The Enabler by basmathgirl
Summary: What if the Doctor and Donna's first meeting had gone slightly differently? Okay, completely differently? The Doctor has to stick around to protect Donna Noble from an alien threat. Or is he the alien under threat? He’ll soon find out.
Categories: Tenth Doctor, Sarah Jane Adventures
Characters: Donna Noble, Luke Smith, Other Character(s), Other Character(s), Sarah Jane Smith, Sarah Jane Smith, The Doctor (10th)
Genres: Fluff, Het, Humor, Romance, Standalone
The Enabler by basmathgirl
Chapter 5: Chapter 5Author's Notes: I'm told it is a very fetching outfit she has to wear here.
It was just as Donna picked up a sandwich and was about to offer one to the Doctor when Bunty, the director, appeared practically fizzing with excitement.
“Darling!” she greeted Donna, and did those stupidly theatrical air kisses that hovering over the hair covering your ears. You know the ones. “You were divine! And you,” she continued, turning her enthusiastic attention onto the now munching Doctor, “you gorgeous man; you were superb.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled through a mouthful of ham and tomato sandwich.
Bunty then worried them both by throwing an arm around their shoulders, and tugged them closer into her embrace. “I was thinking; we need to get some promotional shots of the two of you together. Are you both up for that?”
“We’ve already posed for some, Bunty, before the recording,” Donna supplied the information. “Or were you thinking of something else?”
“Funny you should say that,” Bunty said with a sly grin. “We’ve decided to utilise a little of the programme.”
The Doctor managed to clear his throat and ask, “What part of the programme, if I may be so bold?”
Bunty flicked her eyes between the pair of them as she considered how best to word this. “The sex therapy aspect.”
Donna narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “I am not spanking his bare backside whilst he holds only a notepad and pen, before you ask.”
“I suppose I could hold the notepad though,” he offered without thinking.
Bunty patted his shoulder with glee. “That’s my boy,” she muttered.
“No, Bunty,” Donna protested. “You are not going to take advantage of his good nature.”
“What’s the matter, Donna? Frightened he is more willing than you think?” Bunty queried; a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Leave him alone! He’s new to all this and was only doing this for me,” Donna pointed out.
“If he isn’t here to help promote the programme, then why is he here?” Bunty tried to cajole her.
“I’m here to protect Donna,” the Doctor interrupted. “And I want to hear what the idea is first.”
A few minutes later, he cried out, “I am not doing that!”
“John…may I call you ‘John’, Dr Smith; we are all here to help Donna get the viewing figures she justly deserves after we have produced the perfect programme,” Bunty argued, focusing solely on him. “As I said, you were superb earlier. And now I need to ask a tiny little favour from you. All you have to do is hold a pencil. Honest, it isn’t much more than that.”
“Just a pencil?” he tried to confirm.
“Mmm hmm.” Bunty nodded. “Whereas Donna here will uphold her contractual duties.”
“You what?!” Donna stood dumbstruck. “I’m phoning my agent!” She then raced off to hold a private conversation with her agent for a couple of minutes in the corner of the room, only to reappear in front of them looking very miffed. “It would seem, Bunty, that I have to comply with all promotional photo shoots and trailers. I’m really sorry about this, John.” She threw him an apologetic smile and tried to look cute.
What was she playing at? “But this only affects Donna, right?”
“I thought you were staying right by her side,” Bunty pondered impishly.
It wasn’t too long before Donna joined the Doctor back on the studio floor, wearing a dressing gown. “What have you talked me into this time?” he growled at her in a low voice. “They’ve taken the shirt off my back, and pushed me into this thing!” ‘This thing’ being a long white coat.
Donna grimaced back at him. “Just be thankful that’s all they’ve done. There was talk of skimpy leather shorts for a while back there.” She was pleased to note him slightly blanching at the thought. “At least you’ve escaped this get up, so don’t start with the whining,” she threatened.
The photographer Bunty had hired, Martin, positioned himself in front of them having flashed the light meter about, next to their faces. “Ready to take it off, Donna?”
“Yeah,” she huffed , trying to be professional about all this. “And no looking, you,” she hissed to the Doctor as she grabbed hold of the ties at her waist and tugged off the gown decisively.
“Donna!” he gasped, but she was actively ignoring him as he was led to his marker; not that he was surprised in the circumstances in the slightest.
Donna stared into the video camera, in close up, and said sternly, “Got a little personal secret that needs airing?” She snapped a whip dramatically. “Join us in my next programme in order to find out how to reveal all.”
The camera pulled out to show Donna wearing a tight black corset, black stockings and extremely high heeled shoes. In her right hand she held a whip, and on her left hand was a black fingerless glove; her fist held against her hip. Around her throat was a black choker that doubled as a collar, attached to a long leather lead. On the other end of the lead was the Doctor, holding it possessively.
For his part, he was wearing a lab coat with a pencil tucked in the top pocket and, it would be truthful to say, it didn’t look as though he was wearing much else beyond trousers as he sat in a large chair, also black leather.
