[for perfect_shoes] your best friend I've come to be

[galeforcehero]

Dorothy's had a weird couple of weeks. It started with the Doctor (tall, pinstripes, hair that does that thing) showing up in the middle of a meeting in Oz, sitting her down and telling her he's scared he's turning evil, and maybe they shouldn't be together anymore, which was very much a low point in... several months, actually. Once that was

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[perfect_shoes]

The Doctor does look up then, slowly, like the concept of him dancing was about as sardonically ridiculous as suggesting to him that time travelling was a complete farce. As it is, the Doctor is now staring at Dorothy, bewildered she would make such a claim at all. No one has ever asked him to dance before - well no one has ever asked to dance with him with enough conviction that he couldn't talk his way out of, blustering and talking about human habits and such

[perfect_shoes]

As the TARDIS lacks any clocks, and the pocket watch in his pocket is not for telling the time, the TARDIS refuses to be measured by ticks and tocking, but rather by the whirr and wheeze of the dimensional engines hard at work. Five whirrs and three wheezes pass as the Doctor stares at Dorothy Gale and her dancing offer with a look of disproportionate flabbergastry.

New things. As the Doctor he prided himself on trying new things, didn't he? The unknown, taking things as they came along, spirit of excitement.

Well this wasn't the spirit of excitement, he knew what it was, and he'd been actively avoiding it for a good percentage of his life and it was dancing. Maybe some prick he was destined to be in the future would be forced to stand through the designated hours of stepping and timing and so on, but it wouldn't be him and that was what mattered.

"No."

So he goes, just as you please, if you pleased a little stiffly, back to his chair, picking up the discarded book on the way and plonking down into it with determination.

[galeforcehero]

With an enormous sigh that looks like it deflates her from the ribcage upwards, Dorothy pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. She knew he was stubborn, but this stubborn? Usually when she makes a request for something silly that he doesn't want to do, he gives in just after the tender application of the sad puppy eyes. He almost never outlasts the reminder of his innate curiosity and some subtle ego-stroking. This was unprecedented.

Well, she thinks, he's stubborn all right. But nobody is as stubborn as Dorothy Gale.

A few moments of silence are given, just to lull him into a false sense of security. When she speaks again, it's from directly in front of his chair. She stands bent at the waist, arms akimbo, hovering just close enough to set off his Personal Space alarms. She knows them quite well by now, after all.

"If you don't get up," she threatens, "I am going to sit on you."

[perfect_shoes]

The Doctor doesn't say anything, sitting sulking in his chair with his book drawn up to his face, but he looks over it like an librarian peering over the top of half-moon specs and if he doesn't mean to make it look like a challenge, he has completely and utterly failed. Her sitting on him won't make a difference in his decision after all. In fact, as far as he was concerned, she would be making it more difficult for him to get up and that would mean she was helping him not dancing so there.

[galeforcehero]

Well. He didn't get up. It's his own fault.

Dorothy plucks the book from his hands and, as she places it on the table next to his chair (on top of the cookies-- a sign she is definitely not in a caring state of mind), she climbs on top of him.

It's true that she had said sit on you, a very nonspecific, vague turn of phrase. And while she had intended to JUST sit on him, as if he were a beanbag and she were entirely unconcerned with his comfort, a last-minute split-second decision caused her to change her mind. With one knee planted firmly on the outside of either of his thighs, she plants her hands against the back of the chair's headrest, one on each side of his head. She leans into him again, and stares directly into his face. As if to say, here is your punishment, sir. Enjoy that.

The silence and tension that hovers in the air is palpable. It is probably not helped by Dorothy just slightly narrowing her eyes at him. Possibly she's daring him to react. ...Okay, more than possibly, that's a straight-up dare. She's

[perfect_shoes]

He suddenly feel that this is escalating at a rate far out of his control, and that's no one's fault except hers.

He could, if he was human and sixteen, make some lascivious comment about how they're position and be smiling smugly all the way until she got disgusted and left, but unfortunately, in the one point in time were being that would be helpful, he is not, and ends up glaring straight into her eyes because he isn't losing this challenge without a fight.

"Okay, fine! All right!"

Though he never specified how much of a fight.

[galeforcehero]

Her tough glare melts immediately away into a brilliant self-satisfied smile. She leans back and, bracing her hands against the chair's armrests, hops off and backs off a few steps, dusting off her hands.

