They sat on the patio of a small coffee shop, tall paper cups in hand. Clara had insisted it not be a Starbucks, the Doctor had readily agreed and attempted to begin a rant about how their coffee wasn't good enough to warrant a total domination of the market, but Clara stopped him before he got too far. It seemed complaining was going to be this new Doctor's thing, in the way that childish ramblings were her last Doctor's thing. One thing that hadn't changed was that a stern word from her could still stop him in his tracks.
"You're staring," the Doctor said.
"What?"
"You're staring," he repeated. He seemed torn between a small quirk of the lips and a look of insecurity. Probably unsure of her motives.
In truth she had been studying his face. How different it was. But it was the eyes that got her. If you could look beyond the harsh brows, you could see the same man, the one she so fancied, staring back. "I have a confession to make," she decided resolutely.
"Hm?"
"Before... I mean... I never told you before, but I should've. I... I fancied you."
"I see." He didn't seem surprised, but still unsure. "And now?"
"I don't know," she said honestly.
They were silent for a little while, staring down at their coffee.
"Before, in the TARDIS," Clara started. "You said you weren't my boyfriend."
"Yes."
"You said that hadn't been my mistake." He looked up at that. "Were you saying you'd fancied me before you changed?"
He stared at her for a moment. "Very much so," he finally said.
"And now?" She mirrored his question.
"That hasn't changed. And it never will."
Clara was struck by how easily that statement and the look in his eyes rekindled her feelings.
"When I regenerate," he continued, "My face and my attitude, they change, but the way I feel about the people in my life never changes. My friends are all still my friends, my family were all still my family, my lovers... well, they're all gone. But I love them still. Always will."
Clara was stunned silent for a second.
"I should have told you before," he started again, "When I was him. Before I looked to old for you to even consider-" but he was cut off because Clara had leaned over the small table and kissed him. It was almost chaste if it weren't for her bottom lip catching in his and the way the lingered just a moment too long to be considered friendly. She pulled away smiling, staying only a few inches from his face. "People will stare," he warned. "And talk. A twenty something young woman kissing an old man in public."
"Let them talk," she said and kissed him again. And this time it was most definitely more than friendly.
