Martha's Date

A/N: Lame title is lame…anyway, here's the first story that's exclusively about Martha. This is the beginning of her love story, obviously. And, by now everyone knows I do not ship Martha/Clive, nor will I ever. I have my reasons, okay? And, I'm going to beg again and say: I really, really wanted reviews on the recent stuff, mainly to see if I'm writing it right, because Martha can sometimes be difficult to deal with. And, I guess I want someone…anyone to tell me it's alright that I'm completely diverging from canon and everyone else's ideas. Someone to tell me my story isn't completely hated by the fandom, because I've become convinced it is. I'll admit it: It's extremely frustrating to see the stats go up and up and stay at only four reviews. I know people are reading...But, why aren't you saying anything? Is it really THAT bad?

Anyway, I know in this story the brief lapse in confidence Martha has can be construed as out of character, but there are reasons for it. The main being that she's human. She's allowed to be self-conscious at times. We start to get into my background for Martha here too, which, again, diverges from canon. (Personally, I think I make more sense.) And we also see how Niamh is turning her into a girl. One who has a fashion and makeup sense and learns to love shopping, shoes and cute lingerie. This is called character development. Or maybe I'm just justifying screwing up the entirety of Martha's character, you decide.

Timeline: Early March 2012, right after the black tie ball

Martha ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh of frustration as she flipped through the five pages of form that came with her latest case. 'She has five pages of form…' She thought. 'Petty theft when she was a teenager…Attempted murder…Fraud charges, two assaults and a whole list of minor traffic charges…This may be harder than I thought…' She set down the binder in her hands and picked up the second one, which detailed the current case and notes from the police questioning session.

'She denies it…But according to this…' Martha thought, picking up another paper, 'Her alibi is flawed…The hotel she claimed to be at has no record of her staying there. Hmm…' She studied the record and a few other documents, occasionally taking notes and working out her defense until her mobile rang. She picked it up without looking, assuming that it was Billy.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Martha Costello?" An unrecognizable voice asked over the line.

"Yes?" Martha replied, just a bit suspicious.

"Martha, it's John."

"John?"

"You know, John Carter. Man who compliments women he just met and sometimes asks them to dance."

In an instant, everything made sense as her memories caught up with her. She now remembered the ball, and his being there and complimenting her after she had run into him by accident. Until now, she had forgotten about the meeting and giving him her mobile number, not that she wanted to. She simply got caught up in her work. She then blushed as she remembered the small kiss he'd left her with and replied,

"Oh, right. How are you, John?"

"Alright. I hope this isn't too soon, but…I was wondering if you were free tonight."

"I have a brief, but I'm sure I could spare an hour or two, why?"

"I want to go out…with you," John replied, fumbling through his words a bit. It had been awhile since he'd really asked anyone out. "If you're okay with that."

Martha smiled. He had seemed so confident when she had met him, but now he was nervous and shy and she found it…cute. 'That's the first time in a while I've ever thought of a man that way…' She thought as she said, "Of course I am. What did you have in mind?"

"Something simple. Dinner and a film, perhaps?"

Martha thought for a minute and shook her head, though he couldn't see it. She had eaten when she came home, making a full meal a rather bad idea. "I'd love to go to dinner, but I've already eaten… How about ice cream and a film?"

John thought for a moment as he glanced at the clock, thinking that she ate rather early. Finally he said, "I'm okay with that. Is six alright?"

"Sure," Martha replied, and then proceeded to give him her address so that he could pick her up and make it a 'proper' date as he called it.

"I guess I'll see you soon then…" He said.

"See you." With that, she hung up and set her mobile aside to continue working, but, just as she started, what she had agreed to began to sink in and she dropped her pen. 'Wait a minute…I have a date! A real date! My God…' She couldn't remember that last time she had been on a real date and the prospect of it both excited and frightened her. 'How do I even begin to get ready for this?! What am I supposed to wear? What about my hair? He didn't even tell me what film we're going to see!' Finally, feeling both flustered and just a bit ashamed, Martha picked up her mobile and rang Niamh.

