Donna sighed and drew her coat tighter around her. The wind was a lot chillier than she remembered out here, although the fact that it was half past one in the morning and drizzling could have something to do with that. She drew level with the Doctor as he strode purposefully down another random, generic London street, muttering to himself and occasionally losing his balance.

"This isn't what I meant when I said 'fun', Doctor," she scolded him.

"'M looking for the pub," he slurred in reply. "Need my… my thing, whatsit called?" He made a few absent hand gestures.

"Sobriety?" Donna muttered darkly.

"No, no, my… screwdriver! That's the bugger." He lost his footing and fell into Donna's arms, overbalancing her. The pair sank to the pavement in a mess of trench coat and hiccups.

"You need a bucket of ice water," Donna announced, dragging the Doctor to his feet. "Come on. I can take you back to Mum's, as long as we don't wake anyone up."

"Cocktails," the Doctor agreed dazedly, and she rolled her eyes, taking his arm and dragging him forward. She'd intended this to be a fun night out, the two of them having a few pints and sleeping them off the next day, to awake none the worse for wear, but now she understood the Doctor's trepidation…

…

Four hours earlier

Donna flicked absently through the pages of a lifestyle magazine she'd picked up somewhere when she and the Doctor had passed through the fifties. Despite having visited mush stranger places and times, she was still surprised whenever she was faced with some of the more bizarre fashion choices her grandad's generation had made.

"Look at this," she exclaimed, not really expecting him to. "Can you imagine getting all this on just to go sown the street to get some milk?"

The Doctor looked up from the TARDIS' controls and considered for a moment. "No."

Donna put down her magazine. "That's right. You're from way before all that, aren't you? Did you even have corner shops?"

"Well, not really."

"I bet you never went anyway. Too busy pondering the universe, I suppose," Donna mused, and the Doctor gave up trying to follow her train of thought. He'd found himself doing that a lot lately, which was odd when you considered the fact that he was one of the cleverest beings in the universe and she was… well, she was a temp from Cheswick. She was brilliant, of course. Totally insane, but brilliant.

"In fact," Donna was saying, "I bet you've never even been to a pub."

"Pub? No, nasty places. Give me migraines."

Donna fixed him with her best sceptical look – which he had to admit was pretty darn sceptical. "You? Get a migraine? Don't be daft."

She wandered across the TARDIS towards him, face composed into a look of innocent curiosity. "Where are we headed, anyway?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Nowhere, really."

"Right!" Donna clapped her hands together importantly. "We can make a brief stop in London, circa 2005. Have a night on the town, eh? My treat. I'm sure my credit card still works after zipping around space a few times."

The Doctor remained carefully still. "There's not going to be… beer involved in this, is there?" he asked casually.

"Oh, no," Donna smiled. "I'm all about the posh cocktails. Of course there's going to be beer, Space Boy."

He nodded, and pushed a few noncommittal buttons. "Right. Right."

"Oh, come on," Donna grinned, poking his lapel. "You have beaten Daleks and people-eating shadows and those Sontaron things- "

"Sontaren."

"Yeah, them. So a couple of pints aren't going to hurt you, are they?"

The TARDIS lurched into life, hurtling purposefully towards 21st-century England.

"Donna, have you ever heard the phrase 'famous last words'?" the Doctor inquired pleasantly, grabbing a control panel for support.

"Yes, actually," she replied from the floor. "It's popular among pessimists." She clambered to her feet just as the TARDIS shuddered to a halt, throwing both travellers to the floor.

"And anyway," Donna continued, getting up and checking her hair in a screen, "When was the last time you actually had some fun?"

The Doctor had to admit it had been a pretty long time ago, even by his standards. Still, Donna didn't need to know that. "I… went on that tour bus," he defended himself.

"Yeah, and…" Donna stopped herself from saying "four people died". It was his sore point. She settled for, "And there was that thing that attacked you."

"Well, yes," he conceded. "But I… I have fun."

"Of course you do." Donna patted his shoulder fondly. "Let's go get a little bit pissed, eh?"

