A/N: if you're curious about The Chicken Song by Spitting Image, sorry but the YouTube link isn't allowed on here.

Part 5

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"Daddy, I like this music," Jenny informed him with a wiggle of her bottom. "What's it called?"

"I've no idea," he admitted, unable to keep his amusement off his face. "Donna tends to know these things." He turned his head to ask her, "What is this?"

"The Chicken Song," she stated in exasperation. "Honestly, have you never heard of it?"

The Spitting Image team from the television puppet series could be quite easily heard singing, " Hold a chicken in the air. Stick a deckchair up your nose. Buy a jumbo jet. And then bury all your clothes… "

"Er… no," he vaguely answered, scratching his head. "I don't think so. It doesn't make a lot of sense."

"It's not meant to," she huffed. "That's the whole point of it, to mock the pop chart."

"Oh."

"I like it," Jenny trilled as she got the words wrong, again. "It's funny."

"If you say so," John muttered under his breath. "Okay, madame, time for bed."

"But Daddy," Jenny tried to argue, "I've got to dance to the music."

"There'll be plenty of time to do all that tomorrow," John insisted. "We're going to listen to the evening play once you're in bed."

Jenny threw a look of disgust at Donna and stomped off towards the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Not fair!"

"Terribly unfair," John genially agreed as he followed. "But not as unfair as if I didn't read you a bedtime story."

Seconds later, Donna was left on her own to amuse herself for a while, so she picked up the radio and put it on a station that played mellow music as well as the hit parade. If John only knew Martha had retrieved the radio from the TARDIS instead of assuming she'd found it in her suitcase he'd have a pink fit, she thought. Hopefully, it would be quite a while before he had to discover the truth.

She smiled at John when he walked in from his bedroom and sat himself down next to her on the basic two-seater settee that graced the lounge. The strains of George Michael beginning to sing A Different Corner could be heard from the radio.

"Ah, that's better. Jenny finally gave in. She's asleep," he announced with a pleased grin and then looked at the empty chair near them. "I hope Martha is okay getting back tonight."

"She's a sensible woman. Did you give her enough money for a taxi?"

"I hope so," he replied. "Being short of cash is a bind, but at least we get paid tomorrow."

"Lucky you," Donna grouched, "being able to earn money. I'm beginning to feel like a kept woman."

He immediately blushed a bright red. "Sorry about that," he mumbled. "If I could, I'd find you a paying job here. In the meantime, I'll give you some money as soon as I can."

"Thanks. It'll come in handy when we have our adventure trip to the nearest supermarket. Jenny should love it."

"I'll come too," he readily promised. "Don't let me avoid it."

"I won't," she easily consented, and then adjusted the volume on the radio so that they could talk more easily. "It feels weird being just you and me again. The dynamic duo, or partners in crime. All that seems like a long time ago."

He nodded. "Nothing against Martha or anything, but I rather miss being just us too. I like it. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes. Time to reconnect in a way without the usual distractions." She sighed and leaned against him like she used to. "It's nice."

"Very nice," he agreed, and lifted up her nearest hand in order to run his fingertips across the skin of her palm in tender sweeps. "You work too hard," he commented when he finished his assessment of whatever he was doing.

"Are my hands that bad?" she wondered. "I only look after Jenny. It's not as if I work down a coalmine."

"That's not what I mean," he stressed, and idly entwined their fingers, just like he used to when they ran. "You are far too loyal and selfless, putting our needs before your own. I want you to know that I'd understand if you ever wanted to dump us for a life of your own with a man."

"The word 'dump' rather undermines that notion, don't you think?" she teased. "Anyway, dried up old spinsters like me don't get chances like that. No one will have me, so you're lumbered with me for the time being."

He scowled at her words. "Any man should think himself lucky to have you. I know I'm extremely grateful to have you here with me."

As he had expected, she dismissed his words with a wave of her free hand "You have to say that, as my official best friend. You'd be without a babysitter if you didn't."

"No no no. I won't have you saying such nasty things about yourself." He turned in his seat to gaze directly into her eyes. "You are wonderful, compassionate, loving, intelligent, supportive and generally brilliant."

