Lalalala, new chapter hooray. I don't feel like the feel of this one matches up with the rest of the story, but I like it, so there we go. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: This Doctor Who you speak of, it is not mine.

It was just after an awkward run-in with an angry slime creature that Donna managed to get the Doctor to sit down in front of a television.

Upon their return to the TARDIS, he had suggested another (supposedly less hostile) planet, and Donna had suggested he get stuffed.

After a shower and change of clothes, she decided she wasn't as angry with him as she had previously thought, and set out to find him.

After checking the console room, library, kitchen, med room and doubling back to the console room to check under the grating, she stared up at the ceiling in pure frustration.

"Where is he?" she demanded irritably, not sure who she was asking. It was for that reason that she was surprised when a door appeared in the wall in front of her, apparently out of nowhere.

Then again, she was in an apparently semi-sentient space ship, so she supposed it might not be too unusual. So she opened the door.

It was a bedroom—a small, sparsely furnished, warm-colored bedroom. The lone dresser was covered with photographs and papers, some framed and some not, but Donna didn't really notice it—her eyes were on the only other piece of furniture in the room, the bed on which the Doctor was sitting.

He was bowed over, head in his hands, lacking his coat and shoes as though he had started to undress and then lost the initiative. For once, he actually looked old—and Donna almost considered not bothering him.

Almost.

"Oi," she started, flopping onto the bed beside him, "I'm bored."

The Doctor jumped as though she had struck him. "Donna!"

"Doctor."

The Doctor's voice rose in pitch to match his startled expression. "You're in my bedroom!"

"Oh, is that what this is? Lovely colors, although you could do with a bit more décor. A window, maybe. You could scare up some artificial sunlight in this old box, couldn't you?" Donna chattered blithely, leaning back on her hands and completely ignoring the flustered look on the Doctor's face.

"You're in my bedroom!"

"I'm bored, too."

The Doctor opened and closed his mouth several times, and Donna felt proud that she had rendered the usually motor-mouthed alien speechless.

"I suppose," he managed finally, "that it's absolutely impossible for you to keep yourself entertained."

"Yep." she declared proudly, taking care to pop the end just like he always did. "Life is no fun at all if you're not around. So let's do something!"

The Doctor gave a long-suffering sigh. "All right." he muttered petulantly. "We're not doing anything active, though, I'm tired. Come on!"

Donna bounced to her feet and grinned triumphantly. "After you then, space boy."

The Doctor rolled his eyes and led her through the twisting corridors of the TARDIS, refusing to give her any hints about their destination. After several minutes of almost-jogging, he pulled her into what appeared to be a small den.

"Ohh, let me guess," Donna said sarcastically, "parlor games."

"Donna Noble, I'm disappointed in you. After all the time you've spent harassing me about an evening in front of the telly…"

Donna turned, and realized that positioned in front of the cozy sofa and armchair was an old-fashioned tube television.

She was delighted to discover that the television was jiggery-pokeried up to receive any channel she fancied, and was even still happy when he insisted on watching a documentary on ocean life—"one place I can't really enjoy first-hand, even with the TARDIS!".

About an hour into the show the Doctor shifted from the floor in front of the sofa to practically on top of Donna, where he curled into a ball reminiscent of a sleepy cat.

She supposed it was a sign of how much he trusted her that within another hour he was fast asleep, despite the scintillating marine shenanigans flickering on the screen in front of them.

She eased herself out from under him and turned off the television, then pondered the Doctor.

"I'm not carrying him to bed." she asserted aloud, although not loudly enough to wake the dozing Time Lord. "I'm not."

She put her chin up and left the room in an almost-huff, just to make her point.

The effect was ruined, however, when she returned a few minutes later with a pillow and blanket.

"Now I don't want you making a habit of this, you great lump." she lectured quietly as she straightened him out and put the pillow under his head. "I'm not going to walk around with a blanket in hand just for your sake."

And with that, she tucked the blanket around him and left the room.

She had a more restful sleep than she had in months, that night, and though she would never know it, the Doctor also had a good sleep, after the lights in the den were dimmed and the temperature adjusted.

Because when it came down to it, the TARDIS was a friend, too.