Clara should have known something was wrong when the Doctor's eyes widened as she approached, two drinks in her grasp, and he began shaking his head, both hands coming up open-palmed to gesture, his mouth working at something that wasn't quite emerging until he finally barked, "Why would you do that?"
She gripped the cold glasses, looking from one to the other before shrugging to respond, "I was thirsty and you said, 'why don't you head on over to the bar and have a drink' while you searched out a suitable spot to observe from?"
One of his hands reached up to clap around his forehead, rubbing at his temples, and she could see his neck turning a violent shade of red, even in the dim light of the room, before she looked to the drinks she held. One cup held a purple liquid, the other orange and she eyed them before taking a smell of each. Clara looked back at him curiously because they each smelled of nothing she could decipher and she waited until his hand fell away and he began to look around.
"What've I done wrong?" She called over the light music and the laughter and chatter of the people around them, some, she noticed, looking at them.
He gestured at the cups and he spat, "You said surprise me, didn't you?"
Smiling weakly, she offered, "Yeah. Thought that was part of the fun of taking in alien worlds."
"Told them you were with a bloke, out for a good time, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah," she shot.
"Never asked what they gave you," he stated, leaning into her.
Clara felt her own cheeks going pink, wondering just what had brought on this inquisition as she replied quietly, "No, I didn't ask – thought that'd be rude."
"Rude," the Doctor supplied, "Would be not drinking what they've given you."
She nodded, extending the arm with the purple cup towards him murmuring, "Said this one was for you."
"That's right," the Doctor stated, but she noticed he didn't immediately take the cup.
Leaning into him, she asked, "Doctor, I don't understand. What've I done wrong?"
"This," he gestured, "Is a Kissing drink." She shook her head and he sighed. "Clara, it's meant to be shared."
"Yeah," she laughed. "Sharin' it with you!"
He stared.
Clara swallowed roughly, watching his eyebrows rise as he waited, and she finally said plainly, "Oh."
"And we've got an audience," he inched forward to whisper, his breath hot against her cheek.
"It would be rude not to share," she understood.
He nodded slowly, finally taking the cup from her and forcing a smile as he raised it to the room, hearing the small round of applause that turned Clara's stomach. She held tight now to the drink that remained, glowing just a bit within her hands as she waited for him to explain, because she knew he would.
Taking a long breath, he tilted his head and stated for her, "The purpose of the drink is we both take a mouthful, and then we kiss, and as the liquids mingle, the flavor comes to life, a flavor I've only heard is absolutely remarkable. Drinking them alone is pointless, and generally they're meant to be crowd pleasers, as the deeper the kiss becomes, the more flavorful the drink. One generally begets the other, everyone claps, and theoretically we become somewhat inebriated, again, something drinking them alone would not accomplish as it's all chemical reactions. Liquids introduced into an organic beaker in which our tongues become the mixers. It's what happens when a planet's inhabitants have raised IQ's and lowered libidos." He leveled a stare at her and waited.
Clara merely nodded, eyes wide as she held them at his chest, understanding how foolish the decision had been, but knowing she truly hadn't known any better and didn't deserve the tone. And then she peered back up at him and asked, "So, we kiss?"
He straightened and took a step into her, something that seemed to amuse the few watching and waiting. "Are you confused, or are you requesting permission?" He questioned, voice low and, Clara might even say, curious.
She smiled, raising her glass to clink lightly against his, "Permission, I suppose, as it'd be rude to do anything else; said so yourself." Clara watched the way his mouth dropped open and clamped shut a few times, ten thoughts at once in his mind before she offered, "Scientific research. Beakers, mixers, that's all," she assured.
"You want to do this as an experiment?" He managed, and she could see the color on his face draining away and she took a step closer, seeing him look her over with a set of unspoken questions she answered with a cocky grin.
Smirking, she replied, "I'm a teacher; you're technically a scientist." She gave a quick nod and supplied, "So yeah, I say we do this, as an experiment." Tilting her head she added, "What's the hypothesis, Doctor?"
He stammered, "I suppose the hypothesis would be introduction of unknown chemicals, mixed with unknown chemicals, into the blood stream would cause slight intoxication, though it goes without saying – that's the purpose of the drink." He laughed, nervously, Clara noticed, as he explained, "This isn't truly an experiment so much as a battle of wits at this point."
"One you're losing," she argued, and to his look, she asked, "So who initiates?" She shrugged, "How does this work – you're the expert."
There came another odd laugh and Clara smiled up at him, then bowed her head, understanding making her blush. It wasn't that she imagined he felt awkward kissing her; it was that she knew he had an aversion to physical contact with anyone, so a kiss – even one under the guise of trying some new drink on a planet that required it to truly appreciate it – made him uncomfortable and she took a step away.
Looking to her right, she told him quietly, "I'm sorry, Doctor, we can get something else."
There were a series of boo's from around her, but Clara didn't hear them over the Doctor's quiet, "No, we'll try this." She glanced up as he closed his eyes and whispered, almost to himself, "Hypothesis: a kiss is just a kiss."
Swallowing hard, Clara reached out to touch his hand, to gain his attention, and when he looked to her, she asked him simply, "How does it work – you lead; I follow, just like always, Doctor."
He offered her a smile unlike any she'd ever seen on his face. Placid and relieved, and he bent into her as the music changed to a slower tune to tell her, "We each take a sip, mull it about, and then we kiss – obviously trying to create a seal with our lips; a bit more like CPR than kissing – and we let the liquids mingle until there's a flavor, and then we can break away carefully to swallow, I suppose. Heard about it, never quite had the opportunity to try it."