Oops! I've said too much, he thought. Oh gawd. I've gone and put my foot in it.

She blinked at him, not saying a word for a few seconds. "Okay," she drawled, elongating the syllables, "what's the problem? Am I dying, or are you about to chuck me out on my earhole?"

"Donna," he chuckled, letting relief and joy wash over him. "Only you could take a compliment so badly. I'm just trying to be truthful." Her head tilted in disbelief, so he tacked on, "And be nice to you. I've been rather neglectful recently. Starting this new job has distracted me from properly socialising with you."

"Are you trying to say I'm an attention seeker now? Because I assure you, I'm not."

"No, you are not. Not in the slightest," he fondly agreed.

"So, what is all this…" She waved a hand between them. "…supposed to mean?"

If it had been anyone else, she would have suspected them of making a move on her, but this was the Doctor, albeit in human form, and he just didn't do that sort of thing.

"What I'm trying, very badly, to say is… is," he stammered, easing closer, "is…"

Search me, he suddenly thought. What was he trying to say? He had looked into those amber tinged vivid blue eyes of hers, which trusted him more than he deserved, and reason had skipped rapidly out of the window. Unfortunately, what it had left behind was the fervent, and very alien feeling of wanting to kiss her desperately.

It had to stop.

Now.

With a quick adjustment of his collar, he announced, "I think we ought to get a television."

"A television," she echoed, wondering where that decision had come from. "Good idea, but do we have the funds yet? And when I say 'we', I really mean 'you', please note."

"I'll arrange it tomorrow," he stated and forced himself to stand up. "And I'll see about getting Jenny an hour or so in the crèche to give you a break. Tea? I'll put the kettle on."

Wow. She didn't know what had just happened, but she'd certainly pay to know.

Later that evening Donna ran the whole conversation through her head as she lay in bed. What had he really meant? It could have genuinely been him working his way up to offering to buy a television, or it could have been a smokescreen for something else entirely. She wished she knew John Smith well enough in order to know, because the Doctor would have been talking completely innocently.

She thought Martha was asleep, but Martha suddenly rolled over in her bed and asked, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she tried to pretend, and then decided to compare notes. "Well, not really. I was just thinking about John. Do you think he's been any different?"

"It's a bit hard to tell," Martha admitted. "We still don't know what is normal for him. Why? What makes you ask?"

"Something seemed slightly odd earlier. Oh, I meant to have told you. He's got a not-so-secret admirer," Donna revealed.

Now intrigued, Martha sat up to ask, "Who?"

"The staff nurse on his ward. Joan something or other."

"Joan Redfern? Yes, I know her," Martha gleefully confirmed. "What did you think of her?"

"A bit stern, to say the least," Donna commented. "But I felt sorry for her, because he completely ignored her obvious crush, and talked to Jenny instead."

Martha considered this. "To be fair, the ward is not the place to flirt with anyone; but not even a flicker?"

"No, nothing."

"Hmm. Could have been because you were there," Martha reasoned.

"Me?" donna blurted out. "What have I got to do with it? I don't mind him having a flirt if he wants to. In fact, I'll tell him that tomorrow."

"What? No, that's not what I meant," Martha began to contradict her but thought better of it. Perhaps Donna didn't want that sort of relationship with him. "Never mind," she sighed. "I will try to watch them when I get the chance and will report back to you afterwards. Although I don't think he will be interested in her."

"You never know," Donna countered, and lay back down, ready to sleep.

She would have been satisfied with the end of the conversation; except she was left feeling as if she hadn't won the argument at all. For the life of her, she couldn't work out why.

Unsurprisingly, the hastily promised television did not materialise the following day. At least they had the radio for now, and John had returned home earlier than expected, having had his afternoon lecture cancelled, so Donna took advantage of him being able to take over the reins with Jenny, as it were, and treated herself to a shower.

Her day had been spent investigating the undergrowth of a nearby wood with an enthusiastic little girl, and she was feeling rather sweaty after scrambling about through the soft, muddy soil after examining every bug possible. Plus having to manhandle several worms and a slug, Donna reminded herself. All of that needed rewarding.