"Niamh?" She said when she finally answered. "Can you come over? It's urgent."

"What do you mean 'urgent'?" Niamh asked as she flipped through her own brief.

"I have a date in two hours and I'm not…exactly sure how I'm supposed to prepare or act…I'm completely lost. Do you know how long it's been since I've had a real date?"

"A long time from the sound of it."

"Can you help or not?"

"I'll be there in half an hour," Niamh promised before hanging up. 'This should be fun…or difficult…It depends on her cooperation,' She thought as she quickly gathered and pulled on her jacket and shoes before heading out, hoping that she didn't miss the next bus, as that was the quickest way to get there. Luckily, she caught it just in time and arrived far earlier than she predicted.

Martha looked up from her work at the sound of a knock, and quickly ushered Niamh in.

"What exactly do you need help with?" Niamh asked as she slipped out of her coat.

"My hair, my clothes, what I'm supposed to say…Everything," Martha admitted.

"What have you prepared so far?"

"Well, my defense is coming along alright, but there are a few details missing, and…"

"No! For your date, Martha!"

"Oh…Well…Nothing."

"Not even your outfit?"

"I'm sorry. I thought my work was a little more important."

Niamh sighed. "It is, usually, but this is your first date in awhile and should take precedence over your work for a few hours. Who asked you out anyway?"

"John."

"John?!" Niamh said, the shock clear in her voice and on her face.

"Oh, no. Not our clerk. John Carter, I met him at the ball."

"Oh…Well…We should get started. Since you don't have a lot of time, I'll take care of your outfit while you get in the bath."

"Bath?"

"Yes, a bath. You need to get cleaned up if you're going out."

"But…that seems like a waste of time. Can't I just take a shower?"

"No. You need it to calm down. What time is he picking you up?"

"Six."

"You have an hour and a half, which should be plenty of time for a quick bath if you don't wash your hair," Niamh said as she moved past Martha into the bathroom, where she quickly got to work setting up the bath, her way of saying that Martha didn't have a choice in the matter. After a brief look at the small collection of soaps, washes and bath salts, Niamh decided on using an apple cinnamon solution while Martha left to put her hair up and then returned to her work until Niamh told her the bath was ready.

'I still think this is a waste of time,' Martha thought as she stared up at the ceiling and then glanced at the bubbles around her. 'But I guess it's a relaxing waste of time…It's been awhile since I've been able to simply sit and enjoy a long bath…' It didn't take her long to wash up, and she found herself being grateful that she had remembered to shave the previous night, as the lack of that task bought her more time to sit back and relax until she got sick of it and got out a half hour later. She threw on her dark-blue dressing gown, headed into her bedroom and was met with a mess.

"Niamh?" She asked, unable to find her amongst the piles of clothing.

"What?" Niamh asked, sitting up from her spot by the bed.

"What is all of this?!"

"Your wardrobe. Do own anything other than work clothes?"

"Yes, they're right in front of you."

"But they're…well…boring. They're casual, around the house clothes and far from suitable for a date. Where are you going anyway?"

"We're going out to see a film and get ice cream."

"So, you need something casually classy…Like what I wore on mine and Nick's first date." Niamh said as she rifled through the closet. "Where are the rest of your casual clothes?"

"In the drawers on the wardrobe."

Niamh smiled and immediately went for the top one.

"Except that one…Those are my…pyjamas…" Martha said, trailing off when she opened it anyway.

Niamh let out a small gasp as she rifled through the drawer, "Your pyjamas are cute!" She said, quickly pulling out a dark-blue nightshirt with a rhinestone 'M' printed in the middle. "These are adorable. Why don't you wear things like this more often?" She set the shirt aside and held up a long-sleeved, satin, purple top. "Can I borrow this?"

"No." Martha snatched it out of her hands, "It's too big for you and you have plenty of violet in your own wardrobe."

