Aftershock (1/1) - Ten, Donna (Doctor Who)
Title: Aftershock (1/1)
Author: Sue DeNimme
Characters/Pairing: Ten, Donna
Rating: PG
Spoilers: The Unicorn and the Wasp
Word count: 1618
Summary: After the events of 1926, the subject of a certain method of detox comes up.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and its characters belong to the BBC. No copyrights were harmed in the making of this fanfic.
A/N: I haven't been too concerned in the past about using British spelling and phrases, but I'm making an effort to remedy that now. Please tell me if I've made any glaring errors.
It took a little longer to wind down from this last particular outing than it usually did. First she freed her hair from the bun, then she carefully put away the jewellery, and slipped out of the shoes. Gorgeous as the flapper dress was, and fun as it had been to wear, it was a relief to take it off.
A luxurious soak and a change into her favourite silk pyjamas later, she padded off to the library in search of the Doctor. It had become their habit to meet there after an adventure, if they weren't too exhausted, and simply hang out for a while, talking and sipping tea, until one of them -- usually she -- finally said good night and toddled off to bed.
He was there, looking much the same as he had when she'd left him in the control room. Donna shook her head. Part of the point of visiting Earth's past was the dressing up, as far as she was concerned. Yet she'd never seen him do it. Well, maybe he'd been time-traveling so long that the novelty had worn off for him, so he could no longer be bothered. But the amazing thing was that he got away with it. Every time.
She'd asked once, and he'd told her that the secret was to "walk around like you own the place". Fine for him, she supposed. It was always easier for men, wasn't it? Even skinny alien men with hair that looked like they'd been in an explosion at the gel factory.
As soon as he heard her footsteps, he put the book he had been reading down across the arm of the sofa. It was Agatha Christie's Death in the Clouds, the novel he'd dug out of a trunk to show her after they'd returned to the TARDIS. The year five billion edition. He watched as she poured herself a cup from the china teapot on the nearby table, and sat on the sofa beside him.
She took a sip. "So. How's the book?"
"Oh." He pursed his lips, as if considering his opinion. "Good. It's good."
"Don't let me interrupt you."
"Nah, I've read it before. Two or three centuries ago." The Doctor clasped his hands around his arms and stared ceilingward for a moment.
"Oh. Well, maybe reading it again now, fresh from having met her, gives it a bit of a new angle." He nodded, but didn't pick up the book again, and she shrugged, taking another sip and setting the tea down. A thought came to her, making her laugh a little in disbelief. "I can't believe it. I met Agatha Christie today. I spoke to her. She spoke back. She solved a mystery with us."
"You saved her life."
"*I* saved *Agatha Christie*'s life." Donna shook her head, wonderingly. "Sometimes I think I'm starting to get a little bit used to this, and then something else happens, and... wow."
The Doctor simply grinned widely at her.
"Just... wow. And -- this is it. This is why you take people along with you, isn't it?" She'd wondered at times if it was just to have someone to show off for, as well as to stave off loneliness, but now she realized that a major part of it was so that he could watch their reactions, hear the wonder in their voices, and thereby share in it himself.
He was still grinning, as if he was proud of her for coming to that conclusion. "Yeah, pretty much." There was a long pause, then just as the tea was starting to relax her, he added, "Thank you, by the way."
"For?"
"Agatha's wasn't the only life you saved today."
Donna felt her face heat. She'd almost managed to make herself forget that. "Oh. Um. Don't mention it." Suddenly the tea remaining in her cup became extremely interesting.
"Must say, that was probably the most creative method anyone's ever used, to do that. I'm impressed. Kudos."
"Yeah, don't get used to it."
He smirked slightly. "The snogging, or the saving my life?"
"The snogging, you dumbo." She finished her tea, and sighed. "Wonder what Agatha thought, after all that not-a-couple business earlier."
The Doctor looked surprised, as if it hadn't occurred to him until that moment to even think about that. "Dunno. Have you noticed something odd?"
"I've noticed lots of odd things, since meeting you. Can you be more specific?"
"The frequency with which we get mistaken for a couple."
