The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door, and let Donna go in before him. She turned toward him, watching as he secured the door, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, out there in the street. "You do think of this as home, don't you?" he asked.

She nodded. "Nowhere else I'd rather be."

He grinned, then dashed for the console, running around it with his usual manic energy. Donna leaned against the railing, watching him indulgently as he set the controls to put them into the vortex. He checked the viewscreen, then turned to her again.

"So," he said.

"So." She held out her hand to him, and he took it, stepping close to her. She felt awkward and unsure, and laughed a little nervously.

He laughed, too. "You know, not much will change."


"No. You'll still argue with me, and I'll still burn the toast," he said.

"Well, that's a relief. We'll have to get used to not denying we're a couple, though."

"True, there is that. But I could get used to this," he said, leaning down to brush his lips across hers.

"And I could get used to this," she said, pulling his head down to kiss him more firmly, sucking his lower lip gently.

"Mmm, and this," he murmured against her lips as she parted them to let his tongue sweep into her mouth, sliding along hers deliciously.

"Mmm," she agreed, raking her fingernails across his chest lightly over his shirt.

"Oh, that's rather nice," he agreed, his voice a little unsteady. He pressed a kiss to her neck, and she could feel her pulse quicken as she tangled her fingers in his hair.

"Oh, yes," she said, and she felt his tongue against her skin as he trailed his mouth over her shoulder, pushing her blouse out of the way. Oh, he was good at that, she thought. She felt his hands on the buttons of her blouse, and she was trying to loosen his tie, and they both laughed as they got tangled up together.

"Maybe we should—" he said.

"Yeah," she agreed, tugging on his tie as they staggered down the corridor toward the bedroom.

He stopped and pressed her against the wall, his hands sliding under her blouse.

"Your room or mine?" she whispered as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth.

"Whichever's closest," he said, desperately, pushing his knee between hers.

"Impatient, are we?" She laughed as she wriggled out of his grasp, pulling him along with her toward her room. She opened the door, which was much closer than she remembered it being, and stopped just inside the doorway. It was her room, or at least, her things were there. But the bed was different, as were the lamps, and it appeared that his things were also there, intermingled with hers.

"Our room it is, then," he said, laughing as he pulled her into his arms again.

Much later, as they lay together, limbs entwined, her head on his chest, his hand lightly stroking her arm, she decided she could definitely get used to this.