Warning: contains bare flesh, and a swear word.

Summary: the Doctor and Donna are invited to Martha's wedding, but there's a misunderstanding.

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but I do possess a new shower mat.

Wedding Shower

Part 1


"Why do you think this happened?" she asked as she accosted him by the TARDIS doors. "It's horrendous!"

"It's just a wedding, Donna! No need to get upset," he tried to calm her.

"Exactly! And in a place like this," she griped. "It's not fair!"

He swept his gaze over the country house hotel. "Looks fine to me. I don't see what the problem is. Anyone would think something bad is going to happen," he commented.

"Now you've done it! You've jinxed the whole thing now. I'll probably end up married to an invading Cyborg," she huffed.

"Donna! I can't see why you would," he teased her. "You haven't got a wedding dress for a start."

"Yeah, but I've probably got the bridesmaid dress from hell, knowing my luck!" She turned her beady gaze on him to implore him, "If I look a sight kill me instantly, please? Or at least knock me out."

He chuckled. "Donna, you'll look amazing; you know you will," he consoled her.

"An amazing what has yet to be seen," she gave him a faint smile in reply. "Now come on, let's see what food this place can rustle up."

"Now you're talking!" he brightly answered. "I'm starving!"

"Who'd have guessed? What a coincidence," she remarked, as he followed the signs that headed towards the restaurant.

"What are you doing up here?" she demanded as she opened her hotel room door to the doctor.

"I was lonely. I thought I'd come and see what you were up to," he replied.

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm dressed in a dressing gown and not much else, holding a towel. Now let me see…," she tapped playfully on her lip. "What could I be doing next? Have you worked it out yet, Sherlock?"

"Alright!" he answered testily. "I can see you were about to have a shower; no need to be sarky."

"Give that boy a goldfish!" she laughed at his pout. "Now why don't you tell me the real reason you've sloped up here?"

"Well…," he sheepishly shrugged; and suddenly sniffed the air like a bloodhound. "Quick! Martha is coming!"

Before Donna could answer in any way, he grasped her around the waist and pulled her into her room, and shut the door. Within seconds there was a knock on Donna's door, making the Doctor panic and jump to the side. He gestured to her to keep quiet about him and that he'd hide in the bathroom. Donna gestured back that he had a screw loose.

"Hello Martha!" Donna brightly greeted her friend. "What can I do for you?"

Martha fidgeted with her hands before replying with the question, "Can I have a quick word please, Donna?"

"Of course you can," Donna replied, opening the door wide to let her in. "You'll have to forgive me being dressed in next to nothing, but I was about to have a shower," she explained, sweeping a hand down to indicate her state of undress.

"I promise not to be long," Martha told her. "Why don't you go and have your shower, and I can sit and talk to you while you do so."

"Oh… but…," Donna blustered, hoping the Doctor had hidden himself. She found herself being pushed into the bathroom and shut her eyes as she waited for Martha to accuse her of having him in her room.

"The bathrooms are nice, aren't they?" Martha asked instead.

Donna took in a relieved breath. "Very nice," she agreed. "Perhaps I'll have my shower later, once I've figured out how to work the taps. They look a bit antiquated to me."

"I'll help you," Martha offered to Donna's horror; leaning through the shower curtain to turn the tap on. There was a loud swish of water as the shower sprung into life. "There you go!"

Donna eyed the closed shower curtain with concern. "I'll just let the water warm up if you don't mind. So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Martha assumed Donna was embarrassed to undress in front of her. "I'm a doctor remember, Donna. I have seen it all before," she reasoned. "Just step into the shower when you want to."

She blushed a deep crimson. "Maybe, but you haven't seen all of me and I'd like to keep it that way," she mumbled.

Martha laughed. "You pretend to be such a woman of the world and yet you can't shower in front of a doctor!" she giggled.

Donna smiled. "Yeah, something like that," she agreed.

"Go on," Martha encouraged. "You're wasting water; and I won't look." She turned her face away from Donna, giving her some privacy and forcing her to make a decision.

Donna slid the dressing gown off, clasped her hand over her bare breasts and pulled back the shower curtain. How she managed to hold in a screech of laughter when she was faced with the Doctor looking like a drowned rat she would never know. His eyebrows shot up into his bedraggled hairline as she mouthed at him 'Don't get any ideas, Spaceman!' "I'm in, Martha!" she called out.

"Good!" Martha called back and shuffled closer to the shower, making herself comfortable on the toilet seat lid. "This makes this a bit easier for me, actually. Do you know if the Doctor ever thinks about me?"

Donna raised an eyebrow in question at him. He shook his head and tried to hand her the soap. She glanced down at her hands, and mouthed, 'I can't!' So he motioned for her to swivel round. "As far as I know he doesn't," she replied, trying to hide the shock in response to him lathering up her back. "Why?"

