A/N: I have been down Brick Lane and have often been passed the Royal London Hospital, but I can't say I have ever taken much notice of the shops around there.


Part 2

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Three minutes later Donna found herself being taken into a very modest two bedroomed flat on the top floor of a house. To her amusement, the Doctor kept hold of her arm as he introduced her to all the rooms. Someone had been very busy trying to keep the place looking clean and tidy. The meagre furnishings had been polished and arranged for their optimum usability. "And these are the bedrooms," he ended the tour by telling her. "This is Ann's room, and this is mine, where you will be sleeping."

"Pardon?!" she demanded in shock.

The Doctor blushed. "I didn't mean like that. I'm letting you sleep in here while I sleep on the sofa," he explained.

"Oh no! I can't let you do that!" she insisted. "It would be rude to turf you out of your bed."

"A gentleman does not let a lady sleep on anything except a bed," he replied firmly.

It left no way for her to answer beyond a grateful, "Thank you, John." She even added in a kiss on his cheek which caused him to blush delightfully again; making her decide to try and elicit another such reaction when she could.

Martha sighed in frustration as she made the tea in what passed for a kitchen; although 'glorified cupboard' would have been a better description. What had gotten into the Doctor? They'd been waiting for weeks for Donna to appear, so it wasn't exactly an enormous surprise to see her arrive; although it had been weird to get to 1969 before her. And why had he allowed their names to change like that? The name 'Ann' would take some getting used to, as would calling the Doctor 'John'. He had gone off and had a quiet chat with Peter when they had still been in 2009, not telling Martha much about it beyond some bare basics. It was puzzling and very annoying at the same time. He did like his secrets though.

Donna allowed the Doctor to sit her down on one of the comfy chairs in front of the television. It was ancient looking, surrounded by wood with dials instead of buttons, and the programme it was showing was in black and white. She remembered seeing this episode when it was recently repeated on BBC 3 as part of some documentary.

Gratefully accepting a cup of tea from Martha, she heard all about living in 1969 and their temporary co-habiting arrangements. It all sounded a bit haphazard to her; so taking the bull by the horns, she suggested they drew up a rota for various domestic tasks with amendments to take place once they were each successfully gained paid employment.

Both the Doctor and Martha seemed pleased with this piece of organisation, and they quickly settled into a routine; one where Donna and Martha worked and the Doctor tackled a solution to getting back to their 'home time'. The rent got paid, there was food in the cupboards, they ate reasonably well, and there weren't many arguments. Despite the Doctor insisting politely otherwise, it was also decided to save up and buy another bed to put in Martha's room so that she could share with Donna and allow the Doctor to get back into a proper bed. Luckily it didn't take as long as they had expected to save for it once Donna found a little second hand shop she remembered existing near the Royal London Hospital.


Using a faked personal reference written by someone called Doctor McCrimmon working for UNIT, would you believe, Donna had managed to get some office work with an agency. It had been easy for her to prove her typing and shorthand skills. Within a short span she was able to build up an enviable reputation for being able to step in last minute with any placement.

Having stepped into one particular place, and solved their problem much quicker than had been anticipated, she inadvertently found herself with an afternoon free. Feeling like a kid let out of school early, she joyously made her way back home to the flat. As she rode on the bus she considered whether she should take over Ann's cooking stint that evening and give her a well-earned break.

Nothing seemed unusual at first. She breezed in quietly, so as not to disturb the Doctor as he slaved away at his latest project, having quickly learned that it did not pay to interrupt him when he was in his creative moment. Should she offer to make tea, or just go ahead and do it anyway, since he rarely declined a cup? He did look as though he needed something though, she thought as she silently considered him; and batted away her naughty answer.

He was working on one of his inventions again; no doubt part of Billy Shipton's media thing and all very hush hush. He was desperately hunched over the table and his nose too close for comfort against something that looked strangely like a Stanley knife gone wrong. Leaning back to rub at a sore spot just below his kidneys, he suddenly started when he caught sight of her. "Hello, Donna," he softly greeted her. "I didn't know you were home."

"Here, let me do that," she offered, moving forward to place her hands on his back. As she massaged his stiff muscles, she explained, "I finished loads earlier than they thought I would, so they let me come home." Blimey he was stressed! There were more knots in his muscles than a schoolboy's tie. With determination, she carried on rubbing her hands over his body. "We really ought to do this with you lying down. I've got some oil or even body lotion if you like."

"Oh, I'm not sure…," he started to say cagily.

"I promise not to take advantage," she teased. "Even though I evidently can't keep my hands off you."

That gained a smile as the Doctor relaxed a little bit more. "Okay. I'd love that if you still want to…" He waved vaguely over his shoulder.

