He followed Clara out of the caves in silence, desperately searching for the right words to say. But he suspected that even if he found them, they would come out of his mouth all wrong, as they usually did. Then maybe, being quiet wasn't a bad choice. Except that he needed to say something, if not to make things better, at least to avoid her to talk about any sensitive subject that could only, being who he was, made things worst.

So he chose the safest path and told her about the lake with pink waters that tasted like chocolate that it was just a short walk from where they were. She didn't look at him and the only sound she made was more like an indignant huff.

Then the Doctor told her about the luminescent fishes at the lake and how some of them had the ability of changing their shapes and colors, but that didn't impressed her or affected her mood, on the contrary. He almost flinched when she gave him a stern glance over her shoulder and continued her angry pace to wherever she was going.

He suppressed a sigh. That was why he didn't like to make holidays plans. Things always ended up in the worst possible way every single time.

Although the Doctor still didn't understand completely why, he knew that it was his fault that she was cross with him. So he gave another try and finally managed to catch her attention when he told her about the singing butterflies that lived in the woods next to the lake and how the Hervellians believed that they were fairies.

Noticing the subtle change in her eyes, he continued talking and explained her everything he could remember about the so called fairies, including their alleged magic powers to concede wishes and to ward off the evil while he lead her first to the lake. Because who wouldn't like to taste chocolate pink waters anyway? Except that she didn't seem to be really interested in lakes and chocolate.

If the lake didn't make much to light her mood, at the end, were the singing butterflies that saved their day. The vision of the delicate bright blue insects flying around them among the trees put a genuine smile on her face. His hearts raced madly in his chest at the sound of her bubbly laughter when some of them approached her and she was able to touch them with the tip of her fingers.

He couldn't help but smile at the singularity of the scene in front of his eyes. And it were with worshiping eyes that he watched her spinning around herself with open arms, surrounded by the shinning small creatures as their soft song filled the air.

Clara looked at him, a broad smile on her face, when two butterflies landed on her hand, the glint on the brown of her eyes was able to bright the darkest of his days. She grabbed his arm and gently moved one of the butterflies to his hand and he chuckled heartily when the little one climbed his long fingers.

"Make a wish, Doctor," she grinned at him softly.

"Don't be silly," he grumbled, "this is only an old children tale." Despite his grumpy words, his eyes searched for hers for a brief moment. Fairy with magic powers or not, he decided to do as he had been told and in the secret of his beating hearts he wished that she could be happy, deeply and truly happy, no matter what that would cost him.

They were in a good mood when they finally reached the beach still in time to watch the double sunset. She seemed to be tired but he could tell by the spark on her eyes that she had enjoyed their day as much as he, despite all the little bumps in the middle of the road.

Since they were near the cottage, he suggested that they should stop there so they could rest a little while they waited for the sunset. The Doctor got inside to fetch them some food from the kitchen and Clara waited for him there, sitting at the front step.

He came back later with a two glasses and a bottle of something he knew to be very much alike wine and hand them to her. A small frown showed up at her brow but there was a small smile on the corner of her lips when she asked if he had forgotten about the food.

"Of course not," his smart smirk made her giggle and he ran back inside just to come back a minute later with a plate with slices of dry fruit and something that seemed to be cheese. He gave her the plate and took his place next to her on the front step before he poured them two glasses, offering her one of them.

They ate in a comforting silence for a long moment and he allowed himself to watch her. She seemed to be lost in thought, her eyes observing the ocean in front of them while she casually sipped her wine.

"This is good," she finally said. "What is it?"

"The closest thing to wine you will find at this part of space-time," he smiled and filled her glass once more when she raised her empty one.

"Doctor?" She asked him quietly and he just raised one eyebrow at her. "What did you wish for the singing fairies?"

He avoided her eyes. There was no way he would tell her, not even under torture. "Do you know that they aren't really fairies, don't you? And that their singing is only the result of the breeze on their moving wings?" He tried to seem unaffected, chewing one more piece of the thing that seemed and also tasted like cheese, trying to decide whether he liked it or not.

She rolled her eyes and bumped at his shoulder with her own letting out a low chuckle. "Can't you be just a little bit romantic?"

He didn't dare to answer that one. If it weren't by her teasing tone he could've interpreted her last words as a flirt. But of course it wasn't a flirt. They didn't do such things as flirting. Even though, he was forced to hide his flushed cheeks drinking some more wine.

