"Truth or dare?"
Clara took a contented sip of tea, smiling at the Doctor happily. She knew it was a bit juvenile to play such a game with someone a thousand years old, but then, she wasn't exactly known for her maturity. Besides, when she had mentioned it and he didn't know what it was, what else was she supposed to do?
"Truth," sighed the Doctor, staring at the ceiling of the TARDIS. "Always truth. It's been truth the entire game. Why do you even bother asking?"
"Well, if I just said 'truth', it wouldn't be Truth or Dare proper, now would it?" asked Clara, setting down her tea. "Are you a coward or what?"
"Yes," responded the Doctor, with absolutely no hesitation. "Truth or—"
"That wasn't my question!" interrupted Clara, laughing. "That was my way of asking why you haven't picked a dare yet. If I can, so can you!"
The Doctor was definitely not the best choice for a companion in this game. So far, Clara had been asked what her favorite kind of biscuit was (hesitantly, like he was asking something offensive), asked whether she had ever wanted siblings (with a wistful expression), dared to sing part of 'Hungry Like the Wolf' (after over a minute of thinking), and dared to dictate a letter of apology to the TARDIS. That last one was the only one with which Clara had any trouble, and that was mostly because lately, she had made much more of an effort to be nice to her anyway.
"Well, you're a very brave girl, and I'm neither!" exclaimed the Doctor, refusing to meet her eyes. "Now ask your question."
"Okay, but it's going to be an extra-embarrassing one, just for being a coward." She winked at a crestfallen Doctor, draining her teacup as she tried to think of a properly humiliating question.
Clara had been as gentle as possible with the Doctor, making an effort not to bring up his people or planet, which he had already stated were gone. She had stuck with basic questions—what was his favorite color (blue like the TARDIS), if he had to stay in one place for a year what would he do (lose what little of his mind was left), what was the most fearsome enemy he had ever faced (the Master—don't ask), and would he ever get married and settle down if he had the chance (maybe, depending on a number of circumstances—and absolutely not). Now, it was time to up the ante a little.
It was over a minute before she could think of a good question, and that wasn't without some guilt. She wanted to know whether he felt the way she did, whether he liked her as more than just a traveling companion. It had taken Clara an impossibly long time to discover that it wasn't just the traveling she loved; it wasn't the TARDIS, certainly; it was him, and his kindness, and his enthusiasm for the tiniest things. Even once she had fully made up her mind, she was reluctant to ask because of the irrationally terrified expression on the Doctor's face. "Describe the person you last had, or have, a crush on."
The Doctor raised his eyebrows after a semi-shocked pause, eyes wide. "Are you serious?"
"Really really," assured Clara, widening her eyes and smiling in her most convincing manner, though her heart beat infinitely faster. But the Doctor seemed able to withstand even that smile of hers for once, glancing up sharply into her eyes.
"I don't think I've ever told you about my companions."
It wasn't a question, nor was it followed by any kind of an explanation—only a deep sigh. When Clara frowned and opened her mouth to ask further, the Doctor gave the merest ghost of a smile.
"It's a very long story, and a tale for another time, but I learned long ago—centuries—that you can't love anyone when you lead a life like mine." He clasped Clara's hand in a way that made her think he was holding himself back. "I touch the lives of many people, so many that I don't care to count, but if I reach farther in than that—if I become a part of their life—then they become a part of mine."
"And that's bad… how?" She cocked her head, confused.
"Clara, Clara, Clara, I don't age! Everyone I meet gets older. Whole worlds are born and die, and I stay the same throughout big bangs and doomsday. But those I take with me age. Even you age!" The intensity in the Doctor's voice was clear, though what emotion fueled it evaded Clara.
"Even me?"
The Doctor looked desperately into her eyes, and she saw a question bigger than the universe within them, an unanswered mystery that irritated him like an itch. Whatever it was, it wasn't the time to talk about it, and Clara bowed her head to show she wouldn't ask, however much the curiosity burned within her.
"No matter in which ways I am close to someone," sighed the Doctor, demeanor cooling down a little, "whether I'm their imaginary friend or their partner in crime, or even their crush, they always suffer because of me. I can't get close to anyone, and I most definitely cannot reciprocate."
"So… no one, then?" Clara had almost forgotten what her question was.
"I didn't say that."
She folded her arms and looked the Doctor (who looked like a schoolboy caught doing something wrong) right in the eye; he immediately looked away, coloring slightly. This was it. The moment of truth.
"There was someone," he admitted after a pause. "I met her one winter day in London, mid-nineteenth century, quite recently. And that same evening, she died." He stared glassy-eyed at the central console before him. "My fault."
"What was she like?"
It was a long time before the Doctor responded. "Brave and beautiful," he sighed, with a dreamy expression on his face. "Slender. Brown hair, brown eyes. I'd say there's not anyone like her in the universe, but there is. Was. Will be." He looked directly into Clara's eyes, and there was something intense there, but she was too busy laughing at the irony of his latest statement.
"Blimey, not too cut up about losing her, then!" chortled Clara. "And I thought you were so set on how everyone in all of time and space was unique! So, what was her name, then?"
"I believe that's another question," replied the Doctor with a strained, somehow disappointed smile. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," grumbled Clara, annoyed at this loophole.
The Doctor seemed to cheer up at this answer, though Clara could tell there was a fierce internal battle raging inside. With a mind like his, she was surprised this didn't happen more often.
"What would you do if I kissed you?"
A jolt of electricity seemed to run through Clara, and she jumped, losing track of her entire train of thought. "What?"
The Doctor seemed reluctant to repeat the question, and she noticed for the first time that he was much more highly-colored than usual. "You heard me."
