A/N: I am truly sorry if this news upsets some readers (and I'll understand perfectly if you stop reading at this point) but this story does not actually include Rose, but merely mentions her. Instead, it deals with Donna and Andy coping with their life.

Part 2

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Work that day didn't turn out too bad, but Andy couldn't wait for it to be over. He was anxious to get home to Donna and see how she was. He hoped she was feeling better after her emotional breakdown that morning, and on the other hand he sort of hoped she wasn't… He wanted to get the chance to cuddle with her again. He hated himself for feeling that way, but the truth was that he did! It had been too long since he'd had any emotional release himself, and he'd missed it.

Tentatively he placed his key in the front door lock and turned it. As soon as the door opened he was greeted by cheerful music and the smell of something cooking. "Oh honey I'm home!" he called out cheekily.

Donna's head dipped around the open kitchen door and grinned at him briefly. "Still playing the tart I see," she commented. "How does sausages sound?"

"In what language?" he asked, and she swatted his arm in mock annoyance.

"At least you didn't say 'bang' I suppose," she pondered, and reached for the kettle. "Had a good day?"

"Not bad," he replied, setting out their two mugs on the kitchen worktop. He turned and dipped to get out the milk from the fridge. "Heard from your mum?"

"Not yet. I have a horrible feeling she's going to pay us an unexpected visit." She switched the kettle on and resumed chopping onions. "Can you check the living room looks tidy?"

He raised an eyebrow in question at her. It wasn't as if there was much to make untidy, for goodness sake! "What's the real problem?" he gently asked.

She sighed, and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve due to the onion juice splashes. "Nothing… Everything! She'll come in and criticise us to within an inch of our lives."

"Well, let her then! It's not as if it matters, is it?" he pondered, pouring boiling water into the tea pot. "We haven't decided what we're doing with the place yet. I picked up the colour charts by the way."

"Did you? You're a star!" she cried, moving as though she was about to hug him.

He held his arms out, expecting her to continue, but she halted in her tracks. "You can hug me, you know. I promise not to sue you or to break in two," he said, trying to make it sound as though he was teasing her, but the hurt broke through despite his efforts. He dropped his arms. "Or not, as the case may be…"

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Yeah, I know," he replied; and deliberately focused on pouring their tea out and placed her mug near her.

"Andy…," she began to say, apologetically.

"I'm not him. I am NOT him!" he yelled. "So stop treating me as if I am. If you're angry with him, then go take it out on him!" He waggled an angry index finger in her face.

She responded by slapping him clean across the face, leaving a red handprint behind. He stumbled backwards, clearly stunned. Advancing on her, he made a throttling motion at her throat, and she cringed back in horror. Unable to believe he'd done such a thing, he stormed out and headed for his bedroom.

It was quite a pathetic bedroom, actually. It contained a single pine-framed bed, a canvas covered wardrobe and little else. Even the makeshift curtains looked sad. All he could think of asking was 'What have I done?'

After about ten minutes that was a tentative knock on the door, closely followed by Donna peeping round the edge of the doorframe. "Andy? Dinner's ready," she softly stated. Getting no reply, she stepped into the room. She swept her gaze over it and him sitting mutely on the end of the bed. "I'm sorry." Her voice broke on a sob on the last syllable as she stood forlornly in front of him. "I can't do anything right."

He leapt immediately up to embrace her. "No, I'm sorry. I'm touchy when I shouldn't be. Of course you don't want to hug me; any more than you'd want to hug him."

"That's not true," she countered, but she'd already ruined it by not returning his embrace.

"I think it is, Donna. You only let me near you last night because of your nightmare," he argued. "I need this," he admitted, speaking into her hair as he gave her a squeeze. "I can't go on unless I'm allowed to."

"I'll try," she mumbled into his shoulder; and she let him hold her for a few minutes more before reminding him, "Dinner will be getting cold." They broke apart then and went to eat.

He was woken again by Donna screaming. This was getting to be a habit. As before, he rushed in and gently woke her; slipping in beneath the duvet cover to cuddle her into a quiet sleep. She mumbled something at him, though goodness knew what she'd actually said this time. Something about camping? All that mattered was the fact she was happy to lie within his firm embrace without trying to squirm away from him. He snuggled down next to her and fell sound asleep.

He woke with a start, vaguely aware of dribbling on the pillow; he'd been having a vivid dream about hiding in a shop dressing room with Rose. And that's when it hit him. Or rather, it hit Donna, much to his everlasting embarrassment. He quickly shuffled away from her body.

"Wassa matter?" she groaned at him sleepily. "I was comfy."

"Erm… no you weren't," he tried to disagree. "That's why I moved."

She prised one eye open at him, and frowned. "You liar! You moved for entirely your own reasons, Doc-…Andy." She rapidly hoped he hadn't noticed her slipup as being too obvious. "Why did you…" And then she realised why, judging by the way he was frantically avoiding her eye line. "Feeling a little glorious this morning, are we?" she asked with a sly grin.

His gaze shot to her in a panic. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked, pretending he didn't understand.

"Give over, you tart! You've got your own little sapling there." She gave him that knowing smirk that he hated. It meant she was onto him.

