Something about her looked different. It wasn't her hair, or her shoes... Her dress with still the same, if a little muddied after their tumble down a hill trying to escape from the giant space worms that had been tunneling under 1950's Yorkshire (space worms? Really now, these aliens were getting ridiculous. The Doctor was becoming more and more convinced that somewhere in the universe, someone was making aliens, each one more outrageous than the next.) It wasn't her make up, god knows if she'd even been wearing any, he never usually notices if she is. No... What was it?
It was only when she got back into the hall, where the terrified villagers were assembled waiting for the 'all clear' from the Doctor, that he noticed. She was wearing a jacket. But it wasn't her jacket. It was too big, didnt fit her slight frame, and it was the wrong colour. Dark grey. Dark grey didn't suit Clara, she was too colourful, too bright. But there it was, hung over her shoulders. A dark grey jacket.
He frowned, just wondering how it got there, when his question answered itself. A young man sauntered up to her, smiling brightly, murmuring something the Doctor couldn't quite hear, and she giggles, a slight pink glow Gracie her cheeks, and shrugged the offending item of clothing off and passed it to him.
The Doctor frowned a little more, edging closer, trying to hear the conversation.
"...well, I couldn't have had you going cold miss Oswald, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a beautiful lady freeze, as she saved our humble village?"
"Oh really sir y'shouldnt have! I'm afraid it's a little muddy now, and I think the lining got a little ripped..."
"As long as you are alright Miss Oswald, I really don't care about the jacket..."
With this, the mystery gentleman placed a hand gently on her arm, and leant in, kissing her forehead. The Doctor turned away, distracting himself by checking for non existent scratches on the Sonic, not liking this conversation one bit. He was feeling something new, something unpleasant, like a big ball of knotted nerves was twisting in his stomach, his face was in characteristically Redmond held a stormy expression, and he could feel both hearts beating a little faster, angry for some reason, and when that... That MAN dared kiss HIS Clara on the forehead (which was his thing. Not some mystery guy, HIS) he couldn't look. He didnt like this one bit. He felt like he was locked out somehow, now that someone else had Clara's affections. He'd worked so hard to find her, to impress her, but it all seemed for nothing now as she batted her eyelids at this stranger.
He realised that the womens institute, who had been on the edge if the hall selling jam sandwiches to keep people calm, were giving him funny looks, wondering if he was alright (and one was genuinely scared that he was going to hurt someone, because of the stormy look he was unintentionally giving them) so he took a deep breath, straightened his bow tie, and smiled, a little too brightly, and assured everyone that yes, everything was fine, no the worms were coming back and yes he would very much like to stay for tea but they really did have to leave. They didn't, but he didn't want to risk Clara spending the evening with Mr. Stranger McSuave-pants. Instead he went over to her, grabbed her hand and practically dragged her away, earning a cry of protest.
"OI! Doctor! Where're we going?!" She demanded, resisting him a little, trying to get him to turn and look at her. "Back to the TARDIS, lots to do, people to see.' He brushed off, stopping at the blue door and fumbling with the key, his hands shaking a little, her protests reigniting his previous anger. The door finally openers and he tumbled inside, went straight to the console and took a deep breath, the familiar surroundings calming him a little. Clara however, stubborn as always, stood outside the door, arms crossed foot tapping, eyebrow raised. "I'm waiting." She said. "For what?!" he cried.
"An explanation! What was that back there?! What was so urgent that you felt the need to Leave a perfectly lovely bunch of people and free food?"
Perfectly lovely people. Of course she thought that they were lovely. Especially Stranger McSuave-pants. He gritted his teeth. She wanted an explanation? Fine. He strode over, took her arm, firmly, but not enough to hurt. Never ever enough to hurt his Clara. He led her into the TARDIS, twisting down the corridors, stopping outside the one marked 'wardrobe' in the circular script of Gallifrey. She followed, curious as ever as to where he could possibly be taking her, but also a tad worried. The set of his jaw and dark shadows in his eyes warned her that her Chin Boy was angry. Angry at her?
He took her inside, and led her to a rail full of coats, jackets, shawls, and cloaks. "Here. The TARDIS supplies everything you can ever want to keep warm. From any era, anytime. In future, make sure you grab one before we leave." He said bluntly, not looking at her. She looks up at him, confused. "Doctor, why are you showing me this, I'm perfectly aware that this ship has jackets galore! I even have my own so-"
"So why did you need to borrow one from a mysterious man, and feel the need to spend the rest of the night smiling and fluttering your eyelashes at him, because that is not cool Clara and I didn't like it!" He interrupted, before smacking himself in the forehead. He should learn to differentiate between thinking and talking, because that was definitely meant to be thought and not said.
Clara stopped mid sentence, her mouth still open, forming a small 'o' as her face became a picture of surprise and confusion. When she eventually took in what he said, (by which time the Doctor was inspecting a hat stand which contained sombreros of various size) a small smile crept onto her lips.
"Was that... Was that a hint of jealousy I heard just then?" She smirked, moving to stand next to him, trying to get his attention. He thought about denying it, saying it was just a joke but then he sighed and hung his head. "Because," Clara continued, "if it was, I feel I should tell you that I took that coat out of politeness, and it smelled like anchovies." She giggled, looping her arm through his, as he finally looked at her, trying to seem uninterested. "And I should also tell you, that I'm not a fan of dark grey. I prefer... Say... Purple!" She grinned, pulling a stray thread from his (surprise, surprise) purple tweed jacket, his cheeks going decidedly pinker. "And also," she continued, "He doesn't have a snog box, so I am NOT interested!"
"OI, it's not a snog box!" He protested, finally turning to her, but his words held no anger, just echoed the grin that now lit up his face. She laughed, pulling him into a hug, laying her head on his chest. "You do make me laugh Doctor! You offer me all of time and space and y'think that I'd be impressed by a guy with a coat?"
Hearing it put like that, the Doctor did think it sounded a tad ridiculous. However, it was Clara. And he wasn't certain about anything when it came to her, not even himself. She was so mind boggling so utterly, impossibly fascinating, in a way that made everyone else almost seem boring. And yet, even with this mystery that surrounded her, looking down at her now she was still so warm, and comforting and human. She made him question everything and he loved and hated it in equal measure.
"Anyway," she laughed, bringing h out from his reverie, "it might not be a snog box yet. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to run off! I'm YOUR companion aren't I?" She smiled up at him, glad to see the childish gleam back in his eyes. "Yes Clara Oswald," he beamed, leaning down to kiss her forehead, "you are."
She grinned and let go of him, skipping off to the console room, glad that they were good again. He smiled and watched her go, replaying the scene in his head, suddenly frowning. "Yet?" He muttered.
"CLARA WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S NOT A SNOGGING BOOTH YET?! OI! CLARA!"