They've been sitting quietly for a while, watching the fire burn in front of them, neither really knowing what to say and while the Doctor, Clara knows, might have become accustomed to the truth field in the three hundred years she'd been gone, she hadn't. And she was afraid of the words in her head coming out of her mouth and meeting his ears unexpectedly. Afraid that it would put the notion in his mind to send her away again.
Because she loved him.
Clara could admit it to herself now, watching him shoving marshmallows into his mouth and grinning up at her foolishly – the same face, unchanged by time – as she smiled, wrapped up in a yellow blanket, trying to warm herself after her trip through space. The Doctor picked up the Cyberman head that rested at his side and he tinkered with it, giving it a tap as she considered him. All of that space; all of that time – and to her he was nothing more than an idiot with a toy.
An idiot she stood and approached, fingers curled around the edges of the blanket tightly, waiting for him to glance up at her with a curious nod, setting the head down to give her his full attention. Isn't that all she'd wanted? She wanted him to be angry that he was a one day appointment in the middle of her week; she wanted him to be jealous that she had her own life and her own friends; she wanted him to want to be a part of that life and instead he absently stroked a bit of metal, always linked in some way to a world she was refusing to be a part of.
And now she felt folded up in it. Travelling blindly through his life, struggling to find something to hold onto while space crushed in around her, threatening to destroy her. With a small smile, she leaned into him where he sat, surprised when his knees slipped apart, letting her in closer to him and she took a small breath before touching her lips to his… and waited.
With her eyes closed, she could only imagine the look on his face, the confusion in his eyes – she'd been in this moment before, there was a vivid memory… the most vivid memory… always just behind the simple thought of him – and she pressed her eyelids closer together, for a moment terrified that he wouldn't return the gesture. That anything she thought he felt for her was truly imagined, and she felt her heart breaking because she would risk her life again, over and over, for him.
His fingers came up at her sides, barely there and she furrowed her brow, beginning to slip back because Clara thought he was going to pull her away, but instead he cupped her waist at either side in shaking hands and his mouth opened against hers. She let her lips follow, feeling the heat of his breath just before he slid his tongue over hers. It seemed so tentative, so innocent and anxious and she tilted her head, closing her mouth over his, challenging him.
Hands tightening at her sides, he inched up and dove deeper and he moaned as she melted against him, her stomach pressed into him as she slipped her arms out of the blanket and around his torso, nails lightly grasping at him. Kissing him was like holding to the Tardis, swirling through the time vortex, and Clara lost her sense of direction, tipping forward as he grew more desperate, and she knew, instantly, that he'd craved her. He had the whole town to entertain him, but he needed her in a way he couldn't express before.
But now his hands kneaded at her and his body shifted into her and Clara was certain that whatever he couldn't say – whatever he'd kept himself from saying out loud – he was conveying with this kiss. She smiled a moment, feeling him do the same and she chanced to separate to release a huff of a laugh, listening to him chuckle before he caught her again and Clara exhaled in surprise because now he was dragging his palms over her, rounding her back and clutching her to him. As though maybe he never wanted to let go again and Clara sighed, feeling the day's light warming her back, because if he never did, she would be alright with that.
She could let go of Thursday through Tuesday.
She could let go of her friends and her family.
She could let go and be a part of his life.
The sun didn't last more than a few minutes and then the cold of night returned, seeping through the blanket and curling around her limbs. Clara slipped back from the Doctor and she took in his flushed face and his swollen lips, drifting upwards into a smile and in that moment his old eyes were no longer sad. And Clara succumbed to his unspoken request with a small nod and a simple, "Hello."