Chapter Text
John sat keeping a lonely vigil in the library. Quietly, he toyed with the tassels on the cushion held in his arms as he thought about his predicament. He missed having fun with Donna; they’d done nothing but squabble lately, and it was all his fault. He knew that. If things had gone according to plan he would have been nestled up with Bobbie at that moment, but he had cancelled their date. The worst part was that he hadn’t missed seeing her at all.
What was he playing at with his life?
“John?” asked a soft, tender voice. “Are you okay?”
He hadn’t realised he’d been hugging the cushion desperately until her voice had brought him out of his trance. “Donna,” he called out softly, bringing his face out into the light.
Immediately, he felt her hands cradling his face, wiping away stray tears, as she cooed sweet nothings to sooth him. When she began to run her fingers through his hair, he could bear it no longer and planted his face on her lap, wrapping his arms around her; hugging her warmth for all he was worth. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her stomach. “I’m so, so, sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Shh,” she sang to him. “It’s okay now. I have you.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered. “I don’t deserve anything.”
“John Marvin Noble; are you feeling sorry for yourself, because you really shouldn’t,” she told him, as she continued to pet his hair. “You are an incredibly wonderful and lucky person.”
He shook his head defiantly. “No I’m not,” he insisted. “I’m a ratbag for taking it out on you.”
“Well, I can’t say that isn’t true,” she replied. “But it doesn’t make me think any less of you.”
He reached out and grabbed one of her hands, brought it to his lips and tenderly kissed it. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You always make me feel better.”
“That’s what big sisters are for. Now, do you want me to tuck you up in bed with your favourite teddy bear and tell you a bedtime story?” she asked him.
He sat up then, with a slight grin on his features. “Now you’re just taking the mick. I know you, Donna Noble.”
“Thank goodness you do,” she retorted. “You’d be a bugger to explain to everyone if you didn’t.” She wriggled on the sofa so that she was sitting more comfortably. “Is everything okay between us now; or have I got to stop being your friend?”
His face fell again. “I’m sorry…”
She stopped his babbling by placing a hand over his mouth. “Yes, I know all that. Just tell me if things are back to normal, or have I lost you,” she said.
He pressed his lips to the palm of her hand, making her retract it from his mouth. “I’m no longer lost, not where you’re concerned. Can you forgive me?” he asked, using the whole kicked-puppy look.
“Already done,” she confirmed, and leant forward to kiss his cheek.
He fought off his impulsive need to kiss her back properly, hating himself for feeling it. “I’d better go to bed,” he told her instead. “I might shave off this beard tomorrow.”
“Why?” she demanded, sounding shocked. “I think it looks lovely on you.”
He gave a small shrug. “I fancy a change; you know; try a different look,” he reasoned.
“Whatever you want, Bubbers,” she replied, smiling at his discomfort.
“What the heck have you done?” the Doctor asked forcefully when John entered the kitchen the following morning. He eyed John very suspiciously. “You’ve used… Ew! Is that Brylcream on there?” he sneered at John’s hairstyle.
“It’s styling mousse. I thought you knew about these things,” John replied tetchily. “Don’t you like the new look?”
“It’s different, I’ll give you that. It was just a surprise after all the hairiness,” the Doctor cautiously answered, waving a finger to denote his chin. “Makes you look older somehow.”
“I do?” John rushed to find a reflective surface to consider himself in. “Older than you?”
“Well,” the Doctor drawled, peering at John’s reflection in the kettle too. “It’s an optical illusion that hides your babyishness.”
“Oi!” John called out indignantly. “I am not a baby.”
“I never said you were,” the Doctor replied. “Merely implied it,” he mumbled.
John glared at him. “I can still hear you,” he pointed out. “I wanted an honest opinion about my hair; I didn’t ask you to insult my youthfulness.”
“What did Donna say?” the Doctor asked instead of replying. “Does she like it?”
“I haven’t asked her yet,” John admitted. “I don’t expect her to be so keen.”
“Then why… How do you know she won’t like it,” the Doctor pondered.
“She said as much last night,” John answered. He fiddled with getting mugs out of the cupboard at that point, averting his gaze from his brother.
The Doctor was instantly suspicious of his actions. “Last night you say. When I was putting the boys to bed?”
John nodded as he reached for the milk in the fridge. “I was sitting in the library for a while.” He stopped his tea making task to focus his attention on the Doctor. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, you can sit in the library whenever you like,” the Doctor said.
John huffed angrily. “I meant me talking to Donna. I know you get funny hat about it.”
“’Funny hat’? Where on Earth did you get that expression?” the Doctor laughed.
“I got it from Wilf,” John quietly declared. “And stop evading the subject. Is it okay for me to talk to Donna without you being there?”
“Why are you suddenly asking my permission?” the Doctor retorted. “It has never bothered you in the past, when you two are…”
John chose to ignore the unspoken accusation for the time being. “Well I’m asking you now. I honestly need to know,” he confessed. When the Doctor remained silent, he continued, “If you want me to go then just say it, and I’ll respect your wishes.”
