Work Text:
They were shoved, rather unnecessarily roughly, into a small, dark chamber. The door closed behind them, then seemed to disappear completely, edges fading away into seamless wall.
“Is this a jail cell?” Clara turned her head from side to side, the ends of her hair brushing the Doctor’s lapels. “I’ve had linen closets bigger than this.”
“Yes, well, the Ryzigian’s are very efficient when it comes to managing space.” The Doctor answered, reaching above them to find the ceiling. Clara could hear the pads of his fingers brush against it. He didn’t seem overly concerned with their imprisonment, more curious about the confines of the space, itself. “Though far too primitive to have figured out how to use dimensional transcendentalism,” he continued, “More’s the pity for us.”
He lowered both arms gingerly on either side of her to trail his hands along the wall behind her. “I doubt there’s an escape mechanism but it doesn’t hurt to check.”
The team they’d been travelling with had a diplomat on it, so hopefully this would all get sorted without an elaborate escape. Still, what else were they going to do to pass the time?
Well, she could think of a few things but she wasn’t exactly sure how a certain Time Lord might feel about that. She had a sneaking suspicion, from the looks and lingering touches they’d been sharing lately. But even those small signs were no guarantee and Clara hated to be wrong.
She tried turning to aid his examination and only succeeding in nearly banging her nose on his forearm. She ducked back just in time, stumbling slightly. The rectangular space was too narrow for her to fall over, so instead she collided with his chest. “This was a lot more fun when I was a kid…” she groused.
“Pardon?”
“Oh… just… there’s this silly game called Seven Minutes in Heaven where you go in the closet and… “ she glanced up, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. He was looking at her with frank curiosity and their eyes locked. Clara felt that pull that always lingered between them, just below the surface. Her stomach went tight and her cheeks hot. For a moment she contemplated showing him exactly how the game was played. She leaned forward, lifting on her tiptoes slightly but then he looked away and the moment was gone.
“Um, anyway, we played it at parties,” she finished lamely, wishing there was a better place to hide her face than the front of his velvet jacket. She liked that jacket. It was a beautiful color and it fit his lean frame perfectly, leant a kind of majesty – though she’d never have used the word to him. Whatever he might say about her ego went double for him!
“You had to go into a closet to play?” the Doctor asked suddenly, breaking the odd silence.
“Yeah. For seven minutes.”
“Yes, the time constraints were really not the part I struggle to understand. What could possibly be heavenly about standing in a closet?” He moved again, inadvertently bringing them closer together as he ran his hand down the wall to his right.
Clara shrugged. “It’s just a bit of childish fun, that’s all,” she mumbled, trying not to think about the fact that she was all but pressed bodily against him, now. Luckily, he took a slight step back and she found she could breathe, once more.
“If Gallifreyan children were locking each other in closets, I doubt they’d consider it fun.” His piercing gaze was fixed intently just over her left shoulder, the tip of his tongue just barely peeking through his teeth. “Barbaric, really.”
“They don’t have to lock you in, Doctor. And you’re not in there alone.”
His eyes flew wide. “What do they put in there? Spiders?”
Clara’s head tipped back almost of its own volition. Was he doing it on purpose?
“Two of you go in. You know, together. It’s supposed to be… I dunno, romantic. Or what passes for romantic at that age.” She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him coyly. “All alone, cozying up in the dark. You never know what might happen…”
“You’d get bitten by the spiders, I’d imagine.”
Clara scrunched up her face. “Seriously?” She exhaled loudly. “It’s a kissing game.”
He blinked down at her, his lips parting slightly. “What?”
“You go in with someone you like and, if you’re lucky, you might get… kissed.” Her mouth formed a little moue of disappointment. This particular gambit seemed to have failed spectacularly and she was just about ready to change the subject.
“Well that seems a bit ridiculous. If you want to kiss someone, why not just kiss them?" He shrugged. "Why bother with all the games and spiders?"
“Oh for…” Clara’s eyes slammed shut, fists clenching at her sides. “There are no spiders!”
Wait… had he just…?
She reopened her eyes to find him looking down at her, intently. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth. She licked her lips and his eyes followed the motion.
Oh. Okay, then.
Once more she raised herself on her tiptoes, hands coming to grasp the lapels of his jacket. He dipped his head just enough to meet her the rest of the way. The first brush of their lips was tentative. His were cool and dry, hers warm and slightly sticky with gloss. Their noses narrowly avoided bumping and Clara swallowed a nervous giggle. She’d thought about this often enough, she ought have a handle on it by now. This was reality, though, and allowances must be made.
She adjusted her angle and kissed him again, this time applying more pressure. He responded beautifully, both arms wrapping themselves around her. One of his hands rested at her low back, nowhere indecent but his thumb stroked her spine in a way that sent little tingles up and down the length of it. His other hand came up to cradle the back of her head.
To her surprise, he deepened the kiss without prompting, capturing her lower lip between both of his. Clara hummed her approval and slid her arms around his back, curving up to rest her hands against his shoulder blades. She traced his upper lip with the tip of her tongue and he gave a deliciously low chuckle. The sound shot straight to her core, and she arched into him. Just as she was coaxing his lips apart with teasing flicks of her tongue, there was the distinct sound of a third person clearing their throat.
“Doctor. Clara. I’ve negotiated your release. Thought you might like to know.”
They broke the kiss, Clara glancing over her shoulder to see the Diplomat in the doorway of the cell, holding out the sonic sunglasses.
Clara felt her cheeks go flaming hot.
The Doctor, of course, was completely nonplussed. He accepted the sunglasses with one hand, his other arm still wrapped loosely around Clara.
The Diplomat looked between the two of them. “Well?”
“Great. Thanks,” the Doctor said. “Be out in a minute.” He paused, eyes darting from Clara to the Diplomat and then back. He grinned. “Actually, make that 4 minutes and 36 seconds.”