On a cold December evening, Clara was pacing the floor of her living room, waiting. She found herself staring outside the window every once in a while, biting her fingernails nervously. Finally she heard the long anticipated whining sound of the TARDIS, as it materialized in its usual spot.
She stood still and crossed her arms across her chest, facing the blue wooden doors. It didn't take long before they opened to show a frowning Doctor.
"So," the Time Lord demanded, a foot inside her living room and the other still inside his time machine. "What are you waiting for? Chop chop, I don't have all day."
"Of course you do, you have a time machine," Clara pointed out.
He rolled his eyes, impatiently. "It's just a manner of speech," and he vanished back into the TARDIS.
When she didn't follow him, the Doctor walked into her living room. He stared down at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is something wrong?" he asked, worry resonating in his voice.
Clara looked back at him with uncertainty and didn't answer.
"Come on," the Doctor urged. "You can tell me."
She hesitated. "I need you to be my Christmas date," she said, all at once and with her eyes closed, as if to have it over with as quick as possible.
The Doctor gaped at her. "What?" he sounded incredulous, "Again?"
Clara ignored the exasperation in his voice. "My friend Nina invited me to this fancy party on Christmas eve,something like months ago, and I said I would go."
He stared at her confused and she continued, gaining a bit of confidence. "The problem is, we had to tell months in advanced whether we were coming alone or not and I checked plus one."
She fired at him all those information like bullets and he would have founded it hard to keep up, if he hadn't been used to it. He shrugged. "Yes, so?"
She moved on the spot, both uncomfortably and impatiently. "Will you be my plus one?" she pleaded.
"Seriously?" The time lord frowned at her. "Isn't that the whole point of P.E.? To take you on dates and stuff?"
"P.E. - I mean Danny, Danny is sick," she scowled. "He's got the flue."
"I'm finding it hard to keep up with you, here." He raised his hands, with the palms facing her. She automatically moved them away, while intent at looking at him seriously.
"It's too late to change, now. I need to bring a date," she explained. She took a step towards him, and he flinched in response. "Please be my date," she repeated for the third time.
"Have you gone bananas?"
She came even closer and rested her hands on his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes. "Please."
The Doctor knew this strategy very well. She had used it before, and it had always worked. He moved restlessly under her touch, feeling uncomfortable. He avoided her heavy gaze, trying to find an excuse to get out of that situation. He hesitated, but he eventually gave in. "Fine."
He saw her eyes brighten up and, as she retreated, she beamed at him. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Yeah, yeah," he shrugged, making his way back to the TARDIS. "Can we go and defeat some Zygons, now, please?"
"Yes, sir," she chuckled, happily. "So tomorrow..."
"I'll pick you up at 8," he tried to dismiss the matter once and for all.
"Half pass seven," she corrected him. "And you need to wear a tuxedo..."
The Doctor groaned and didn't answer. Clara smiled to herself, content of how things had turned out, before following the time lord in his time machine.
Clara was still finishing to put on her make up, when the TARDIS landed once again in her living room, the very next time. The familiar sound made her smile and she paused, with the hand holding the bottle of mascara in mid air, to look outside the window at the snow falling, as she heard the Doctor's footsteps reaching her bedroom.
She didn't turn towards the open door where the Doctor had walking. Instead, she opened the bottle still in her hand and started applying the mascara on her eyelashes.
"Hello," she welcomed him warmly.
His reply didn't come right away, and when it did she heard a little huskiness in his voice. "You look very nice."
This simple statement surprised her pleasantly and curved her lips into a small smile. This Doctor didn't give compliments easily. "Thank you," she said, finishing her elaborated work on her eyelashes. She left the mascara to dry for a couple of seconds and then blinked twice. She put down the bottle and torn to look at him.
The Doctor was leaning against the door frame, with one leg in front of the other and his arms behind his back. He was wearing a black suit and Clara couldn't help but notice how elegant he was. She beamed at him. "You're not to bad yourself," her voice was flirtatious on purpose to make him uncomfortable, but then changed to a friendlier tone. "Look at you, bow tie and all."
He automatically reached for his bow-tie and straightened it, a familiar gesture she hadn't seen him do in a very long while. "Are you ready, yet?" the Doctor asked her.
"You shouldn't rush the women you go on dates with," she teased, putting on her earrings, "or you won't get lucky afterwards."
The Doctor frowned. "What should I need luck for?" he asked confused.
Clara laughed and didn't answer. She sat up and went to grab her bag. Then, she crossed her bedroom to the door, where the Doctor was standing. She arrested herself a step away from him and patted him gently on the shoulder. "You'll find out when you're older," she joked, looking up at his dry, lined face. "I'm ready, let's go."
The Doctor parked the TARDIS in a deserted alleyway just next to the building where the party was taking place. He opened the door with a snap of his fingers and stepped outside. He waited for Clara to follow him, offering his arm to her in clearly over-ceremonious manner. "Your party awaits, my lady."