There was a loud gasp behind them. “Uncle John, please don’t go,” Jamie begged from the doorway. He stood trembling as large tears dripped down his face. “Please don’t.”
“Jamie, why are you…?” Teddie stumbled up beside him and immediately took in the situation before them. He wrapped his arms around his brother tenderly. “It’s all right; we’ll go find Mum,” he soothed. Jamie nodded in his embrace and let himself be led away.
John tried to surruptiously wipe at his eyes. “I’ll pour that tea out,” he said as lightly as he could.
The Doctor took in a breath. “John…,” he began to say.
“Don’t bother,” John put in. “I get the message.” He turned to give the Doctor a watery smile. “If all else fails perhaps Martha will take pity on me.”
There was a commotion by the door and Donna bustled in. “What the hell is going on?” she demanded. “You two are upsetting my sons.” She caught John’s avoiding stance before she noticed his new look. “Did he make you do that to yourself, or is it your own idea?”
“Donna, I had no…,” the Doctor tried to answer.
“Shut it, you! I’m talking to John!” she fumed at him. She placed a hand on John’s arm, forcing him to lift his gaze onto her. “What is it, Sweetheart? You’re not really leaving, are you?”
Before John could even open his mouth to answer, the Doctor blazed his protest. “Sweetheart?! Why is it always about him?”
“Shouldn’t the question be why do you feel so threatened? I know you’ve always been possessive but this is beyond ridiculous.” Donna eyed him angrily back.
“Then perhaps you should think about me for a change?” the Doctor asked defensively.
Donna shielded John from his view, just in case. “What about our sons? They are being destroyed by this nonsense,” she pleaded with him. “I love you but this is killing me.”
He regarded her, reminded of Pompeii as she stood emotionally wrecked before him. “I can't....,” he tried to say.
Immediately, John’s hand shot out to give Donna comfort and moral support; and Donna grabbed it gratefully. The Doctor felt himself jolt as he saw the action. “You can,” she whispered. “I know you can.”
The Doctor was about to relinquish his anger when Donna and John shared a look; the way they always shared a secretive look when they ganged up on him, when they acted as thick as thieves, when they seemed as though they were so much more to each other. “Get out!” he heard himself shout. “Get out of my TARDIS!”
They stood defiantly in front of him. “No,” they both said.
“OUT!” He stood almost apoplectic.
Donna tried to reach for him but he shook her off. “Okay, I’ll go,” she said quietly.
“We’ll both go,” John confirmed. He reluctantly led her away.
“Doctor,” she called from the doorway. “We’ll be waiting for you. I did it once, I can do it again.”
“Why didn’t you slap him?” he heard John ask in the corridor outside.
“I honestly do not know,” Donna replied.
Their voices drifted away; and then the TARDIS was eerily silent.
Some minutes later he went in search of the boys. Unable to find them in their rooms he frantically searched the ship. He called out in desperation but the TARDIS wasn't helping him.
“Please,” he begged. “Where are they?” He did not get a reply. “At least tell me if they are still on-board.” He got a reluctant reply that they were safely on-board.
He sighed with relief, and made for his bedroom. The sight of Donna’s nightdress folded neatly on the bed released a floodgate of emotion within him. What had he done?
Donna and John stepped out of the TARDIS into brilliant London sunshine. “The world looks happy today,” John commented.
“Good job somebody is,” Donna replied.
He pulled her to him, placing a kiss in her hair. “We’ll get through this, we always get through it.”
“Yes, but at what cost? He could end up killing himself at this rate, and then that would definitely be the end of us,” she sighed.
John nodded, knowing the truth of her words. “He would find someone else like he usually does, and we would... well, I suppose we would have to make the best of it. At least we have each other.”
She hugged him tightly then. “I am so glad I have you,” she told him. “And look at me. I'm talking as if he's dead, when all this is some stupid hissy fit.”
“Perhaps it isn't so stupid? He might have a good reason,” he pondered.
“Like what?” she asked.
“Erm... a thorn in his claw?” he mused. “I dunno, apart from hating me.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Donna chided.
“He might be jealous of my good looks,” John tried to jest.
“Or your modesty... Yeah, that would be it.” She risked a smile at him.
“Oh I'm ever so ‘umble,” he laughed.
She giggled. “Give over, Uriah. You'll have me crying into my gruel next.”
“Careful, or you’ll be asking for more,” he pointed out.
“Like an orphan of the storm,” she stated forlornly.
“With nowhere to go,” he added.
“Where are we going to go?” she asked him.
“I suppose we will have to go home to Mum’s,” he replied.
Donna snorted. “Won’t she just love that. I'll never hear the end of it.”
“We could pretend I’m the Doctor, say we’re turning up to spend a few days alone with her,” he suggested.
Her face fell. “Without the boys; I miss them.”
“Me too.” He gave her a comforting squeeze.
She gave a small laugh. “She’d expect you to sleep with me, and you’d hate that.”
“Oh yeah,” he softly agreed. “Though you give great cuddles.”
“Come on then, Bubbers. Let's get it over with,” she stated, starting to walk briskly along.
“Which bit?” he asked as he walked with her.
“The really painful bit,” she answered; and they threw a consoling arm around each other.