Lifting the cup, she watched him do the same, and she could almost see the tiny beads of sweat beginning to dot the space above his brow and she was tempted to stop him, unsure of his motives – was he merely trying to appease her? Trying to be brave? She didn't know, but her curiosity raised her cup to her mouth as he raised his own and she took a small tasteless sip, glancing up just in time for his lips to press into hers lightly.
He was surprisingly quick about opening up to her, mouth gliding easily over hers, sending a rush of warmth into the liquid she held, only a small drip escaping and making its way down her chin. But she didn't care because his tongue darted around hers to stir their shared drink and her head swam as the flavorless liquid suddenly became a burst of fruit, tinged with the tart bite of alcohol.
His mouth began to close and she followed suit and they separated with a simple smacking of lips parting before they each gulped down the mouthful they'd retained, backs of their hands lifting to wipe at their chins. Clara glanced up sharply, seeing the quick breaths he was taking and the way he looked down at the cup he held. Did he want to try again? Did he find it revolting? Did he find the act invasive? Did he find her revolting? She watched, feeling her heart pound as her stomach warmed with the new contents.
"I didn't quite..." she began.
"Get the flavor," he ended for her, eyes coming up to meet hers, brow raised high, corners of his mouth rising in a goofy smile as he nodded and lifted the drink – an invitation for seconds, she knew, and she quickly matched his second swig, surprised when he crushed his mouth onto hers.
Clara turned her head when she felt him turn his, and she sighed when the juices combined, chancing to dart her tongue towards his, meeting his motions with strong ones of her own. To mix the liquids, she told herself, but there wasn't really a need. She could taste the berries and she could feel the burn of the liquor, and this time she lingered, letting it slowly trickle down her throat as he did, until they were fighting each other for the last bits until Clara realized she was breathing heavily and the Doctor was moaning into her.
Kissing.
She took a step back quickly, hand coming up to steady herself against him, and she felt the alcohol's effect as it coursed through her veins. Stronger than anything she'd had on Earth, she knew – stronger than she'd had anywhere else in the universe. Glancing up at him, she watched him as he began to lift the cup again and she laughed, but he was taking another sip, so she took a mouthful of her own, grabbing hold of his lapel with her free hand as he came down again.
There was something like strawberries, and a taste of banana maybe, and definitely a heavy dose of pumpkin. Her hand drifted up, fingers burying themselves in his fluff of hair, pulling him closer to her as though she could get deeper into his mouth to find more fruits to explore. She might have thought it was taboo except his free arm was wrapped around her waist, hand splayed at her back, holding her tightly to him and she thought maybe she could feel the stirrings of arousal pressed into her stomach, but the thought was erased by his mouth dropping from her lips to kiss at the trail of liquid that rolled over her chin and throat and Clara croaked when he lapped eagerly at the space between her breasts a moment, until his head snapped up.
His eyes were staring lazily down at her before he looked to the cup he held, now empty, and Clara watched him for a moment before his lips were on hers again. Searching, she tried to tell herself, he was searching for the last drops of the drink. She convinced herself she was doing the same, tongue twirling over his, slipping along it seductively for a moment before he broke off again, breathing heavily against her chin.
"We should maybe go," he told her quietly.
Clara nodded against him, then asked in a hushed whisper, "Are you alright?"
"Drink," he stated simply, the hand that held his cup rising to make a circle with his forefinger just beside his temple as he continued, "Making my head a bit dizzy."
She smiled, shifting back and wrapping an arm around him to pull him away from a cheering crowd. They set their cups down at the bar and Clara held him tightly as she maneuvered him towards a hallway and then down to a cupboard where they'd landed the Tardis. It surprised her that he was so wordless, walking steadily with her as his guide. Her cheeks were crimson and her body felt flushed and she couldn't stop the smile on her lips as she released him and plucked the key free from her neck, turning to take in his bewildered expression.
"You realize we could have just sloshed about the two drinks in their cups for a bit and each remained with a solid mixture," she surmised as they reached the Tardis.
He laughed lightly and she turned to see him bow his head as she opened the door for them, listening as he explained, "The chemicals, they interact with your saliva as well – hormones and acidity levels and pheromones, they all take a part in the process."
Thinking a moment, she questioned, "So everyone gets a different flavor?"
Drunkenly, he nodded, pointing to the air before explaining, "I've been told the higher the attraction, the better the drink – the better the effect."
Clara stared at him a moment, listening to the muted sounds of the Tardis console, and she watched the lazy smile on his face as he looked to the floor while rubbing at the back of his neck. "Doctor," she began softly, "Are you drunk?"
He shook his head, finger tapping lightly against his lips before he answered, "No," and shook his head. Then he gestured and his eyes went wide as he asked, "Are you?"
She considered it, a small giggle escaping before she could catch it, and shook her head, laughing a simple, "No."
Stepping into her, he pushed her into the Tardis, whispering as his hands rubbed at her shoulders, "We should just rest a bit, let it sort of work out of our systems, because we're both lying and I've had just enough to admit that."
"Rest a bit," she repeated with a stern nod, letting him lead her through the corridors to a room she didn't think she'd ever seen before, and he stopped just at the door, raising a finger and poking her nose before stopping, mouth agape. "What is it, Doctor?" She questioned.
He smiled then, an odd smile that made her laugh, and he explained, "I've realized my hypothesis is wrong." He nodded and Clara understood because she was feeling the same – the alcohol kicking in slowly, drooping her eyelids and making her legs feel a bit like pudding. "A kiss is never just a kiss, Clara."
Clara sighed and nodded, and then told him deviously, "And that was the best drink I've ever had," as they pushed into that room, closing the door shut behind them as the Tardis rang her Cloister bell, while the Doctor and Clara merely laughed.