"Where'd you get that?" Niamh gestured toward the nightshirt.

"My mum got it as a gift. Did the rinestoning herself."

"Really?"

Martha nodded. "It's not that impressive compared to the jewelry she makes."

Niamh shrugged, opened the next drawer and began throwing the clothes from it.

"Niamh! Stop it!"

"But all of this is…boring! I know you're hiding the good clothes in here somewhere! What about this?" Niamh asked, holding up a short-sleeved white blouse.

"I still have that? I thought I lost it."

"I think it's cute. All we have to do is find other garments that match."

"I usually wear that with a black skirt."

"No. That looks too professional, and we're going for casual. Besides, you always dress like that. Let's try something different…You must have a pair of jeans in here somewhere."

"Bottom drawer, Niamh."

Niamh quickly closed the drawer she was rifling through and opened the next one, pulling out a pair of dark jeans with just a bit of a flared bottom. "Perfect…" She muttered. "Now, about your blouse…"

"What about it?"

"You need something to wear underneath it, but I'm not sure if I want to go for colour or simple white, though I'm leaning towards the latter," Niamh said as she moved down to the last drawer, smiling once she found what she was looking for. "Here, you can wear this underneath," She held up a lacy, white camisole and set it on the bed with the other clothes.

"Niamh, I've only got an hour."

"We have most of it done, now we just need to pick shoes, accessories and underwear."

Martha raised an eyebrow. "Underwear?"

"Yes. You have to wear something cute and it has to match."

"Niamh, we're just going to the cinema, I'm not sleeping with him. He won't see it."

"So? It's supposed to make you feel sexy and if you feel sexy you'll be confident."

"Where the hell do you learn this stuff?"

"It's all instinct, really," Niamh replied, busily rummaging through another drawer. "Don't you have anything that matches?" She muttered as she threw various garments behind her. 'There has to be something in here! And it has to be white, so it won't show too much…Oh, what's this?' She thought as she felt something satiny. "Where did you get this?" She said, pulling out a satin, white lingerie set that consisted of a slight demi-cut bra with a line of sky-blue lace adorning the edge of the cups and just a bit of padding, enough for a slight pushup, and matching bikini panties with the same lace design on the edges.

"It was a Christmas gift from my mum. She thinks I need sexier clothes."

"Well, she's right and this is perfect. The lace is blue, but since it's light, it'll be easily hidden between the layers. Now hurry up and get dressed while I decide on shoes and accessories."

Martha sighed, grabbed the clothes and headed into the bathroom to dress, unsure of the outfit as she looked in the mirror. 'This is…different…Casually classy like Niamh said, but…different.'

She thought as she stepped out and returned to her bedroom.

"You look great!" Niamh said, throwing the shoes she had chosen on the bed with two silver bangles and simple, rhinestone necklace. "One thing though." She stepped over and undid an extra button on Martha's blouse, as she had only undone two.

"Niamh, no," Martha said, moving her hands to adjust it.

"Yes," Niamh insisted, grabbing her hands. "You're covered by the lace of the camisole and it shows off just enough cleavage to give you a touch of sexy but not so much that it makes it look like you're showing off or simply trying to get into his bed. Now, put your jewellery and shoes on and I'll do your hair and makeup. We don't have a lot of time, so hurry up."

Martha rolled her eyes and quickly pulled on the patent, peep-toe court shoes Niamh had set on the bed, added the simple accessories and then met her in the bathroom, where she spent only a bit of time on her makeup.

"You want something subtle, like you're going to court, but maybe amped up just a bit," Niamh explained as she picked up the eye shadow palette. "This grey works nicely, and if we add a touch of onyx, it'll give you a nice, smoky-eyed look."

"Niamh, I don't need a makeup lesson."

"Yes you do. It'll help you later."

'If I remember it,' Martha thought as Niamh moved on to her lipstick. "The red one."

"I think this light pink one would suit you better…"

"No. The red one, it's…bold and adds a bit more touch of colour. Besides, it's my favourite."

