These Are the Days of Our Lives (5/7)
Title: These Are the Days of Our Lives (5/7)
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha
Rating: U
Spoilers: Season 3 up to Blink
Summary: Snapshots from Martha and the Doctor's life in 1969.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: This story is for zauberer_sirin for the smith_n_jones 1969 ficathon. The prompts were awesome 60s music, Martha enjoying a new job, midnight conversations on the couch.
Officially I've written two fics for this Ficathon, but the Bunny!Muses, being utterly voracious, liked several of the other prompts that were put up by smith_n_jones members, so this (unofficial fic) is the fifth of a series of seven linked stories: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4.
Beta: padawanpooh the faithful.
~~~~~~
Martha folded her arms and looked at the Doctor expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed nervously at the back of his neck before meeting her eyes.
"I'm sorry about the way you were treated during 1913," he said, "especially by John Smith. I'm sorry he fired you when you were only trying to help and protect people." He looked away. "I'm also sorry he fell in love and hurt you."
She took a deep breath feeling both anger and pain as she thought of Joan Redfern: the nurse had been very condescending and casually unkind, but she'd also been very brave when faced with the Family and their scarecrow soldiers. It wasn't her fault she'd fallen in love with John Smith.
Martha sighed and tried to relax her tense frame. "It's OK."
He looked back at her. "It's not," he said, "but I will try to make it up to you once we get the TARDIS back. And in the meantime, once you get some time off from the shop, I'm going to take you out for the day and treat you like a lady."
She raised her eyebrows at that, but nodded. "Thank you."
He moved closer and held out his arms so she shifted up and allowed him to hug her. He kissed the top of her head before speaking quietly in her ear: "Martha Jones, you are magnificent."
She sighed softly: she had given up expecting him to acknowledge what she'd been through in 1913 so it was nice to have an apology. She wondered what his idea of taking her out and treating her like a lady would be.
The Doctor gently pulled away. "Time for bed," he said.
She looked at the clock and agreed: it was just after midnight and she had work again in the morning.
* * * * * *
The next day Martha got back from work later than usual: a couple of the staff in her department were off and she was covering for them. With it being the start of the wedding season (she had never even realised there was a wedding season before), the shop had been much busier. By the time that she and Lizzy had finished cashing up, Martha had felt ready to drop and she was glad Sunday was coming.
She unlocked the door to the flat and paused just inside the door as she heard the Doctor's voice coming from the kitchen: he was singing along to the radio and she caught her breath in surprise as she heard him belting out the lyrics:
Martha, my dear / though I spend my days in conversation / please remember me /
Martha my love, don't forget me / Martha my dear
Hold you head up, you silly girl / look what you've done / When you find yourself in the thick of it / Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you / Silly girl, take a good look around you / Take a good look, you're bound to see / That you and me were meant to be / for each other, silly girl
The rest of the song was lost amidst a clatter of pans and she breathed out again, then shut the door and took off her coat. The next moment the Doctor stuck his head around the kitchen door and Martha was surprised all over again: he was wearing an apron over his shirt, he'd taken off his tie and jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. His hair was even wilder than ever and he had smudges of chocolate on his face.
"Hello! Blimey, you look done in." He advanced on her and pulled her into a hug, kissing her hair.
She found her voice somewhere. "Hello. Dare I ask what you're doing?" She thought he might be baking from the scents that were clinging to his clothes.
"Cooking," he answered, grinning madly down at her upturned face. "I need something to do now the timey-wimey thing's finished and with you out all day. Since there's nothing to tinker with, I decided to cook instead."
Her eyebrows rose. "I see."
He let go of her long enough to slide around to her side, wrapping one arm around her body as he guided her into the kitchen. "Sit down, put your feet up and we'll eat shortly. I wasn't sure what time you'd get back so dinner will be a few minutes yet."
He pulled out a chair and she sat down gratefully. To her surprise he knelt on the floor and gently removed her shoes. "I'll give you a foot massage later, if you like," he suggested as he straightened up again.
"Really? That would be wonderful."
"Yes really." The Doctor bent and kissed her nose, then put her shoes to one side before turning back to the cooker.
"What's for dinner?" She sniffed the air appreciatively, trying to distinguish between the different scents that were teasing her nose.
“Beef stew, followed by a chocolate pudding.” He turned and gave her another wide grin.
“You made chocolate pudding? How can we afford that?” she asked wonderingly.
“I had a bit of a windfall today,” he answered cryptically, before opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of wine.
“A bit?” Martha asked disbelievingly, staring at the wine as he set it on the table.
He nodded, then turned back to the cooker. “Do you want to open that whilst I dish up?”
She picked up the corkscrew and drew the cork, then poured the rich, red liquid into the waiting glasses. A few moments later the Doctor placed two helpings of beef stew on the table, then pulled off his apron and sat down.
“Come here.” Martha beckoned him closer and he leant forward as she moistened a finger to rub the chocolate from his face. Impulsively he caught her wrist and sucked her finger clean which caused her to shiver involuntarily.
“Eat up then, before it gets cold.”