With a last look to make sure things were okay, with Jenny 'entertaining' imaginary guests with the play tea set Martha had magically found, Donna left John to his tea drinking fate. He could cope on his own for a while, she decided. Every dad needed to know how to drink pretend cups of tea or cope with having a doll and teddy as a fellow guest. There was an available time slot in the bathroom for a shower with her name on, and she was going to take it.

Things were going well with her shower until she stepped out of the bathtub and found out that the bath sheet she had assumed was hanging on the back of the door, was no longer there. Probably thrown on John's bed instead, knowing him, she pondered. The messy pup.

Lifting up the remaining towel from the radiator, she assessed its size. Only a smallish, skimpy towel that'd only cover the bare essentials, eh? Just her luck. Not exactly the sort of thing to use when there is a male about; even one as placid as John. After a brief, initial rub down to dry herself with the towel she decided she would have to risk it and make a run for the bedroom door. If she could just creep out quietly without being noticed, she'd soon be home scot-free.

Carefully opening the bathroom door a few inches so that she just about fit through it, she made a dash across the narrow hallway….

…And immediately collided with a startled John standing outside.

"Eek!" he squeaked, flinging out his arms to stop himself landing on the carpet.

Luckily, anger came to her rescue when she took his suspiciously guilty expression. "Were you deliberately hanging about outside the bathroom door? You'd better not have been. What are you doing here?"

"I didn't… I wasn't," he floundered. "I heard the shower going and wondered who was in there."

"You heard the shower," she echoed in disbelief, "and yet you couldn't make an educated guess that it was me."

"Well, I…"

"Who exactly do you think you live with? Snow White and the seven dwarfs?"

"Obviously not," he tried again to defend himself, "but I thought you had gone out."

In reply, she beckoned him closer with a finger and then whispered into his ear, "Guess what. I'm still here and I had a shower."

Unfortunately, her words pointed out her wet predicament, and his eyes instantly lowered to the swell of her breasts barely covered by a towel.

"Oh," he near groaned, "that is very…" And quickly shut up again, lest he incriminate himself.

It caused her nostrils to instantly flare. "Very what?" she demanded to know.

"Very cold for you," he sweetly amended, pleased with his quick thinking. "You should hurry to dry yourself before…"

His eyes had risen from her chest to the ends of the wet curls dripping onto her shoulders. All reasonable thought totally evaded him as his tongue yearned to follow the trail of those drips.

"Before I thump you," she finished for him, and wanted to laugh when he accidentally nodded in agreement. "You may have time to stand around here looking gormless, but I have things to do."

When he didn't move as expected, she raised a hand and pushed him out of the way.

"That means scarper, med boy, unless you want me all over you."

He dutifully stepped aside and watched her storm into her bedroom before shutting the door quite firmly in his face, to close the situation. It was only then that he allowed himself to mutter a reply to her retort.

"Yes please," he definitely groaned this time, leaning against the wall in a vain attempt to halt his downward spiral. "That would be lovely. Book me in for an appointment, whenever you want."

His eyes widened in horror as he heard his whispered words. What was he doing lusting over his friend like that?! Had he completely lost his senses? This was a bad road to be on. Really bad. It could only end in pain, most of it his, probably in the crown jewels area of his body, knowing Donna. She had an impressive track record of distributing punishment when necessary.

"And now you've gone and thought about her punishing you," he grumbled as certain bodily responses insisted on being noticed. "Why couldn't you just let things be?"

He continued to mutter to himself as he forced his body to walk away and returned back to the lounge.

"'It'll be fine living with two women. I can cope'," he chided himself, remembering the words he had said to a colleague the week before. Even opening the fridge and standing in front of the cold air didn't seem to have an effect. "I won't feel the urge to perv when my best friend takes a shower. Her ginger hair never did anything for me anyway. Well, not much." He halted and scrubbed a hand down his face. "I'm doomed. Oh God, I want her. This is not allowed."

"Daddy?" Jenny queried, breaking through his self-recriminating haze.

She was no longer sat by the coffee table but stood judgementally in front of him. "I'm just talking to the chocolate bar in the fridge. I shouldn't want to eat it, but I do," he lied.

Luckily, an unimpressed Jenny went back to playing with her tea set. Unluckily, he went back to tackling his newfound desire.