Knowing she'd tease him about it whether he owned up or not, he decided to tell the truth. "Alright; yes, I've got a stiffy," he huffed impatiently. "Go on; get the jokes over and done with. I know you won't leave me be until you do."

"As if I'd ever do that to you!" she exclaimed; but the effect was marred by the way she cupped his cheek and used a baby voice on him. "So, what wood you like to do today? How about erecting some shelves, before coming to the shop to buy paint?"

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" He glared at her in disbelief.

"Can't say I'm enjoying it at all. You, on the other hand; or should that be in hand, once you get in the shower…," she retorted. Then to add to his discomfort she burst into laughter.

He threw back the covers. "Fine! I'll go, and you can enjoy having your bed back to yourself. Alone. Without me to comfort you."

She was about to retaliate when the worse words in the world floated in to them. "Coo-ee! Is anyone home?"

They both mouthed an expletive at each other.

Donna leapt out of the bed and stood hesitantly in the hallway, suddenly very aware she was only in her pyjamas. "Is that you, Mum?"

The letter box rattled open and two eyes peeped through at her. "Who did you expect? The Queen Mother?" griped Sylvia.

"That would explain the smell of new paint," Donna quipped. "Hang on, Mum. I need to... erm… get a dressing gown." She hastily threw a glance at Andy as he partly cowered in the bedroom doorway out of Sylvia's line of sight.

"Hurry up then," Sylvia moaned, and the letter box rattled shut.

Donna made shooing motions at Andy, who dove into the bathroom, and went to shrug on her dressing gown. "Mum!" she exclaimed as she opened the front door seconds later. "Fancy seeing you here." She plastered on her best smile.

"Yes, who'd have guessed," Sylvia replied drily. "I thought you would have been up ages ago making the most of your Saturday; what with all the decorating you said you'd have to do."

Donna decided to ignore the implied criticism. "We had a bit of a late night," she admitted. "I had one of my nightmares."

"Do you still get those?" Sylvia eyed her critically as she unpacked a Tesco bag containing a few essentials. "I got you some bread, milk because I know how you tend to forget these things, some biscuits and those cakes the pair of you go mad over."

"Thanks, Mum," Donna enthused, placing a grateful kiss on her mother's cheek.

Sylvia contemplated the kitchen. "Where is he then?" she asked and peered towards the hallway.

"I think he's having a shower," Donna answered as nonchalantly as she could. "He won't be long."

Sylvia's expression softened at the thought of him. "He's good for you. Yes, I like your Andy," she said.

"Mum, he isn't mine," Donna exasperatedly pointed out; fully aware of how familiar this was starting to sound.

"Does it matter? You got him," Sylvia retorted. "She didn't."

'Yeah, cos that makes it so much better! Bully for me,' Donna thought. Instead she sighed. "If she waltzed in here right now he'd follow her like a shot. There's no doubt in my mind."

Sylvia patted Donna's hand as it lay on the worktop. "You might be wrong about that. Call it woman's intuition if you like," she appeased Donna.

"I'd call it delusional!" Donna snorted. "Mum, he pined after her for, what, two or three years in all. A couple of months with me won't make an 'a' pence of difference. I doubt he'll ever get over her."

"As long as you try, love, for his sake," Sylvia tried to sooth her. "He needs you."

"Yeah, I know," Donna quietly answered, resolving to push aside her own needs to focus on him.

"Hello Sylvia!" Andy greeted her. He stood swathed in towels, looking very anxious. He did a token gesture of drying his hair. "I'll be out in a sec!" With that he disappeared into his bedroom.

"At least he gives you plenty to look at," Sylvia commented, grinning knowingly at Donna.

"Oh yes! There is that," Donna replied with a laugh. The sight of him completely naked wasn't something she'd forget in a hurry. "Tea, Mum?" she asked expectantly, and bustled about dealing with that.

The rest of their day wasn't too bad. Wilf popped in at the end of the afternoon to bring them some vegetables from his allotment. That's what he claimed anyway, but they weren't fooled. As they gave him the grand tour of the two bedroomed flat, Wilf casually remarked, "Two separate beds, eh? I thought you would have been sharing."

Both Donna and Andy were mortified by that remark; it was not helped by their mutual remembrance of continuous misunderstandings in the past. Andy just managed to choke out a "No!" But that was the only awkward moment during the visit.

That evening they managed to finish two coats of emulsion of the living room wall, and they stood together to view it, immensely proud of their achievement. Donna patted Andy on the arm. "It looks good. Shall we move the furniture back tomorrow?"

"Ah! I'd say 'yes' but it's all in my room, so I've got nowhere to sleep," he stated.

She coyly swept her fingers over his shoulder. "You could always sleep with me. It makes sense if I'm going to keep waking you in the night," she reasoned.

He immediately knew how much it had taken her to say those words; to open up her vulnerability to him. He smiled broadly at her. "You're right. It would save time; and you settle more when I'm there."

"Yes, I always do," she admitted, and then blushed. "I didn't want you to think…"

"I know," he answered softly, and captured her hand in his. "Shall we go to bed?"

She smiled up at him, relieved he understood. "Come on, Handy Andy. Lead the way."

That night she snuggled into him for a change, and he eagerly wrapped his arms around her. When he woke the following morning he was surprised to find that for the first time since he came into existence he hadn't dreamt of Rose. Perhaps things were improving after all.