Casually drying off their nude forms and wondering

A/N: I originally wanted to make this chapter longer, but my recent technical issues with my computer got worse when my laptop's charger died on me again. Trying to get a new one as quickly as possible, but I don't want to let another day pass without posting a new chapter for this arc, so it ended up shorter than I initially intended. Still, I hope it tides you over while I resolve this issue, hopefully very soon.

Happy reading, and as always, please remember to leave a comment if you can.

Martha Jones' Point of View

The hot water sluiced away the sweat and the lingering stickiness from their sauna encounter, leaving Martha’s skin clean and tingling. She watched Amy through the steam, the redhead tilting her face into the spray, water cascading over her freckled shoulders and down the full curves of her breasts. Martha grinned, appreciating the view even without the immediate pull of sex. Amy’s body was a familiar and beautiful visual treat for her now, just as she knew that hers was to Amy. "Still can't believe he built a showerhead that massages your scalp," Amy sighed, running fingers through her wet hair.

Martha reached for a plush, impossibly absorbent towel the TARDIS provided, its fabric soft and warm like sunlight. "Perks of being amongst the Mothers of New Gallifrey, I suppose," she chuckled, starting to dry her arms and torso.

The air in the newly expanded hygienic chamber was comfortably warm, carrying the faint, clean scent of alien botanicals. Amy mirrored her, vigorously rubbing the towel over her fiery hair before moving down her body.

"So," Amy began, her voice muffled slightly by the towel currently draped over her head as she dried her back, "any brilliant medical intuition on what exactly the Doctor wants us clean and fresh for in the console room?" She peeked out, green eyes curious. "He skipped joining the fun, which is practically unheard of lately."

Martha shrugged, the towel moving in smooth strokes over her damp breasts. "Not sure," she admitted, enjoying the feel of the fabric against her skin. "But if he wanted us there scrubbed instead of sweaty and… well… occupied…" she shot Amy a knowing look, "...then it’s probably not just for another round of womb inspections or a celebratory shag. Though I wouldn’t say no to either, mind you." She finished drying her torso and started on her legs. "Yesterday’s scan was promising, but it’s still early days. Even with Time Lord super-sperm," she added wryly, "full implantation takes a little time. Maybe he’s got an update?"

Amy nodded, pulling the towel off her head, her damp hair falling in messy waves. "God, I hope so," she breathed, a flicker of that deep-seated worry momentarily surfacing in her eyes before being swamped by eager anticipation. "Knowing it’s possible, seeing those little golden torpedoes… it’s amazing. But knowing it’s done?" Her grin returned, wide and bright. "That’s the dream."

"It really is," Martha agreed, her smile echoing Amy’s joy, warm and genuine.

She finished drying her legs and feet before continuing. "I’ll admit, even with yesterday’s data, a tiny part of me was braced for some kind of biological incompatibility hiccup. Aliens and humans? Bit of a gamble, on paper." She tossed her towel into a discreet recess that hummed as it vanished. "But the regeneration energy…the sheer vitality inherent in Time Lord biology? I suppose it makes sense it’d bulldoze through any minor barriers. Life, uh, finds a way. Quite efficiently, apparently." She felt a familiar thrill at the thought of that potent alien life taking root inside her.

Amy snorted, giving her arse a final pat with the towel before tossing it after Martha’s. "Well, when you put it like that, Doctor Jones, it sounds perfectly logical." She stretched, her body a pale, glorious arc in the soft light.

Then the redhead paused, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "Unless… maybe he has found the next lucky lady already? Wants us looking presentable for the induction ceremony?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Martha laughed, the sound rich and warm in the steamy room. "Oh, Amy Pond," she said, stepping closer and tapping Amy playfully on the nose. "He didn't say a word about staying dressed for long. Besides," she added, her tone shifting to one of confident amusement, "if there is some utterly confused woman standing there gawking at our magnificent nakedness, how long do you think that shock would last before the Doctor just…" Martha trailed off, tapping her own temple meaningfully before smirking, "...adjusts her perspective and makes her utterly thrilled to be joining our naked sisterhood?"

Amy’s laughter bubbled up again, bright and infectious. "I do love the way you think, sister-wife." She reached out, taking Martha’s hand in hers, their fingers intertwining naturally. "Come on then. Let’s go see what our genius, sexy Lord of Time and, for that matter, Lord of our Wombs has planned."