A/N: Sorry for the delay but I've been holed up in bed again. Hands up who's still with "Team Chris"? You might like some aspects here.

Part Six

.

Donna woke up still feeling fairly ambiguous about the Doctor. He seemed to be promising her the earth, with such emotion; but it all felt too much too soon, and his passion overwhelmed her. One thing remained clear in her mind: she had to tell Chris everything once she had checked that he was okay. Her heart clenched as she thought of any possible injury the Doctor might have imposed on him. Surely their friendship would stop any true damage being done? She certainly hoped so.

As soon as she got of bed she grabbed her mobile and rang Chris's number. Because she half expected it to go to voicemail due to Chris lying bleeding and dying in some gutter, relief flooded her when Chris himself answered. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? What did he do to you?" was blurted out before she could help herself.

Chris frantically sought for answers that would both allay her fears but give him a sufficient cover story. "I'm fine, honest I am. He was more than a bit pissed off with me when he got back here last night, but things have calmed down," he told her after a few seconds.

"Is he staying with you then? Where is he sleeping?" she anxiously asked. "You never said that before. If it gets too bad you can always sleep here in my spare bedroom, you know."

A more than pleased grin spread across his face. He hadn't thought of that one, and he liked the scenarios it conjured up. "Thanks, Donna. It's great to know I can rely on you. In fact I might have to impose on you, if that's okay...?"

"It would be no problem at all," Donna said confidently. "I can't have you going around risking life and limb on my behalf." There was a slight pause before she asked, "Has he got you sleeping on the settee? Because if he has, I insist you spend the night here."

Chris really wanted to giggle at her protective tone. "I admit I spent the night on the settee, but we're taking it in turns for the bed until we can sort out a permanent arrangement about him. For being the perfect friend, I insist on taking you out for lunch or brunch, whichever one applies."

There was an answering chuckle on the other end of the line. "Go on then, you've talked me into it. Where shall we meet?"

Chris considered his watch. "How about outside our Starbucks in an hour?" he offered. There was a squeal of delight on the other end before she agreed.

He came off the phone full of possible plans and grinning like an idiot. Well, why shouldn't he? He was meeting the woman of his dreams (best not to mention the nature of those dreams to her), the wintry sun was shining, and romance was possibly in the air. All that left was his conscience to wrestle with; and should he take advantage of the offer of a bed at her place. His initial reaction was not to, but you never knew when such an invite would be more than welcome, so he shoved it to the back of his mind for the time being.

When Donna met up with Chris later that day she was smiling ecstatically.

In fact she was practically bouncing when she grabbed hold of his arm, kissed his cheek in welcome and remarked, "I hope you haven't forgotten that you promised to help me buy a dress for next Saturday."

"Did I? Why, what's happening next Saturday?" he wondered, having been distracted by this new development of their relationship. He liked being able to kiss her cheek in return, and hoped to be able to do much more very soon.

She swatted at his shoulder. "It's the grandest Christmas party, you prawn! Everybody's been talking about it. I need to buy myself a decent dress to wear."

Chris took the opportunity to take hold of her swatting hand and used it to loop their arms together. "Are you sure you need to?" he asked, intending the question to be a compliment.

Of course Donna took it as nothing of the sort. "You may not notice what I'm wearing but other people do," she pointed out.

"Why are you worrying what other people think?" he wondered out loud. "You should dress as you deem fit."

Donna sighed wearily. "Chris, Icare what I wear; and I want to look stunning or get close to it, if I can."

It was on the tip of his tongue to deny that she needed to try any harder, but held it in for the time being as another thought occurred to him. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why do you care so much suddenly? Are you…? No! Have you got your eye on someone, Donna? Are you falling for someone?"

"Might be," she answered cagily, and then hastily looked away.

"Who?" he demanded to know.

She blushed. Was this the moment she should tell him the truth; the absolute truth? As she opened her mouth her bottle went, and her answer became a complete cop out. "If you must know, it's your friend, the Doctor."

Chris was stunned for a few seconds as he felt his previous joy seep away. "So you genuinely like him?" he sought to confirm. "I thought after yesterday he wouldn't be able to win you round."

Donna internally agreed, but personal pride was rearing its head. After all, she'd allowed the bloke to snog her last night and feel things physically that she hadn't felt in many years. So she shrugged sheepishly. "He seemed really keen last night before he went all postal about you, and he claims he wasn't just using me. I know this sounds stupid but I was hoping he'd turn up to the main Christmas party. Do you know if the Doctor is coming?"

