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If Donna had thought she’d been happy before (and, despite feeling as though there’d been a big Doctor-shaped hole in her life, she had been), that happiness paled in comparison to the joy of what her strange new life offered her now. The scene she’d walked in on this morning was the perfect example:
Rose and the Doctor sitting across the kitchen table from each other, both with a hand on the jug of orange juice as they stared each down, while Shaun sat at the head of the table, contently sipping his coffee.
Donna leaned against the doorway to the kitchen, trying to ignore the faint rumble of her stomach as the smell of eggs and bacon wafted toward her.
“What’s all this, then?”
Rose leapt, not unlike a startled cat, her curls bouncing with the motion. In some distant corner of her mind, Donna noted that she was dressed and ready for the day, despite it not even being eight in the morning. As was Shaun. The Doctor was still in his pyjamas (and wasn’t that something, seeing him in sleep clothes), his hair sticking in every possible direction.
“Morning, love,” Shaun said with a smile that still melted her heart even after years of marriage. If not for Rose’s rambling, she would have crossed the room to kiss him.
As it was, she listened with a slightly raised eyebrow as Rose said, “He already had some orange juice––”
“Which I bought,” the Doctor pointed out, like the mature adult he was.
“With what money?” Rose shot back without missing a beat and without looking at him. Donna very carefully kept herself from smiling as the Doctor huffed and crossed his arms indignantly. He shot her a sullen look anyway, his chair now turned so he could see her properly.
“And now he wants to finish it!” Rose said with a dramatic flourish of her, nearly catching Shaun in the forehead. The man in question continued to simply drink his coffee, the spaced out look on his face all too familiar. He wore it often when the Doctor tried to explain something to him he couldn’t wrap his mind around.
“I made breakfast,” the Doctor said––once again like the mature and responsible adult he most definitely was(‘nt).
“Which smells lovely,” Donna jumped in as Rose’s mouth opened, no doubt with another retort. “Now, is anyone going to get some ready for me, or am I expected to fend for myself? Because let me tell you, after the last week at UNIT––”
The Doctor was up almost before she could blink, beating Shaun by a mile as he darted over to the stove and plated some food, asking over his shoulder, “Coffee?” He either didn’t see or didn’t care that Rose triumphantly snatched the jug of orange juice and poured it into her glass.
Donna’s lips quirked up. She took her seat at the table, placing her hand over Shaun’s as she said, “You know it, Spaceman.”
In response, the Doctor hummed to show he’d heard her and was placing a plate full of food and a mug of delicious-smelling caramel coffee in front of her in a matter of moments. He raised an eyebrow when he saw Rose’s half-full glass of orange juice, but evidently decided to take the lost battle in stride and instead went to retrieve a banana for himself.
Donna took her first bite of an omelette just as he sat down. Immediately, countless flavours exploded across her tongue and she held back a noise that would have definitely been indecent for the breakfast table. She settled for shooting her Spaceman an accusing glare.
“You’ve been off in the TARDIS again,” she said, holding up her fork like a weapon. “There’s no way this is from Earth.”
She was met with a decidedly unconvincing innocent smile as the Doctor finished unpeeling his banana and bit into it, shrugging his shoulders.
Shaun’s hand rested on her knee under the table, the warmth of it battling against the spark of annoyance in her veins.
“He only popped out for a moment, just the other day. No big deal.”
Donna rather felt like the TARDIS when she came to an abrupt and unexpected landing. Whatever Shaun saw in her face certainly made him nervous, because he was standing within seconds, picking his plate up off the table.
“Well, I’d better get going soon,” he said, taking Rose’s empty plate as well. “You two enjoy yourselves; I’ll do some washing up and be off.”
“Off?” Donna echoed, aware of the edge of petulance in her voice. She glanced toward the calendar hanging on the fridge. “But it’s Saturday.”
The Doctor chewed thoughtfully on his banana, looking between Rose and Shaun with a faint frown.
“Picked up an extra shift. Sorry, love,” Shaun said with an apologetic grimace that Donna thought, distantly, didn’t seem all that sincere.
Rose was abruptly chugging down her orange juice so fast Donna feared she’d choke. Before her hand could make contact with Rose’s shoulder, however, she stood up, shooting Donna a sheepish smile.
“I’m heading off with Dad. My crafting club’s meeting today. I’ll probably be gone all day, so don’t wait up.”