"See, you are learning," Niamh smiled and handed over the tube.

"Thank you."

"Now…your hair…" Niamh said as she walked around her in a circle. "I have an idea." At that, she quickly sought out the curling iron, and after a few moments of contemplating, she simply decided to curl Martha's hair at the bottom and used a bit of hairspray to secure the curls. "What do you think?"

"It's cute…"

"Actually I was going for elegance, but that works too."

Martha said nothing and headed back into the bedroom to grab a handbag, biding her remaining time by transferring items from her usual one into it.

"Stand up again," Niamh ordered when she came back in.

Martha sighed and did as she was told, eliciting a smile from Niamh.

"Damn, I'm good," She bragged. "You look great. Hot even. Tell me how it goes tomorrow," She finished as she gathered her things and left, not wanting to be in the way when John arrived. After she left, Martha turned back to her work until a knock came at the door. Slowly, she stood up and took in a breath. 'I know it's been awhile…But I can do this,' She thought as she grabbed her handbag and then finally moved to open the door, finding John standing there in his own pair of dark jeans with a black, button-up shirt, covered by a blue jacket.

"Um…Good evening?" He said and Martha laughed.

"You don't have to be so formal," She said. "It's nice to see you again, John."

Seeing her calm attitude, he relaxed a bit. "Here," He said, presenting her with a small bouquet of white lilies. "I was going to get roses, but I thought they were a bit cliché."

She smiled. "They are and these are lovely. Would you like to come in for a moment? I've got to find a vase."

"Sure," John shrugged as she moved aside to let him in. As she searched the kitchen for a vase, he looked around a bit. "Nice little place you have here," He complimented.

"Thank you," Martha replied. "I apologize for the mess, I've fallen a bit behind on my cleaning, though most of it is paperwork."

"Understandable," He said with a nod. Often times he had run into the same problem with his work and found the lounge covered in papers for days.

'There it is…' She thought as she finally found her vase and moved to fill it with water. "There, perfect," She said as she set it on the counter. "What do you think?"

"They look nice, and so do you."

"Thank you," Martha replied with a slight blush. "Shall we be off then?" She grabbed the jacket that was lying over the sofa as she spoke, not at all surprised when John took it from her and helped her into it.

"I drove here, but I don't think it's necessary to drive up to the cinema," John said.

"It's really not. It's only up the road. What are we going to see, anyway?"

"I didn't look at what was out, so it'll be your choice."

"I usually don't pay attention to films…We'll have to look when we get there."

"Fine with me," John shrugged as they headed up the street. It was silent for a bit, and John took advantage of the distraction to slip his hand into hers.

Startled, Martha looked down and immediately pulled away.

"Sorry," He muttered.

"No, it's fine," She said, quickly grabbing his hand. "You just startled me."

John smiled, and said, "I'm rude."

"What?" Martha asked.

"I forgot to tell you how beautiful you looked."

"No you didn't. You told me I looked nice."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean much on a date. Besides, you look far better than just nice. You…Well…You're gorgeous."

"Thank you. Though, I have to give some credit to Niamh, she picked out my outfit and did my hair and makeup."

"Niamh?"
"Niamh Cranitch. She's a close friend of mine and a colleague. She was at the ball as well, with her boyfriend and parents. It's kind of a family tradition for her."

"And you?"

"Being honest, I was shocked by the invitation."

"Why?"

"I'd never been invited before and it's such a big event. I never thought I would be invited. Niamh speculates it's because of my moving up to QC."

"When you told me that, I thought you might have been kidding. You look a bit young to be a QC."

"I'm thirty-seven," Martha admitted with a slight blush.

"And you're not married yet?"

"No," She said, slightly insulted.

"Lucky me, then."

She smiled and moved to link her arm with his as they approached the cinema. She didn't recognize most of the titles, so she simply looked up at John. "I don't know any of these films. You pick."

