[ 14 / ? ] prompt: me wanting to dish out something quick during my spare hour between 2 lectures

THIS IS THE RESULT OF THAT PROMPT.
tenth / donna fic without tenth even in sight man am I good and whatnot
or really rather I mean
why would I out this in that tag this makes absolutely no sense. orz ;
oh well overriding theme of these things is still those two so if I can get away with the first story being 9 / donna I can get away with this too no?

PLASTIC PLANETS
[ shaun / donna / some wilf ]

He dearly loves her, really does, but he won't pretend to know this would be what he married into. Some might say it to be a blessing, thinking you know all and then finding there is more, but he was fine with Donna Noble with just spunk and her big mouth, and that little bit of tenderness that's right there underneath.
He dearly loves her, really does, but what's underneath there scares him.
He's a dreamer, always been, and so he thought her to be too, with how she sometimes sinks away, in the deepest of her thoughts, as if she's looking there for something she knows not even form of. Maybe she just knows reason, but he doubts that, as well, or at least some reason other than it maybe dispelling that gruelling wrenching sadness he came to find she carries.
And she knows not even what for.
He remembers the first time, quite long ago, the first time he thought she maybe had a fascination or a hobby they could delve into together, dreamers that could share an interest in the plane high up and hurtling over. But it turns out plane - watching is not her hobby, and it's neither that her father died in the wreckage of a crash - it's what he asks a little later, softly, hoping that she'll take it well and won't become upset again.
Instead, he feels little, when she communicates this pining feeling for her to be up there, flying, instead of on the ground. It's something he would easily dismiss as a lasting childhood dream, but her eyes upon the plane, blue and rising hair, spoke of something more than that.
He remembers a book, long ago for him, when a very sick girl had a last dream - of flying. And Donna Noble's healthy, he's told that after tests, and their baby is fine and she's smiling and shining, but in the back of his mind, he thinks her sick indeed, and maybe - he'd really rather not consider - she carries death somehow, not for him or others, but only for herself since things went so wrong on Christmas.
They have a little boy, their little miracle with the most curious of eyes in his dark color, but she won't give him any leeway for the input of his name. Her list has only one, though she has no pondering or scrapping done, and he's so very puzzled because it's not Lance or Geof, but some common ordinary name without a meaning.
At least, he thinks John means absolutely nothing, but maybe Donna Noble does.
And he makes the grave mistake of buying fluorescent stars to stick upon the ceiling of the little boy's room - in blue - and then in punishment she's one day late, twenty minutes over time for bedtime story, so he goes up and in and then find her in the corner, curled up and crying while the baby sleeps so tightly under the sky of their fake universe.
She lies lame on the couch, after, pale and almost feverish, with a face that's burning up, and she just keeps apologizing for the sudden crash she does not even understand because the sight of plastic Jupiter is not anything to cry about - or shouldn't be - and she still did.
It's then that he heads off to Wilfred, up upon the hill, to ask if he knows any alignments of the planets of the stars that do these things to gingers, makes them cry at flying planes and children's decorations.
Wilfred is not ginger, though, and still he sheds a tear upon the question, and then simply shakes his head, saying he can't tell.
When Shaun is at the door again, however, and looks a little back, there is an old man right above him, saluting at the stars.
So he does too, not knowing why, and silently prays the creature up there might not taunt his wife but save her.