes and the tears began to start anew. "The Master."
Tony dried her tears with his thumbs. "I don't understand. I thought you said he was dead."
"He regenerated," she explained in a trembling voice. "She calls herself Missy now. She's raised the dead and turned them into Cybermen. And…" She suddenly looked horrified. "Oh my God. Adi…" She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. "That hateful bitch! Isn't it bad enough what she did to my family, but now this as well?"
It took Tony a moment to make the connection, but once he did he understood her anger. Her cousin Adeola had been killed by Cybermen only to have her corpse turned into one by the person who had caused Martha and her family more pain than anyone else, the Master.
"I want to kill her," she said darkly.
Tony shook his head. "I don't believe that."
Martha opened her eyes again. "I do." Her fingers absently curled around the corkscrew next to her on the ground. "I want to rip both of her hearts out with my bare hands."
Tony pulled one hand away from her face and used it to cover the hand she had on the corkscrew. "That's the fear talking."
"I'm not bloody afraid of her!" Martha yelled in his face. Her grip tightened on the corkscrew. "I beat her once and I can beat her again."
"I don't doubt that," Tony assured her as he gently pried her fingers away from the corkscrew. Once he freed it from her grasp, he tucked it into his pocket for safe keeping. "But I don't think it's her that you're afraid of. You're worried about not being able to protect the ones you love."
At his words, Martha's resolve gradually began to crumble. Her eyes went to her mobile. "She won't answer the phone. My mum. Why won't my mum answer her phone?" She started to sob. "What if something's happened to her? I can't get in contact with her and there's nothing I can do from here."
"No, I don't suppose you can," Tony replied. "Which means we've got a lot to do." He stood up and slowly lifted Martha to her feet, steadying her when she wobbled. "First, we'll get you cleaned up. Then, I'll arrange everything while you pack."
Martha dried her cheeks on the back of her hand. "Arrange what?"
"A flight to London on my jet," Tony answered, pulling away from her to reach for his cellphone. "I'm taking you home."
