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“Well, I, I suppose this is you,” said the Doctor.
“Aye.” Jamie looked at the simple wooden door, framed by trailing vines with flowers and velvety leaves. Everything here was green and simple. The air smelled fragrant. The rooms were tucked in between towering tree-trunks, joined by wooden walkways. It was late, he supposed – the sun was setting, the light dusky and gold – but he wasn’t tired.
The Doctor had twisted his fingers into a nervous little basket. Somewhere a night-bird called. “Well, this has been nice,” said the Doctor.
“Oh, aye,” Jamie agreed. “It’s so peaceful here. After the week we’ve had and all. It’s been, erm –”
“Hectic?” put in the Doctor.
“Aye, to say the least.” It had been so good to see the Doctor again. Less good to be thrown so abruptly back into that life, with the fear and the bloodshed and the constant, knife-edge struggle for survival. But now they had time to breathe, time to simply enjoy each other’s company.
Jamie said, “listen, Doctor,” and at the very same moment the Doctor said, “well, Jamie,” and they both broke down into startled chuckles.
“You first,” said Jamie.
“No, no,” said the Doctor, gesturing for him to go on.
“It’s just,” Jamie said, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Oh?” the Doctor said.
“Aye,” said Jamie. “Look – is this a date?”
“Pardon?” exclaimed the Doctor.
“Today,” said Jamie, the wind somewhat out of his sails. “Was it a date? It’s just, it’s so nice here, and what with you taking me to dinner, and then down to the river –”
“That was nice,” the Doctor agreed.
“And what with you holding my hand and all,” Jamie went on.
“Oh, yes,” said the Doctor, smiling fondly at the memory.
“And asking them to put candles on the table, that was sort of romantic, at least till you set your coat on fire.”
“Ah.” The Doctor inspected his burnt sleeve.
“And I was talking to the lassie at the bar, and she was saying that, erm, lovers come here a lot.”
“Was she?” said the Doctor. Jamie couldn’t say if he was truly puzzled or playing the fool. He rarely could.
“She said it’s traditional,” he finished.
“Ah.” The Doctor looked a touch bashful. Playing the fool, Jamie thought.
“So?” He nudged the Doctor with his shoulder. “Was it?”
“Was it –”
“A date.”
“Ah.” The Doctor rubbed his ear. “Well, well that rather depends.”
Jamie frowned. “On what?”
“Well, ah, I,” the Doctor stammered. “Do you, ah, want it to be a date?”
“Hm.” Jamie thought about it, the way he hadn’t all afternoon, when he’d been fairly sure it was a date, no questions asked. It was only in the last few minutes that it had occurred to him that he might have misread the situation. “I wouldnae say no.”
“Oh?” The Doctor’s eyebrows shot up in delight.
“Aye,” said Jamie. “So – are you gonnae kiss me good-night, or what?”
“Oh, my goodness,” said the Doctor.
“Or do I kiss you? Sorry, I’ve no’ really done this before. I dinnae ken how it works.”
“Well, I,” said the Doctor. “I, well, you, you could –”
“You’re blushing, Doctor,” Jamie said, and the Doctor ducked his head.
“Goodness me,” he said.
Jamie laughed, and feeling a bit giddy plucked up the courage to lean forward and kiss the Doctor on the cheek. “Oh!” said the Doctor, fingers flying to his cheek, and Jamie laughed again.
“Funny wee man,” he said, and kissed the Doctor on the lips.