"Alright. How about that one, it's a murder mystery."

"I don't like murder mysteries. They're all predictable and I figure it out far before it ends."

"Alright then…How do you feel about romances?"

"They're okay…I guess," Martha lied, not wanting to admit to him, or anyone for that matter, her secret love for romantic films. They all had the same plot, same stale dialogue, yet, she loved them. Her mum, one of the only people who knew, had speculated that it was simply fantasy. Martha had never been too romantically inclined in real life, more than likely due to her background, but her mother thought that somewhere inside, she was wishing to find her true love.

"Well, it's either that or a horror film. The rest have already started according to the timetable."

"The romance is fine," Martha said, trying to hide both her obvious happiness over the choice and her dislike of horror films.

John said nothing and simply lead her towards the queue that was forming outside.

Remembering a bit of advice from Niamh, Martha took a chance while they were waiting and carefully laid her head on his arm, surprised that he didn't move away.

Though it was a bit uncomfortable at first, John soon smiled. He barely knew this woman, and yet, he felt comfortable with her. He felt that wasn't under any pressure to try and impress her, as she didn't seem like the type who would need it. When they had first met and talked at the ball she was willingly to listen to everything he had to say, not interrupting him with something she deemed 'more interesting' as his last date did a few months back. 'A teacher who was actually a gold digger, she was…' He thought as the cringe-worthy memory came back to him. After that, he decided to never let his sister set him up on dates ever again.

"What are you thinking about?" Martha asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were elsewhere. I could see it in your face. You can always tell when a person is somewhere else by their expression. Some people look lost, others look like they're contemplating the next great invention. It depends on the person.

"And who taught you this?" John asked

"In my case, it comes with my occupation. As a barrister, you learn to read your clients. It helps a great deal to weed out lies and get a proper defense," Martha explained as they finally stepped up to the ticket booth. She waited for John to speak to the boy behind the counter and then reached for her handbag, but as soon as she did, he put his hand on hers.

"Don't. I'll cover. We're on a date, remember?"

"I know, but…"

"You haven't done this in a while, have you?"

"No, but ever since I started dating, I would always split the bill. I hate having people pay for me. It…Well…It's a pride thing," Martha admitted.

"You can tell me about it later," John said, "Right now, we have a film to see."

Martha smiled, accepted the hand he held out, and let him lead her inside.

Halfway through the film, once they had settled, Martha, who was fully into the story, sighed contently and laid her head on his shoulder, smiling when he place his hand over hers on the armrest.

John, on the other hand, was bored with the film but did his best not to show it and stay awake, as he wanted to make the most out of his time with her. However, once it was over, he got up as fast as he could after giving Martha a chance to get up, stretch and pull her coat on.

"So, where to next?" He asked once they were outside.

"There's this little ice cream parlor down the road. Best I've ever had, aside from Westman's of course."

"Westman's?"

"It was a small convenience store right up the street from where I grew up. They had a parlor in the back and all the ice cream was handmade. But, after old Mr. Westman died, his son took over and ruined the place. The parlor was taken out and he turned it into some kind of booze and porn shop. Never set foot in there again after that and no ice cream has ever topped it."

"If you don't mind my asking, where are you from?"

"Bolton."

"Ah, I thought I detected a bit of Northern sass in you."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I like it."

Martha blushed, unable to respond as they approached the shop.

"After you," John said, stepping aside to open the door for her.

"Thank you."

"Now remember, I'm paying, so you can get whatever you want."

Martha smiled at him, and after a quick glance at the board, she stepped up to the counter.

"What can I get you?" The girl behind it asked.

"Two scoops of strawberry in a dish with a heavy layer of strawberry syrup and real strawberries on top, please."

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow as she wrote it down and asked, "What exactly do you mean by heavy layer?"

"Practically drenched."

The girl raised another eyebrow, but said nothing and then asked John about his order.

"I'll just take two scoops of chocolate with just a drizzle of caramel sauce."

