The Doctor looked up from the console he was fiddling with and glanced about. He'd sent Clara off to the wardrobe in search of warm clothing quite some time ago, but she hadn't returned yet. "Clara!" he called, marching off down the corridor.
"Women," he muttered under his breath. "A man would just pop in and grab an overcoat, but she's probably trying on bathing dresses or ball gowns or some such." The sound of Clara's laughter, issuing from the wardrobe, seemed to confirm his suspicions.
"Oi! That lot's mine!" he exclaimed in mock-outrage, seeing Clara posing in front of the mirror, wearing an immensely long multi colored scarf and a floppy brown felt hat. He reached out and plucked the hat off her head, plopping it on to his own, where it promptly slid down over his eyes. "Go find your own."
Clara, brilliant genius that she was, giggled even more, which was, of course, exactly why he'd done it.
"You actually wore that?"
"Yes, I did." He dropped the hat back on her tousled hair. "Looks better on you, anyway. But then, most things do," he added, under his breath. He grabbed a cranberry-colored duffle coat off the nearest rack and held it out to her. "Come on, then, d'you want to be late for our next adventure?"
Clara deliberately folded her arms across her chest, rather than take the coat. "I don't know…I'm sensing some interesting stories here."
"Clara," the Doctor wheedled, "do you want to stay in here and listen to my dusty old adventures, or go out there and have some new ones of your own?"
With a crooked little grin, Clara reached out for the coat. "It's a time machine, in'it? We could do both."
Grinning, the Doctor selected a caped, woolen greatcoat for himself. It was in no way suitable for the time or place they were visiting, but it did fit his lanky frame comfortably, and was therefore his current favorite. He hurried to catch up to Clara, who was already waiting at the door.
"All right, then, ready to go?"
Clara nodded eagerly.
He flung open the doors, revealing a stunning, snow covered forest, and silently thanked the TARDIS for getting the timing right…no harvesters this time, thank you very much!
"Snow!" Clara breathed in wonder. She darted out past him into more snow than she'd ever seen in her lifetime. A momentary flicker of concern creased her forehead. "It is just proper, normal snow, right?"
"Proper, normal snow," the Doctor assured her. "Perfectly sa-" He spit snow out of his open mouth and reached up to wipe the rest of the snowball off of his face. "You like it then?" he asked mildly.
"I LOVE it!" she exclaimed, tackle-hugging him right into an enormous snow bank.
Clara's hat had gone flying, and her face was flushed with mirth. The Doctor thought she'd never looked lovelier. He'd been wrong, he decided, when he told Vastra that the universe didn't care. It did care…it might not make bargains, but it did give gifts - precious gifts of love, and laughter, and friendship. Looking at the warm, witty, and incredibly brave woman he held in his arms, the Doctor decided it was enough. More than enough. Impulsively, he kissed Clara's forehead.
"What's that for?" she asked softly.
"Do I really need a reason?"
"No…no, I don't suppose you do."