She went along with it by slipping gracefully her own arm under his and allowing herself to giggle.
They walked arm in arm and then separated once they were at the entrance. She gave her name to a tall, serious-looking man with a tablet who let them inside.
The Doctor only had the chance to take a brief look at the place – it was a large room, with the round tables distributed along the walls, probably to leave some space in the middle for dancing, as he assumed because of the small, still-inactive, orchestra settled in a corner – before his attention was caught by a voice clearly directed to them.
"Clara!" A young, blond woman, was walking hastily towards the couple wearing a radiant smile.
"Nina," Clara called back, her face positively beaming now.
"This is the Doctor," she told her friend as soon as she was close enough. "He's covering for Danny, who got a flue."
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," she said, although her voice was cheerful and she didn't really appear to be much concerned. She leaned slightly forwards, towards the Time Lord, her head inclined to one side and a interrogative look on her face. "Excuse me, I didn't catch that...Doctor Who?"
The familiar question made him and Clara share a complicit gaze. "Just the Doctor," Clara filled in for him.
"Nice to meet you the Doctor" she said, ironically, stressing on the last part. Then she directed an inquisitive look at Clara.
"He's an old friend," she explained to Nina. "Very old friend."
The Doctor glared at her, but she was avoiding his gaze. Nina, on the other hand, was raising her eyebrows and looking surprised. "Really? I've never heard of you before."
"She...She's never talked about me?" The Doctor asked, hurt. "Not even mentioned me?"
Nina shook her head, looking at her friend, disapprovingly. Clara rapped her arms around her chest, like some sort of defense mechanism.
"It never came out," she defended herself, blushing.
There was an awkward moment of silence, which was broken by Nina. "Doctor, our table is over there," she pointed to the opposite corner of the room. "Clara and I need to go to the restroom."
And, before any of them could say anything, she was off, dragging Clara with her by the arm. Clara gave the Doctor an apologetic look, to which the Doctor, who had stayed put, with his hands hidden in his pockets, answered with one at least as confused.
As soon as they were in the spotless bathroom and out of sight, Clara freed herself from her friend's grip.
"What's this all about?" she asked, annoyed.
"I should ask you the same thing," Nina retorted.
"What are you talking about?" Clara asked sincerely baffled.
The other woman raised an eyebrow and her expression had a "Seriously?" written all over it. "I'm talking about the Doctor."
"What about him?" she asked, confused.
Nina glared at her. "Well for one thing... What about Danny?"
"I've already told you. Danny is at home, sick," Clara reminded her, impatiently. "To be absolutely thorough, he's probably glued to the toilet, busy-"
"Spear me the details, please," Nina interrupted her, hastily. "But does he know about him?"
Clara stared at her friend in disbelief. "Of course! I hope that you are not thinking that I'm cheating on my boyfriend with him. He's just a friend."
Nina frowned at those words. "Oh," she suddenly appeared strangely uncomfortable. "It just seemed – never mind. Sorry."
"Wait a second," Clara stopped her, curiously. "What did it seem like?"
Her friend curled her lips, amused. "Well I just assumed..." she spelled purposely her words, "I saw the way he looks at you. And you seem very comfortable with him."
This sudden change of tables made Clara sweat slightly and her heart pound hard in her chest. "How does he look at me?"
The question has slipped her lips, before she could help it. She knew what it might sound like, and so did Nina, who softened her smile in response. "You like him, don't you?"
"No!" Clara snapped, a bit too determinedly to appear natural. "I mean, of course I do. I just don't like him that way. I love Danny."
"You keep saying that. It's seems a bit as though you're trying to convince everyone that you do – including yourself." Nina gave her a stern look that made Clara blush.
"I do love him, I really do," she defended herself, but her attempt sounded weak. Not because she didn't believe what she said to be true, but because her friend's earnest words hurt her.
Nina understood that, because her voice turned to a more gentle tone. "You know well my bad habit of saying always the most inappropriate things. I'm not saying that you don't love him – I know you do, at least to some extent. It just seems, sometimes, as though you feel the need to be with someone as good as Danny, but I'm not convinced that it is what you really want, deep down."
Nina made a serious pause, before continuing: "Sorry," she repeated. "I've spoken out of line, I know."
"Yes, you did," Clara replied, fiercely, but then she smiled.
Nina relaxed, too. She patted Clara gently on the back. "Come on let's go."
Clara nodded and followed her silently outside. She kept her smile on, but she couldn't help but feel a hint of a doubt growing in her mind. She loved Danny. Of course she did, she was certain of that. Yet, Nina often was right about things like that. She was good at understanding people and she was also quite honest. And while she was certain about Danny, she couldn't say the same about the Doctor. With him nothing was as simple as just black and white – everything was more like a big, messy, bundle of eternal grey.