The Doctor picked up his cutlery without noticing the look she was giving him. He really had no right to do such things: didn’t he care that it drove her mad? She sighed inwardly as she realised that he probably didn’t.
“How was your day?” he asked once they’d both taken the edge of their appetite.
“Busy and tiring. I don’t mind it, but why does everyone insist on getting married in March and April anyway?”
“It’s spring - traditionally seen as a time of new beginnings,” he answered.
“Humph.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Pity we didn’t arrive in September then.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “When are you getting some time off?”
“Next week thank God! I’m off from Saturday to Wednesday.”
“Then we’ll go out for the day on Saturday,” he said.
“Where are we going?” asked Martha. “And how will we get there?”
He tapped the side of his nose and winked. “That’s a surprise.”
They finished the stew, which was very good, then the Doctor brought out two dishes from their tiny freezer.
“Oh that looks fantastic," Martha said, licking her lips in anticipation. "What's in it, besides chocolate?"
"It's a cinnamon chocolate pudding," he told her as he unpeeled the plastic wrap covering the dishes. "There's honey and fresh cream in it too."
He set one of the dishes in front of Martha, then added a garnish of chocolate shavings. "Mind, it'll be cold."
"You don't say?" she teased, grinning at him.
He rolled his eyes theatrically. "I asked for that, didn't I?"
She nodded distractedly as she dug her spoon into the pudding and tried a mouthful. "Oh God! This is good!" she mumbled.
He grinned at her, watching in pleasure as she ate.
When they'd finished he insisted that she go and sit in the other room and finish her glass of wine whilst he washed up. "I'll come and given you a foot massage once it's done," he told her.
Martha picked up her glass and headed into the sitting room to settle on the sofa with her feet up and her eyes closed.
She was half asleep, the result of the rich food and wine, when the Doctor came through from the kitchen, and he paused in the doorway to admire her: she'd unfastened her hair so that it hung loose about her shoulders and she looked lovely. He shook his head, then walked over to the sofa and lifted her feet so that he could sit opposite her. She opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy look as he began to massage one of her feet.
"OK?" he asked with a smile.
"Mmm. Feeling better now," she answered. "Thank you for a lovely meal."
"You're very welcome," he said.
By the time he'd finished massaging her feet, Martha was actually asleep, and he debated whether to move her or leave her where she was: she didn't look too uncomfortable, so he decided not to disturb her. He picked up a book from the coffee table and began to read, his left hand resting on her ankles as she slept.
Author: Persiflage_1
Characters/Pairings: Ten/Martha
Rating: U
Spoilers: Season 3 up to Blink
Summary: Snapshots from Martha and the Doctor's life in 1969.
Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Doctor Who" and the Doctor owns me…
Author Notes: This story is for zauberer_sirin for the smith_n_jones 1969 ficathon. The prompts were awesome 60s music, Martha enjoying a new job, midnight conversations on the couch.
Officially I've written two fics for this Ficathon, but the Bunny!Muses, being utterly voracious, liked several of the other prompts that were put up by smith_n_jones members, so this (unofficial fic) is the fifth of a series of seven linked stories: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4.
Beta: padawanpooh the faithful.
~~~~~~
Martha folded her arms and looked at the Doctor expectantly. He ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed nervously at the back of his neck before meeting her eyes.
"I'm sorry about the way you were treated during 1913," he said, "especially by John Smith. I'm sorry he fired you when you were only trying to help and protect people." He looked away. "I'm also sorry he fell in love and hurt you."
She took a deep breath feeling both anger and pain as she thought of Joan Redfern: the nurse had been very condescending and casually unkind, but she'd also been very brave when faced with the Family and their scarecrow soldiers. It wasn't her fault she'd fallen in love with John Smith.
Martha sighed and tried to relax her tense frame. "It's OK."
He looked back at her. "It's not," he said, "but I will try to make it up to you once we get the TARDIS back. And in the meantime, once you get some time off from the shop, I'm going to take you out for the day and treat you like a lady."
She raised her eyebrows at that, but nodded. "Thank you."
He moved closer and held out his arms so she shifted up and allowed him to hug her. He kissed the top of her head before speaking quietly in her ear: "Martha Jones, you are magnificent."
She sighed softly: she had given up expecting him to acknowledge what she'd been through in 1913 so it was nice to have an apology. She wondered what his idea of taking her out and treating her like a lady would be.
The Doctor gently pulled away. "Time for bed," he said.
She looked at the clock and agreed: it was just after midnight and she had work again in the morning.
* * * * * *
The next day Martha got back from work later than usual: a couple of the staff in her department were off and she was covering for them. With it being the start of the wedding season (she had never even realised there was a wedding season before), the shop had been much busier. By the time that she and Lizzy had finished cashing up, Martha had felt ready to drop and she was glad Sunday was coming.
