Warning: contains adult themes from the start (as they say on BBC TV).

A/N: I must admit my motivation for this whole story was "not yet another Rose/John Smith fic! Blow that! I'll write my own bloody version" and nothing else. I'm amazed how I talk myself into these things...

Part 3

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John woke up groggily wondering where he was and why he was there. Hadn't he been on his way to Outer Calistro VI before he found himself here? Here being an extremely unusual and domestic place; and a bed to boot!

But whose bed? Sitting up he was surprised to find he was half naked in this strange bed that faintly smelt of a woman. He breathed in deeper to let the scent assault his senses and the clear image of long ginger hair that shone in the sunlight formed in his mind.

Donna! Her name was Donna, and she'd been with him there last night, he suddenly realised. Either that or it had been a spectacularly realistic dream.

He laid back down on his pillow then to let the possible memory of her materialise in his head. Yes, she had definitely been in this bedroom, ihis/i bedroom; and she had undressed him, getting him to peel off his clothing, right down to his underpants. Oh my! She had stripped him almost naked.

That wasn't all that had happened. As they had entered the small hallway of his flat he had… yes, he had kissed her. At least he thought he had. That part was the memory component he suspected was pure fantasy in a wish fulfilment dream of some sort. 'I mean, what woman would want to kiss me?' he pondered. Only she hadn't exactly had a choice in it, from what he remembered. He had rather forced her into it! Oh dear, oh dear. How would he ever be able to apologise enough to Donna?

And what the hell was that pain in his groin? Wasn't it bad enough that his body kept reacting in this embarrassing way, but that it should be increasingly painful? He really should find a doctor to ask about it, if he could ever get over his humiliation. Perhaps Martha would have a biology book he could borrow that would explain it all? Although how on earth could he form the question that he wanted to ask in order to get such a book from her? No, it was best that he didn't do so for the time being. This low pain might eventually go away of its own accord. It seemed to be worse when he thought about his vivid dream where he kissed Donna. It wasn't the first time he had had such a dream this week since he first laid eyes on her, but the previous night's one was by far the most… erm… uplifting so far, for want of a better phrase.

He idly swept a hand under his pillow to stop it from trying to fall on the floor, and his hand touched something small and circular. Grabbing hold of it, he brought the object out and held it up to his face for closer examination.

It was an earring! A hooped earring of the sort that he was sure Donna wore. So how had it got into his bed? Had she…? He eyed the bed with open curiosity. No, she couldn't have done, could she? This proved Donna had definitely been there in his bedroom, so the undressing part was true. Was the kissing part true too? And did the earring mean that he wasn't the only one to get undressed?

The pain in his groin suddenly worsened, rendering him momentarily breathless with it. He grimaced with the pain and rubbed at it to help ease it somewhat; making the decision to have a warming shower to try and lessen it.

He would find that helped enormously, much to his surprised horror. As it was, he would console himself with the possibility of engineering a meeting to return that earring to Donna.

Donna got a mystery phonecall just before lunchtime that turned out not to be quite a mystery. "Hello. Is that Donna?" the voice asked. "It's John; from last night, and last week I suppose. Anyway, I don't… I wanted to thank you for getting me home safely and undressing me. It was you that did that, wasn't it? I think I might have behaved a bit inappropriately. If I did, I apologise. I'm not normally like that, you see and…"

"John!" she cut in to stop his apologetic tirade. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. All you did was get a bit drunk, and no harm was done."

"Are you sure? Only I seem to recall being most ungentlemanlike," he protested.

"If you call singing James Blunt songs to me being ungentlemanly, then yes, I'll agree. But other than that you honestly have nothing to worry about," Donna insisted.

"But I do! Let me make it up to you. I could take you out for a meal, or we could go to the pictures, or something," he offered.

"How about a concert performed by the Scots Dragoon Guards?" she deliberately suggested to tease him about his hangover.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Are you sure you want that?" he queried.

She had to stifle her laughter. "No, not really."

"While I have you on the line, did you by any chance lose a piece of jewellery last night?" he asked hesitantly. If she didn't answer in the affirmative then that meant that he had stolen it off her; and that thought would be added to all his recent unbearable ones. It wouldn't make it into the top three, mind.

"Yes, I did!" she eagerly answered with relief; and they both instantly felt better. "I lost my left earring, and I didn't even notice it had gone until I was getting undressed and putting on my nightie."

The thought of Donna nakedly slipping on a nightdress that skimmed over her ample curves, as gravity helped ease it down her hip, instantly brought back that damned pain, and John silently cursed the mental image and his abundant imagination.

He rapidly cleared his throat. "When should I return it to you?" he tried asking, hoping she would suggest right that second or possibly later that day.