"I wouldn't offer unless I was willing," she assured him, and patted his shoulder. "Come on then, get your kit off and lie down." When he shot her a surprised look, she added, "Just the top half will do. You'd have to get me really drunk for the rest of it."

She was teasing him again! Relief sighed through him. When would he ever learn that she didn't see him like that, like Martha did? Smiling, he stripped off his shirt while Donna went off to find some oil or lotion. Fortunately she was acting very efficiently, taking away any possible embarrassment in the situation.

Donna went into her bedroom, laid a towel on the bedspread, and signalled for him to lie down. She held in her surprise at how thin he looked beneath his shirt, mentally vowing to feed him up a bit more when it was her turn to cook. Hmm. Maybe moving his trousers out of the way would be a good idea? Leaning in, she whispered, "Do you want to avoid getting this stuff on your decent trousers? I could do your legs too, if you like."

'Why not?' he thought. So he unfastened his trousers and only then thought to ask for a suitable covering. Donna laughed and went to fetch another towel to hide his modesty. That was how he ended up lying flat on the bed, on his stomach, as Donna Noble worked her form of magic on his tired muscles.

Oh it was good! Her hands smoothed over his skin, wiping away his tension as she did so, lulling him. Although when she stood over him to press her hands into his shoulders and her bust almost smacked him in the face, his thoughts suddenly skyrocketed in an unwanted direction. His thoughts had been doing that a lot recently. Fortunately that didn't last too long, and he was almost completely relaxed by the time she was tending to his legs.

"John, do you mind me asking about you and Ann?" she said as she abruptly brought him out of his daze. "I seem to be playing gooseberry, and I'm truly sorry for doing that. But what I wanted to know was: why don't you share a room? You don't have to pretend anything for my sake."

He peered over his shoulder at her. "There is nothing going on between Ann and I, I assure you. We are merely friends."

Donna snorted her disagreement. "Has anyone told Ann that snippet of information? She clearly fancies you."

There was a nod of agreement. "That may be so, but that doesn't dismiss the fact that she and I are not in a romantic relationship." He then eyed her thoughtfully. "Do you think I act inappropriately towards her?"

"I think you act stupidly towards her, but that's a different matter. Ann is gorgeous and you act likes she's your little sister," she commented. "Turn over and I'll do your chest."

He considered this as he started to flip onto his back, and then halted dramatically. "I don't think that is a good idea, Donna," he said as he clung onto his towel.

"John," she sighed. "You're a bloke, and I accept that without complaint. Well, almost without complaint, so don't look at me like that. As I said earlier, I won't take advantage."

He blushed a bright red. "You don't mind? But I…"

"I had noticed," she said with a smirk. "Now lie back and think of England."

He lay back down and chuckled. "I want you to know that you are brilliant," he said, capturing her hand as it rested on his chest.

"That's what friends are for," she stated, gazing fondly down at him. "Even friends who have taken your hand hostage," she bent to say.

"This hand is mine!" he teased, squeezing it tightly, causing her to topple onto him.

"What's the ransom to get it back?" she asked, fighting off her need to laugh at his daftness.

"Hmm. What shall I demand? How does two of my goes at cleaning the bathroom sound?" he offered.

"Oh no! You could have done us all a favour and chosen two of your cooking sessions," she mocked him.

He gasped in pretend horror; he'd be only too willing to let her cook for him. "That is not very nice of you. I may have to punish such a comment, very harshly," he threatened, and grabbed her before she could stand up properly. With a swift action, she was spun onto the bed beside him and up against the wall, giggling like a loon. "Are you repentant yet?"

"No," she replied defiantly. "I regret nothing. You, on the other hand, ought to regret letting me entice you into my lair." She then did a pretend witchy cackle.

"It is you who will regret getting me in here," he said with a laugh. My, he missed doing this sort of thing for fun. This was the Donna he remembered from when they'd ridden on the Segways beneath the Thames; full of laughter and the joys of life. The whole of her seemed to light up for entirely the right reasons this time. In a moment of weakness, he murmured, "You are very beautiful."

She immediately sobered. "No I'm not, John," she whispered back. "I'm not even pretty."

"Who told you that nonsense?" he crooned sympathetically. "You are beautiful," he said, placing a brief kiss on her lips. "You are beautiful to me and everybody that looks at you," he insisted, kissing her briefly again. "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise." His hand was caressing her cheek and smoothing her hair out of the way. Out of the way to allow him to sweep in and touch those voluptuous lips. Everything about her was voluptuous; tempting him on.

He was looking at her so sincerely, so lovingly; how could she resist that? So when he rolled her onto her back, she let him steal more kisses. That was before she freely gave them, as his mouth moved delicately over hers. All the time his hands never strayed, keeping respectfully to her head, back and shoulders. His mouth, however, was doing criminal things to her sensitivities; driving her wild with desire by teasing her with his tongue, sucking and licking in turn.