"Alright then. That'll be two pound fifty."

John stepped up to pay, and after he did the girl went off to complete the order, coming back moments later.

"Here you are," She said.

"Thank you," Martha said as John picked up the dishes and nodded to the girl. They chose a small table by the window, and, once they were settled she spoke saying, "You know how old I am and where I'm from, but what about you?"

John gave a small laugh and said, "I'm thirty-four and a London native. My mum lives about a half hour away from where I currently am and about forty-five minutes away from my kids."

"Kids?" Martha asked as she finally ate her first spoonful of ice cream.

"You don't remember? I mentioned them briefly when we met."

"I'm sorry, John, but with all the things going on in my life I can't remember every conversation."

"I'll just tell you again then. I have a boy and a girl. He's eight and she's six."

"Do they have names?"

John laughed again, "Yes. Peter and Sophia. I have a picture here, actually," He said, pulling out his wallet and handing over a photo. "It's an old photo though. It was taken at Christmas time."

Martha smiled as she studied the kids in the picture, and then glanced up. "Who's this?" She asked.

"Who's who?"

"This woman."

"My ex-wife. I'm divorced. She's only in the photo because of the kids. They wanted it to be a happy, family shot."

"Oh. Well, there's a lot worse things that could happen."

"It's a relief to hear that. I haven't dated much since the divorce, mainly for lack of time, but one or two of the few I did date left as soon as I told them."

"Why?"

John shrugged. "Didn't want to deal with the baggage I guess."

"Their loss, then," She said, gently setting a hand on top of his.

"What about you? Any baggage I should know about?"

"Well, I have been told that I'm a workaholic, but I think that applies to all barristers."

"What about your family? You already know a bit about mine."

"I grew up with only my mother. Me dad walked out when I was two, leaving me with her and my aunt," Martha said.

"Oh…Well…" John said, not sure of what to say to that.

"You don't have to say anything. It was all for the best, actually. He was never much of a dad when he was around, and because of it my mum became a strong, independent woman and taught me to be the same. She's happy with her life and perfectly content with the family being just us. If there's one thing I hate, it's people making me out to be a sob story. Sure, we didn't have a lot of money and I had to work harder than a lot of people, but I wouldn't have it any other way. And it's because of that hard work that I hate people paying for things for me. When I was younger I was too proud to admit I wasn't as well off as everyone else, so I refused to let people pay for me. I've even turned down money from my own grandfather because of it."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what about your father? Don't you think about him?"

"No. After he left he never contacted us again. The only thing I know is his name, and I only know that because my mum told me. He wasn't around when I was born, so he got left off the birth certificate."

"No offense, but he sounds like a jerk."

"He was, which is why I don't bother with him. As far as I'm concerned, my family is my mum, aunt and grandfather. I don't have a dad."

"You don't dwell on things, do you?" He asked with a small smile.

"No," Martha shook her head. "It's of no use to do that. I was always taught that everything happens for a reason. Sometimes it can be hard to understand the reason, but dwelling on it won't help, it just makes you miserable. And, now that I've confessed, what's your story?"

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me about your family. It's only fair."

"My story isn't as complex as yours. My father was in the army and was killed in the Gulf War when I was thirteen, and my mum was a nurse but she's retired now. When she's bored she picks up odd jobs. She was never one to sit still."

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what about your wife and the divorce?"

"That's a bit of a long story."

"Shorten it then. You can fill in the extra details when you're ready."

"Well, being honest, I wasn't all that much in love with her in the first place. We married because she got pregnant with our son. And, even though we weren't really in love, I didn't want to leave her alone with a baby, and I could never leave someone like that. It wouldn't have been fair to her or Peter. Things were fine for awhile and when he was a little over a year, she found out she was pregnant again and we had Sophia. After that things went downhill. She got involved in some things that I'd rather not get into now, and chose another man over me. I tried to make it work for the kids, but eventually put my foot down and moved out, but only because of her. I filed the paperwork soon afterwards, but it took over a year to get it finalized. There were a lot of days where she didn't show up for court and issues that her barrister found. But it was eventually done and the rest is history."

