New Fandom and a COMPLETELY ORIGINAL Short Story
I spent the best part of this week watching Much Ado About Nothing with David Tennant and Catherine Tate. It was extremely excellent, and made me ever so nostalgic for the 10th Doctor and Donna. It was a wonderful performance, as far as I can judge thespianism and really emphasized the chemistry they always seem to have. I miiight have a new ship now. And by might I mean absolutely 100% does anyone have any fic recommendations of such?
It has gotten so bad (or good, if you like) that I already have my own small contribution:
Author:checksandplaid /Ricca
Pairing/Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All property belongs to its respective owners.
Word count: c.1,100
Summary:In which the Doctor suffers and Donna tries to help. A little fluffy and a little sad.
Author Notes: So, total noob to this fandom, but it occurred to me that there are about a billion fics where the Doctor takes care of Donna and almost none where she takes care of him. That struck me as a bit unjust. Completely unbeta'd, all errors are entirely mine.
"It's a cramp, isn't it?"
He couldn't see her from where he
stood, rubbing the side of his neck and trying to focus against the
inconvenient discomfort as his TARDIS thrummed and suffered an ionic
overload. He didn't have to see her to know she'd be standing in that
infuriating way she had, arms crossed across her chest, giving him that
Look she saved for moments when she found herself dealt a winning hand.
"It is not!" The Doctor protested, gripping the levers on the console
before him to stop himself from trying to rub his aching back. "Time
Lords don't get… cramps."
His infuriating companion rolled her
eyes and snorted inelegantly. "Sure it ain't; it's just some strange
Martian twinge you got making you sore and snappy." His strained,
awkward posture didn't escape her notice, nor did his white knuckled
grip on the doohickeys that made up his spaceship's control system. "I
can help you." She tried to gentle her tone and the words tumbled
clumsily into the silence.
"Not now, Donna." He let the
chastisement escape through gritted teeth and regretted the words
immediately after, coaxing his unhappy blue box through a turbulent
personal problem.
That phrase cut her to the bone; she knew she
wasn't important. That she was useless, old, unpleasant and bad
tempered, again old news. The world knew it could dismiss Donna Noble
and all she'd do is shout and say rude things. Then she'd go away and
they'd be free of her. But she hadn't ever expected to hear that from
the Doctor. That wasn't merely weird, it was out of character. She bit
down her own pain and approached the TARDIS' console cautiously where
the Doctor worked frenetically.
The TARDIS heightened thrumming
faded into her soft background hum as she stabilized, and the Doctor
turned his attention to the diagnostic gizmos anchored sporadically
around the central pillar. Dozens of possibilities were considered and
dismissed in moments. "Not brachts, not the slummity yump; what are you,
you nasty little thing?"
Donna winced in sympathy and lunged to
catch her Spaceman as another twinge bent him double. "It's a cramp.
It's a bloody cramp you tit. Now sit down!" She threw an arm around his
waist and half dragged him to the nearest seat.
His protests fell
on deaf ears and the Doctor found himself dumped unceremoniously on a
bench. "I suppose it might be an acute osmotic imbalance exacerbated by
strenuous activity and calcium deficiency."
"You mean a cramp."
Donna scowled and dragged a stool to her friend's side. "Now lie down,
take your jacket off, and shut it. Ah, I said. No talking, more
complying with Doctor Donna." She cracked a small smile at her own joke,
and helped the Doctor slide stiffly out of his jacket. She turned up
her shirt sleeves as he situated himself as comfortably as he could. The
enormity of it all struck her as she slowly moved her hands towards
him. This wasn't just one of the girls at the office, or some bloke
after a football match. This was a Time Lord. Her best friend. She
didn't know anything about Time Lord physiology, what if she only made
it worse? What if she hurt him?
"Donna? Is everything all right?"
The Doctor tried to crane his head to look up at her, but froze the
motion halfway at a threatening feeling radiating into his neck.
