Dance Lessons

by reversingpolarity [Reviews - 2]

  • All Ages
  • None
  • Fluff, General, Humor

Author's Notes:
Written for Tumblr and Relative Dimension in Space, a Doctor Who prompt comm on, you guessed, Tumblr.

Sarah Jane Smith was bored. She sat at the table with her chin in her hand and sighed at Harry, who had immersed himself in one of the local vintages.

“It smells like clovers but tastes like cinnamon,” he commented. “An interesting combination.”

“Are you going to sit there all night and talk about wine?” Sarah whined. “The Doctor finally managed to land us on a planet where we’re not being hunted and the only thing you want to do is dull!”

“I can’t see anything else worth doing.” Harry said, and Sarah pulled a face, then pointed toward the dance floor. “Oh! Er, not for me, old girl.”

Sarah punched his arm, and he rubbed the offended spot, pretending to look hurt.

“And this wine’s warm. You don’t often get to drink warm wine on Earth. Unless you heat it yourself or leave it in the sun, of course,” Harry mused, mostly to himself, as he stared into the deep, amber liquid in the strange shaped glass. Sarah merely huffed and glared at him from under the curls of her hair for a long moment.

“Look,” he started, leaning in close to Sarah, “will you let me finish my wine in peace if I promise to dance with you after?” Harry clearly still hated the idea but with his face so close to Sarah’s all she could see was the colour of his eyes; everything else was white noise.


“Never mind.” He downed the remainder of his drink and sighed. There was a possibility he would regret that but he could do that later. Right now, however, Harry held out his hand to Sarah. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

She took his hand and dragged him out, away from the safety of the tables and warm wine to where the planet's beings were flailing to a kind of music that wasn’t particularly familiar to either Harry or Sarah. He nervously wiped his palms before taking up position in the traditional way, causing giggles to hiccup from Sarah.

“What are you doing?” she asked, looking over his arms in bewilderment.

“This is dancing, isn’t it?”

“Well I suppose so but I meant something more like this!” Sarah twirled out of Harry’s hold to twist and maneuver her body in time to the music.

He’d been to a few dances in his time, never anything terribly ‘clubbish’ but the Navy had held a number of events that had fine food, wine, formal dress uniforms, champagne and dancing. For the most part, he’d managed to avoid it, choosing instead to show for the meal and a drink afterwards with a couple of the men, then slip out when his friends had become distracted by the women. Of course, watching the women dance had always been delightful, for want of a more tasteful word, but it wasn’t really his thing and his knowledge was limited. At that point, however, Harry stood hypnotised in front of Sarah before he realised that he was staring. It was probably a wise idea to move those things called hips. And possibly his toes.

Sarah was laughing again. “Now what are you doing?”

“I had hoped I was dancing.” Harry didn’t stop doing whatever it was that he was doing for fear that Sarah would stop her beautiful laughter.

“Like that? I think my mother dances better than that!”

“If she dances half as good as you, old girl, I imagine she’d dance very well indee - ow!” She punched him in the arm again without even breaking her dance. Though Harry was now under the impression that she was showing off, pulling more flamboyant moves as she wriggled around him. “I’ll go back to my wine if you keep that up.”

“Here, I’ll show you a move or two.” She smiled up at him, not in an overly patronising way, but in a way that held more warmth and good humour. Sarah took both his hands and placed them on her hips, frowning when he slid them back up to her waist. Though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, the look on his face and his complete lack of dancing ability made him that little bit adorable. Her own hands moved up and laid on his shoulders, while her feet began to shuffle to the beat, just a little. Until Harry got a-hold of it, at least.

“OW!” she cried as he stepped on her foot.

“Sorry, ol-Sarah.” Harry apologised, managing to avoid a third punch to the arm.

She smirked. "You’re lucky you can be such a good doctor. At times.”