Those Who Dance (1/1)
I originally started this one as a very late entry to a Happy!Who prompt (music), but I started entirely too late and this has been abandoned in a folder until tonight. I watched Tennant waltzing with himself in the leaked Confidential episode for Human Nature, and I couldn't let this gather dust any more.
Anyway, as one might expect from a Happy!Who-prompted story, it's happy. No deep thoughts, no spoilers. Enjoy.
“Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.”
Angela Monet
The Doctor pranced around the console room, whirling in a circle around the Time Rotor. He cackled wildly to himself and whacked a button with one hand while waving madly in the air with the other. His trainers tapped out a dull rhythm on the metal floor, echoing in the empty room.
Unseen, Rose leaned against a pillar and watched the madcap dance, one hand clamped over her mouth to avoid bursting out with laughter and interrupting his obvious enjoyment. She had crept off to sleep some hours earlier, with the Doctor in a foul mood considering the state of some part or the other of the TARDIS that he had tried unsuccessfully to explain to her. Normally, she would have wanted to understand, to listen to him try to communicate the inner workings of his ship, to just let him natter on about something he loved.
However, with his typical swinging moods, he had gotten quite discouraged about the particular mechanical difficulty and had been quite short with her, which she recognized as more irritation with himself than at her or the TARDIS. She had touched the console gingerly, trying to convey some sympathy to the ship through her fingertips, and had told him she was going to get some sleep.
From his awkward pose underneath the console, with only his long legs sticking out, the Doctor had made an acerbic comment about human brains and the need for frequent sleep, which Rose thought was much more characteristic of his previous self. She had resisted the urge to thump a spot on the console just over his head.
She had slept exceedingly well and returned with some caution to the console room, only to find a transformation had come over both the Doctor and the ship while she had dreamed.
The Time Rotor again cast its greenish glow, cycling gently, and the room buzzed with a soft sound that Rose knew as the TARDIS at her most content. The Doctor skipped madly around the console, dancing (dancing!) to music that she assumed was only in his head. She certainly didn't hear it.
He stopped, and she realized with some disappointment that he had spotted her. He gave her a wide, sheepish smile and ran his hand through his hair, which stuck up at odd angles. Rose gave in to the impulse and skipped over to him, ruffling his hair playfully. He batted his long, thick eyelashes at her.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "So what's with the happy dance?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he responded, all proper diction and enunciating each word carefully. His chin came up.
She gestured at the console. "Was that the 'I fixed the TARDIS' dance? Hadn't seen that one before."
"I did fix the TARDIS," he agreed, "but there was no dance. I was just moving around as efficiently as possible."
"There was a dance," she teased, imitating his earlier prance and shaking her backside at him.
A look of some mortification came across his face as he watched her. "I do not dance like that."
"You dance exactly like that," she said, laughing. She stopped and put her arms around his neck. He stood straight as an arrow. "What, this is you not dancing now?"
"I am a very good dancer," he said in a small, wounded voice.
She put her head into the curve of his neck and pulled him against her. He leaned into her, and slowly, she felt his hands come to her hips. They swayed together, and gradually, he began to lead. One step forward, two steps back. He pushed at her elbow with one hand and she let him take her hand, holding it out dramatically to the side.
He dipped her, and then stepped back, drawing her hand out in front of her and planting a light kiss on it.
"I am a very good dancer," he repeated, with a glint in his eye that she recognized.
"Prove it."
Anyway, as one might expect from a Happy!Who-prompted story, it's happy. No deep thoughts, no spoilers. Enjoy.
“Those who danced were thought to be quite insane by those who could not hear the music.”
Angela Monet
The Doctor pranced around the console room, whirling in a circle around the Time Rotor. He cackled wildly to himself and whacked a button with one hand while waving madly in the air with the other. His trainers tapped out a dull rhythm on the metal floor, echoing in the empty room.
Unseen, Rose leaned against a pillar and watched the madcap dance, one hand clamped over her mouth to avoid bursting out with laughter and interrupting his obvious enjoyment. She had crept off to sleep some hours earlier, with the Doctor in a foul mood considering the state of some part or the other of the TARDIS that he had tried unsuccessfully to explain to her. Normally, she would have wanted to understand, to listen to him try to communicate the inner workings of his ship, to just let him natter on about something he loved.
However, with his typical swinging moods, he had gotten quite discouraged about the particular mechanical difficulty and had been quite short with her, which she recognized as more irritation with himself than at her or the TARDIS. She had touched the console gingerly, trying to convey some sympathy to the ship through her fingertips, and had told him she was going to get some sleep.
From his awkward pose underneath the console, with only his long legs sticking out, the Doctor had made an acerbic comment about human brains and the need for frequent sleep, which Rose thought was much more characteristic of his previous self. She had resisted the urge to thump a spot on the console just over his head.
She had slept exceedingly well and returned with some caution to the console room, only to find a transformation had come over both the Doctor and the ship while she had dreamed.
The Time Rotor again cast its greenish glow, cycling gently, and the room buzzed with a soft sound that Rose knew as the TARDIS at her most content. The Doctor skipped madly around the console, dancing (dancing!) to music that she assumed was only in his head. She certainly didn't hear it.
He stopped, and she realized with some disappointment that he had spotted her. He gave her a wide, sheepish smile and ran his hand through his hair, which stuck up at odd angles. Rose gave in to the impulse and skipped over to him, ruffling his hair playfully. He batted his long, thick eyelashes at her.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "So what's with the happy dance?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he responded, all proper diction and enunciating each word carefully. His chin came up.
She gestured at the console. "Was that the 'I fixed the TARDIS' dance? Hadn't seen that one before."
"I did fix the TARDIS," he agreed, "but there was no dance. I was just moving around as efficiently as possible."
"There was a dance," she teased, imitating his earlier prance and shaking her backside at him.
A look of some mortification came across his face as he watched her. "I do not dance like that."
"You dance exactly like that," she said, laughing. She stopped and put her arms around his neck. He stood straight as an arrow. "What, this is you not dancing now?"
"I am a very good dancer," he said in a small, wounded voice.
She put her head into the curve of his neck and pulled him against her. He leaned into her, and slowly, she felt his hands come to her hips. They swayed together, and gradually, he began to lead. One step forward, two steps back. He pushed at her elbow with one hand and she let him take her hand, holding it out dramatically to the side.
He dipped her, and then stepped back, drawing her hand out in front of her and planting a light kiss on it.
"I am a very good dancer," he repeated, with a glint in his eye that she recognized.
"Prove it."