"How often do you see your kids?"

"Every weekend and school holidays. I want to see them more, but that was the only arrangement she and her barrister would accept. It took two months just to get that sorted out. I know it may seem like a cop out to go with what they wanted to make them shut up, but I was kind of backed into a corner. I wanted to press on, but didn't for lack of money and time. I take them every chance I get and usually pick them up from lessons."

"Lessons?" Martha asked.

John nodded. "Sophia's in ballet and Peter plays the piano. Emily wanted him to take karate, but he didn't want to, and I refused to push him into something he had no interest in."

"I assume Emily is your ex."

John nodded again and then said, "You know, this is kind of heavy stuff for a first date."

"Better to get it all out sooner than later, then I can't say you never told me and there are no accusations of lying."

"True," John said as he watched Martha polish off the last of her ice cream. "I can't believe you ate all of that."

"Don't tell me you're one of those men who think women should stick to salads."

"No, but I will admit that your order surprised me. I'm used to being with women who get a simple, single scoop of ice cream or a cone with no toppings."

"That's stupid. If you're paying then I'm going to get what I like."

"Which is a heap of strawberry, apparently."

"It's my favourite flavour of anything, especially ice cream."

"Mine change, but for ice cream I prefer chocolate," He said right before he finished his.

"Why chocolate?"

"Because I'm not stupid."

Martha laughed as she stood to pull on her coat.

"I could ask the same of you." He stood to pull on his own jacket. "Why strawberry?"

"It was the first ice cream flavour I had and I've been hooked ever since."

John simply nodded and took her hand as they headed out the door.

Once outside, Martha linked her arm with his and said, "When we first met, you mentioned you were a teacher."

"So you do remember the conversation."

"Not all of it, but some things stick out."

"Well, I am. I teach history at the secondary school near my flat."

"How did you get into teaching?"

"I just came to me, really. I knew I wanted to help people, which I got from my mum, but couldn't stand to be a doctor or police officer or anything of that sort really. Then, in year seven of school I developed a love of history and even began tutoring some kids that were stuck. They paid for it, but I soon found that it wasn't about the money at all, I just liked helping out and teaching people my passion."

"I hope that's not your only passion…"

"No, I have several, that just happens to be the one that pays the bills."

She gave a small laugh, he smiled and they walked on in silence, simply enjoying each other's company until they stopped in front of Martha's flat.

After a brief, almost awkward silence she said, "I had a lovely time tonight. Thank you for everything." She then tried to walk off, but was stopped when John grabbed her hand.

"Listen…I know this is just our first date and…Well…Would you be offended if I asked to kiss you?"

Martha stopped for a moment, startled by the request, then, she smiled, closed the space between them and replied, "Would you be offended if I said no?"

There was a brief pause as they glanced at each other nervously. Then, Martha set her hands on his chest as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his as he leaned down. It started out small and sweet, but quickly grew deeper as his hands settled on her hips. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been kissed like this, softly enough not to push too far but deep enough to know there was something there. It shot an unknown spark through her body and broke through every level on her hidden, romance meter.

When they finally broke apart, she took a step back, tempted to ask for more.

"Call me when you're free again," John said as he stepped away.

"Y…Yeah…Sure," Martha replied, still in a bit of a daze.

"Goodnight, Martha."

"Goodnight…" She said, though it was more of a whisper.

John simply smiled and walked off to his car while Martha stood watching him for a minute and then stepped and faltered backwards. After taking a second to recover, she made her way inside and leaned against the door and let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding in.

'The first date I've been on in forever and it was...wonderful. I'll have to call him. I need to see him again, preferably sooner than later. I can't believe I let him kiss me…He should have stayed...I wanted more…' She thought, her head running in several different directions. She wasn't sure what she was feeling, but knew that it was something and that she had to see him again and soon.