"Yeah,"
Donna gave herself a vigorous mental shake and gently lowered her hands
onto the stretch of white cotton beside her. He was cool beneath her
fingers, cool and hard, muscle fibers swollen and warm around the site
of the discomfort, tense and drawn everywhere else. He was a mess, and
she needed to be careful. Delicately, she mapped the anatomy before her,
trying to build a complete picture before honing in on the source of
the Doctor's pain. She placed her hands on either side of his left
latissimus muscle, or what she had to assume the Time Lord equivalent
was, and felt him flinch and tense further. "I've done this loads of
time, now relax."
That struck him as rather useless advice at this
particular moment; how was he supposed to relax when he felt like this
and a crazy Earth girl was about to perform some unknown and probably
painful action upon his person? "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Donna smiled at
the back of his head fondly, working small circles from the center of
the muscle outwards with a feathery touch. "One of the hazards of
hunching over a keyboard all day. If you're not careful you can get a
nasty twinge. You'll be glad to know I'm a real pro at fixing it."
Cautiously, she applied a little more pressure.
It felt odd,
whatever she was doing. Uncomfortable, but under her ministrations
something was starting to ease. "It feels better now; you can stop if
you like." He could feel her frown return.
"I'll stop when I'm
done, Spaceman, and not a minute before." Donna informed her patient
haughtily, sweeping wider circled around the entirety of the inflamed
area. It felt slightly more like a muscle and less like a bag of gravel.
She moved outwards and upwards, digging her fingers in as time passed
and the Doctor gave no sign that she was inflicting any damage upon him.
Slowly
but relentlessly she worked across the expanse of his back, up his
spine and out to his shoulders, returning often to the beginning to
ensure her good work stayed done. The Doctor started to protest as his
companion raised herself out of her seat to apply an inordinate amount
of pressure to his shoulder, only for something to settle and a
tightness drained out of him, leaving him melted and compliant.
Shoulders,
back, neck, shoulders, neck, and up his scalp she worked until her arms
her tired and the Doctor practically radiated serenity. "That'll do you
well enough for now, I suppose." Donna stretched and smiled down at the
sleepy alien sprawled before her. "Better?"
He liked her satisfied smile, and returned it with one of his own. "Thank you, Donna."
It has gotten so bad (or good, if you like) that I already have my own small contribution:
Author:checksandplaid /Ricca
Pairing/Characters: Tenth Doctor/Donna
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All property belongs to its respective owners.
Word count: c.1,100
Summary:In which the Doctor suffers and Donna tries to help. A little fluffy and a little sad.
Author Notes: So, total noob to this fandom, but it occurred to me that there are about a billion fics where the Doctor takes care of Donna and almost none where she takes care of him. That struck me as a bit unjust. Completely unbeta'd, all errors are entirely mine.
"It's a cramp, isn't it?"
He couldn't see her from where he
stood, rubbing the side of his neck and trying to focus against the
inconvenient discomfort as his TARDIS thrummed and suffered an ionic
overload. He didn't have to see her to know she'd be standing in that
infuriating way she had, arms crossed across her chest, giving him that
Look she saved for moments when she found herself dealt a winning hand.
"It is not!" The Doctor protested, gripping the levers on the console
before him to stop himself from trying to rub his aching back. "Time
Lords don't get… cramps."
His infuriating companion rolled her
eyes and snorted inelegantly. "Sure it ain't; it's just some strange
Martian twinge you got making you sore and snappy." His strained,
awkward posture didn't escape her notice, nor did his white knuckled
grip on the doohickeys that made up his spaceship's control system. "I
can help you." She tried to gentle her tone and the words tumbled
clumsily into the silence.
"Not now, Donna." He let the
chastisement escape through gritted teeth and regretted the words
immediately after, coaxing his unhappy blue box through a turbulent
personal problem.