…

Two hours later

The Doctor downed his third beer and grinned at Donna. "This isn't half bad, you know," he shouted over the bar fight that had just broken out next to them.

Donna smiled and took a handful of peanuts. "Next time, I get to choose the bar, alright? Just because it's called The Doctor's Rooms doesn't mean it's going to be brilliant."

"Aha," he replied, wiping a fleck of foam off his top lip, "I know what it means when you imitate me like that. It means you're annoyed."

"I'm not!" Donna took a swig of her own beer, and watched with no little admiration as the Doctor swiftly ordered and downed his fourth. Despite his previous reservations, he had taken to this drinking thing with gusto, sipping slowly and passing sarcastic remarks about the quality of the alcohol for the first hour, but soon finding his feet.

"Well, alright then," the Doctor shrugged, and looked over at the scuffle next to them. "This is a lot like a mating ritual. One of those… what are they called?"

Donna looked at him in surprise. He'd never been the absent-minded professor type, except when it came to conveniently forgetting how to stop the TARDIS smoothly and making her fall over. "Aliens?" she suggested, figuring it was a fairly safe bet.

"Yeah." The Doctor lapsed into silence, looking slightly confused, but brightened a moment later. "We need some more peanuts. I like peanuts. High in energy."

Donna shrugged and pushed their last unopened packet across the table towards him. She drank the last dregs of her beer as he opened it, and by the time she'd put her glass down, the Doctor had flagged down a passing barmaid and was working on his fifth beer. He downed it in a scarily short amount of time, and let out a satisfied sigh before leaping to his feet.

"Right! Where to next?"

Donna shrugged. "Home?"

He looked at her like she was crazy. "I thought we were going to have fun! We're only just getting started!"

…

Half an hour later

The Doctor and Donna approached the bar of another, slightly quieter, pub. A barmaid, wearing so little clothing Donna was surprised she wasn't working in the strip club down the street, approached them, snapping her gum.

"What can I get you, loves?"

Donna mentally added up the amount of alcohol she'd drunk that evening and decided one more couldn't hurt. "Pint, please."

"And what about your man there?"

"Oh, he's not…" Donna began, at the same time the Doctor spoke up, "Oh, no, we're not…"

"Oh, you're one of those," the girl said knowledgeably. "What can I get you, then?"

The Doctor squinted up at the menu behind the bar. "What's a Death Trap like?"

Donna clutched his wrist worriedly. "I don't think that's a good idea…"

"No, don't be ridiculous," the Doctor grinned. "I feel fine. I feel brilliant. In fact," he added, slapping his hand down on the bar to get the barmaid's attention, "I'll have two Death Traps. And another pint."

"Blimey, he's keen," the girl murmured to Donna.

"Look, Doctor, can you even operate the TARDIS like this?" Donna hissed, worried.

"Yes! Of course! We're like this," he assured her, holding up his crossed fingers. "I am fine. Now," he announced, as the first of his bright green, toxic-looking cocktails arrived, "Let's have a toast. To… to running!"

"Love the running," Donna conceded fondly, and sipped her beer.

…

One hour (and six Death Traps) later

"I'm an alien, you know," the Doctor told a group of giggling girls that, to Donna's mind, looked far too young to be in a pub anyway. "I've got a… one of those things. What are they called, Rose?"

"It's Donna," she corrected him. "I'm Donna."

"Course you are," he nodded. "Anyway. What was I…?"

"You were saying," Donna said, carefully taking his half-empty glass away, "That it's about time you got back to your spaceship and thought about how much of an unearthly hangover you're going to have tomorrow."

"Was I? I don't think I was."

"Oh, you were," she assured him, taking his arm and dragging him away from his bemused admirers. She murmured in his ear, "If you have any idea where we are in relation to your spaceship, I'd appreciate a map, or something."

"I don't need a map," the Doctor scoffed, disgusted. "'M a Time Lord. We don't do maps."

"Right now, Time Boy," Donna snapped, "You're drunk, and you are not going to thank yourself in the morning when you wake up on the side of the street somewhere next to some slapper who's stolen your screwdriver and sold it on eBay."

