A/N: The prompt for this one was "Clara drops a hint to 12 that they need to spice things up. 12 unexpectedly decides to take tango lessons and surprises her with a night she will never forget."

1295 words; rated more like T+ because it contains references to things older teens would likely know about, but none of the acts themselves; actually is kind of tame and cut short for this sort of prompt I dunno if I should be proud of myself or disappointed lol; thanks go out to my fellow Diner patrons for helping my confused ass they know what I mean

Spice It Up

Her words haunted him as he drifted throughout time and space, bopping around in the vortex without purpose until it was Wednesday again. A hundred-forty-four hours. Six days. Eight-thousand-six-hundred-forty minutes. Nearly an entire week.

"I think we need to spice things up."

That was what Clara had said to him before he left, echoing throughout the Time Lord's mind. It had been on the tail end of their most recent Wednesday, after a planet of picnics and lie-ins, and he was wondering what it could have possibly meant.

Was it the planets? The particulars of their last planet had been after a particularly running-filled adventure, so possibly not since they were experiencing the full gamut of the universe. Was it the romance? He had just gone and brought her on a spacewalk through a nebula. Was it the sex? He never was entirely certain about that, but considering the encouraging noises that she was making during said visit to the planet of picnics and lie-ins…

Huh. Interesting.

The Doctor went over to the computer and began to do a search of the TARDIS's databases. What sort of things could she have meant? Food? No, he already was aware of when she achieved peak spice tolerance. Culture? She was very receptive no matter where they went…

As photos flipped by his vision, one in particular caught the Doctor's eye. It was of two women dancing, with one in a sleek suit and the other in a dress that flared out towards the bottom as she spun. He considered the notion and scowled—he wasn't exactly light on his feet in this face. In fact, he could barely run properly, let alone consider dancing…

…then again, it was for Clara…

Wednesday.

Doctor Day.

Date Night.

Clara wondered what was going on as she got ready for the evening. The Doctor had texted her promising something fancy and spectacular and that she should probably be in something a bit more than jeans and trainers. Instead she had put on a classy, comfortable pantsuit combo, along with a pair of heels that were certain to confuse the Doctor in regards to her immediate shelf-accessing needs. She was finishing up her lipstick in the bathroom when she heard the sound of the TARDIS materializing in her bedroom. Concentrating, she applied one color, then the other over it, before she heard the Doctor step towards the door.

"Are you ready?" he asked. She glanced over at him and saw that he was leaning on the doorjamb, also dressed in a suit. The main difference between their outfits, honestly, was the fact that he had on boots and she had on her loosely-fit tie.

"Nearly," she said. He watched her finish applying her futuristic lipstick sealant with an almost dreamy look on his face, as though he was attempting to project into the hours shortly to come. "What are you thinking about?"

"You've worn those shoes before," he noted. "This isn't your normal height, but you're still lifted to a point that isn't strange."

"Mmmhmm," she chuckled. Clara put down her sealant and looked at the Doctor, eyebrow raised. He approached her and attempted to straighten her tie for her, which she batted away playfully. "So, are you going to tell me where in the heck we're going? When we're going? What we're doing?"

"It's a surprise," he half-giggled, "but we need to detour first." He offered his arm, barely able to contain his excitement.

Oh no, Clara Oswald—she thought—what were you headed into this time?

Despite the fact he was nearly bouncing off the walls, the Doctor led Clara into the TARDIS and, curiously, past the console room into the inner corridors. The pair walked until they came upon an unmarked door, where he stopped.

"...and what room might this be…?" she asked. The door opened to reveal a bright white space, with nothing seemingly of note about it other than that it seemed both rather large and on the small side at the same time.

"Welcome, Clara, to the Zero Room."

Once her hand was in his, he brought her towards the middle of the room. The lights dimmed around them and the room began to mimic the cosmos. A snap of his fingers and music began to play, the notes swelling up from nowhere at all and everywhere at once. They rested their arms against one another and began to slowly turn around, doing a vague facsimile of dancing as a sensation of weightlessness washed over them.

"I didn't think you had this in you," she teased. "You almost had me convinced that the big, bad Time Lord was still working off of two left feet."

"What happened with my past face doesn't need to dictate everything that this face does or is capable of doing," he stated. The Doctor stepped back for a moment and gave Clara room to slowly twirl, holding their hands high above her head. When she came back in, he held her close, conscious of how she felt and smelled and looked in the specific lighting the TARDIS was providing them. He knew that what the ship was doing to them was dangerous… and yet…

"I still feel like this is rather extraordinary for you," she mentioned. They both danced through the nebula, and on it, without ever truly leaving the same spot. She could tell they were truly dancing, however, considering how smoothly the Doctor supported her into a dip. He lifted her back to her feet and she pulled him into a kiss, breaking their rhythm. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he grinned, pulling her back into the dance. "This is just some practice: we still have a couple dance halls to muck about in, as well as dinner at the Euphrates Manse. Then, I have planned for us to spend the remainder of the night in, doing a different sort of dance."

"Oh, aren't you clever?" she laughed. "That sort of euphemism doesn't work on the person who explained that to you—it's the rules."

"Is it also in the rules to keep adjusting your height arbitrarily?" She deliberately stepped on his toe with her heel and he knew her response. "I'll take that as a yes..."

"I just want to know who you took lessons with. Was it an instructor or…?"

The Doctor went pink in the face and ears and attempted to shrug it off. "Jenny was kind enough to help, since it meant they had internet for the duration of my stay."

"Jenny? Jenny Flint? Did she even know how to do any of these steps?"

"YouTube helped a bit—like I said: internet."

"...and now she and Vastra have some future moves to bust out the next time someone invites them somewhere…?"

"Yes, I guess they're going to be extra-irritating to their neighbors," he surmised. He brought her into another twirl, choosing to hoist her into his arms afterwards, a thousand emotions at once across his face as he held her aloft by her waist and legs. "Actually… the dance halls can wait, don't you think?"

"I think so." Clara draped her arms around the Doctor's shoulders as gravity seemed to return to the Zero Room, bringing them more noticeably to the floor.

"Then I did well? Spicing things up?"

She thought for a moment and let out a laugh. "I had been thinking about possibly doing some exploration in bed—maybe see if any of your old kinks have survived regeneration—but yes. Yes, Doctor, I think you have sufficiently spiced things up for the evening."

They kissed deeply as he carried her out of the Zero Room. Being in a time-and-space ship, the dance halls and fancy dinner could definitely wait.