“It will be just what the doctor ordered,” she finished saying, in her best sexy voice; and the director arrived on the studio floor, clapping her hands in glee.
“Excellent, but I’d like you both to try a different position,” Bunty told them; having fun with their reactions to each other. This was going to look so good on screen! All their sexual tension was going to work wonders for their viewing figures.
Martin rearranged them, so that the Doctor was standing directly behind Donna with one hand on her right hip and the other hand holding a notepad.
Bunty indicated that they should start, so Donna went through the whole of the whipping script as before; but this time she had to look directly at the Doctor as she did the sexy voice.
“Nope, not embarrassing at all,” she sarcastically commented to only him when she had finished.
Bunty looked very pleased though. “Brilliant, Donna and John! Thank you so much!” she congratulated them. “We’ll be showing that during the break tomorrow night at Grosvenor House.”
The Doctor warily murmured to Donna, “What’s happening at Grosvenor House tomorrow?”
“It’s the awards ceremony,” she whispered back. “I’m up for the Best Daytime Programme award.”
“Do we have to go?” he asked, hoping the answer was ‘no’.
“Yes! There’s no way I can get out of it. Everyone will be there. It’ll be a black tie do,” she explained.
He felt his spirits sink even lower. To think he had thought he would be able to do this job completely undercover. At this rate he might as well rent out a billboard and paint himself with sparkly paint and still be less noticeable!
Seeing his mood fall, she joked, “At least we will be able to wear more clothing. You can be all Bond-like and I can stop getting a draught around my unmentionables.”
“Your unmentionables?” he queried, quirking an eyebrow.
“Shush! I said not to mention them,” she jested, and was delighted when he dissolved into laughter. After waiting for him to stop, she then impulsively kissed his cheek whilst saying, “Thank you for doing this; I know it’s above and beyond the call of duty, but I want you to know that I am extremely grateful you’ve made yourself look an idiot for me.”
The hand he placed around her waist was purely there to steady her attempts to stand on those atrociously dangerous high heels, he told himself. “That’s okay, Donna. I don’t normally get to have this sort of fun when investigating alien activity, so thank you for the erm…” He made the mistake of looking down at that point. “…The distraction.”
Donna pinked up and released her tentative hold on his shoulder. “Yes, well, I’d better go and get some clothes on… normal clothes, and we can go home, back to Sarah Jane’s. Or can I go home to my own place yet?”
“I don’t think we can consider risking that tonight,” he told her confidently. “In light of last night, we need to keep together as much as possible. And why are you looking at me so strangely?”
“Hands,” she revealed. “You’ve still not let go of me, again!”
“Oh! Yes! Of course,” he blustered, and removed his hold on her waist. “I’ll be waiting for you as erm… you change.” He really didn’t want to think about what that changing process involved, especially where the corset was involved. Heavily involved, he assumed; what with all those hooks and eyes, the ribbons and the whalebone confining her body so that every breath caused her flesh to rise in swells above the black lace. Not that he had noticed anything. Nor had he noticed her pale flesh that marked where the corset ended and the black stockings began. And he had definitely not noticed how those high heels caused the muscle in her calf to tense and throw such a delectable silhouette. No he hadn’t. Goodness only knew what had happened to his attention today. It had probably gone away with those foraging alien lights.
“I won’t be long,” she trilled. “And don’t forget to get your shirt back. Somebody will steal it as a souvenir otherwise, if you take your eyes off it.” She then deliberately teased him by gliding a finger along the part of his naked collar bone that wasn’t properly covered. “We can’t have you driving women wild, can we?” Throwing him a small smirk, she slipped on her dressing gown and almost skipped away in triumph. That’d teach him to publically paw her when he had a girlfriend, she thought.
He stood for several seconds watching her go, wondering what had just hit him as the warmth from her finger stayed fresh upon his skin. After that he realised what a berk he was being, and hastily followed to guard her door. Well, he was supposed to be protecting her, wasn’t he, and not standing around like an extra from Madam Tussauds.
Cautiously the door to Donna’s dressing room opened, and she peeked out. She sighed when she spotted him standing there like a Christmas tree ornament in October. “John, I know you are conscious of doing a wonderful job, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but…”
“You want me to walk away and leave you alone,” he wisely guessed; and was rewarded with an eager nod. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why ever not? Look!” She stood aside to widened the width the door was open in demonstration, emphasising her words. “No killer aliens, no tell-tale blood stains, no threatening letters from the outer space equivalent of Professor Moriarty held together with paperclips; not even a sniffle.”
“You’re also not wearing many clothes,” he pointed out as he politely averted his gaze. “Unless that attire counts as fashionable?”
“No, it counts as suitable for a promo, you doughnut! I haven’t got out of it yet,” she admitted. Lord give her strength! “You were itching to take it off a minute ago.”
“I was merely considering the structural engineering of it, and nothing more,” he defended himself.
A disbelieving glare was shot back at him. “Structural engineering? Fine! I’ll buy that. You’d better come in and help me with my escape plan,” she announced; and he found himself entering the room.
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