The Doctor stopped walking and slowly put a shaking hand into his pocket. "It's not there," he said, and patted his other pockets frantically. "It's not here! Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"The… thingummy. What you just said. Sonic."

"Screwdriver?"

"That. It's gone, Rose!"

"I'm Donna," she reminded him.

…

Half an hour later

"Cocktails," the Doctor said dazedly. Donna sighed and grabbed his arm, dragging him forward in what she hoped was the direction of her mother's house. He shoved his hands in his pockets, swaying slightly as he walked, then let out a high-pitched giggle.

"Rose- Martha, I mean."

"Donna," she sighed.

"Yeah." Slowly, the Doctor drew his hand out of his pocket, clutching his screwdriver. "I must have missed it!"

"If you weren't an all-powerful Time Lord, buddy, I would smack you," Donna exclaimed, but she was relieved just the same.

"Oh, I missed you," the Doctor cooed to the screwdriver, flashing it a few times. "You're brilliant, you are."

Donna sighed and tapped her foot impatiently. "Can we go now? I'm freezing."

The Doctor looked at her like he wasn't sure who she was. "Where are we going again?"

"To get you a shower and some strong coffee and a bed. Not necessarily in that order."

"Right, right. And you are…"

"Oh, I don't believe this!" Donna exploded. "I'm Donna. Donna Noble! And you're the Doctor, Mister Big Important Time Lord that burns around space and time in a gigantic police box! You've had ten beers and eight deadly cocktails tonight, and I'm beginning to think that you were an alcoholic in a past life! Not to mention an amnesiac!"

The Doctor nodded slowly. "Oh."

Donna huffed and folded her arms. "Now let's get you inside a nice warm house, alright?"

The Doctor nodded, somewhat forlornly, and muttered something about sonic.

"You'll be the death of me, you will," Donna muttered.

…

Five hours later

Donna woke up on her mother's sofa, her head pounding, and sighed as the previous night's events came rushing back to her. The Doctor was a pretty funny drunk, she had to admit, but only for the first couple of hours. After that the memory loss started getting…

Donna shot upright and headed for her room, where she'd managed to coax the Doctor into her bed and got him to sleep. She knocked cautiously, and poked her head around the door.

"Doctor?"

She was greeted with a groan, and she walked into the room cautiously. The Doctor was huddled in bed, covers drawn up to his chin, with his eyes squeezed shut.

"I told you this would happen," he slurred. "Pubs give me migraines. I told you that, but did you listen to me?"

Donna smiled as she picked up her slippers off the floor and yanked them onto her feet. "Doctor, that's called a hangover."

"Well, I don't bother myself with irrelevant details!" he replied, irritated, then frowned and cracked one eye open. "I'm in your bed, aren't I?"

Donna nodded.

The Doctor sat up a little, his frown deepening. "But we didn't- I mean, not that I would- did we?"

Donna blushed furiously and fussed with the curtains, her back to him. "I don't know what you mean."

"Well, I suppose it's only to be expected," he continued. "After all, I am a very handsome man- "

Donna whirled around and hurled a slipper at him. "Enough of that, you!" she admonished, laughing.

He held up his hands in defeat, but his face fell a moment later. "We didn't, though, did we?"

Donna smiled knowingly. Nothing had happened, of course, and in his state she highly doubted anything could have happened, but he wasn't to know that.

"You don't remember?"

"No! Alcohol has detrimental effects on my memory. It's lucky I stopped drinking when I did, or the damage could have been permanent. Either way, I don't remember a thing that happened last night, except that you were very eager that we drink the alcohol in the first place."

"I see," Donna nodded. "Well, I'll make us some coffee, and then we can remember where we put the TARDIS, eh?"

"You mean we left it unattended? All night?"

"Well, I couldn't very well have you drinking and driving, now could I?" Donna asked, offended. "I do have some sense of responsibility, you know."

"Pumping the last Time Lord full of alcohol, yes, I'd call that responsible," the Doctor muttered.

"Oh, come off it, Time Boy," Donna smiled. "It was fun."

He huffed. "Now I remember why I don't have fun anymore."