She raised her eyebrows at him. "You're surprised by that? You really *are* a spaceman, aren't you?"
He frowned. "All right then, enlighten me."
"Well, we show up together. We look more or less the same age. We bicker a lot. Of *course* that's going to be the first thing people think."
"Not necessarily." The Doctor tilted his head to scratch one ear thoughtfully. "For instance, if we went to Cotter Palluni's World, they'd assume we were no more than colleagues or classmates. If we went to Arvonna Seven, they'd assume we were brother and sister. On Tal'yn'kaa, they'd assume you were my slave. On Rezzkoth Prime, they'd assume I was yours. And on Belp, they'd think I was taking you along as a snack for later."
Donna rolled her eyes. "All right, all right. You've made your point. I guess, when you put it like that, the 'couple' thing isn't actually so bad."
She almost wished he would start gabbling, preferably about something else entirely, but no, of course he didn't, and the phrase seemed to hang in the air, suddenly charged with a meaning completely the opposite of what she'd intended. Or something like that.
A tiny voice inside her piped up suddenly. Really, *would* it be so bad? He wasn't her type, but then again, he was hardly ugly either. He'd saved her life about as frequently as she'd saved his, including the first time they'd met, when he didn't know her from Adam, and she was slapping him every time he turned around. He was smart, and funny, and kind of nice, really, if scary at times, and a bit weird -- all right, a lot weird. He cared about her and tried to get her to feel better about herself. A definite improvement over Lance, that was for sure. Also over ninety-nine percent of the non-skinny, manly-man men she'd dated, if she were honest.
She was startled to realize that unconsciously she had lifted her face and angled it slightly. And he was gazing down toward her, with a look in those dark eyes as if the same thought that had been running through her mind had jumped over into his as well.
For a long, long moment, they just looked at each other.
Then she laughed. She hadn't expected to, and she wasn't exactly sure why, but suddenly it struck her as hilarious, and she was laughing, that brassy, guffawing laugh that her mum hated.
The Doctor was staring at her, his mouth open, looking as if he wasn't sure whether to be offended, or set the TARDIS coordinates for the nearest loony bin, or start laughing too. His expression only set her off more.
Finally, he seemed to settle on the third option, and his laughter joined hers.
Two minutes later, or five, or an hour, they were holding on to each other, giggles and chuckles still erupting now and then, trailing off into companionable silence. Donna let out a deep breath, wiping tears off her face, feeling suddenly exhausted.
"Ohhh. That was... that was..."
"Yeah," he agreed. lying back against the sofa with a sigh.
On impulse, she leaned over to hug him tightly and give him a quick kiss. On the cheek. "Thank you. For not taking it the wrong way. This... or earlier. And for being a mate."
He smiled back. "Any time."
And then she punched his arm, making him jump and clutch it with a reflexive "ow". "That's for letting yourself get poisoned in the first place. I mean, *really*, Mr I-Can-Tell-the-Year-By-Smelling-But-Can't-Smell-Cyanide-in-My-Drink."
"I was distracted!" he protested. "I was trying to work out the Vespiform's motive."
"Yeah, yeah. And for the record, kissing a man with a mouthful of anchovies and walnuts is *not* exactly my idea of romance. I had to brush my teeth for five minutes to get rid of the taste."
The Doctor wrinkled his nose. "What about me? I *hate* anchovies. And ginger beer, for that matter. Right down there with pears and fish custard, if you ask me." He grimaced. "Not to mention, has anyone ever told you that you're completely hopeless at charades? 'Harvey Wallbanger'!"
"How was I supposed to know what -- *that* meant?" She imitated his "shaking" gesture.
"And 'Camptown Races'? Really? Who thinks you need 'Camptown Races' to cure poison?"
"Fine, fine. I was panicking, all right?"
He relented. "Yeah, well, you were brilliant anyway."
"Thank you." Donna poofed out a breath, trying and failing to hold onto her annoyance. She snuck a sideways glance at him. "You weren't so bad yourself." After a moment, she pointed to the book. "Could you read that to me?"
The Doctor grinned, picked up the book, and she eventually fell asleep to the sound of his voice.
~end