She unlocked the door to the flat and paused just inside the door as she heard the Doctor's voice coming from the kitchen: he was singing along to the radio and she caught her breath in surprise as she heard him belting out the lyrics:
Martha, my dear / though I spend my days in conversation / please remember me /
Martha my love, don't forget me / Martha my dear
Hold you head up, you silly girl / look what you've done / When you find yourself in the thick of it / Help yourself to a bit of what is all around you / Silly girl, take a good look around you / Take a good look, you're bound to see / That you and me were meant to be / for each other, silly girl
The rest of the song was lost amidst a clatter of pans and she breathed out again, then shut the door and took off her coat. The next moment the Doctor stuck his head around the kitchen door and Martha was surprised all over again: he was wearing an apron over his shirt, he'd taken off his tie and jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. His hair was even wilder than ever and he had smudges of chocolate on his face.
"Hello! Blimey, you look done in." He advanced on her and pulled her into a hug, kissing her hair.
She found her voice somewhere. "Hello. Dare I ask what you're doing?" She thought he might be baking from the scents that were clinging to his clothes.
"Cooking," he answered, grinning madly down at her upturned face. "I need something to do now the timey-wimey thing's finished and with you out all day. Since there's nothing to tinker with, I decided to cook instead."
Her eyebrows rose. "I see."
He let go of her long enough to slide around to her side, wrapping one arm around her body as he guided her into the kitchen. "Sit down, put your feet up and we'll eat shortly. I wasn't sure what time you'd get back so dinner will be a few minutes yet."
He pulled out a chair and she sat down gratefully. To her surprise he knelt on the floor and gently removed her shoes. "I'll give you a foot massage later, if you like," he suggested as he straightened up again.
"Really? That would be wonderful."
"Yes really." The Doctor bent and kissed her nose, then put her shoes to one side before turning back to the cooker.
"What's for dinner?" She sniffed the air appreciatively, trying to distinguish between the different scents that were teasing her nose.
“Beef stew, followed by a chocolate pudding.” He turned and gave her another wide grin.
“You made chocolate pudding? How can we afford that?” she asked wonderingly.
“I had a bit of a windfall today,” he answered cryptically, before opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of wine.
“A bit?” Martha asked disbelievingly, staring at the wine as he set it on the table.
He nodded, then turned back to the cooker. “Do you want to open that whilst I dish up?”
She picked up the corkscrew and drew the cork, then poured the rich, red liquid into the waiting glasses. A few moments later the Doctor placed two helpings of beef stew on the table, then pulled off his apron and sat down.
“Come here.” Martha beckoned him closer and he leant forward as she moistened a finger to rub the chocolate from his face. Impulsively he caught her wrist and sucked her finger clean which caused her to shiver involuntarily.
“Eat up then, before it gets cold.”
The Doctor picked up his cutlery without noticing the look she was giving him. He really had no right to do such things: didn’t he care that it drove her mad? She sighed inwardly as she realised that he probably didn’t.
“How was your day?” he asked once they’d both taken the edge of their appetite.
“Busy and tiring. I don’t mind it, but why does everyone insist on getting married in March and April anyway?”
“It’s spring - traditionally seen as a time of new beginnings,” he answered.
“Humph.” She swallowed a mouthful of wine. “Pity we didn’t arrive in September then.”
He reached out and squeezed her hand. “When are you getting some time off?”
“Next week thank God! I’m off from Saturday to Wednesday.”
“Then we’ll go out for the day on Saturday,” he said.
“Where are we going?” asked Martha. “And how will we get there?”
He tapped the side of his nose and winked. “That’s a surprise.”
They finished the stew, which was very good, then the Doctor brought out two dishes from their tiny freezer.
“Oh that looks fantastic," Martha said, licking her lips in anticipation. "What's in it, besides chocolate?"
"It's a cinnamon chocolate pudding," he told her as he unpeeled the plastic wrap covering the dishes. "There's honey and fresh cream in it too."
He set one of the dishes in front of Martha, then added a garnish of chocolate shavings. "Mind, it'll be cold."
"You don't say?" she teased, grinning at him.
He rolled his eyes theatrically. "I asked for that, didn't I?"
She nodded distractedly as she dug her spoon into the pudding and tried a mouthful. "Oh God! This is good!" she mumbled.
He grinned at her, watching in pleasure as she ate.
When they'd finished he insisted that she go and sit in the other room and finish her glass of wine whilst he washed up. "I'll come and given you a foot massage once it's done," he told her.
Martha picked up her glass and headed into the sitting room to settle on the sofa with her feet up and her eyes closed.
She was half asleep, the result of the rich food and wine, when the Doctor came through from the kitchen, and he paused in the doorway to admire her: she'd unfastened her hair so that it hung loose about her shoulders and she looked lovely. He shook his head, then walked over to the sofa and lifted her feet so that he could sit opposite her. She opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy look as he began to massage one of her feet.
"OK?" he asked with a smile.
"Mmm. Feeling better now," she answered. "Thank you for a lovely meal."
"You're very welcome," he said.
By the time he'd finished massaging her feet, Martha was actually asleep, and he debated whether to move her or leave her where she was: she didn't look too uncomfortable, so he decided not to disturb her. He picked up a book from the coffee table and began to read, his left hand resting on her ankles as she slept.