Donna sighed, settling herself at the table. She wrapped her hand around the fresh mug of tea, wondering why sleep was evading her tonight. The day hadn't been unpleasant, even by her pre-Doctor standards, but tonight she felt so restless. She couldn't stay inside her room another moment.

She looked across the table, noticing for the first time a notebook with the cover folded off underneath it. It wasn't hers, so that left one other TARDIS occupant that it could belong to.

She shouldn't look. Donna had never known him to write in a notebook at all. There were random notes written on scraps of paper and taped in the oddest of places, but not a full notebook. And it wasn't as if he was an open book himself, so she doubted that he meant for whatever was written on that paper to remain here, when he was nowhere to be found.

Donna shook herself, letting out a tired laugh in the empty room. It probably just scribbled equations, or random bits of information that crossed his mind. She'd simply close it and drop it off at his room.

Donna rose, and walked over, putting her cup down. She reached out, grabbing the notebook, and pulling the cover up. She wasn't going to peek...but she did.

Donna leaned back against the seat, looking him over. Her eyes were bright, and he knew that she was interested too.

She blinked. She flipped the cover back, and looked over her shoulder. The Doctor was still nowhere to be found, and she settled herself into the closest chair.

This was the Doctor's handwriting, but she couldn't imagine how these could be his words.

The pollen wasn't the reason he longed to pull her closer, but it was the reason his did. Her hair ran like fire down her back, as he pulled the band loose from it. Donna arched against...

Donna cleared her throat, and looked over at the door again. It only took a quick skim down the page to realize that she very much should not be reading this. It took a beat longer, to realize that this story was about her.

She flushed, red filling her cheeks. It started as embarrassment, then turned to something closer to anger. How dare her write...this! HE was the one who said they were taking it slow. He had said that kissing now and then was plenty, and now this. This...she didn't even know what to call this that he had written. And what was this pollen that he kept going on about? She briefly wondered if this was a real thing, as she heard footsteps rushing down the hall. The Doctor skidded into the room, giving her smile.

"Oh! Donna, you're up," he said. "How brilliant, I mean...I'm sorry you aren't sleeping. I was just looking for a notebook, you know me, always scribbling away at..oh..."

He trailed off as she held the open notebook into the air. The Doctor did something she had never seen-he blushed. He took a step back, lifting his hands into the air.

"Listen," he stared, before opening and closing his mouth for a few moments, but no explanation found its way to her.

"You wrote fiction about us?!" she shouted. "You wrote fiction about us! Dirty fiction."

Interesting fiction.

"I.." the Doctor said. "Donna, please, calm down. We can talk about this."

Donna flipped the page, and noted the word pollen again at the top.

"'The pollen filled his head with a delightful fog'," she shouted. "'And he pressed his lips to Donna's!' What the hell is the pollen you keep writing about?! Is this real, Doctor? Is it?!

"Well," he said, still holding up his hands. Aside from the flush in his cheeks, he was annoyingly calm. "There are some pollens that would have a psy-"

"I don't want an answer!" Donna said. "Didn't you say wanted to take it slow?!"

The Doctor stared at her, and then nodded. "I did."

"Then why did you write this?!" she asked, trying to pretend she wasn't reading the current page in small increments as she glanced at the evidence. He could hardly blame her after all, the small, tight writing drew her in and she had to fight to look back at the Doctor once more.

"Because I said slow, Donna," he said. "Because you agreed. Because I want more, every moment of every day, but I will never ask more of you then you are willing to give."

"Oh," Donna said, lowering the notebook.

She looked him over, and then slowly settled back into the chair thinking. There was a good chance, that most of what she felt wasn't anger. It wasn't the only thing boiling beneath the surface. She was very interested in what the fiction version of her and him were doing, and how she could possibly make it reality.

"Donna," he said, stepping closer. "Can I have the notebook?"

She sighed, and held it out to him.

"Is this the only one?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Of...course it is," the Doctor said, nodding. "Why wouldn't it be? Why...did you...see more?"

Donna grinned up at him.

"How long have you been doing this then?" she asked. "And do all your stories require a room without gravity."

"Nooo," the Doctor said, blushing again. "Just this one..."

She nodded, and moved closer to him.

"Doctor?" she asked, as he looked her over.

"Yes, Donna?" he responded.

"Do you have...one of those rooms?" she asked.

The Doctor jerked his head up, and smiled at once.

"I do," he said, nodding and flipping a few pages in.