posting a random domestic doctordonna ficlet because my heart cannot contain it, honestly?? it's short and silly, something about settling in one of the first nights, but shhh mama need to let it out. read it as platonic or romantic, i don't really care. i know my preferences, but hey, if it works for you? coolio. also, if you drop a request in my asks, chances are, i'll write something else
"Whatcha doing?" he frowns from the doorframe.
Inside, fabric flies and his minds instantly sings parachutes! – no, nope. Why would there be parachutes? Pastel colours settle down quite mundanely. He stifles a disappointed sigh.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Donna retorts, bowing over it, arms at work. "Changing the bed!"
She stops. The Doctor tenses instinctively. Shouting Donna is the default setup. The TARDIS (shuddering to her timecore, he imagines) bangs the swearing filter back on the instant that woman steps inside again. Silence, though? Now, that's trouble.
He scratches his cheek, sincerely wondering.
Another pause. A blatant I-am-so-done-with-your-Martian-things look, ominously familiar, sets over Donna's face. He tenses more, only for a quick nod to follow.
"Right, then... D'you need help?"
"That's bamboo linen," she points out.
Is that something he should understand?
That's… new. Usually it's him baffling others with random words, not the other way around. At the risk of getting annihilated, albeit verbally, but actually he wouldn't bet that verbally only, the Doctor steps closer and reaches for the other end of the bedsheet.
"Blimey!" he shakes his palm.
"That's actually fancy!" The Doctor's hand is still stinging with a slap. Donna half-grins at him, some secret laughter warming her eyes. "Spacemen who consistently ruin their ship aren't trusted around fancy stuff. And don't gimme that look, mate. I wasn't there the last few times, and neither was that coffee."
Well, moments like this, then. He'll be collecting them. That's gonna be a new habit, instead of collecting heartbreaks. Laughing again - and with Donna! Grinning back, hands in pockets, the Doctor decides to hold on to it. On the darkest nights, when thoughts run bitter and endless, he used to count the stars – the only light across the empty vastness of the space. Now he can count sparkles in his best friend's eyes. What a life! What a beautiful, beautiful life.
"I'll just stand there, then?"
"Yeah, try not to explode from doing nothing," she huffs, still smiling, "or else I'll disown you."
"Disown? When did you own me?"
He watches Donna roll her eyes and sigh with her whole chest while finishing the job.
Linens get smoothed over, and Donna's hands glide across the fabric, adding the last touch. She looks over. Neither of them can stop an idiotic little smile appear, and the Doctor welcomes it with both his hearts, for her and for himself. He nods in agreement, shining brighter than the sun. And he's been to the sun. Well, some of them, at least.
She's going to leave for the night. Before doing so, however, Donna does walk over. Full of surprises, her. She tidies his collar, and frowns a little, and darts him a look that's simultaneously worried and caring.
"Listen, you. If anything happens. If your honestly severe sleep deprivation, I don't know, decides to burst into a horror show, or something…"
"I mean, if you have nightmares–"
"Oh, come on! I'm not a five-year-old–"
"Yeah, you're worse!" she cuts him off, showing her You're So In Trouble face for a brief moment. Her every line softens. She's searching his eyes for something, clearly grappling for words, but cannot seem to find befitting ones. Then just sniffs her nose and finishes matter-of-factly. "Rose used to have them. Poor kid was dreaming your space nonsense… well, our space nonsense. All I'm saying is, I'm a light sleeper when I need to be. There."
She pushes a cushion in his chest, and the Doctor sways a little. Wihout missing a beat, his other hand is around Donna's shoulders. Brilliant, rude, kind-hearted Donna Noble. The one who brought him home.
"Thank you," he whispers.
And for the first time in literal ages, he's actually excited to have a boring, ordinary, good night.