Roses. He'd heard her mention how much she liked them. Red ones. Vibrantly deep red, blood red. The redder the better. He wasn't surprised—red was definitely her color; bold, spicy, fearless. A little sassy. Like his Clara.
The word "rose" at first conjured up memories—but those were of the soft pink variety from a long ago era. A faded flower almost forgotten, pressed between the leaves of a book put up on a shelf. A red rose, though, that was for now. Vibrant. Alive. Unforgettable.
So he decided to get her some. And as usual with the Doctor, if he was going to do something, he was likely to overdo it. It wasn't long before the entire control room was festooned in red roses. Overheated with the effort of decorating the console, he'd removed his jacket and vest. Much cooler (but of course! When isn't he?) in just his dress shirt, slacks, bow tie and braces, he picked up a massive bouquet of roses in his arms. He was intending to put them in her room, but before he could head down the stairs to the corridor leading there his boot slipped on some of the errant petals on the floor. The Doctor and the roses both went flying.
Landing on his back, rose stems draped over him and rose petals fluttering through the air, the Doctor heard the TARDIS' doors open. Rolling over so he faced the doors, he grabbed a rose stem up, and not knowing what else to do with it, quickly placed the stem end in his mouth. He looked up to see Clara crossing the threshold.
Clara was surprised to find herself greeted by the sight of the color red everywhere, as she took in rose petals and long stemmed roses adorning the control room, with the almost overpowering scent of roses in the air. Her gaze then located the Doctor, lying apparently seductively in the middle of it all, a rose rakishly held in his teeth. He was leaning his head on one hand, while the other was draped over one of his knees. Rose petals garnished his head and shoulders.
"Ello!" he greeted her, around the rose in his teeth. Deciding he wanted to speak a bit more clearly, he snatched it out of his mouth and continued. "I, eh, remembered you liked roses. Red roses. So I got you a few."
"A few?" She waded through the crimson tide over to the supine Time Lord. "I think you must've emptied out a planet's worth of gardens with this lot."
"Do you like them?" he asked, twirling the long stemmed rose in his hands.
Clara knelt down next to him, took the rose from him and bopped him on the nose with it. "In the language of flowers…red roses…mean love." She raised one eyebrow and smirked. "Did you know that…?"
He blushed. "In the language of the Doctor…red roses mean Clara Oswald." Reaching up to gently pull her closer towards his lips, he whispered, "I think they mean the same thing."
Her lips pressed warmly to his, Clara smiled. She was so glad they spoke the same language.
Note: This was based off of a piece of art someone did and posted online (sorry, I don't have the artist's name! Wish I did!). I found it doing a Google search for Doctor Who Valentines. It was such a cute piece-the 11th Doctor reclining in a bed of roses, with one in his teeth. It inspired this little drabble.