There’s a furious glare in the brown eyes facing Donna.
She can’t help smirking, which only makes the brown eyes look even darker.
“Don’t blame me for this, sunshine!” she announces rather gleefully. “You got yourself into this mess! You would press that big red button, despite all the signs that told you not to. And you could at least be grateful that I was able to stop the evil wizard before he took over the planet and made everyone slaves, let alone get you back here to the TARDIS.”
The worst of the ferocity eases, but Donna can still see that the Doctor is ready to yell and scream and otherwise tell her exactly what he thinks of her.
That’s definitely one mercy of the freezing ray that struck him as a result of pressing that all too tempting red button.
He can’t move a muscle.
Even his hair, which is usually bouncy and soft and full of life, is now frozen and static and completely immovable.
Donna pats it again, just to make sure.
The glare resumes its former fury.
Donna giggles and gives his cheek a condescending stroke. “There there,” she tells him in her most matter-of-fact voice. “It can’t last forever. Can it? I mean, there has to be a way to fix it. Otherwise,” she begins to worry, just a bit, “you’ll starve to death or something.”
She lowers her hands to his chest, feeling his hearts beating with reassuring strength in his chest. He’s lucky to have his respiratory bypass or breathing could be a problem, but what really strikes her is that the ray seems to have frozen him in the most literal sense. His skin is actually colder than she thinks she’s ever felt it before.
“Are you really that cold?” she demands, reaching up to cup his face in her hands. “Or did I get some sort of backlash from the ray that makes me hotter and so you feel icy?”
Even as she finishes speaking, she realises the futility of posing a question to someone who is in no shape to be able to answer it, even though she knows it must be almost killing him not to be able to give her the scientific gobbledigook explanation for what happened.
“Fine then,” she sighs. “Maybe I should try warming you up? Perhaps that would help?”
The anger in the Doctor’s eyes changes to the warm expression she usually sees there when he’s telling her that she is being brilliant. She decides to use that as confirmation of her idea, and she’s about to half-drag-half-carry him out of the console room and elsewhere into the TARDIS when an idea strikes her.
She moves closer so that her breasts, which she knows full well he can’t help peeking at as often as possible, even with the whole ‘mates’ thing, are pressed against his chest. She crushes the rest of her body against his, unable to help wishing that his arms could be around her as well.
But when she looks up into his eyes again and sees utter and complete shock, that regret fades into giggles.
“Come on then, Spaceman,” she orders, her lips only inches from his, “you have to do your part as well.”
Her hands slide down to his chest and she feels that his hearts are beating substantially faster than they were before.
“Good boy,” she says approvingly, before brushing her lips teasingly across his.
The double heart-rate triples almost instantly.
Donna smirks against his mouth before starting to trail her lips across his cheek. Since she has no doubt he can feel what she’s doing, she has to wonder just how hot her touch must feel at this moment.
She catches the lobe of his ear between her teeth and bites down sharply.
She would swear that one of his hearts misses a beat.
“Oh, we like that, do we?” she purrs. “Let’s see what else we can do to hurry things along.”
There’s probably one place she could go that would have him back to life in seconds, but she worries that rushing things might result in a nasty accident, and she’d hate to snap something off by mistake.
Giggling again at the thought, she applies the very tip of her tongue to the visible patch of skin at the base of his throat, brushing it around in tiny circles.
Her gaze travels up to the Doctor’s face and she sees how his pupils have dilated.
At least one part of him can move now, so clearly what she’s doing is working.
She slides her face around the side of his neck and nips at the taut skin just above one of the arteries, which is throbbing so quickly that, in a human being, Donna would worry they were about to have a stroke.
Not the Doctor though. She just hopes he’s actually enjoying it.
Her fingers slide carefully into his hair. She doesn’t want to break pieces off, but as she rubs the brown strands between her thumb and forefinger, she can actually feel it beginning to yield slightly.
If nothing else, she could give him a head massage later. That would sort that out.
For now, though, she has to unfreeze the rest of him.
The silence is so strange and unnatural that it’s starting to do her head in.
She moves her face back up level with his, once more touching her lips against his mouth, but with rather more pressure this time. A kiss without a response isn’t particularly pleasant, but she could almost swear that his lips soften and begin to yield the longer she goes on with it.
Good sign then.
As her fingers stroke over the skin of his face, it starts to warm and becomes rather more soft and pliable.
Pressure against her thigh suggests that other parts of him are also beginning to loosen — or firm up, whichever way you wanted to look at it.
And his eyes, when she looks in that direction again, have rolled back in his head. She has to hope that’s a good sign.
Suddenly the room is filled with sound — a soft purr, a deep rumble, that she can feel in the Doctor’s chest, which is still pressed against her. So clearly those parts of him that make noise have been awakened.
Donna can’t quite decide whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Giggling again, she continues to touch, kiss, nip and stroke his face, arms, chest, back — anywhere above his waist, in fact, having removed his jacket and undone his shirt for the purpose.
The nice part about all this is that, when he’s able to speak again, she can point out that she was only doing it to save his life, just like their kiss in the 1920s. Their ‘just mates’ rule still applies.
But when his lips finally ease apart under the pressure of her mouth and she finds his tongue alive and ready to join in a kiss that leaves her rather breathless, she has to wonder if he will actually bother to mention that little conversation again.
It takes an almost agonisingly long time for his fingers to come alive. Donna isn’t actually all that surprised. She knows they are the coolest parts of the body, and the Doctor is clearly too much otherwise occupied to think about freeing them from their frozen state before now.
And at long last his knees begin to shake and Donna helps him sink to the floor, although she does notice that he doesn’t release his hold on her.
Nor does he speak.
Not coherent words anyway.
Not for a surprisingly long time in fact.
Then again, neither does she.
Doctor Who and its accoutrements are the property of the BBC, and we obviously don't have any right to them. Any and all crossover characters belong to their respective creators. Alas no one makes any money from this site, and it's all done out of love for a cheap-looking sci-fi show. All fics are property of their individual authors. Archival at this site should not be taken to constitute automatic archive rights elsewhere, and authors should be contacted individually to arrange further archiving. Despite occasional claims otherwise, The Blessed St Lalla Ward is not officially recognised by the Catholic Church. Yet. |
Script for this archive provided by eFiction. Contact our archivists at email@example.com. Please read our Terms of Service and Submission Guidelines.