Wonderfully Random One Shots - A Bleaker Existence

Dinner With A Doctor - Part 1 - Whouffaldi One Shot

"When are you going to ask me?" He inquired, nearly scaring Clara half to death. They'd been quiet for nearly two hours, in their own minds and thoughts until he spoke. She put down Great Expectations, memorizing her page number. The Doctor hadn't looked up from his book, however. A fearsome thing about quantum physics in relation to the dynamics of astrophysics.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked when you were going to ask me." He repeated for her, turning the page, glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. "You know, about the thing you asked me about."

"The thing?" She asked, trying to remember if she'd said anything of significance to the Time Lord recently that was promoting his question.

He nodded once, turning his page. "Yes, about the other thingy."

While Clara was used to the Doctor's vague sentences and purposely obtuse questions, they never failed to annoy her. So she put down her book completely, accepting that she wouldn't get back to her book any time soon, and this conversation would require more attention than she thought.

"Yeah, no. You'll have to clarify."

"The mummy thing, on the train, when we were on the Orient Express." He said, sounding a bit exasperated that he had to spell it out for her. "You asked me--"

Clara started to laugh, standing from where she sat next to the console to trot up the stairs to her friend. "What, dinner?"

Clara could almost swear he was blushing. "Yes."

Raising a brow, his companion smiled. "Didn't think you did that, thought you thought I'd be boring."

"And you told me it wasn't. You asked me, so why wouldn't I?'"

She shrugged, leaning against the rails before spinning around once. "I dunno, I guess I thought we'd only do those things if I ever left, and I didn't." She said, remembering that day and the awkward tension. "I see you everyday just about anyway, so I didn't think you'd want to do it otherwise."

"Why wouldn't I?" He asks, glancing up at her.

Clara raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. "Well, I'd just assumed--"

The Doctor made an irritated noise from behind his book. "You never asked me again, Clara, so I assumed you'd forgotten, so I'm reminding you. And you do an awful lot of assuming about me!"

"And am I ever wrong?"

"Yes!" He stated defensively, finally throwing down his book. But after the look on Clara's face he rolled his eyes. "No."

She smiled again. "Right."

The Doctor stood from his place only to  have Clara immediately push him back down in his seat, her hands on his shoulders as she looked over him. He sat back, surprised, fingers tensing in mid-air as they always did when Clara touched him.

"What was that for?" He asked, looking up at her, trying to pretend he hated the way she was touching him.

"Let's do it." She smiled at the way his eyes clouded in confusion as a dozen different euphemisms popped into her head. She decided to clarify. "Go to dinner."

"Okay." He says almost immediately, staring up at her with that scowl she's so familiar with. "I don't have any money."

"I'm paying this time." She says, finally removing herself from him and moving to walk down the stairs. "That way it's not a date."

The Doctor huffed and stood from his seat, following Clara down the stairs and to the console. "Not a date?" He echoes curiously.

"Usually the gentleman pays on a date." She picked up her book from her spot, grinning at him. "But I'll do it."

"That doesn't not make it a date, Clara," the Doctor insisted, flipping the lever that would send them back to her flat. "That just means you're spending money instead of me.

"Do you want this to be a date?" She teased, walking to the the time lord. They were eventually almost chest to chest, The Doctor stock-still as he stared down at her.

"No."

"You're blushing." She points out, poking at his chest with her book. "Why not?"

"I'm not your boyfriend, Clara," he repeats his not-so-favorite line to her. It hurts him to say it more than it hurts her. Clara only smirks, trying to contain her laughter.

"So you keep saying."

The cloisters rung out signaling they'd landed and Clara looked up and then started towards the door.

"Eight 'o clock, Doctor. Don't be late!" She calls over her shoulder, walking out the door and into her living room, leaving the Doctor staring after her in a state of panic.