Clara finally found him, tucked away at the base of the console, fixing something, or pretending to, at any rate. "Why did you try to push me away?" she asked softly.
The Doctor's hands stilled, and he was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, without turning. "I suppose vanity is as good an answer as any."
"How'd you mean?"
He sighed heavily. "I look older than your dad."
"You are older than my dad," Clara pointed out reasonably.
"What will people think?"
"You've never much cared before. Why start now?"
He turned then, and looked up at her. Clara's body was set in lines of stubbornness, arms folded across her chest, but the shadow of a smile graced her features, and her brown eyes were filled with trust and affection. She was lovely. He was…distinguished looking, he supposed, trying to put it in the best light possible.
He didn't want to leave her…didn't want to face the universe all on his own…nothing good ever came of it. But Clara…she deserved better than trailing along after an old vagabond like him. She deserved someone who could give her a happy, human life. Someone who could walk beside her openly without fear of whispers behind their backs. And definitely someone who wasn't forever dragging her into the path of danger.
Clara's smile suddenly came full bloom, and the Doctor realized that she'd been watching his thoughts play across his face, and knew what he was thinking, just as surely as if he'd spoken the words aloud.
"Now you're just being silly," she admonished him.
"What's wrong with silly?"
"Nothing. Still talking to you, in't I?"
He chuckled at that, and Clara decided that she liked his laugh, and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
"We've come a long, long way together, you and I," the Doctor observed.
"Yes, we have," Clara agreed.
"Shall we…go see what else is out there?"
"I'd like that, very much."
He held out his hand, and Clara took it with a smile.