Fandom(s): Doctor Who
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Donna Noble
Word Count: 481
Summary: It's raining, it's pouring! The old man is... being annoying, as usual.
Author's Notes: Written for who_contest's drabble challenge, "Weather".
Huddled under the only tree tall enough to shelter her in the two hundred and fifty acres of garden that surrounded the palace of the emperor of Jessith, a planet peopled by humanoids that barely came up to her waist, Donna pulled the hood of her raincoat further down over her face and tried to ignore the splattering of the water on her head and back from the leaves above. In the summer sun yesterday, the imperial gardens had shimmered with vibrant color, flowers of ivory, azure, and indigo sparkling among the russet and amber foliage, but today, little was visible in the downpour, and all was sodden grey.
Not that Donna was looking at anything other than the muddied hem of her gown. Her Mackintosh barely hung past her knees, leaving the bottom half-metre of the fine silk exposed, and her boots had thrown up clods of dirt as she'd dashed across the lawn with the Doctor for the only bit of shelter from the rain. At least the coat had held up, watertight against the worst weather, but the rain in her face as they'd run had now worked its way down her neck into the bodice, as well as into her hair. She was soaked, cold, and shivering.
These extremes seemed to be a pattern. They'd visited the snowy planet of the Ood only a week earlier, and after that, Itlin Geddisik had turned out to be a hot world. The indigenous life, evolved to its environment, considered 22 degrees to be frigidly cold, and Donna had to make do in a gauzy blouse and a breezy skirt and creeping under every shade she could find, until she had demanded they return to the TARDIS before she fainted from heatstroke. As a bead of water trickled down from her hairline along the side of her nose, she wondered if the Doctor was doing this on purpose, testing her boast that her wardrobe contained clothes appropriate for all seasons.
Donna jerked and clutched at her chest in surprise as the Doctor landed beside her. Thoroughly soaked, his brown suit was nearly as dark as the soil into which the roots they sat on burrowed, and his hair was a plastered mess against his forehead. "The guard still hasn't got orders we're to be let back in. He said it's usually an hour, but he hasn't before seen anyone insult the emperor quite like I did, so it might be another two. No matter." He grinned, bouncing like an eager greyhound pup. "You loved the gardens yesterday. This'll give us a chance to explore them without running into the crowds."
Donna clutched her coat closer. "Doctor, you're impossible."
"So I've been told." He bumped his shoulder against hers. "Looks like your Mackintosh is serving you well. That's my Donna, always ready for anything!"
Donna groaned. She hated being right.