"I just wondered," Martha faintly answered. "That was a daft time in my life."

"Not exactly daft," Donna consoled her. "And now your life is brilliant." She gasped as the Doctor tugged her shoulders back towards him, bringing her directly under the showerhead. There was a cold splodge of something on top of her head, and then his nimble fingers starting to massage in the shampoo he'd applied. At least playing with her hair would keep him happy for a few minutes, she reasoned.

Martha gave a happy sigh. "Yes, it is!" she said with feeling. "I just sometimes wonder… I wish…"

"Are you having cold feet, Martha Jones?" Donna teased. "Because it sounds like it!" The feel of the Doctor caressing her scalp was glorious, but she wasn't going to tell him that in a hurry.

Martha laughed delightedly in reply. "No; I just wonder if I went for the first man that looked at me," she admitted.

"If I had a bloke that looked at me in that way I'd be more than happy!" Donna told her truthfully. "He really does love you, Martha; so stop worrying!"

"Is that what I'm doing? Is this normal?" Martha wondered.

"Completely normal," Donna confirmed, revelling in the Doctor running his fingers through her now thoroughly clean hair. "It's not called pre-wedding nerves for nothing!"

"Thank you, Donna. I knew there was a reason I'd kept you as a friend," Martha chuckled.

"Yes, so that I can look like a dog's dinner while you look beautiful in comparison. But I won't hold it against you," Donna mockingly griped. She could feel the Doctor holding in his laughter behind her. "Can you pass me a towel before you go?"

"Of course!" Martha held up a towel to Donna's blindly seeking hand. "I'll leave you to finish in here, and I'll meet you downstairs later." There was the sound of her opening the bathroom door. "Bye!"

"Bye!" Donna replied as the Doctor shut off the water. They stood stock still, holding their breath until the outer door could be heard to close. "Well… that was a new experience," Donna remarked as she wrapped the towel around herself. "Thanks for the helping hand," she said as she turned to face him. "Bloody hell you look wet!"

"Thanks for telling me; I'd have never known otherwise," he replied sarcastically.

"Watch it, Sunshine, if you want me to pass you a towel," she growled at him. She pressed a hand to his cheek, softly saying, "Sorry."

He smirked. "It had to happen eventually, I suppose," he answered, accepting a small towel to wipe his face. "I assume we're not going to tell anyone about this?"

"Good grief, no!" she agreed. She held a large towel up for him, "Come on then, get your kit off."

"What?" he exclaimed in shock. "I can't do that!"

"You can't squelch about in wet clothes, either, so get them off," she ordered him. "You'll chafe otherwise."

He looked down at himself, back at her, and began to unfasten his jacket. "If you make one snide remark…!" he warned her.

She held the towel up until he'd divested himself of his underwear, and handed it over so that he could cover himself up with it. Then they worked together to wring his clothing out. "I must admit I never thought I'd have my hands on your shirt like this," she teased him as they finished their task. "Could have been worse; at least you spared me your underwear."

"When I show a girl a good time it's memorable," he grinned at her.

"It's certainly that!" she agreed as she headed out into the room to search the wardrobe for the ironing board and iron. "Do you want to risk putting your trousers in the Corby trouser press?"

"Why not?" he replied with a grin. "If all else fails I can sneak out to the TARDIS for a change of clothing."

"You still could," she commented; and sat on the bed to start to comb through her hair. She caught him eyeing her with a certain gleam. "Did you want to do this bit?"

He bounded across to her. "Yes please!" he enthused. He coughed as he caught himself. "I mean, if I may?" he amended.

She readily handed him the comb and sat back, letting him drag the comb through her long hair. "I might use this in future to encourage you to do stuff," she told him.

His concentration was on his task as he answered, "Do you think it'd work? I might force you to let me do this."

"You just try it, mate!" she laughed. She patted his leg, "No, I think this arrangement could work quite well for us." A thought struck her. "Doctor? Why did you hide from Martha?"

He continued stroking and combing her hair. "I erm… it's not allowed, is it, to see her? So I ducked in here," he answered with a slight sniff.

"That's the groom, you prawn!" she laughed with glee. "You could have easily told her you were here. She'd have understood."

"Oh yeah!" he slowly replied, and gave a sheepish laugh. "I've gone and made it look even worse now, haven't I?"

"No, of course not," she told him sarcastically. "You've only turned this into an episode of a bad comedy show; like Whoops There Go My Trousers!"

"I think it's quite a good one!" he defended himself. "I mean this…not that fictitious play you mentioned."

She could almost feel his blush radiate towards her. "As long as it doesn't turn into a naff porn film we'll be alright," she remarked. "Or have you secretly come up to fix my plumbing?"

