This was a request for the Doctor and bubble wrap. Just another day aboard the TARDIS.
Rude Awakening
The faint sounds of what surely were gunshots pierced through Donna's throbbing skull. She moaned in protest and rolled over, putting her pillow firmly over her head. It didn't seem to help, but she stubbornly remained still, immobilized by the fact that every single part of her ached if she moved it even a fraction of an inch.
Damn, that was a party. A small portion of her brain was pushing its way through the fogginess, small flashes of the night before coming to her. A little smile formed on her face, still smothered by her oh-so comfortable bedding.
Despite the pounding behind her temples and the nausea that would threaten at just the mere thought of movement, it had been worth it.
Some crazy inaugural ball for a fancy future-prince on a distant planet. Donna wouldn't have been able to remember the details even if she was in a proper state of mind. All she knew was the dancing, the food, the music, the fancy clothes, the liveliness…
The Doctor.
For an ancient alien, he sure knew his way around a social fête. Even if his skinny ass was the lightest weight she'd ever encountered. It was almost embarrassing, how he flopped around like a muppet.
Donna moaned, knowing she'd have to get up eventually. The hangover wouldn't be so bad. She just needed one of those magical cocktails the TARDIS always seemed to have whenever she or the Doctor was hurt in any way. She could manage.
Except for those flippin' loud bangs.
Irked, Donna peaked outside of her blankets, her eyes narrowing. What was that noise?
Knowing she was going to regret it, Donna delicately peeled the blankets away from her, her skin instantly goose-fleshed in the contrasted cold air. She exhaled slowly and counted to ten before opening her eyes.
The lights were mercifully dim and she smiled thankfully at the walls, receiving a very low hum in response. The popping continued, slicing through her skull and she wasn't sure if she should be concerned for that Spaceman. After all, something could really be happening to him and all she could think about was the relentless beating behind her eyeballs. Gulping in a breath of air, Donna hoisted herself up and carefully placed each foot in front of the other.
She somehow got the door open, the loud popping echoing down the hall.
"What the hell…" she muttered, her head downcast against the way-too-bright lights of the hallway. Feeling her way down the corridor, she followed the sound. Why was she doing this again? The terrible banging was only getting louder with every step.
"I swear, if you're not being threatened by something horrible, I will kill you, Martian," she vowed.
The green tint of the console room was like a haven for her eyes compared to that blasted hallway. But she still squinted and held her hand to her forehead, searching for…
"What the hell are you doing!?"
Sitting on the floor, a wide, child-like smile of pure joy on his face, was the Doctor. Surrounded by sheets and sheets (it looked like miles' worth) of bubble wrap.
"Donna!" His head shot up, looking entirely ridiculous with that stupid smile. He held up a clump of clear plastic. "Look! It makes sounds when you press on it!" To emphasize, he took a handful and squeezed with exaggerated effort. The trill of a dozen loud pops burst into the room, making every one of Donna's nerve endings explode.
"OI!" she shouted, her own voice making her head hurt even worse.
He stopped, completely confused.
"Where did you get that?"
He exhaled. "Oh, somewhere in the nineteen-nineties."
Her mouth gaped. "Just now?"
He shrugged. "About an hour ago. You were sleeping, and I got bored."
Donna frowned, some sort of logic working its way through her. "How…how long have I been sleeping?"
"Just about ten hours. No more than usual."
She glared. "And you're not feeling anything from last night?" she asked, incredulous. "You, the skinny alien who cannot drink a sip of wine without falling down?"
The Doctor looked offended. "I can hold my own with the best."
Donna humphed and ambled over to the jump seat. Just as she sat, the Doctor performed another round of loud pops.
"Do you mind?" she growled.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as if just noticing her pale cheeks, frazzled hair, and less than chipper attitude.
"I'm bloody hung over!" she spat. "And here you are makin' all this racket!"
He still looked perplexed. After a beat, he hoisted himself up and walked over. When he reached her, he held out a small cup of liquid.
She eyed it suspiciously. "What's that?"
He shrugged. "It was waiting for me when I walked in, feeling about as bad as you are now." He held it closer. "Go on."
She looked around. "Why was it out here and not in our rooms?"
He grinned. "This one was on us," he answered. "She'll help when we've saved the world, but not when we get so drunk we can't see straight."
"Speak for yourself, Martian," she muttered, but gratefully took the cup and down its contents in one quick gulp. The horrible throbbing in her head instantly vanished. She closed her eyes and exhaled, relishing in the pain-free sensation as if she'd reached the promised land.
She blinked up at him as he laughed. "What?"
"Doing shots already, Miss Noble?"
Feeling too relieved and elated at no longer suffering, Donna forgot to be indignant and swatted playfully at him. "I could drink you under the table any day," she said.
"That's what I let you think."
Her eyes blazed, and she hopped off the seat. "Oh yeah?" she asked, grabbing a large amount of plastic. "This is not how you treat a friend with a headache!" She leveled the wrap at the Doctor's ear and squeezed with all her might. The noise was filled the entire room, its echo even louder than at the initial boom. The Doctor jumped away as his hand flew up to his ear.
"Ow!" he gasped, turning on her with pure astonishment.
Donna laughed triumphantly and resumed her assault.