That phrase cut her to the bone; she knew she
wasn't important. That she was useless, old, unpleasant and bad
tempered, again old news. The world knew it could dismiss Donna Noble
and all she'd do is shout and say rude things. Then she'd go away and
they'd be free of her. But she hadn't ever expected to hear that from
the Doctor. That wasn't merely weird, it was out of character. She bit
down her own pain and approached the TARDIS' console cautiously where
the Doctor worked frenetically.
The TARDIS heightened thrumming
faded into her soft background hum as she stabilized, and the Doctor
turned his attention to the diagnostic gizmos anchored sporadically
around the central pillar. Dozens of possibilities were considered and
dismissed in moments. "Not brachts, not the slummity yump; what are you,
you nasty little thing?"
Donna winced in sympathy and lunged to
catch her Spaceman as another twinge bent him double. "It's a cramp.
It's a bloody cramp you tit. Now sit down!" She threw an arm around his
waist and half dragged him to the nearest seat.
His protests fell
on deaf ears and the Doctor found himself dumped unceremoniously on a
bench. "I suppose it might be an acute osmotic imbalance exacerbated by
strenuous activity and calcium deficiency."
"You mean a cramp."
Donna scowled and dragged a stool to her friend's side. "Now lie down,
take your jacket off, and shut it. Ah, I said. No talking, more
complying with Doctor Donna." She cracked a small smile at her own joke,
and helped the Doctor slide stiffly out of his jacket. She turned up
her shirt sleeves as he situated himself as comfortably as he could. The
enormity of it all struck her as she slowly moved her hands towards
him. This wasn't just one of the girls at the office, or some bloke
after a football match. This was a Time Lord. Her best friend. She
didn't know anything about Time Lord physiology, what if she only made
it worse? What if she hurt him?
"Donna? Is everything all right?"
The Doctor tried to crane his head to look up at her, but froze the
motion halfway at a threatening feeling radiating into his neck.
"Yeah,"
Donna gave herself a vigorous mental shake and gently lowered her hands
onto the stretch of white cotton beside her. He was cool beneath her
fingers, cool and hard, muscle fibers swollen and warm around the site
of the discomfort, tense and drawn everywhere else. He was a mess, and
she needed to be careful. Delicately, she mapped the anatomy before her,
trying to build a complete picture before honing in on the source of
the Doctor's pain. She placed her hands on either side of his left
latissimus muscle, or what she had to assume the Time Lord equivalent
was, and felt him flinch and tense further. "I've done this loads of
time, now relax."
That struck him as rather useless advice at this
particular moment; how was he supposed to relax when he felt like this
and a crazy Earth girl was about to perform some unknown and probably
painful action upon his person? "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," Donna smiled at
the back of his head fondly, working small circles from the center of
the muscle outwards with a feathery touch. "One of the hazards of
hunching over a keyboard all day. If you're not careful you can get a
nasty twinge. You'll be glad to know I'm a real pro at fixing it."
Cautiously, she applied a little more pressure.
It felt odd,
whatever she was doing. Uncomfortable, but under her ministrations
something was starting to ease. "It feels better now; you can stop if
you like." He could feel her frown return.
"I'll stop when I'm
done, Spaceman, and not a minute before." Donna informed her patient
haughtily, sweeping wider circled around the entirety of the inflamed
area. It felt slightly more like a muscle and less like a bag of gravel.
She moved outwards and upwards, digging her fingers in as time passed
and the Doctor gave no sign that she was inflicting any damage upon him.
Slowly
but relentlessly she worked across the expanse of his back, up his
spine and out to his shoulders, returning often to the beginning to
ensure her good work stayed done. The Doctor started to protest as his
companion raised herself out of her seat to apply an inordinate amount
of pressure to his shoulder, only for something to settle and a
tightness drained out of him, leaving him melted and compliant.
Shoulders,
back, neck, shoulders, neck, and up his scalp she worked until her arms
her tired and the Doctor practically radiated serenity. "That'll do you
well enough for now, I suppose." Donna stretched and smiled down at the
sleepy alien sprawled before her. "Better?"
He liked her satisfied smile, and returned it with one of his own. "Thank you, Donna."