"Erm…" Donna thought carefully when would be possibly convenient for him. "Monday would be perfectly fine. There's no need to put yourself out on my behalf."

"Oh! That's okay, I don't mind in the slightest, since we're practically neighbours," he said quickly, hoping to persuade her.

"I'll tell you what, I've got to do a spot of shopping for Mum, so how about I take your phone number and get in touch to arrange something later," she offered.

John bit down on his disappointment; he'd hoped to arrange something a bit more definite. "That sounds fine," he agreed before reciting his mobile phone number, explaining that he hadn't arranged a landline yet.

"Right then, I've got to go," she said cheerily. "These packets of tea won't buy themselves. Shame, because that would be an amazing trick to watch. I'd pay good money to see tea bags walking down the street; although where would they keep the money to pay at the till? It's not as though they've got pockets, is it?"

"Donna, you're mad!" he declared fondly.

"You're not the first person to have ever said that," she agreed; and they chuckled together. "I'll speak to you later, John. Bye!"

He returned the farewell and came off the phone feeling very optimistic. Now how could he entice her to come round that evening?

John spent time anxiously, and then later cheerfully, cleaning his flat for the approval of his possible evening visitor. He felt like a complete prat for behaving like some desperate adolescent the night before. Being drunk was no excuse for it. Duty dictated that he make it up to Donna being as gentlemanly as possible in future. That sort of nonsense could not happen again.

Martha walked passed his door and was amazed to hear vacuuming coming from inside. Curiosity made her knock on the door. He eventually opened it wearing a big beamy smile and a pinny. "Hello, Martha! Lovely to see you this fine day. How can I help you?" he jovially asked.

"Nothing, really. I just wondered how you are since you don't normally vacuum," she revealed.

"Don't I? Surely you're mistaken. I know I can be a bit untidy, but slovenly? Nah! Did you want to come for a cup of tea? I can easily put the kettle on. In fact I was thinking of making a cake," he threw at her as he headed into the kitchen.

A cake! Now this she had to see! "If you've got time," she said as she stepped in. To say she was astonished would be an understatement. "So... Why the cleaning frenzy? Anyone would think you were having a special guest," she teased.

"Well... I might have later on," he remarked coyly.

Martha instantly wondered if it was the woman that had walked by her window late the night before. She had seemed as though she had come from the Doctor's door; but Martha had dismissed it at the time as being impossible. The Doctor never looked at women. If he did he would have surely looked in her direction. She may be modest but Martha also knew that she was worth looking at.

"Who would that be then?" Martha asked as she accepted his offer of a mug of tea. She rather liked this new domesticated Doctor; he was much more pleasant to her.

He considered if he ought to say a great deal at this stage. "Erm… Do you know a woman in the office called Donna Noble? Well, she does some administrative stuff for the history department, and she gave me a lift home last night. I thought I might repay her by, sort of, inviting her round. That's not daft, is it?" he added on the question when Martha seemed shocked by his admission. "Do you not like her? Is there something wrong that I should know about?" he asked anxiously.

Martha shook her head. "No, there's nothing wrong with her! I haven't met her yet but a few people have said that she seems very nice, helpful and efficient. Old man Gregory said you could tell she wasn't a permanent employee by her enthusiasm!" She gave a chuckle as she remembered his words the previous day.

It was at that point that she noticed the Doctor's expression of curious concern. She'd never seen him look so vulnerable. Then she thought about a comment one of the boys had said to her on the way to the school bus; something about being replaced in Mr Smith's love life. She had laughed it off at the time, but now she could see it was a bit more serious.

"Are you sure it's wise to encourage this Donna if we are going to be moving on in a couple of weeks?" she pondered.

"We're doing that?" he asked.

"John, you know we're doing that at the end of term. We discussed this," she reminded him gently.

It didn't seem to matter how many times this cropped up he always seemed reluctant to leave this teaching job. To be quite frank, Martha could not wait to leave the place and its little guttersnipes; but the Doctor was enjoying the experience immensely. He had taken to it like a duck to water. Martha fleetingly wondered if the presence of this Donna had any bearing on it. Perhaps.

It was with a great deal of concern that she watched him evade the subject with her. He was hiding something, and that fact scared her. So she changed the subject. "How about pooling our resources and doing some food shopping together?" suggested Martha.

"Do you think we should?" he asked in astonishment.

"Well… John… it makes sense seeing as we live next door to each other. We could even share the odd meal if you like," she reasoned.

"Yes, that could work," he reluctantly agreed, knowing it was logical despite his initial response of declining the offer. His shared meal plans involved someone else entirely, but it was unfair of him to exclude and neglect Martha. "Okay then."