The Time Lord in question was sitting at their table, looking bored. Clara smiled at him as she took the chair beside him. While they were in the rest room, the small orchestra had started playing a soft tune, ideal for accompany dinner. They would probably put on some danceable music later, since waiters were already starting serving the appetizers. Clara took the time before their food arrived to take a look at her surroundings, letting all the decoration and the sizzling lights fill her in with a warm feeling and silent content.
"The food was good, though, wasn't it?" she asked, hopefully, a couple of hours later, to the Doctor, taking a bite of her dessert.
The Time Lord finished chewing some of his own and swallowed. He shrugged. "We both had better."
She didn't say anything as she cut another piece of cake.
"New Naples, 3017?"
"New Naples, 3017," he said almost at the same time.
They grinned at each other.
During the evening, Nina had been using her natural charm on at least half of the guests, probably for work duty, which kept her away from the table for most of the time. This had made it easier for the Doctor and Clara to blend in a private bubble, in which they had chatted along all through the long meal, happily avoiding the other guests of the party. They hadn't even noticed that people had started dancing to old Christmas classics and to moderately recent hits.
But Clara had noticed by the time she asked the Doctor to pour her wine to wash down her last piece of dessert.
"I think you might have drunken enough, tonight."
Clara giggled at the sight of the Doctor's concerned, and slightly disapproving, face. The giggle made him frown even harder, because it was very unlike her. He observed Clara intently and he noticed for the first time that her cheeks had gone red and her shiny eyes were slightly out of focus. "You're drunk!" he exclaimed, unable to refrain himself because of the surprise.
"No, I'm not," she snapped, turning back to her old normal self. But she hesitated, as if she hadn't actually thought the matter through properly. "Maybe just a little bit... Tipsy."
The Doctor shook his head, unimpressed. If the alcohol in her body hadn't rushed already enough blood to her face, he would have noticed her blushing. She hadn't noticed, during their meal, that she had started drinking wine as if it were water. It hadn't been her intention when she had arrived at the party, that was for sure.
It wasn't an unpleasant sensation, though. She felt kind of... daring. She jumped up from her seat and looked the Doctor straightly in the eye. "Can I have this dance, my lord?", she said, using a false posh voice.
He looked up at her, his expression undecipherable. "I'd rather take you home."
"I'll let you take me home if you give me just one dance."
The Doctor sighed. There was no use in fighting it, he knew it too well. Giving her that one thing wouldn't hurt - at least, he truly hoped so, he wasn't a hundred per cent positive about it – and he would be able to leave the party after that. "Fine," he scowled, grudgingly.
He sat up and accompanied her to the center of the room, which was reserved as a dance floor, his arm hesitantly rested on her back. It had gotten later than they thought it had. Fewer couples were dancing and the music players were offering the remaining guests sleepy sort of songs, which didn't require too much effort by either side.
They positioned them selves a bit awkwardly one in front of the other. He took her hand in his and she embraced him carefully with her other arm.
They didn't properly dance, they just swayed slowly, hardly even moving from their spot.
Halfway though the song, Clara smiled up at him and then rested her head on his chest. He hoped she didn't feel his hearts pounding faster than usual. He didn't know whether any of this was appropriate. He didn't know whether this was something friends were likely to do. But the feeling he got was of familiarity and comfort, so he decided that, for once, he wouldn't care. It was Christmas, and, in his experience, anything was possible at Christmas.
They didn't leave after the first song. They remained for a second one, and a third one. They suddenly lacked the strength to pull away, just the way it's hard sometimes to step out of the warm jet of the shower and into the cool air, while it's so easy to linger and think "...just one more minute."
Eventually they reciprocally, and without the need to say it out loud, decided it was time to go.
Clara grabbed her coat and her bag and they went to look for Nina. They gave her a brief and polite goodbye, thanking her for the evening. While they strolled off, Clara turned her head towards her one more time and she saw Nina giving her a melancholic smile she couldn't quite place.
Thy stepped out in the cold winter breeze. Black clouds covered the night sky and offered them no stars, while the ground showed them the remains of the past two days snowfall: a big puddle of dirty water.
They took shelter under the door, while Clara finished to button up her jacket.
"Doctor?" she called, after a few seconds, once she had finished.
He looked down at her and saw her looking back at him. After a moment of silence, she lifted her arm and pointed with her forefinger a spot right above them.
"Mistletoe," she whispered.
"Yes, so-"
But he wasn't allowed to continue, because Clara stepped on her tiptoes and gave him a quick and gentle kiss on his lips.
It had been a fairly quick affair. It might have lasted less then a second, but it seemed much longer to the Doctor, who widened his eyes in shock and reaching immediately to his mouth with his hand.
Clara's small smile became a wide grin after his complete loss to what she had done. "Merry Christmas, Doctor."
It took him a while, but he eventually managed to give her an articulated answer, which came out almost as a croak, but not certainly disapproving.
"Merry Christmas, Clara Oswald."