"You are beautiful."
Clara can't help but think that there's something more that the Doctor means by that, an unspoken truth hidden in his words.
"Beautiful, fragile human skin," he says as he takes her hand in his, gently tracing over her palm with his thumb.
She looks up at him with wide eyes, meeting his briefly before dropping her gaze, staring at her hands as she feels a pink flush spread across her cheeks. Shy and a little embarrassed, this was new.
He folds her hand over, like it's curling around a secret, and she can't help wincing slightly as the burn pinches at her palm, her hand uncoils reflexively and she lifts her hand up, blowing cool air across it gently.
"Sorry," he murmurs quietly. "Are you okay?" he asks in concern, gently cradling her raised hand and dipping his head to kiss her palm softly.
When he raises his head again he is close, so close that Clara can smell him, and she smiles at him shyly.
The Doctor leans in closer, hesitating, unsure, and she meets him halfway, their lips colliding as they realise they both feel the same way.
Eventually the Doctor pulls away, knowing they can't stay here much longer, but his hand lifts, gently cupping her cheek.
"Clara," he breathes, his voice filled with wonder, and his gaze one of pure adoration. His hand lingers on her cheek for a moment, and then his sonic is out and Clara is gazing at him curiously as he launches into one of his usual rambles, talking at a hundred miles an hour and flailing his arms.
"I need to find… music," he says, grinning as music surrounds them, and holding his hand out towards her; she slips her hand in his without thinking twice, laughing as she lets him pull her along…