"Come on, Doctor, don't lie to me. I know you'd made a wish." She was still grinning with that teasing spark on her eyes. Or maybe it was just the wine.

"Since when did you start to read minds?" He scoffed and looked at the plate as if the dry fruits had just become the most interesting things at the universe.

"I don't need that to know that you'd really made a wish," her lips curled in a mischievous smile that widened when he raised his confused eyes at her. "I saw when you closed your eyes for a moment."

He opened his mouth to counter but didn't find anything sharp enough to say. He had been shamefully caught making wishes to a blue butterfly that at most knew how to move her wings in the right angle to produce beautiful sounds under the breeze.

"I can't tell you my wish or it won't become real."

She laughed. "So you really made a wish!"

He blinked at her and it took him a couple of seconds to realize that she had bluffed. He furrowed his eyebrows at her but he wasn't really mad at her, not while she was smiling at him like that.

"You played dirty, Clara Oswald."

She giggled and touched his hand fondly. "I know, I'm sorry. But what other way I had to make the big bad Time Lord confess that there is a part of him that still believe in fairy tales?"

He huffed in feigned indignation and she leaned her head on his shoulder, enlacing her arm on his, and he closed his eyes, the soft scent of her hair filling his lungs.

"Some of them are true," he muttered in her hair.

She raised her head to look at him and sensing her movement, he opened his eyes again to see her face really close to his. Too close. He swallowed hard but sustained her gaze, unable to avert his eyes from her sparkling brown ones.

"I know," she whispered, her lips now a mere inches from his.

Next thing he took notice were her lips against his and he stiffened under her touch. Her lips were soft and warm and her fingers touched his cheek so gently that was almost like they weren't there. His mind instantly went blank and although something in the back of it kept telling him that he should do something with his own lips or maybe do something with his arms he wasn't able to move a single muscle, not even to breath. After a second he thought that even one of his hearts had stopped.

Once he knew what to so on moment like this, about that he was sure. He also knew that he had already done it before countless times on his long life. Not on his body, obviously, and just a few times with someone that meant so much to him as Clara did. So he struggled to reach the memories lost in the depths of his mind. She was there kissing him and that surely had to mean something to her because it meant everything to him.

Then, it stroke him, like something had just clicked inside him and he finally understood the dull ache plaguing his chest. And that was what ended up shutting down his brain - the realization that he had yearned for that for so long, and the acknowledgment that she, Clara, his Clara, was everything he needed and longed for. She meant everything to him. Everything.

After a moment of no reaction from him, she broke the kiss and moved back putting some space between them, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. She must have misinterpreted the signs and right now she would like to hide her stupid head at the first hole she could find.

But his eyes had searched for hers all the time and he had been so gentle and charming along the day, exception made for the entire Crystal Caves episode, that for a moment her heart had tricked her and she left herself to be carried away by her emotions.

She stood up abruptly and didn't dare to look at him for pure fear of what she would find in his eyes. His cold response to her kiss had been enough humiliation. Before he could say or do anything, she muttered an apology blaming the wine and added a barely recognizable "I am sorry" moving away from him a couple more steps in an attempt to compose herself.

Fortunately he said nothing and she quickly excused herself telling him that she would go back to the TARDIS to rest and to find a proper gown for the ball on the next day. Without wait for a response, she turned on her heels and made her way up the hill where the blue box was still parked, cursing herself for being so stupid and praying that her thoughtless gesture didn't ruin their relationship. He was always so confused with emotions that she couldn't even think in how he would react to that. She would talk to him later, if he wanted to, which she doubted. Anyway, right now all she needed was a place to hide her tears from him and to put her thoughts and feelings in order.

He heard his own hearts shattering on the ground when she moved away. He wanted to say something to stop her, but the words just failed him.

The moment that had been a revelation to him had been a mistake to Clara and he couldn't remember when words had burnt him more than the ones she had just said to him.

His fingers touched the place where her lips had been just a moment before, his lips still burning, still desperately missing hers, while his eyes followed her walking back to the TARDIS. If she regretted it so much to run away from him like that, he had to believe her.

They were friends and he had to accept what she was able to give him because he knew how miserable life could be without her. So, he should lick his wounds, move on and try to be ok with that. Except that he wasn't.