Donna opened her mouth to point out that the library she was going to didn’t open until nine and wasn’t the club at two, anyway? One look at the Doctor had her mouth snapping shut. His previously furrowed brows had smooth out as a look of realisation crossed his face. When he met her eyes, Donna knew they were both wondering the same thing.
Were Rose and Shaun setting them up? Giving them the day alone together?
Donna’s heart felt fit to burst. She reached across the table resting her hand over the Doctor’s. He obligingly flipped his hand up, enclosing her hand in his long, thin fingers.
Both watched in silence as father and daughter cleaned up and left the house posthaste, but not before both hugged and kissed Donna. Rose lingered over hugging the Doctor, as she always did, the brilliant young woman all too aware of how much love and reassurance this Doctor needed. Shaun squeezed his shoulder, shooting him a fond smile.
And then they left, and the Doctor and Donna were left alone, with the promise that no one (not even Slyvia) would interfere with their day.
They looked at each other, the Doctor’s lips curving up into a faint, tired (always tired, these days) smile.
Their hands continually brushed each other’s as Donna finished her breakfast.
***
Donna thought about taking the Doctor to a carnival she’d heard was taking place outside of the city or to a science exhibit she’d heard a museum was hosting this month (which the Doctor would either be fascinated by or deeply critical of. There was rarely an in between). But when she posed these ideas to the alien in question, he’d just shrugged his shoulders in a relaxed, lazy way, so unlike the air of arrogance or overblown confidence of his previous self.
“Whatever you’d like,” he said, idly sipping a mug of tea.
That was almost at ten in the morning. The Doctor had yet to get out of his pyjamas, seemingly in no rush at all. And yet, if she asked, Donna knew he could be ready in under ten minutes, ready to go wherever she chose.
She decided a day in sounded splendid.
They plopped themselves in front of the telly and caught up on some Donna’s “reality” shows she was no longer ashamed to admit she enjoyed. Her Spaceman stayed determinedly silent throughout the first episode, the faint purse of his lips a sure indicator he was holding back a litany of words that would surely tear the show to shreds. By the second episode, encouraged by Donna’s gentle prompting, he wasn’t holding back at all.
“How can anyone buy this rubbish?” he said as the commercials came on. He gestured with a spoon still partly coated in banana and peanut butter ice cream. “The acting’s way overblown and do they really think the rest of the ‘actors’ aren’t watching the interviews as well? Honestly, you humans––”
And on and on.
There was a time where Donna would have felt offended at the Doctor’s ranting, her rather low sense of self-worth railing against the idea of someone judging her for her interests. As it was now, Donna simply watched the Doctor with a raised eyebrow, relishing in the animated expressions on his face.
The Doctor (any version of them) was always his most wonderful self when he was passionate about something.
Which was what she was more than a little put out when a loud banging sounded on her front door.
The Doctor’s mouth snapped shut immediately as his head whipped toward the door. He was off the sofa in seconds, his arm hovering in front of Donna protectively as he reached into his nightgown for his sonic.
Donna rolled her eyes, knocking his arm out of the way as she stood up.
“Cut it out, Spaceman,” she said, pressing a hand to his shoulder to encourage him to sit back down. “Not everything’s a threat. It’s probably just a salesman or something.” Predictably, the Doctor opened his mouth to protest, but was silenced by a sharp glare from her. “Go make some more tea while I send them away.”
Nose scrunching in displeasure, the Doctor eyed her for a moment, clearly trying to come up with a good reason for why she shouldn’t go to her own front door alone. Donna could imagine them now: Dalek or Cyberman ambush, the Toymaker had somehow escaped and found them; any number of his enemies could be outside that door, just waiting to use Donna to get to him.
Donna prepared herself for any and all his (admittedly earned) paranoia, even as the pounding came again, more insistent this time, soon followed by the doorbell.
Instead, the Doctor nodded, his jaw clenched.
Donna pressed a kiss to his forehead.
And if she heard the Doctor run to the kitchen to put the kettle on and then run back to watch her none too subtly just out of her sight–– Well, she wasn’t going to mention it.
Perhaps she should have been more surprised to see a handsome, haggard Time Agent at her front door. But with the Doctor’s memories still faintly echoing in her head, all she could think was, “Well, it’s about bloody time.”
Jack Harkness looked like the very definition of “look what the cat dragged in”: hair all askew, eyes red, his coat hanging off one shoulder. He searched Donna’s face with the desperation of a starving man before his eyes darted over her shoulder. It certainly didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was looking for.
