Title: Getting Wet
Author: Lilac Summers
Paring: Donna/Ten
Rating: PG

AN: Inspired by long walk in the pouring rain with no umbrella. This kept my mind occupied and off my "squishy" shoes.

"You think I can't do it?"

"I think you can't do it."

"Reeeeaaally?"

"Really really."

"Donna, I assure you I taught him everything he knows."

"Everything he knew, you mean."

"Knows. Time-machine!"

Donna rolled her eyes.

"And don't roll your eyes at me! I tell you I'm quite capable."

"Meh."

"Why, I do believe you're making this into a dare. Are you making this into a dare?"

"If you like."

The Doctor tried out his best "Determined Time Lord, Master of the Universe, Expert at Everything" look, to see if she'd back down.

"Oi, now, don't be giving me sulky-why-don't-you-believe-me look #17. It won't work on me, Sunshine."

He blinked, dropped the look. "You named my facial expressions?"

"Yep. Within the first three days. You're not that complicated; I know all your tricks."

"Oh, I highly doubt that, Donna Noble." This was delivered with a slant-eyed glance.

Donna parried with a mock-bored sigh and steeled herself against holy-crap-he-can-be-hot look #3.6. "Mind, you don't have to prove anything here."

"But you don't believe I can do it," pouting now.

"Not a bit!" she replied airily.

"Wellll, what do I get if I can?"

Donna's smile was the indulgent smile perfected by mothers of toddlers the universe over. "Whatever you want."

Suddenly he was very much in her face and his breath was ghosting over her lips. His voice dropped an octave and reached that level where every word he'd say would vibrate down to … parts best not mentioned. "Anything I want?"

Her mind may have been "eep"ing, but her index finger was so stable that brain surgeons would have wept in envy at her steady hands. She used that pointy finger to poke him right in the middle of the chest and ease him back just a tad. "Well, within reason."

"Putting qualifications on a win!" the Doctor exclaimed in shocked disapproval. "That's just sad, Donna!"

"Well, I'm not making you homemade banana jam for a week, or somesuch idiocy, on a bet!" She wasn't stupid after all. He was the Doctor, and damn crafty. God forbid he actually be able to do what he was boasting about. "So yeah, within reason."

He studied her for a second, then broke out into a grin. "Okay! It's a bet. Prepare to pay up!"

He speedily stripped down to his shirtsleeves, leaving coat and blazer on a window ledge. Then he skipped, literally skipped out of their shelter and turned to face her in the pouring rain.

"I'm singing in the rain"…shuffle, shuffle, toe step, "Just singing in the rain!" twirl twirl stomp. "What a wonderful feeling, I'm – haaaaappy again!" hop on lamppost, twirl, "I'll walk down the lane, with a happy refrain…" here he broke out into a little more improv tap stepping, with a bit of Michael Jackson sown in, if she weren't mistaken, "Just singing, and dancing in the rain!"

Donna stood under the shelter of the little awning, jaw agape. Well, look at that. Don't it beat all.

He held the last note a little before finishing with a flourish and a big splash in front of her, spraying her lightly with droplets. There he held the pose, completely soaked, grinning smugly through his sopping hair.

Donna had been trying to look unimpressed, but finally lost the battle and broke out into surprised, delighted laughter, throwing up her hands in defeat. "Alright. Alright. I'll call you Gene from now on, if it will wipe that cocky look off your face."

"As well you should! Why, Gene Kelly and I, great friends. Splendid decade, overall, you know, and well…he's not really human. Of course, few of your dancers are. Baryshnikov, for examp—"

"Yeah, yeah. Aliens are the best. Rah rah." She ruffled his wet hair to shut him up. "So whaddya want?"

"OH!" He clapped his hands in childish glee. "That's right! My winnings!"

"Use it or lose it now, Spaceman. It's flippin' wet out here."

"Right." And again, in that preternaturally smooth way he had, he was very close to her, so close she had to tilt her head up to keep eye contact. So close she could feel the heat from his exertions raising off his wet skin through the clinging cloth of his shirt. "I know exactly what I want."

It took the nerves of steel that Donna had perfected over the past few months of traveling with her impossible (impossibly hot!) alien friend to keep herself from doing something she'd regret. Stop ogling the Martian goods, Donna! Y'know he's clueless and doesn't mean anything by it, the dunce. She reprimanded herself, though internal Donna mostly just wanted to go "guh."

After that stern talking to, she succeeded in raising one eyebrow in a sort of disinterested query. "Aaaand?"

"I want to dance in the rain-"

"Saw that. Be my guest to keep going. Y'didn't need to win a bet to ask my permission for it, by the way…though I am liking the new trend."

The Doctor tsked slightly. "I'm not done yet, don't interrupt!"

Donna graced him with a long-suffering sigh. "Get on, then! I'm, like, dying from the suspense here." The implied "not" hung in the air.

That sly grin of his turned wicked. "I want to dance in the rain…with you."

Donna only managed an "urk!" as he took that final step forward, wrapped a strong arm around her – splaying a hand dangerously low on her back – and pulled her body completely flush against his. His clothing was dripping wet; it utterly soaked the front of her thin dress until she was sure she was feeling every flex of his skin against hers through the wet layers.

Donna's startled blue eyes flew to his, his other hand reaching for hers as her opposite arm instinctively raised to his shoulder.

He looked far too pleased with himself. Donna narrowed her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her stymied, and squeezed herself even closer. The hand against her back jerked slightly before tightening, his fingertips digging reflexively into her dress and the soft flesh beneath. The breath he released was long and slow and warmed her throat; the eyes that looked down at her were dark and dangerous.

Donna's internal monitoring service started up, on cue. You really shouldn't encourage him. This isn't a good idea. He's your best buddy, your pal, the Sam to your Frodo. God forbid he gets ideas in that big head and you know he's just messing aroun-

Aww, shut the hell up.

"I don't have to sing, too, do I?" she murmured.

"Not unless you can't help yourself," he breathed.

Donna's smile, when she favored the Doctor with it, was more than a bit dangerous itself. "Lead on then, Spaceman."

Because really, sometimes it was okay to let yourself get a little…wet.

fin