He stood there for a long time trying to put some perspective on everything that had happened between them so far. The problem was that he couldn't think clear, not with all the confused emotions that raced on his chest blurring his mind. He was pretty sure that if he'd sonic him he would be a mess of chemicals.

So it took him a hundred miles of angry pacing at the porch and two more bottles of the King's wine like drink to figure out that maybe her behavior had been nothing more than a reaction to his own lack of response when she had kissed him. He couldn't be sure; he had never been an expert on the matters of the heart, even having two.

The Doctor let out a heavy sigh. He hadn't always been like that. Long time ago, when people called him by another name, he hadn't been so afraid of baring his soul to someone else. But then he was so much younger, so naïve and so completely unaware of what burdens life would present to him. He had been happy for sometime, this other him. Memories of lazy mornings spent on the loving arms of someone, of lingering touches and entangled limbs; of sweet endearments whispered in the silence of the night and of the surrender to the dance of colors touching his mind and burning his skin popped up on his mind. But that had happened before, when he wasn't him yet, in a forgotten time, when he wasn't the Doctor.

He sat down again and closed his eyes. He had loved again before that, he, the Doctor, of course he had. A few times he had left his guard down enough to let someone in, even knowing that it would only lead to heartbroken. And finally, Trenzalore had changed everything, making him believe that he wasn't able to do that anymore.

And maybe he really wasn't, considering the recent events between him and Clara. So the best he could do now was forget about that and be there for her, be the friend she needed by her side, even if he had to bury his feelings once more.

Clara had been lost in thought, trying to distract her mind of the disaster she had provoked earlier and tried to focus her attention in finding the perfect gown for the ball at the TARDIS wardrobe.

She hadn't seen the Doctor after her cowardly escape from earlier, but that had been necessary, she needed a time for herself. Now she was worried about him and about how he would react at all that. For all that she knew, he could disappear inside the TARDIS for days or just pop up in there at any moment, talking breathless about some random discovery as if nothing had happened.

She sighed. How silly of her to think that she could read him, as if he was an ordinary person. She almost laughed. Ordinary was a word she could never, ever apply to him.

Her fingers ran trough the soft fabric of a blue dress and she picked it to take a look. It was still a mystery for her how all those clothes were there, probably the TARDIS made them all by herself, because the idea of the Doctor shopping for clothes was something really unthinkable.

"Clara?" His uncertain voice coming from her back startled her.

"Hi," she forced a smile, relieved that at least he wasn't avoiding her. It must be a good sign, but she couldn't know with him. "I didn't hear you coming in."

"The door was open," he leaned against the doorframe and shoved his hands on his pockets, looking anywhere but her.

"How is your quest for the perfect gown?" He said trying to sound nonchalant, but she could say that he was pretending because he still didn't look at her.

"Doctor?" She bit her lower lip and waited for him to look at her, which he did with hesitant eyes. "I'm really, really sorry."

His eyebrows moved up in an almost imperceptible way. "Please, don't be," he finally said shifting his weight from one leg to another.

"I shouldn't-"

"Everything is fine, Clara," he showed her a bashful smile and moved closer to her taking a look at the dress she had on her hands. Maybe he was really cool with that. "Picked one already?"

She blinked a few times, and shook her head, feeling the need to tell him something else, to explain herself to him but he was already with his mind somewhere else, his eyes searching the rack full of clothes with an odd expression at his face.

"Ha." He pulled another gown from the rack and showed her. "Forget about the blue one. Red suits you better."

Her eyes widened in surprise. Today was being a roller coaster with him. He had changed from scared and shy to a fashion consultant in a second. How couldn't she be confused?

Still eyeing him, she gave him the blue one to take a better look at the one he had chosen. It was a really beautiful dress in a dark red satin, strapless, with yards of skirt and a beautifully jeweled embroidered bodice. Even reluctantly she had to admit that his choice was better than hers. The tiny smile tugging on his lips told her that he knew that already.

"Isn't red too much for a Royal Ball?"

He cocked an eyebrow and put his hands back at his pockets just to flip the red lining of his coat. "Anything against red?"

"No," she suppressed a smile.

"I knew you haven't," he rewarded her with a smile of his own and walked to the door. "Now, take some rest, we are being expected at the palace on the morning."