He spoke just as her lips parted. It was probably for the best.
“Don––” Jack blinked, seeming to come somewhat to his senses. He tugged his coat haphazardly back onto his shoulder, still trying to unsubtly see past her. “Er, Ms. Noble. I don’t know if you remember––”
“You can hug me if you want.”
The words were out before she could think them through. And yet, they seemed right.
Jack stopped trying to look past her, his eyes snapping back to her face. There was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. Despite herself, Donna’s heart picked up its tempo.
Behind her, she heard a faint creak of the floor as the Doctor stepped closer.
“You remember.”
“Yes.” And despite the questions racing through her mind and the insistent desire to wrap her arms around this ridiculously attractive man whose eyes were so, so old and tired, she stepped back, opening the door wider. “But we can catch up later. You’ve got someone else to see.”
It was rather like the scene out of a romance movie, Donna thought, as Jack’s eyes landed on the Doctor. She could see the moment Jack’s sole focus zoomed in on the object of his desires, rendering Donna as nothing more than a background piece
Jack took a stumbling step forward as the floor creaked once more, indicating the Doctor, too, was stepping forward. However, Jack hesitated, and Donna turned to look at her Spaceman.
“Doctor.” Jack’s voice broke halfway through the word, his breath hitching on a sob.
The Doctor was looking at Jack with wide, tear-filled eyes, his hands nervously fidgeting with the blue pyjama bottoms he still wore. He looked straight at Jack without flinching. His previous self would have glanced away all too frequently, unable (or unwilling) to look at a fixed point for too long.
There was a lump in Donna’s throat as the Doctor let out a shaky exhale. He took another step forward, his arms half-raising as a hesitant smile curved his lips.
“My Jack.”
And that seemed to be all the invitation either of them needed. Donna flattened herself against the wall as the two collided, the Doctor’s arms wrapping around Jack without a hint of restraint. Jack held him back even tighter, it looked like, his shoulders curling forward as he seemed to try to wrap himself around the Time Lord.
Donna carefully edged past them, a couple of tears trailing down her cheeks as she heard Jack murmur, “Doctor, Doctor, Doctor,” over and over again, as though the word itself were a prayer.
She should leave. Donna knew this. It felt wrong to stand just inside the living room, watching the two men cling to each other as though they were a lifeline. The air was thick with history and unspoken words, born from a tumultuous relationship she still didn’t entirely understand.
But she stood frozen as the Doctor pulled back ever so slightly, Jack’s arms immediately releasing him. The Doctor, though, didn’t take the obvious offered escape, instead reaching up to grasp Jack's face. Donna felt like she should look away when the Doctor’s thumbs swiped under Jack’s eyes, wiping away the tears there.
She felt that even more strongly when he pressed his lips tenderly to Jack’s, lingering long enough for the latter (after a soft noise of surprise) to cradle the Doctor’s head though he was something particularly precious. And delicate.
When they pulled back, still remaining in each other’s arms, Donna couldn’t see either of their faces that well. But she didn’t need to. Jack’s shock rang through the air, as did the Doctor’s sheer, unabashed love as he once more wiped the tears from the latter’s face.
“My Jack,” the Doctor said again, just loud enough for Donna to hear. “Please don’t cry. You’ve suffered too much because of me.”
Making up her mind, Donna started to edge backward, determined to give the two men the privacy they so obviously needed and deserved. But of course, the floor creaked under her weight and she instantly found two sets of eyes on her.
As she cursed to herself silently, she couldn’t help noting that the Doctor still had yet to make any attempt to distance himself from the man in his arms. He craned to look at her over his shoulder.
Something warm glowed in Donna’s chest.
“Er,” she said stupidly, feeling a lot like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Would either of you like a cuppa? Make yourselves comfortable. I won’t be a moment.”
She only managed one sumbling step backward before the Doctor was in front of her, his hand grasping her wrist as he searched her eyes with worry.
“Donna, I’m sorry. This is supposed to be our day. If you want, I can––”
“If you say anything that involves sending him”––she pointed sharply at Jack with her free hand––“away, then I’ll personally talk the TARDIS into grounding you for a month––no, two months.”
The Doctor’s face took on a complicated mixture of exasperation and fondness; a look Donna was all too familiar with. He turned to glance back at Jack as if to say, “See what I have to put up with?”, but immediately softened when he saw the lost, dazed look on the immortal’s face. Distractedly, he said, “Tea would be lovely, Donna, thanks.”
