Title: Untitled (I suck at them, suggestions welcome)

Author: Cat

Rating: PG-this part.

Paring: Martha/10

Spoilers: Up to Blink.

Summary: Multi part fic incorporating this challenge. "I'd like to see a fic (or fics) where the Doctor is useless at his 1969 job, gets fired, or even just fails the interview. Exploding chickens optional."

Please go easy, I haven't written for Dr Who since 9 died. I may be a little out of practice.

III

Martha entered the tiny flat and dumped her coat on the bed. The Doctor didn't even acknowledge her.

"Evening."

"Mmm."

Martha sighed and, easing behind the Doctor, filled the kettle and switched it to boil. She didn't even bother trying to converse with the Doctor again, but she didn't take it personally. The device he was building was so complex it seemed to render him virtually incapable of speech.

She made them both tea, placed his mug in front of him and sat down on the bed with a torn magazine she'd been given at work.

A few minutes later she heard a cry of pain and looked over to see the Doctor sucking his index finger and black wisps of smoke rising from what was once a transistor radio.

"Damn!" he muttered, darkly.

Martha walked the four paces from the bed to the kitchen table and held out her hand. "Let me see." She told him.

He removed his finger from his mouth and held it up to her for inspection.

"Doesn't look too bad." She told him. "But one of these days a shock is going to cross your heart and stop it. You need to be more careful."

"Good job I've got a spare then." He reminded her, grinning.

"No luck?" she asked. An obvious question but it seemed to help the Doctor to talk about his device, even if she had no clue what he was saying.

"No. It's the tachyon sensor. If only I had the sonic screwdriver I could remodulate the primary undulation field and job done."

The sonic had been electrocuted during his seventh attempt to build a master circuit.

He spotted his mug of tea and beamed at her, his frustration vanishing. "You made me tea."

She sat opposite him at the tiny kitchen table as he began to sport through the smouldering remains of his device.

"I've found you a job." She told him.

He looked up, shocked. "Oh no, Martha." He said, his voice high and winy.

"Yes." She said firmly. "My wages barely cover the rent on this place and we're nearly out of the money your friend gave us so if you want to keep blowing up electrical devices, you need a job too."

"It's just so... prosaic."

"It's only mornings, so you'll still have plenty of time to destroy things."

He ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose. And we do need more money. Much as I like baked beans, they are getting a little tiresome." He noticed she was smiling at him. "What?"

"You haven't asked what the job is."

The grin on her face was scaring him. "Do I want to know? You haven't got me plucking chickens or something, have you?"

"Nope."

"Go on then, tell me."

"Mrs Graham's brother owns a repair shop and he needs an errand boy."

"An errand boy?! You want me to be an errand boy?"

"You weren't listening, her son owns a repair shop."

"Repair shop?"

Martha nodded.

"Repairing electrical things?"

Martha nodded.

"Like TV's and radio's and toasters?"

Martha nodded again.

Without warning the Doctor jumped up from his seat, rushed around the table and pulled Martha into a crushing hug.

"Why do I ever doubt you?" he asked rhetorically, kissing her cheek. "Note to self, never doubt Martha Jones again."

"Can I have that in writing?" she teased.

"No, but when we get out of here, I will take you to see the moon landing again."

"The way things are going, we may still be here for it."

The Doctor ignored her and pulled a small tin box off the shelf above the table. "All those spare parts and old appliances lying around, imagine the money we'll save, not just the money we'll make!" He grabbed a few notes from the box and stuffed them in his pocket. "Come on, we're going out to celebrate. No baked beans tonight, my girl. We're going all out tonight."

"You mean we can have a burger, fries and a coke?"

"That's exactly what I mean." He grabbed her hand and dragged her after him. "Let's live dangerously."

III

Martha was up at 5am on Monday morning. The paper shop she worked in had two shop girls, herself and Julie, who took it in turns to work the early shift, sorting the papers for the paper boys. This was Martha's week. Not that she minded. Training to be a doctor involved much worse shifts, not to mention staying awake for days on end.

