Clara was a vision that night just like the Doctor knew she would be. When she had requested to visit the 1950's he been only too happy to oblige; when she requested they go to a ball, she had held her breath as she waited for his answer. Maybe there was a time, a time not so long ago, that he would have said no. But as she leaned against the TARDIS console, biting her lip and looking at him with those young, happy, big brown eyes he wasn't sure how anyone could say no to her. He certainly couldn't. She had jumped up and down, bursting with excitement and he had received a hug for his troubles. It wasn't that much trouble; really it wasn't any trouble at all. The Doctor had his own selfish reasons for saying yes; he planned on stealing a dance at this ball.

The TARDIS had been thoroughly happy to help with their splendid night out. A tuxedo had appeared in his room and a ball gown in Clara's. The Doctor had reluctantly wrangled himself into the restrictive suit though he hadn't wanted to; tuxes seemed to be bad luck for him. When he saw Clara, he knew his luck was changing.

Clara looked stunning; she always had. All of the jabs and criticisms he'd ever thrown her way was his childish way of coping with the fact that her affections were with someone else. She was, and always had been, beautiful. This night, she was truly a stunning vision, from her hair cascading down in chestnut curls to the red, low cut, flowing ball gown she wore that accentuated every curve of her figure. Noticing him staring, she had smiled and twirled around. "What do you think?" she asked, as if there was any doubt she looked amazing.

"You look beautiful" the Doctor had said, because there was no denying it. He didn't want to deny it. He'd spent too long making her feel like she was less than what she was; by the doubt in her eyes, he could tell his remarks had gotten to her.

"Not bad for a teacher, right?" Clara asked, blushing slightly as if embarrassed.

The Doctor hadn't joked back. "Not bad for anything. You just look pretty, period" he said seriously, knowing that his awe and amazement had dripped into his words and looks and not caring.

Clara's cheeks had colored at that and she stuttered as she tried to think of what to say. "You dress up nice yourself, old man" she said shyly, bouncing on her feet as she looked him over.

At first the nickname had annoyed the Doctor but now he took it affectionately, almost like he called the TARDIS 'old girl'. He had smiled as she looked him, hoping that somehow he deserved to be seen with her looking like she did.

"I feel a bit out of place in it" the Doctor had admitted, looking down at the stiff tux.

"Its been a long time since I've seen you without your t-shirts and hoodie" Clara said with a grin. "Last time I saw you this dressed up you had a different face"

She didn't mean it in a bad way or as an insult but the Doctor felt self-conscious. Regeneration was a mixed bag and though the change didn't often affect him too terribly, it was worse when he was with a companion. Humans didn't react well to the change and he always worried what they would think about how he came out. When he had changed, Clara had lost the young, dressy version she was infatuated with and was replaced with the older, laid back, sometimes rough version he was now. He had made his peace with it but there was still times that he felt doubt creep in. It was ridiculous, being jealous of yourself; but then again, Clara made him feel a lot of ridiculous things these days.

The night had been as perfect as Clara was. The sky was brilliant black and the stars dazzling bright as they walked on the street to the ballroom, arm in arm. The air was cold but the Doctor felt warm with Clara's hand on his arm and her side pressed against his side. They walked into the ballroom that was alive with the sound of Frank Sinatra and the twirling, dancing couples around them. Clara's beauty didn't go unnoticed by those around her and she had no shortage of admirers.

The Doctor's eyes were on Clara all night, watching her laugh and come alive as she danced. He couldn't help but smile; it was impossible not to when Clara was smiling. But there was a knot in his stomach forming, the longer he watched Clara dance with handsome man after handsome man. He let her; he wouldn't think of stopping her from doing what she wanted. But he couldn't help but wish as the night wore on that he had a different face, one that would have made the other people at the ball think he was Clara's suitor and not her father.

Eventually, somehow, he lost sight of her. Surrounded by a group of young couples, talking and laughing, Clara had disappeared into the crowd. The Doctor didn't know if he should be thankful or upset at her loss; either way he felt a loss growing inside him.

The hours passed and crowd began to shrink; the band stopped playing and staff came in to clean up the mess of a party well had. The Doctor was pacing around, hands in his pockets, wondering how long to wait for Clara before he gave up and went to the TARDIS. He wasn't bitter or angry; he wanted her to have a good time. But he also wished that he was having a good time.

The Doctor had turned away from the ballroom and had begun to walk out when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Where are you going, Doctor?"

The Doctor turned around and saw Clara standing a few feet from him. She was smiling from ear to ear, holding her shoes in her hands. Her feet probably hurt after all of the dancing but the Doctor would rather she not wear them anyway; he liked to see her look up at him.

"I wasn't sure where you had run off to" the Doctor said. "I was going back to the TARDIS"

The Doctor didn't know why he felt a lump in his throat, didn't know why he felt like a teenager at a dance that had gotten stood up; it was another one of those strange feelings that Clara was beginning to give him. It wasn't as if he had come here thinking Clara would stay with him all night; it wasn't as if they were dating. But still…he had been hoping for that dance.

Clara smiled at him so warmly the Doctor felt it tingle in his toes. "Did you think I had forgotten you?" she asked, walking up closer to him, grinning up at him.

The Doctor felt the hint of a blush give him away. "No" he lied.

Clara walked up and put her hands on his chest. "Yes you did" she said knowingly. "You were just about to go to the TARDIS and sulk, I imagine. Now, tell the truth"

The Doctor looked down at his shiny, uncomfortable shoes instead of looking at her. "You were dancing with everyone else. Everyone just thought I was your dad" Clara said tell the truth and so he had to.

Clara put her hand on his chin and made him look at her. She was smiling so kindly, the Doctor felt embarrassed at his jealousy. "You're not my dad and I'm not leaving until you give me a dance, old man."

Maybe it should have felt like pity but it didn't. The Doctor wanted it to feel real and it did.

Clara reached up and put her arms around the Doctor's neck as the Doctor let his hands move to her hips. There was no music but Clara began to move and sway as if there was and the Doctor followed her lead. Her eyes were on his and the Doctor couldn't help but smile; it was worth waiting the whole night to see Clara look at him like that.

"You know, I wanted to dance with you all night, Doctor" Clara said. "I was just waiting for you to ask."

The Doctor could never speak with the same transparency that Clara did sometimes. He could feel, ever so slowly, a change coming between them but it was hard to be so open. The Doctor felt his hearts begin to beat faster as he spoke. "I wasn't sure you would say yes. I mean, with all the others…" the Doctor started but then lost his voice.

Clara looked at him with that impenetrable stare that always made him feel she could see the real him. "Are you telling me you were jealous, Doctor?" she teased.

The Doctor flushed but he couldn't speak. He was glad when Clara took the lead again. She laid her head against his chest, between his hearts, and held on to him tighter. "I would have said yes; I would have danced with you all night" Clara said so softly he could barely hear her. "I hope you know no one can compare to you, Doctor"

Clara had the courage to say it but she didn't have the courage to look at him when she did. Feeling warmth and affection in his chest, the Doctor placed a kiss against the top of Clara's head, brushing her soft hair out of her face. He wanted to do more and maybe soon he'd have the courage to. But for right now, he held her close and danced to music that wasn't there, hardly believing it wasn't a dream.