And then he was grasping Jack’s arm, drawing him away from the door and into the living room.
Donna smiled quietly to herself and made her escape.
***
The tea went untouched long enough for it to grow cold.
At least, Jack’s and the Doctor’s had. Donna had sipped her tea slowly in the kitchen, cleaning up what little needed cleaning and feigning interest in her phone, but was utterly unable to tear her gaze away from the two beings on the sofa for longer than a few minutes.
The Doctor, in his newfound, unrestrained way of showing affection, had effectively wrapped Jack in his skinny arms as though to shield him from anything in the universe that might cause him even the slightest bit of upset. They spoke mostly in hushed whispers, and while Donna was, of course, curious as to what they were saying, she maintained her position in the kitchen. She may be more than a little bit of a gossip, but even she knew where to draw the line on her less savoury traits.
Motherhood taught her a few things.
Occasionally, some words would float toward her:
“How long has it been since you last saw me?” The Doctor.
“Too long.” Jack.
Later: “Tell me about Ianto.”
To which Jack drew in a sharp breath, which Donna could hear even as she stirred batter for the cookies she’d decided to make.
Only when the cookies were safely baking in the oven, and Jack and the Doctor’s voices had petered off into silence, did she venture into the living room. The scene that met her eyes was enough to twist her heart painfully. Jack’s coat had been thrown haphazardly onto the floor at some point as the man himself sat huddled in the Doctor’s arms, managing to look impossibly small despite his broad frame. For his part, the Doctor looked as though he had no intention of ever letting Jack go.
His face, caught somewhere between quiet content, sorrow and “I will rain hellfire down on anyone who dares disturb him,” softened when Donna entered the room. He offered her faint smile, his eyes tracking her as she perched herself on the arm of the sofa.
“Jack,” she said, keeping her voice soft. Jack twitched in response, half turning to look at her. “I’ve got cookies baking if you’re interested. Chocolate chip. We could have them with tea.”
She pointedly ignored the two untouched mugs sitting on the coffee table.
That earned her a slow, lethargic blink as Jack seemed to process her words. And then he was sitting up, squaring his shoulders while pasting a painfully insincere smile on his face.
“No, thanks, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to put you out.” He tried to stand, but the Doctor’s arms remained tightly locked around him. Donna recognised the stubborn look on his face; he wore it often when they argued.
“Uh, Doctor,” Jack said, even as his reluctance made itself known in the heaviness of his voice. “I’ll be out of your way if you could––”
“No.”
The word rang throughout the room with authority only the Doctor could project. His arms tightened around Jack, unyielding. “If you’re going anywhere, it’s back to the TARDIS with me. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
If Jack expected Donna to back him up, when he looked at her, that certainly wasn’t what happened. Her lips were pressed into such a thin line that they hurt a little. She unpeeled them as she sent her Spaceman the most threatening glare she could manage.
“Neither of you are going anywhere.” That the TARDIS was parked in the backyard was irrelevant. “The cookies will be done soon. You’ll eat every. Single. One of them, and don’t even think about saying otherwise. And you’ll both have at least one cuppa.” She levelled with the most stern glare she could manage––the very one she used on Rose when she was being a brat. “Understood?”
That earned her two meek nods. Donna tried not to look too satisfied with herself.
Pointing to the two cold mugs she’d set out earlier, she said, “Clean those up while I make us a fresh pot. The cookies will be done in five minutes. I expect you in the kitchen pronto.”
And if she injected a bit of motherly authority into her voice––well, it had the intended effect. Neither Jack nor the Doctor dared cross her, it seemed, as they both wandered meekly into the kitchen minutes later, elbows bumping into each other as they dumped out the wasted tea and went to the kitchen table.
Jack sat. The Doctor didn’t. He hovered at Jack’s side, watching Donna remove the cookies from the oven with the intensity of a hawk watching its prey. She rolled her eyes when she had her back to him.
Her lovely Doctor, always so protective.
“Make yourself comfortable, Spaceman. I’ll just be a tick.”
She could almost feel the Doctor’s hesitation, his desire to help versus his desire to remain as close to Jack as possible. Jack, evidently, won out, as a moment later, a chair scraped along the floor. Donna smiled quietly to herself.
“Well,” she said minutes later as she sat down with her own mug of tea, “anyone else I should keep my eye out for? Are any more of your friends going to drag themselves here?”
