Work Text:
Donna was trying to decide whether she was relieved or disappointed at the absence of truly weird alien sexual practices (the rigorous dental hygiene portion of the proceedings was a bit odd, but not odder than half the perfectly human blokes she'd been with, really) when the Doctor suddenly sat up. Suddenly sitting up was not particularly weird either, especially not if he were about to follow it up with promising to phone and running out with his shirt on backward, but the Doctor twisted round and spread one hand on her inner thigh, bending his head down so close that his hair tickled her.
"Oi," she said, peering at him through one half-open eye. "I told you that was quite enough, sunshine, we're not going again for a bit."
"I know," he said, in one of his more beautifully abstracted tones of voice. She could have set his hair on fire just then and he would have said, "I know," exactly the same.
Which meant he did know, of course, because even though they were technically in bed--together, naked, and in quite a compromising position, really--she could now say with some authority that that was not the way the Doctor spoke to her in bed. He might as well have his glasses on and sonic screwdriver in hand, talking like that.
Donna got a bit distracted by the thought of what the other nine thousand sonic screwdriver settings might be good for, and nearly missed him shifting round to peer just as intently at her other leg, then slowly higher, his hands passing lightly but matter-of-factly over her bare skin. He had a frown of concentration on, so obviously absorbed in his thoughts that it very nearly did not make one self-conscious to be so closely examined at such an unflattering angle.
"You care to tell me what you are doing, then?"
"Mm," the Doctor said, squirming a bit higher, his hands flat across her belly now, his nose nearly touching her skin between his fingers. "Just checking for damage."
Donna raised her eyebrows. They'd been energetic, yes, but hardly that adventurous. "Do you usually damage people when you go to bed with them?"
"Well, no, but you did say, so I thought I'd better check."
His hands spanned her ribcage now, and Donna resisted the ridiculous urge to hold her breath. "Check for what?"
He finally looked up at her, though he didn't raise his head, his gaze perfectly solemn through the fall of his hair.
"Paper cuts, of course."
He slid his fingers a bit higher, his hands not quite cupping her breasts, his gaze steady. "I mean, that was a good deal more than a hug. You don't always feel them right away, but they can be nasty."
Donna stared at him for a moment, open-mouthed in something strangely like admiration. He looked down again--back to inspecting, with that serious little frown--and she grabbed the tip of his ear and twisted, tugging him up to face her.
"Are you actually taking the piss and fishing for compliments at the same time?"
"Ah, ah," he whined, rolling his eyes toward his ear. He hadn't been nearly that delicate a little while ago, but Donna huffed and let go.
"Well," he said, meeting her eyes squarely, mouth quirking toward a smile even as he rubbed his ear. "Admit it, you wouldn't have me any other way."
And he'd spoken truth, there, spitting it out as casually as he ever did. She wouldn't want him to be any different, on the one hand, and on the other--she'd never have had him, not like this, if he were going to act any way but just like this about it.
"No," she said, curling a hand around his shoulder, her thumb fitting neatly into the notch above his collar bone. "No, I wouldn't."
His smile widened, and it was funny how he was close enough to kiss and still might as well be on the other side of the room--just the Doctor again, just like always.
"Right then," she said, dropping her hand to drive a finger into his--really, entirely too bony--chest, sending him satisfyingly cross-eyed for a second. "Go and get dressed. I believe I was promised the best little breakfast place in five galaxies, and some of us do need to eat more than once in a millennium, Doctor Skin-and-Bones."
He put on a wounded look, but rolled away quickly enough, strolling naked toward the door and scrubbing a hand through hair that couldn't possibly get any more wild. Donna pushed up onto her elbows, looking round to see where her clothes had got to.
"Donna."
She looked up to see that he'd stopped in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder at her.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to speak, but then she realized she could already hear it, unspoken: it was there in the sound of her name, in the fondly familiar up-and-down look he gave her, in the fact that he was hesitating at all.
He wouldn't have her any other way, either, not a bit.
She gave him a half a smile, a tenth of a nod, and he grinned.
"The banana pancakes will change your life, really," he said. "But wear sturdy shoes, it's a bit of a hike from the nearest good place to leave the TARDIS."