She felt filthy.

Or perhaps filthy wasn't the proper word. Weak? Emotional? A silly girl.

A silly teenage girl with a stubborn and complete crush on a tall, dark handsome guy. Yes, that was the proper term for this situation. Clara glared at the shower head in frustration as cold water drenched her from head to toe.

For four days in a row, she had been subject to highly inappropriate dreams about her new co – worker, a Mister Danny Pink. His damn flawless chocolate skin that in her dreams smelled of citrus and cinnamon and whose person always pinned her in a school closet. Always the same closet – the same closet the Doctor had given her coffee in and conveniently the only storage closet in the whole school. Each dream had a different, strange plot but always ended in passion in that stupid closet. She had been successful in ignoring the first two dreams, even when she passed the closet at work and more importantly, ran into Danny himself during her lunch.

Tonight's dream, however, was a new and strange setting. Tonight, she had tangled with Danny Pink in the TARDIS.

She woke up mid dream at three in the morning. Immediately she had ran to take an ice cold shower. Now, it was four in the morning and she was getting a classic case of prune fingertips but she had no wish to go back to sleep. She didn't trust her subconscious. And, as far as she knew, she was interested in Danny sure but this level of infatuation? She had never had such dreams, minus…one dream, a year ago.

Yes, the night she woke up after a steamy dream about her big-chinned Doctor, she had screamed and physically fallen out of bed. She had blamed the dream on eating leftover sushi at midnight and her poor choice of romance comedy movies that month. And she had been right since no such dream ever occurred again. Until now.

The dreams had started after she met Robin Hood with the Doctor – the new angry, Scottish Doctor.

She couldn't guess why, only that maybe she was – to use words from her small collection of dream interpretation books – projecting her feelings about Robin on Danny. There. That was logical, sound and made sense. Robin Hood had left her starstruck and in awe. He was handsome, could talk and found her quite pretty. Plus, there was a small part of her that wanted to just kiss him soundly on the lips before leaving. But it was small and not an unusual thought for her.

Clara had a fair weakness for the hero in any story. It was one of the reasons she loved English and literature in general – the struggles of main characters, the triumphs and the great romances. And Robin Hood easily feel into the category and they had flirted effortlessly during her time with him. So, technically, these shouldn't surprise her. Right?

Still staring miserably into the shower head, she wished there was a cure for dreams. Oh, if only dreamless sleep potions were real, she wished. So far, these dreams were just interrupting her sleep and making her blush whenever she saw that damn closet or the teacher himself. But she suspected that there might be only one way to stop them: making them a reality. An idea that her very conscious self didn't have that much hunger for. Not that she even thought it was possible; the man had made it quite clear that he wasn't interested in her approach with his "reading". No, she thought with an unneeded shake of her head, she must not be –

Thump, thump, thump.

Clara's eyes widened as she turned her head toward the door of the bathroom, covered by her shower curtain. She clutched her chest protectively and popped her head out of the shower to scan the room. She bit her lip. She had left her phone on the nightstand.

Thump, thump.

This time the thumping was followed by a muffled shout. It was hard to recognize with the running water and Clara had no desire to turn her shower off. It seemed safer to keep it running and have it cover the sound of her padding about. Carefully, she stepped out of the shower onto the fuzzy blood red bathmat nearby and snatched her folded bathrobe from its perch on her towel rack. Her eyes were looking around wildly for something to use as a weapon.

Before she could decide whether the toilet top or the towel rack rod was better, the door knob rattled and seemed to be turning. Without pausing, Clara dashed at the door, body slamming it shut. The door knob was now being furiously turned and the door took a beating as her assailant let out a howl of frustration. She struggled to use all her strength to keep the door shut. With her face smashed against the wood, it was then when she could hear the person on the other side yell, "Clara!? Clara, CLARA?"

There were few Scottish men she knew.

The Doctor.

For some reason, the bloody Doctor was wailing her name and pummeling her bathroom door at four in the morning and she felt a rush of relief for a brief second. In that time, her force slackened at the door and the door gave way to the Doctor's pressure. Clara landed hard on her bathroom tile, the robe not helping cushion her fall in the slightest.