She raised an eyebrow when Jack paused mid-bite to glance at her. He dutifully kept chewing, washing the bite of cookie down with a swig of tea.
The Doctor’s face scrunched up in thought as he pulled his gaze away from Jack for the first time in at least five minutes. She could have sworn the normally suave man blushed under the intensity of his stare.
“Perhaps Ashildr, though I doubt it. And Clara…” There was a longing in the Doctor’s voice that Donna was all too familiar with. “Unlikely.”
Jack regarded him with an unreadable expression.
It was so tempting to turn to that furnace in her mind, where Donna looked only on occasion, when she felt accessing the Doctor’s memories was important if she wanted to help him. But she resisted.
When he was ready, he’d tell her. She could ask no more than that.
“Well, then,” she said, grabbing a cookie and breaking a piece off. “Will you two be sharing a room?” She turned to Jack, ignoring the slight widening of his eyes. “He stole my guest room, you know, the daft Martian. Just swanned back into my life and completely upended it.”
“I didn’t swan––” the Doctor protested.
Donna waved a dismissive hand at him, keeping her eyes fixed on Jack. She softened her voice.
“I won’t have either of you on the sofa, so as long as you both promise me not to run off”––she shot a warning look at her Spaceman––“the TARDIS should do.”
A long silence met her. Donna watched as Jack’s mouth opened, presumably to argue against “putting her out,” but was silenced by the Doctor’s hand on his arm. The look on his face was enough to take Donna’s breath away, filled with such open affection and reverence that anyone would be hard-pressed to say no to him.
Donna’d had that look directed at her too many times to count over the last few months. The Doctor had a way of giving his attention so completely that it felt as though she was the only thing that mattered, in that moment.
Jack stared at the Doctor for so long, she was certain they’d both forgotten she was still in the room. And then Jack turned toward her with a faint echo of a grin on his face.
“You know what? Yeah, I’ll stay.”
He sipped his tea as the Doctor fondly stroked the back of his head.
Donna blinked back the happy tears pricking her eyes.
***
Shaun took it in stride, as he did with all the strange changes that had happened in their lives. Well, he did after nervously looking Jack up and moving closer to Donna. She tried not to feel too pleased at his poorly hidden jealousy, and kissed him reassuringly on the lips.
He got over it quickly, anyway, when he realised Jack had eyes only for the Doctor.
She almost missed his constant flirting–– Wait, those weren’t her memories.
Rose was a little less receptive, although not hostile by any means. She stubbornly stuck close to the Doctor, shooting Jack suspicious looks when she thought no one was looking.
Jack and the Doctor, for their part, remained superglued to each other, almost always in contact in one way or another. The Doctor’s hand holding Jack’s, one leaning against the other, the Doctor’s arms brushing Jack’s as he filled the latter’s plate with way too much Korean takeout. He barely ate himself, outright staring at Jack during every bite he took.
Donna pointedly shoved his plate closer. The Doctor took the hint and took the occasional bite when he wasn’t too busy fussing over Jack. In turn, Jack gave him a charming grin (Rose stared and Donna blushed a little and took Shaun’s hand) and said, “Sure you’re not hungry, Doc?” He held up some kimchi pinched between two chopsticks. “You’re missing out.”
The flush on Donna’s cheeks grew hotter when the Doctor deliberately leaned forward and ate the offered food right off of Jack’s chopsticks.
“Oi, not in front of my daughter, you two,” she said, pointing her fork at them in a threatening manner rather than putting a hand over Rose’s eyes. “Behave.”
The Doctor looked suitably chastened. Jack looked stunned.
They both retired to the TARDIS soon thereafter, though not before both men hugged Donna, the Doctor’s lingering for just a moment most would consider too long. As though he still couldn’t believe they were back together after all these years.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get our day together,” he whispered in her ear, his hand pressing against the back of her head. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
“Oh, bugger off, Spaceman,” Donna said fondly, shoving him away. She moved a strand of hair away from his forehead, smiling at his ridiculous, rumpled appearance. “Go look after him. Look after each other. I’ll see in the morning.”
And the Doctor smiled, so unbidden and filled with joy, and kissed her cheek.
As she watched her Spaceman take Jack’s hand and lead him to the TARDIS, and Shaun came to hold her from behind, a sudden thought occurred to her.
Maybe she should put a sign on their front door saying “Donna Noble’s Home for Weary Time Travellers.”
She had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last surprise the Doctor’s hectic life brought them.
Donna didn’t mind at all.