Oh! Perhaps this experiment wasn't as over as he thought it was. If Donna was genuinely falling for the Doctor then he needed to keep appearing as him temporarily, if not ultimately on a more permanent basis. "I'll do my best to make sure he turns up, Donna," he promised; saving the bitterness that evoked for later.

"You will?" She breathed rapidly with expectation and then squealed with delight. "Have I ever told you that I bloody love you?"

There was no answer to that as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. If only every day could feel this good; with her wrapped around him.

"Excuse me, sir; but your wife is trying to attract your attention," the shop assistant said to Chris as he sat innocently waiting for Donna to reappear from the boutique changing rooms.

Grinning broadly whilst deliberately failing to correct the woman, he made his way to where Donna was peeking anxiously out from around a solid blue curtain.

"Thank goodness you've come. I'm not completely sure about this one. What do you think?" She then swished back the curtain and gave him a better view of the dress she was trying on.

"Oh Donna!" he gasped out in delighted surprise. "You look lovely!"

She swivelled and showed him her back. "Are you sure? Does my bum look too big in this?"

"No," he said with feeling. "Honestly, you are gorgeous in that dress."

She made a play of looking at the price tag as she tried to make her mind up.

"No more arguments," he declared. "We are buying that dress for you, so change out of it and I'll go pay for it."

When he remained standing there, she pointed out, "You have to get out of here so that I can take it off; unless you have a particular desire to see me in my underwear."

Blimey, talk about a leading question! It was on the tip of his tongue to agree to that desire, but he thought better of it. "I'll erm… just be outside then," he told her with a vague wave of his hand towards where his waiting seat was.

With a giggle, she pushed him through the curtain, and swished it shut. "You'd better be walking away from this cubicle," she warned him.

How did she know he was hovering outside? She amazed him at times. With that thought he headed back to his previous perch, flashing an embarrassed smile at the shop assistant as he sat down. One that said, 'women, eh?'

"Your turn!" she trilled, once the dress was bought and paid for.

"You what?" He frowned at her in confusion.

"We've got to get you a decent suit, or just a jacket," she said decisively. "We can't have you turning up in your zipped anorak. It's just not done."

"Donna! I'm not going!" he protested.

"Yes, you are," she contradicted him. "You can't miss the main event of the year, unless you..." And then it struck her that he probably didn't want to be seen with her or he was annoyed about her asking for the Doctor to go with them. Was he really that put out about the Doctor?

"Donna, as you know, I don't like going to parties where I know hardly anyone, so I'll leave such things to you and the Doctor to enjoy," he tried to console her as the logistics of it worried his mind. "Plus, I don't have a dressy jacket. I'd only wear one if I had to go a funeral."

"Then buy one that's fit for a funeral," she scolded him in embarrassment. How could she make him see that she really wanted him to go with her? "You cannot wear that thing forever." She pointed at his jacket in emphasis. "Or your gilet, before you trying using that argument. I don't know how you get away with it, I really don't!"

He sighed, knowing he couldn't argue his way out of it, and reluctant to counter argue that he already had a suit. He had no intention of wearing the blue suit ever again if he had his way; especially not as himself. "But Donna!" he whinged. "I don't like wearing formal clothes."

She tsked. "Yes, I hadnoticed, and I'm sure you are very happy that way, but Chris, if you are ever to get the woman of your dreams you are going to have to smarten up a bit. Sorry, mate. Once you got her and she's fallen in love with you, you can dress however you like; but before that, you have to attract her, and that jacket just ain't doing it."

He had to concede that there was wisdom in her words. "Oh alright!" he huffed. "What should I buy?"

Trying not to look too smug, she suggested, "We can look in Principles, Marks', BHS or Burtons first. Where do you fancy?"

Resisting saying 'none of them', he said, "Burtons. That seems a logical start."

And the pair of them traipsed off to the shop in question.

As it turned out, he quite enjoyed her holding up various items of clothing against him; the best bit being when she thrust some trousers onto his waist and run her hand over the fabric. Not that he particularly enjoyed anything that was remotely pervy about that. He just liked having her undivided attention, her hands on his body and the chance to smell her scent up close. The way her face changed as she considered each option fascinated him. As she did so, he learnt what she liked on him and what she generally found appealing. One thing he did learn was that the suit had been a big turn on where the Doctor was concerned.

Now, what should he do? Buy a suit and wear it just for her, or leave all of that for the Doctor to enjoy? It still left the problem of him hating such get ups, and feeling the need to rip it off at the first opportunity.