"What kind of a truth is that?" joked Clara, primarily to keep herself from revealing what she really thought, which was an incoherent mixture of shock, pleasure, and annoyance. "You were just talking about this other girl you just had a crush on! 'Recently', you said!"
"It's just a hypothetical situation," muttered the Doctor, glancing away and looking disappointed. "Forget it. Why don't we—"
"I don't know," said Clara, cutting him off. "That's the answer. I don't know." And, though she had said it to keep him from saying that they should end the game, Clara found that she was telling the truth. Would she kiss back? Would she slap him? Would she tear off that ancient coat of his and untie his tie and ruffle his rufflable hair?
Clara smiled a little as she thought of the last one. Yes, that would be what she would want to do, certainly. Though she might try to restrain herself the first time, she thought. The Doctor was charming and oblivious and childlike; Clara had truthfully never met anyone she liked quite as much as him, especially not in the way she liked him—however much she forced herself to pretend she didn't. There never seemed to be a right time to say it, after all.
The Doctor looked faintly suspicious, but sighed. "Ask," he commanded, scowling. Clara couldn't suppress a twinge of surprise; did he honestly still want to play after all she'd put him through? But her feelings were still too confused to protest, so she sighed, trying to straighten them out a little with a familiar question.
"Truth or dare?"
The Doctor looked her right in the eye, sending shivers down her spine as she registered his expression. It was one of a challenge, almost mocking, and Clara remembered the sliver of ice in his heart as a chill crept over her.
"Dare." The look in his eyes was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and she wondered whether she had imagined it. Then, it occurred to her what he had said, and she smiled half-confusedly.
"I'm sorry?"
"Dare," repeated the Doctor, though he now looked extremely anxious.
Clara beamed at him. "Now you're getting it! As a penalty for taking as long as you did to get around to it, I'm going to make this one extra-embarrassing too." An idea already formed in her head; she added mischievously, "But at least it'll answer your last question."
The Doctor frowned momentarily before his eyes widened. "Wha—"
"Kiss me," smiled Clara, tilting her head as she relished his swiftly changing expressions. First shock, then horror, then a peculiar mixture of excitement and reluctance harmonizing with Clara's own emotions.
"Wh-why?"
"That's another question," said Clara, as sweetly as possible to conceal her own nervousness. "Besides, you weren't so distant when you let me stay in your bed a couple weeks ago. And came back later to sleep next to me!" She smiled, enjoying his clear alarm at her statement. After the Doctor had almost sat on her, Clara hadn't fallen asleep again until long after he had crawled into the other side of his bed.
"That was—how did—shut up!" stuttered the Doctor, looking aghast.
"You're wasting time," Clara reminded him. "Go on, kiss me. On the lips."
"The last person I kissed died the same day!" The Doctor wavered in his resolve, moving infinitessimally closer and moistening his lips with a worried expression, as though he could possibly get it wrong. He was on the verge of saying something else, too, but Clara got the feeling it was just another excuse.
"And I'll bet it was worth it, too," laughed Clara. "Now do it."
The Doctor scuttled around her till he sat before her, still blushing. Putting his hand on her shoulder to steady either her or himself (Clara noticed with some amusement that he was trembling), he hesitated once more before leaning over and kissing her gently.
Clara didn't know what she thought it would be like, but whatever her expectations might have been, they weren't anything close to this. His was a chaste kiss, but a warm and lingering one that practically made her blush, and that was a nigh impossible feat. It communicated to her more than what she could hear in his words: that he liked her, really and honestly liked her, but that doing more than just this—a simple kiss—was dangerous.
But what's wrong with dangerous?
And as he broke away, Clara's body responded without any input from her conscious brain at all. She pulled the Doctor forward again, just after his lips had left hers, and quite suddenly she found herself clutching the back of his ancient coat, pressing his chest to hers as she kissed him full on. His eyes widened before his mouth reciprocated clumsily; he trailed his hand to her waist as they closed their eyes simultaneously.
They separated again after the TARDIS knew how long, sitting side by side; Clara noted the Doctor wore a smug smile (tempered by relief). However, it vanished as he glanced at the floor. "There is so much I can't tell you, Clara," he sighed, looking at her out the corner of his eye. "Like who I last kissed before you, or rather, who kissed me."
"Why not?" asked Clara, frustrated. "You never say. You keep on being one tiny little phrase away from telling me something, something that sounds like it's about me, and then you'll just… change the subject like you never even mentioned it. What happened, Doctor? Who am I?"
Getting to his feet, the Doctor offered a hand to Clara, which she took, heart doing jumping jacks. "I don't know," he murmured, hugging her to him almost protectively as soon as she was steady. Two heartbeats sang a strange lullaby beneath her head, and she closed her eyes, relaxing despite the danger in his words.
"Doctor," she began hesitantly, extricating herself from his arms reluctantly. It had to be said. Her admiration and her fascination had to be done justice; she could not remain silent any longer. "Can I say something?"
"It depends on what you're going to say," responded the Doctor, looking gently down at her.
"Let me rephrase that," laughed Clara nervously. "I have to tell you something."
The Doctor smiled, brushing her cheek and sending another shock through her. Maybe all the tension would be resolved with what she said next. But no, she was too afraid of getting in trouble for her feelings. She needed an incentive for speaking her mind.
"Dare me," she breathed, standing on her tiptoes to reach the Doctor's ear. He blushed again and pulled at his collar, swallowing audibly, but he smiled as the response came:
"I dare you."
((I just… got this image in my head of the Doctor and Clara playing Truth or Dare after she said "Dare me" in Hide. Anyway, in my head, it was a lot fluffier, but… ah well. Hope you enjoyed!))