Mr or Mrs Graham was usually there by 7am to open the shop while she saw the paper boys off with their bags.

Martha hated using their communal bathroom on these early shifts though. She left the flat and headed down the corridor to the bathroom that the other three flats on this floor shared with her. It wasn't the sharing that bothered her, it was the fact the heating didn't go on until 7am and the place was freezing cold.

Still, she supposed at least she didn't have to fight for its use at 5am.

She headed back to the flat and wondered how their landlord got away with calling it a flat. It was two rooms. And there wasn't even a door between the kitchen/living room and the bedroom.

The Doctor was awake and making tea when she got back. He handed her a mug.

"God, I miss coffee." She said, taking a large gulp.

"Well maybe we can splash out on a coffee machine now I'm working too.

Martha smiled. "Or you could just invent a decent freeze dried coffee a little early."

"No can do, changing history."

"I don't think inventing coffee granules will significantly alter the course of history."

"You never know." He told her, gravely. "Do you want to try the powered coffee again?"

Martha shuddered. "I'd rather drink urine."

The Doctor frowned. "Fresh out of that, sorry."

Martha smiled. "So, nervous?"

"Me? Nah! This job should be a breeze."

"Well just be careful. Don't go being all... you."

Looking hurt he asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean all that techno babble you come out with."

Martha dressed quickly and kissed the Doctor on the cheek as she hurried out. "Good luck."

III

My mid afternoon Martha and Julie were alone in the shop and sharing a cup of tea.

"What's up?" asked Julie.

Martha looked up. "Nothing, why?"

"You look worried."

"Just wondering how John's getting on." She paused, "And hoping he's not going to blow this job."

Julie nodded. "Must be hard, him coming from money and then being cut off because he married you."

Martha nodded absently. That was their cover story, but she didn't want to elaborate on it in case she was caught out.

"I hope he comes in when he's finished today. I'm dying to know how he got on."

"If he doesn't, at least you get to leave early this week."

Martha checked her watch, she was off at 3 today so not long left.

As though on cue the Doctor strode into the shop, a big grin on his face.

"How did it go?" Martha asked.

The doctor leaned over the counter and kissed her briefly. Martha noticed Julie look away in embarrassment. Inter racial couples were not common in 1969 and most people stared at them.

Julie wasn't against their union, it was just very odd for her to see a public display of affection between a white man and a black woman. Martha wished the displays were for real though, and not for show.

"Wonderful!" said the doctor. "Brilliant place. Gizmo's and gadgets everywhere. It's like working in a sweet shop."

Martha smiled. "I do work in a sweet shop, and you don't notice Julie and me with soppy grins, do you?"

"Well, it's the novelty. Don't worry, I'll be moaning and groaning about it by the end of the week."

"Why don't you take off?" Julie suggested. "Mr and Mrs Graham won't be back from the Cash & Carry for ages, I'll cover for you."

"You sure you don't mind?" Martha asked.

"Course not. You two go have fun."

The Doctor beamed at her. "You're a star." He told her as Martha got her coat, making her blush.

He helped Martha into her coat and took her hand as they left the shop.

Julie sighed looking at them. Why couldn't she find someone like that? She might be plane, as her father was so fond of telling her, but if a black woman could land a catch like John Smith, why couldn't she?

III

"So it really went OK?" Martha asked.

"Wonderfully! I even found some odds and sods that might help me fix the sonic."

"And you didn't say anything weird?"

"Nope."

"And you didn't blow anything up?"

"Nope."

"Set fire to anything?"

"Nope."

"Insult anyone?"

"Course not!"

Martha gave him an evaluating look. "Sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I give you my solemn oath that I did not talk techno babble, start any fires, insult anyone or blow anything up. Including aliens."

Martha beamed at him. "My bread winner."

The Doctor seemed like he was about to reply, but thought better of it. Sometimes discretion was the better part of valour. Especially when you'd nearly been fired for telling customers about another firms sale on TV sets.