"See? Now that wasn't so painful, was it?" Dorothy is not entirely sure why anyone bothers arguing with her in the first place; she's always right, and she always wins. She can be awfully persuasive when she chooses to be, after all. "Awful lot of effort put in just to give in to me in the end anyway. In the future, you oughta just let me win right away. It's quicker."

[perfect_shoes]

It's a difficult position to be in, watching someone else be smug, wishing it was you, knowing it should be you. Then again, Dorothy always manages to find very unique ways of silverly kicking down his pride a notch or two.

Obviously still hurting from the loss, the Doctor thins his lips at her, not exactly frowning, but looking very displeased indeed.

"If you're going to be so smug about it, I'm more than willing to change my mind," he warns bitterly.

[galeforcehero]

"Yeah, but you won't."

Dorothy saunters over to the gramophone inexplicably located in the console room (why he insists on keeping so much breakable stuff in there is absolutely beyond her) and starts flipping through albums.

"You really don't have the best selection, to be honest. Nothing against jazz, and all, but I prefer something with a beat, especially if I've got to teach."

[perfect_shoes]

The Doctor sighs because, well, of course, she's right. Crossing the small expanse of the console room, he takes up place beside her, close enough to brush shoulders as he peers over to observe her perusal of his music collection.

"I think you'll find I have one of the best selections around, and it's not all jazz," he insists. "Though I won't deny it's very catchy. I've several minuets, waltzes-" He reaches his hand over, sliding out a few covers for scrutiny. "Hadyn, Chopin, Handel, or if you prefer the terribly clichéd," he smirks, "I do have the Blue Danube."

[galeforcehero]

"While I'm sure that's true," she demurs politely, because there's no reason to annoy him any further, "I was thinking something more along the lines of..."

She draws out her last syllable longer and longer until she finally finds the album she had been looking for. And it's one that he was likely entirely unfamiliar with, given that she herself had put it there weeks and weeks ago just in case of exactly this sort of situation. A wide grin curls over her face and she nudges him with her shoulder.

"Let's try this on for size," she says, and sets the record to play on a (mercifully slow) song.

[perfect_shoes]

"This isn't one of mine," he says stupidly and obviously, glancing up at the ceiling as though to watch the sound waves themselves bounce around the room. "When did you-..." the words forget themselves halfway through, when he realises that is a stupid question. "Any other invasions of my musical library that I should be worrying about?"

Because yes, that is the thing he's going to bring up right now.

[galeforcehero]

"Oh yes," Dorothy says, and nods emphatically, her eyes wide. "Plenty more. But for right now..."

Taking his hand, she moves back a few steps to a somewhat more open area. Grinning wolfishly at him, she shifts her hand in his and steps a bit closer, moving to put her other hand on his shoulder. Luckily for the Doctor, she is making certain to leave plenty of room for the Holy Ghost.

"Right now, I think what you oughta be worrying about is me."

[perfect_shoes]

In a rare, but wise move, he decides not to mention that he is damn well indignant that she thought she had the merits to go through his music, but remembers quickly that a) she can step on his toes as well, b) he isn't the one wearing the silver slippers

[galeforcehero]

"Because I want you here." And what she wants, she usually gets. When she actually bothers asking for it, that is; or in this case, demanding it.

She slowly begins to rock side to side to the music in possibly the easiest sort of dance known to mankind-- it barely requires moving the feet at all. Maybe a little shuffle here and there. Dorothy is being merciful here not demanding something with a little more swing, but given his reaction, she's not entirely sure what he'd do if she broke out in a Charleston. Though to be honest, she doesn't really feel like a Charleston at the moment anyway

[perfect_shoes]

Oh, hitting the Doctor right in the sympathy.

It occurs to the Doctor that this isn't quite what he'd been expecting when Dorothy said 'dancing'. In fact, in most cultures, he very absolutely doubted that this would be qualified as dancing at all - unless there was a name for holding someone and swaying a bit. But, not being one to complain, he doesn't say anything on the subject for fear of bringing it into the light and making it accidentally sound like some sort of invitation.

After a moment of long, slightly awkward, slightly comfortable silence, after Dorothy thanks him for something as simple as... complaining quite a lot before standing there dumbly like a pillock while her hands push him around a bit in tune with the music, the almost-not-dancing turns into no-dancing-at-all when the Doctor suddenly lets her hand go and gives her instead an extremely fierce hug, leaning back so he lifts her off her feet.

"Dorothy, I am absolutely more than delighted to be of service if it makes you happy - you should know that."