I return with another prompt! A requested one this time, brought to you by the lovely (and amazingly, creatively talented)…ErinKenobi2893!

Seriously, if you've never read her material, go read it. I've only read her Doctor Who fanfiction, but she also writes some Star Wars stuff too, for those who are into that fandom. Also, she's done some WhoVenger stuff, and I think she's working on a WhoWars ficlet (Doctor Who/Star Wars crossover).

…

JK.

I don't know what that sort of crossover is actually called.

I just made up WhoWars.

Just now.

It sounded better than WhoStar, or StarWho.

I don't know what Doctor Who/Star Wars crossovers are called, though.

If there's a better name, let me know.

'Cause now I probably just sound like an idiot…

God bless and have a great day (or night)!
ThePro-LifeCatholic

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who. Nor do I own the original prompt idea, which was supplied by ErinKenobi2893.

I WATCHED The Magician's Apprentice RATHER RECENTLY. OHMYGOSH. No one give away any spoilers, now. I'm gonna watch the one after it sometime soon (I hope...maybe tonight...we'll have to see...)

Writing Prompt #40: Injured

Characters: 10th Doctor, Donna Noble, mentions of past companions

Shippings: None, unless you'd like to assume implied 10/Rose. I'm certainly not gonna stop you.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Friendship

Rating: K+

Summary: Okay. I'd like to read a story where Donna looks after the Doctor when he gets sick. (Call me odd for wanting all these sick-fics, but even Time Lords have got to get sniffles sometimes. :-P) Adorableness and use of nicknames (aka "Martian", "Spaceman", etc.) ensues. :-P

Prompted by: ErinKenobi2893

NOTE: This is Part 1 of 2.

And I changed up the prompt a bit. It started as something, then the idea sort of...mutated...and became this whole new circumstance. However, I was sure to include the fluffiness and friendship and name-calling, as you requested. :)

Donna Noble watched the Doctor the way an osprey watches the slightest ripple on the surface of a river. The Time Lord was stabbing at random controls on the TARDIS console, a distant look in his eyes. The events from their most recent adventure still racked at Donna's mind, and she wanted a more thorough explanation about any possible after-effects.

"Doctor?" she finally began. Her friend glanced over at her, shaken out of his thoughts.

"Yes?"

"That…that stuff you breathed in…was it dangerous?" Donna shuddered at the words as they left her mouth. She knew that the Doctor had the best intentions in mind, taking a dosage of some alien drug that had originally been intended to poison the young princess of Cragnoliaryanimolum and ministering it to himself. And of course, when Donna herself had been shoved into a small room that had been filled with that same drug (in gas form), the Doctor didn't hesitate to rush in there and pull her to safety.

She had known that there wasn't really enough time for other options. That didn't stop it from being an idiotic decision, though.

"What stuff?" the Doctor asked. Donna gave him a look, and his face suddenly lit up as his mind caught up to his mouth. "OH! Right. The gas. Yes."

Donna gasped. "It is?!"

The Doctor furrowed his brows together, his face scrunching up in confusion…then erupted in a large sneeze. He stumbled backward. Donna started forward, but he righted himself and shook his head. Then he faced his companion.

"What?" he finally asked. "What is?"

Now Donna was lost. "What is what?"

"What?"

"What?"

They stared at each other for a moment, completely clueless where the conversation had gone and not sure how to continue. Donna sighed, took a deep breath, and repeated her concern.

"Is the gas you breathed in poisonous?"

"Oh, right! Sorry." The Doctor nodded emphatically to show that he finally understood the question. He paused, coughing into his sleeve and then scratching the back of his neck before responding. "Short answer…yes."

Donna gasped, feeling faint. The Doctor rushed to finish his statement. "But what I meant to say was, we-e-ell, it's not that bad, Donna. Yes, I said 'poisonous', but the combination of gases that I took shouldn't be enough to seriously affect me. We-e-ell, I say "seriously". We-e-ell, not too seriously, at any rate. We-e-ell, hopefully. Most likely. For me, it'll probably be like having a bad human cold, or an equivalent of a fever. At the very worst, I'll develop mild flu symptoms." He spoke rapidly, managing to get all of his words out in a single breath. He watched as Donna processed what he had said, and smiled as she began to calm down.

"I'm gonna kill you, Martian," she fumed, anger replacing her initial worry. "If you think you can get away with scaring me half to death like that, then you've got another thing coming!"

The Doctor chuckled a bit at this statement, but choked and cleared his throat, rubbing his neck with one hand. Donna noted his sudden change in demeanor. "What is it now, Spaceman?" He gave her an almost apologetic look.

"Throat hurts," he stated concisely. "The effects aren't dramatic, but they sure are quick in coming." He paused and swallowed. Then he sniffed loudly. Donna rolled her eyes.

"You know what you need?"

The Doctor glanced at her, a wary look in his eyes. "A more sympathetic companion?" he ventured. Ms. Noble huffed and planted her hands on her hips.

"No, you great big dunce," she retorted. "You need some rest."

The Doctor sighed. "I don't need to rest," he said. Donna Noble, however, wasn't going to have any of that "superior-Time-Lordiness" crap that he usually tried to throw at her. She fixed him with a no-nonsense glare.