"Clara!" The Doctor's tone was suddenly filled with joy and he knelt in front of her before pausing a second. Clara had almost expected him to gather up her head in his hands and question her well – being, like he used to. Instead, he seemed confused as to why he was kneeling on the wet floor with her. His face was now sprinkled with water splashing from the shower. And suddenly she was angry.

The bloody Doctor had wailed her name and pummeled her bathroom door at four in the morning.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" The Doctor's eyebrows knitted in confusion. Clara ignored him and got up from her fall. Clutching her robe like a lifeline, she reached over and turned off her shower. The house was once again filled with silence and she felt like breathing again.

"It's Wednesday, isn't it?" The Doctor was looking particularly unapologetic when she turned her head to look at him. He was now towering over with his hands on his hips. Clara recognized the tone of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"Well yeah but it's four in the morning! What kind of timelord – " here he opened his mouth in defense and Clara just shook her head and bulldozed past his figure out of the bathroom, towards her closet. He followed her naturally. "Never mind, you always did have bad timing. But during my shower really?" She waved her arms for emphasis and turned to face him again.

"Showers are private. As in no visitors. I was naked in there washing – I'm still naked right now," she blinked, as if to only now be aware of her lack of clothing. "It's rude and uncalled for." She said with a note of finality. She was far more interested in putting on clothes than arguing with the Doctor.

"Are you quite done?"

Clara rolled her eyes at his defiance and headed toward her closet once again. Closing the door on the Doctor's looming figure, she began to rummage around for an outfit.

"If you must know, I realized early on my mistake of timing and I was heading back into the TARDIS when I heard your shower running. At four in the morning. You never wake up before 7:30 if you can help it," he raised his eyebrow and waited for her objection. Silence.

"If I remember correctly, the one time I arrived at 7:10, you were knocked out cold and considerably more irritable than normal – "

"Hey!"

"So I thought there was something severely wrong and came in to make sure you hadn't fallen asleep and drowned in the bath or something else equally endangering. You know, if you had bothered to answer me, maybe I wouldn't have to break in – "

"I'm sorry, if you were in a vulnerable area, such as a shower and you hear someone knocking when you know you live alone, would you answer them?"

"It's common courtesy!"

"No, you, sir, know nothing about courtesy. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, breaking into my bath or having a conversation through my closet door!"

Clara continued to button up her blouse as the Doctor grumbled unintelligently. She sighed at her wet hair before opening the door to enter her bedroom. But instead of a sulky Doctor, she looked out into an empty room.

"Doctor?"

A muffled response floated from her living room area and she frowned as she followed the sound.

"So much spinach," he mumbled, glaring into the fridge like it had personally offended him. His eyes scanned the fairly healthy contents of the fridge before decided on a raw red potato. When he popped his head back, Clara was frowning at him. She wore a wine red chiffon blouse tucked into a simple black mini black skirt with dark green stockings and her typical black heels. Very much school girl style, not that he would dream of telling her such. He bit into the potato absent – mindedly. Clara looked horrified.

"You can't eat that raw!"

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor," he said, his eyebrows doing another wiggle.

Her mouth twitched at that but she didn't respond, just sat down on one of her stools and hugged herself.

"So," she watched him continue to chop on the potato as she asked, "where are we headed today?"

"Davanillia, particularly famous for their Waterfall Walk of Wonder, as the tourist booklet says." He pointed vaguely to her backyard, where no doubt the TARDIS is sitting something inconvenient. "Since it's my choice, I wanted somewhere relaxing, with real people and such." It was a light jab about Robin Hood but she ignored it. Her stomach was already doing flips at the sound of "waterfall".

"What's so special about their waterfalls?"

Her eyes had already lit up in that hungry excitement the Doctor was secretly fond of.

He just smirked in reply and nodded toward his police box. "Well that's what we're going to find out. Apparently, it's a stunning walkway surrounded all around by water and lush…greenery I think they said." He ate the last bit of the potato and immediately started heading out.

Clara caught up with him fairly quickly, grinning ear to ear without noticing. She had always wanted to go to Niagara Falls.

AN – I'm in love with the Twelve/Clara relationship and have this giant plot bunny in my head. However, as usual, updates will be slow, especially with university starting up again. If anyone is interested in betaing or knows a good one, please let me know – I would really like one for this story (I'm not that familiar with Clara and feel I write her OOC. Twelve is rather new to me as well).