The Doctor blinked awake, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. His first thought was that Clara wasn't in bed. It was Sunday;neither of them had to work. He thought that maybe, being Clara, she'd gotten up to make breakfast or something. He sat up, yawning, the blanket still covering his legs. It took him five more minutes just to get out of bed. He hoped he looked more awake by the time he got downstairs.
He finally stood up and began walking downstairs, trying to be quiet so Clara couldn't hear him. He could hear her, though. Starting when he was about halfway down the stairs. Singing some song he'd probably heard before but didn't know. When he got to the floor, he had to stifle a laugh. She was spinning around the kitchen, using a wooden spoon as a microphone. She was making pancakes, he could see now.
"Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone,
I'll be waiting, all that's left to do is run,
I'll be the prince and you'll the princess,
it's a love story, baby just say-"
"Clara?"
She stopped immediately, blushing. She began to move around, trying to be busy, to not make eye contact with the Doctor. He noticed a cup of coffee on the counter, still hot and just the way he liked it.
"Thanks," he said, picking up the mug. He set it down after drinking, walking over to Clara. He hugged her round the waist, resting his head on her shoulder. Before she could say anything, he'd picked her up, one hand under her back, the other supporting her knees. He kissed her a few weren't deep kisses, more like "Hello, good morning, I love you," kisses.
The Doctor stood there for a moment, just holding Clara, kissing her forehead,probably more than he should. He just still couldn't quite believe it all. He'd given up a life in the TARDIS, a life of adventures every day, for this. And it was worth it. Knowing, for the most part, what was going to happen every day. Waking up next to Clara in bed. The way her body seemed to fit perfectly against hers.
He snapped back to attention when Clara asked to be put down, that the pancakes were burning. He did so, laughing, as she ran over to turn off the griddle. She scraped the blackened pancake off and offered it to the Doctor, poking fun at how he'd finish almost anything she didn't eat.
"No, I think for once I'll pass," he replied. Clara finished cleaning everything up for the most part, before hopping up to sit on the counter. For once she was at eye level with the Doctor, who stood in front of her.
Before she knew what had happened, he had her in his arms again. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. Her bare feet were a little cold from the tile floor, but he didn't care. They stood there like that for a while.
"By the way, Clara," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "I know that song."
"You do?" she asked. "Really."
He rolled his eyes, chuckling. He kissed her softly.
"It's a love story, baby and this is me saying yes."