"Donna!" he gasped in shock. "The things you come out with. You'll corrupt me at this rate."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Timeboy." She turned on the bed to regard him. "You're not brainwashing me with your fingers as you do that, are you?" she cautiously asked.

He roared with laughter. "Oh definitely! I'm brainwashing you into making me tea for the rest of your life," he told her.

"As long as I know," she replied and grinned at him. "Have you come up with an escape plan yet?"

"Do I need one?" he asked in puzzlement. "We're in a hotel room, not a jail cell here, Donna."

"I know. But we're not exactly fully clothed, so things could get awkward if you get caught in here," she pointed out.

He shrugged. "It only matters if we let it. I for one have nothing to hide."

"Unless you count all that exposed pale skin," she prodded his chest.

"Watch it you! You're just as pale as me, if not paler!" he huffed in mock annoyance. "I may have to punish you if you continue to take the mick."

"Oh yeah? As if seeing your legs isn't punishment enough," she giggled.

He contemplated his legs. "What's wrong with my legs? These are a very fine pair of legs for you to admire," he retorted.

"I'd admire them more if they were on George Clooney," she pondered.

He made a sound of annoyance at her. "You never appreciate what's right under your nose!" he moaned.

She soothed her hand down his arm. "I do appreciate you!" she insisted. Seeing his disbelief, she added, "Not many men would have coped with sharing a shower with me like that. You handled yourself very well… I mean… you didn't handle yourself… Oh bugger! I'm digging a hole here; help me out!"

He collapsed on the bed in a giggling fit. "I'm frightened to lay a finger on you!" he eventually managed to say. "Shall I just hand you a shovel?"

"Like I need to dig a bigger hole for myself! Thanks, Spaceman!" she scowled at him. "And on that note I'd better get dressed."

She made a movement to stand up but he grabbed her arm to halt her progress. "Don't go!" he pleaded. "I thought we were being towel buddies."

She smiled at his daftness. "All right; I'll stay like this. But if anyone catches us you have to do the explaining."

"I can do that," he beamed happily at her. "Can we order something from room service while we wait for my clothes to dry?"

"You are such a big kid!" she swatted at his arm. "Go on then; I'm sure Martha won't mind."

He didn't need second telling before he'd picked up the receiver of the phone by the bed to order them something to eat. Then they settled back on the pillows to watch the television while they waited for the food to arrive. Within ten minutes there was a soft rap on the door. "Yay!" he squealed as he jumped off the bed and made for the door.

"Donna, when were you going to…," Martha began to ask before noticing the Doctor standing in just a towel before her.

"Ah! Hello Martha," he answered as matter-of-factly as he could. "How lovely to see you."

"What…?" she peered round him at Donna lying on the bed. "You…? Since when…?"

"Hello Martha!" Donna called out. "We were just about to have something to eat. Did you want something with us?"

"But you're…! And you…," she spluttered in confusion as she pointed her index finger at the pair of them.

Donna got up off the bed and sauntered over to stand next to the Doctor. "Are you coming in or what? You're letting the cold air in."

Martha looked between them. "How long…? Why didn't you say?" she stammered out.

The Doctor looked down at Donna. "This is quite normal. Did we need to tell you?" he raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. He opened the door wider in invitation. "Are you coming in to join us?"

Martha made a high pitched squeak. "No, I've got to… erm… thingy. And then I have to… almost immediately."

The Doctor gave her a pitiful look. "Are you sure? You're missing out on something good you know? I promise we don't bite."

His answer was a horror struck look from Martha as she clasped her throat, turned tail, and ran down the corridor.

"What did I say?" he asked Donna as he watched the retreating figure. "Is the thought of sharing food with us that bad?"

"Nothing that looks suspicious in the slightest! Who would turn down the offer to join two people who are clearly wearing next to nothing, you dimnoid?" she ribbed him.

"Oh. Oh!" he blushed in realisation, and swiped his hand down over his stubble. "This is a bit incriminating."

"You think?" Donna retorted. "So much for your explanation."

"But you mentioned food!" he protested. "Why didn't she take notice of that?"

"She was obviously too busy noticing your naked chest, or those legs you were boasting about earlier." She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, "Are you sure you don't write TV scripts?"

"Not anymore," he quipped, hugging her back. "How do we deny 'us' this time?"

"I've given up bothering. The circumstantial evidence seems to be building against us," she said.

"In that case, will you be my date to this wedding, Ms Noble?" he asked.

"Since you've asked so nicely, why not, Dr Noble?" she replied with a smirk.

"It's a date," he confirmed.

"A date-date," she agreed. "And I think I can hear room service on its way."

His face lit up with delight as he released her to open the door again. As she let him finish up what she didn't eat she couldn't help thinking he was such a big kid; but at least he was apparently her big kid now.