"Yeah you do, Sunshine. If you're gonna be sniffling and sneezing up a storm, then the best place for you is bed." She paused as a sudden thought stuck her. "Do you have a bed?" Come to think of it, she could never remember seeing the Doctor's bedroom in her explorations of the TARDIS interior. The Doctor huffed in response.

"Course I've got a bed!" he said indignantly. "Just 'cause I don't sleep as much as you doesn't mean I don't have a bedroom." He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the console, sniffing loudly several times. Donna sighed, pulling a tissue out of her pocket (always prepared) and dangling it in front of his face.

"Need this?"

He opened his mouth, no doubt to retort, but ended up sneezing instead. Grabbing the tissue, he pressed it against his face and coughed into it. Donna slowly crossed her arms and slowly raised an eyebrow, sending him a wordless message that he couldn't miss from a mile away. The Doctor held her gaze for several moments, but ended up relenting in the end. He dropped his eyes to the floor and cleared his throat several times.

"Maybe a little rest wouldn't hurt…" he conceded. Donna couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk of victory that flitted across her mouth. "But not for too long!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at his companion. "I hate lying around and doing nothing. Need to busy, me." Now it was Donna's turn to stop and consider.

"If you need to do something, Doctor," she finally said, "then take a handful of trinkets with you to bed. I don't want to up and walking around, possibly getting me sick. Are you contagious?" The Doctor shook his head, then bent down and peered underneath the console. Donna watched and waited as her friend fiddled with a dial. Then he popped back up, his hand wrapped around a handful of colorful wires. A look that could only be described as disappointment flashed across his countenance.

"You're still here," he stated.

"Yup." Donna planted her feet firmly apart. "You. Bed. Now."

The Doctor grimaced and grumbled something that the red-head couldn't quite catch.

"What's that, then?" she inquired.

"Nothing," he muttered, thoroughly annoyed now.

"You know," she said, taking the wires out of his hand and placing them on the edge of the console, "for a guy with a sore throat, you've certainly got a lot of things to say." As she talked, Donna went around behind the Doctor, placing her hands on his back and pushing him gently towards the nearest exit. He resisted for a moment, tensing up and rocking backwards.

"If you fall on me," Donna warned, "you're gonna get it bad, Sunshine."

Finally, with wooden strides, the Doctor allowed himself to be led from the comfort of the console room. Together, the two figures ambled down a hallway covered in dimly glowing lights.

"So where's your bedroom, then?" Donna wondered. The Doctor shook his head.

"There's a comfy couch around here somewhere," he explained. "In a comfy room…there's a TV and blankets and things…you know, things for when you're sick, and you want to feel better…" his rambling died into silence and they shuffled the rest of the way in quiet stillness.

When they reached their destination, Donna had to agree with the Doctor; the room certainly was cozy. It was small and slightly rounded, with gently sloping walls in a dark-blue hue. Several large comforters were sprawled in the middle of a room, and a large television screen dominated one wall. A small cabinet was up against a wall, DVDs and books spilling out of its drawers and shelves. The temperature seemed to be regulated, also; not too hot, not too cold.

"Perfect," Donna said, examining her surroundings. The Doctor nodded in agreement.

"Course it is." He stumbled over to a large, chocolate-brown couch and flopped down onto its cushions. The furniture had looked soft to Donna, but she hadn't expected the cushions to partially swallow the skinny alien.

"You look ridiculous," she chuckled. He grinned in response, kicking off his shoes and pulling his legs up onto the couch.

"It's comfy," he stated, his voice sounding muffled. Scooching over, he patted the cushion next to himself. Donna came forward, shot him a suspicious glare, and settled herself gingerly onto the couch. Without trying, she sank into its soft texture.

"I need this couch in my house," she breathed. The Doctor snorted, a smile passing over his face.

"Wanna watch something?" he asked. I'm probably gonna to sleep a bit, so you can help yourself." To prove his point, the Doctor spread himself out across the surface of the couch, laying his head on the arm of the sofa. "Remote's in the left top drawer of the cabinet. DVDs…some from the past, some from the future, some from the present."

"Where're the blankets, then?" Donna wanted to know. The Doctor jerked his head in the direction of a small door.

"Closet. Blankets in there."

Donna left the Time Lord sprawled on the sofa, and fetched several large spreads from the closet. When she came back, he had left the couch, and was standing in front of the TV screen.

"Can't you stay still for three seconds?" she asked gruffly, trying to hide a smile. The Doctor returned to the couch with a meek expression.

"I was just setting up a film," he retorted, handing her the remote.

"What're we watching?" Donna inquired, elbowing the Doctor and making room for herself on the sofa. The Doctor sniffed and grabbed one of the blankets, throwing it around himself.

"The Princess Bride," was the response. The Time Lord drew the blanket closer to his form, only his head, fingers, and the tips of his hair sticking out from the cozy nest he had built around himself. Donna laughed at the sight.

"You're like a five-year-old!" she exclaimed. "And what's The Princess Bride about, anyway? Never saw it before."

"Shhh!" the Doctor rasped. "It's starting." He sniffled several times, eyes glued to the screen. Donna shook her head, resisting the urge to flick the brown spikes of hair that poked through the blanket edge. She settled herself more comfortably on the cushion, draping her own blanket around her legs as the opening credits of the film began rolling.

"Whatever you say, Stick Insect," she murmured.

To be continued…