Well, it smelled like honey anyway. And it sure felt like honey, thick and dribbling slowly down her skin. The comparison had ended there, however. Donna had been too afraid to taste it. She just knew the moment she worked up the courage to dart her tongue out over her lips, the Doctor would suddenly recall all the ways that alien honey might kill her.
Or space drug her, anyway.
She'd read things.
And, honestly, she'd had enough surprises for one day. Donna kept her eyes forward, doing her best to ignore the Doctor as they shuffled through 'the fastest way back to the TARDIS'. Their path took them directly through a field, which seemed to carry on forever into the distance.
Another stalk of wheat - it's not wheat, Donna, it's fill-in-the-blank-alien-vegetation - slipped up the leg of her trousers. She sighed, shook her pant leg, and watched it wilt its way out. She glanced at the Doctor's back, but he kept moving forward. The first few times it had happened, he'd thrown a worried look over his shoulder before realizing the threat had only been the handsy - stalky- wheat.
Glaring at his back, she watched him push a stalk away from his fingers, before she started after him again.
Just a short walk, he'd said. They won't hurt you, he'd said.
"I can actually hear you, Donna."
She looked up, watched as a one slithered up his arm, cutting a path through the honey.
"Wasn't trying to hide it, Martian," she said, stomping by him.
He let her pass, the fields dividing around them. Likely, the short cut was actually faster than the long path they'd taken there. Only then she'd not been coated and smelling sickly sweet. Back this morning, when they still had the whole day ahead of them, with only waterfalls and green fields in every direction.
It had been a nice hour or so. Now her feet slipped inside her shoes, and her clothes weighed at least double what they had when she'd stepped out of the TARDIS. And while she didn't exactly blame the Doctor - she'd been the one to slide into the honey bog, after all - the anger did keep the embarrassment at bay.
And they were on the wrong planet. Or in the wrong century. He hadn't been able to decide which before she'd glared him into silence.
She felt an all too familiar tickle at her elbow, and brushed it back as the Doctor approached.
He cleared his throat. His clothes stuck to his skin, his normally wild hair pressed heavily against his head. He looked equal parts remorseful and uncomfortable and her resolve wavered.
"I think they must be attracted to the honey," he said, tapping gently at a stalk near his hand.
"Oh, that's a relief," Donna said, rolling her eyes. "I thought it was us."
The Doctor muttered something she didn't quite catch before he looked up at her again.
She watched as he gently pulled a stalk out from under his shirt, and another slid in to replace it. Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit her. She laughed. All the anger faded.
"Alien honey," she said, drawing in a breath. "What's next?Bees?"
He jerked his head up to look at her, and she saw his mouth twitch. In another moment, as Donna pushed a stalk away from her shoulder, the Doctor started laughing too.
Everything went back to normal. Well, normal for them.
The good and bad of space travel, well, Earth alone could never compare. And they both knew it.
Even coated in honey, with too much field separating them from the closest shower, Donna wouldn't trade this moment for anything.
It felt good to know the Doctor wouldn't either.
"The TARDIS awaits," he said, holding out his hand. When she slipped hers into his, he grinned. "I think I remember where the big shower is. We'll use the good soap, Donna. The one you like."
She rolled her eyes, walked along with him, as they used their free hands to keep the non-wheat away.