A/N: Donna Noble is my new favorite. I think she's excellent as the Doctor's friend, and hilarious. Plus, I'm a huge Catherine Tate fan, if that isn't obvious in this.
p.s. – Everything belongs to their respective owners, I just like playing around. Some time between "Doctor's Daughter" and "The Unicorn and the Wasp".

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--Shortly after the Doctor and Donna return Martha to Earth.--

Donna lay on the floor of the TARDIS, clutching at stitches wrenching her sides. Oh sure, by now she had gotten used to the running, but what she was now trying to recover from was the closest shave yet. There was 'running for your life' and then there was 'running for your life'. She could only gasp for air in the spot on the ramp where she had collapsed just inside the TARDIS door while the Doctor quickly threw them into the Vortex. Four galaxies away from home, and a few centuries into the future, a sport similar to fox-hunting was very popular. Her previous disinterest in the sport was now a strong loathing after the involuntarily experience of being 'the fox'. After a few moments of relative quiet, she heard the Doctor call over to her.

"Donna? All right there?"

The redhead now was able to sit up, her heaving lungs slowing down a bit. She turned where she sat to see where he was and scowled: sitting in the jump seat, cool as you please, with his feet propped up on the console, reading a book. A book! The nerve, really! Aliens. Positively disgusting.

"How th'hell are you so calm? We nearly just died!" She was incredibly annoyed that he looked so pleased with himself while she was still gasping for air.

"'Nearly' being the operative word there. As you can see, we're still in excellent working order," the Doctor quipped. "And I think we've had our fill of the future for the time being. A nice trip into history seems a grand idea now."

He flipped the page of his book and remarked idly, "I feel like seeing a play. Something relaxing, don't you think?" He glanced up at her with a ridiculous grin. "Pursuing entertainment rather than being pursued for entertainment."

She snorted and, now having her breathing under control and the pain in her oxygen-starved muscles receding, she hauled herself to her feet and shuffled over to join him at the console of the TARDIS. He tossed the book onto the seat and got up from his reclined state, beginning to fiddle with controls.

"How's that play sound? Original actors of course. Comedy, melodrama, tragedy, or something else along the lines of Kabuki, or Nautanki? I've always wanted to see a Nautanki show."

She leaned closer to the jump seat so she could read the faded title stamped onto the cover of his abandoned book. Donna was only half listening to him, and upon finally deciphering the title, she said almost laughingly, "Are you serious?"

"Or something more modern like musical theater, then? My Fair Lady, Julie Andrews—brilliant woman; incredibly nice, too."

"Doctor—"

"Ooo, there's always opera. Nothing like a great dramatic-coloratura soprano to lift you up! Are you much of an opera person? Though I think she's actually sung by a mezzo-soprano, Carmen's always a fun one. A bit of a scandal when it first came out, and--"

"Shakespeare?"

He faltered, not entirely expecting that when they had the entire history of theater to explore. Shakespeare was old hat to him after all. He seemed almost disappointed. "Really? Shakespeare? I've met him. A few times, actually. Great bloke, genius with words." He paused, but only briefly to regain his enthusiasm, "Which one'll it be then? Hamlet? Richard II—nah, something more uplifting. Comedy! Taming of the Shrew, As You Like It, The Merchant of Venice—"

"No you twit," she interrupted his rapid-fire listings sharply. "You're reading Shakespeare?" She pointed to the small, well-worn and well-yellowed book with a battered leather covering. Following the line of her finger, understanding broke on his face.

"Ah. Got a problem with Shakespeare? We could always go see something else—Like I said, I've always wanted to see a Nautanki performance. D'you like Indian food?"

"You met Shakespeare? When?"

"Oh, several times," he scratched behind on ear, trying to remember fully how many.
"Gave him some ideas, transcribed Hamlet for him. Met 'im once with Martha, even. I kind of gathered that ol' Bill fancied Martha a bit. Familiar with his sonnets? He wrote some about her."

"What—Martha? Doctor Martha Jones? The same one I met?"

He grinned so broadly that his head bobbled, picked up the little book and shoved it at her. Thoroughly bewildered, she took it. "Chya want me to pick one or something?"

The Doctor nodded for her to continue.

"What? T'read aloud?"

That brilliant smile again. "You want Shakespeare, so let's get into a groove!" Rolling her eyes, she flipped through the thin book dispassionately before stopping somewhere in the middle. Drawing herself up to her full height and clearing her throat, Donna strove for as much cheesy dramatic effect as possible.

"My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare!"

Satisfied with herself she snapped the little tome shut and tossed it back on the console. Only now did she look back up the Doctor. His arms were crossed and he looked a little pale, definitely wary. His mouth was slightly open, and when she raised her eyebrows at him, it snapped shut. He watched her face closely, the muscles in his own face working as he briefly clenched his jaw.

"You… you don't happen to have a younger cousin or sister, do you?"

Her head tilted to the side in response to the slight squeak to his voice.
"Yeeeeah… Cousin. Just one. What of it?"

He closed his eyes trying to contain himself, baffling Donna further. It was like he had been suddenly confronted with some kind of traumatic memory. His voice was strained, "Still in school?"

"No, she died, the idiot. Kayaking accident…" Her brief sadness was alleviated by some fond memory that made her smile proudly, "Oh, but she gave her teachers hell, though, good girl." Donna leaned against the console, picking up the book of sonnets again, fondly lost in memory of the girl made of hellfire. "There was some incident with one of her English teachers I never got the full story of, though. Auntie was ready to sue the pants of the school."

A long silence followed, and then the Doctor cleared his throat.
"Y'know how I told you I was a father once?"

"Yeah?"

"I was a teacher once, too."

She gave him a look that stated she was clearly unimpressed until realization slowly dawned on her. Her mouth began to form an 'O' of disbelief and she raised an accusing finger, but he'd already darted around to the other side of the control panel.

"My Fair Lady it is! Bet we could take Rex and Julie for a bite after the show?"

He punched a button and the TARDIS shuddered violently in flight, flinging them both to the railing and floor.

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Endnote: If things aren't making sense, I suggest that you go to Youtube and watch "Comic Relief - Catherine Tate & David Tennant".
Things might click after that
But if you are familiar then, yes. Yes, I did go there. xD
And kudos to you