Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and friends.
"Well..." I say as the Doctor and I walk back to the TARDIS, leaving the rather handsome American in his great coat behind us.
"Yes, 'well' sums up Captain Jack Harkness pretty adequately. But I have a feeling you have more to add to that." The Doctor says almost grudgingly.
"Quite the man. He'd be fun to have around. And he is possibly the most suggestive person I have ever met. Actually, forget the possibly part because he is definitely the single most suggestive person I have ever met."
The Doctor groans and makes a face at me.
"Now see, I don't get why you humans, well I guess you humans who speak English, only use the word suggestive when you are referring to... that kind of thing." He waves his hands awkwardly near the end before unlocking the TARDIS and holding the door open for me.
"What do you mean?" I ask, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him as I step into his temperamental time machine.
"I could be suggestive about anything if you take the word the way it is defined. I could suggest that I think y-someone is beautiful. I could suggest that I think it will rain in London tomorrow. I could suggest that Galladon is miserable for anyone with cat allergies. I could suggest that I think pears ought to be banned from the Milky Way galaxy." He is making wild hand gestures now.
Don't laugh Clara, don't do it…
"I could suggest anything, but the only time that I am being suggestive would be if I were to subtly or not so subtly make a remark about that kind of thing."
We are standing by the main console now. His arms have gone from whipping about to being crossed over his chest and if I didn't know better I would say he is actually pouting. If this keeps up my battle to stop myself from laughing at him is going to be a lost cause.
The Doctor, comfortable with masquerading as my husband while we break into a mad lady's gated community, but usually so caught off guard if you say anything, well anything suggestive.
There are exceptions to that rule of course, the occasional time. Such as when he informs me that my pants are so on fire, or when I tell him to dare me to do something and he does, or when I know he is watching me as I walk away from him, or when we share a 'job well done' look for so long that I can't help but remember reading somewhere that if you keep eye contact for more than six seconds it means you either want to murder the person you are staring at, or that you just, want them.
I can't say that I don't like the moments when he decides not to act like a Victorian housewife, because as much as they usually surprise me a tad I really do enjoy them.
"I don't have a good answer for any of that Doctor. We are standing in a time machine though, so I could suggest that you take a hop to whoever started using the word that way to have a proper chat with them."
My joking use of the word 'suggest' earns me an irritated look.
"Well I can't go around changing words of major languages whenever I like. Believe me, there are a few more I would love to sort out. I'm not going to deny that I have accidentally added a few before. But that was never on purpose, usually I just said something before it had been thought of because it had been thought of sometime else."
I'm shaking my head at him and he catches me doing so, which gets me another irritated look.
"Yes its timey whimey." He finishes reluctantly.
"So where are we going next?"
"You're the boss." He says, moving towards the console to begin the elaborate process of getting the TARDIS on the move again. I love it when he says that.
"Well I might suggest somewhere that isn't Victorian England, but will be similarly agreeable to your delicate sensibilities."
"Who says I've got delicate sensibilities?"
"I think I just did." I say, pushing myself off of the railing I was leaning on and walking around the console towards him.
"I do not." He insists.
"Okay, so prove me wrong then." I challenge, stopping a few inches in front of him, crossing my arms and leaning a bit into his personal space.
I'm not sure why I'm not letting this go, why I am being so relentless here, but he isn't really running away so why stop? He is giving me an odd look though, like he is thinking about something really hard but doesn't want to seem preoccupied.
Five seconds, six, seven, eight… fifteen, sixteen seconds…
"Cat got your tongue?" I ask.
The Doctor snaps to and spins away from me.
"Now that is a good saying, an excellent addition to the English language. It's a shortened version of 'has the cat got your tongue?' which doesn't have the same ring to it, but was popular about fifty years ago. I used to hear it all the time when I made the mistake of staying in the mid sixties for a while. Lots of felines where the TARDIS landed and I was a bit new to earth colloquialisms at the time so it was rather confusing for a while wondering if the junkyard cats would one day make a move on my tongue but I got there in the end and now I must say I do like the snappier version that you lot use now."
"And I suppose you were there when the cat got someone's tongue and started this whole thing?"
"No, not yet at least…" He says thoughtfully, as if trying to dig through his memory to make sure.
"That was a fascinating tale Doctor, but it still doesn't disprove my theory that you have rather Victorian worthy sensibilities."
He lets out a frustrated sigh and I start laughing at him before I turn to the corridor which should lead me to the library if the TARDIS hasn't decided to redecorate.
"I'm going to get some reading done, let me know when you are ready to head somewhere else." I say as I walk away. There is a spot of particularly polished metal by that door, and when I look at it I can see a rough reflection of the Doctor, who is watching me walk away. I can't help but chuckle.
"What is so funny?" He calls after me.
"You are." I say plainly before I disappear around the corner.
I know he watches me, I let him do it.
Finding the library right where I last saw it is a nice surprise. Well not a total surprise, but something that I'm not taking for granted. The book I was midway through however has somehow found its way elsewhere from the couch I left it on. After some searching, I see one book whose spine is jutting out of a nearby top shelf. When I walk over to get a better look, it turns out to be the one I am looking for. Of course it is, because it is way out of my reach and the ladders in here are heavy, even if they slide.
But I am not losing to the TARDIS. No way. So after a lot of effort I pull the ladder down the shelf and lock it into place under the book I want. Or at least I thought I had locked it, when I am right at the top it starts to veer away from the book, but doesn't get more than a few inches before it jerks to a stop.
I look down to see the Doctor steadying the ladder with both of his hands and looking up at me. Did I mention that I'm wearing a dress?
I grab the book I was reaching for, and head back down the ladder, trying to smooth my dress a bit as I go. When I am safely back on the ground, the Doctor takes out his sonic screwdriver and tinkers with the ladder's locking mechanism before turning to me again.
"If you don't mind I'd like to go to the Palace of Quartal on Galileo 9.1. Talking about pears reminded me that I'm supposed to show the kitchen staff about how to make a proper fruit basket. Might have been gone a bit longer than the two days I promised them, but still. It's better late than never to learn about the evils of pears."
I nod my agreement, palaces are always fun. He goes to leave before turning towards me again.
"That dress is very flattering on you." He says decisively.
"Pardon?"
"I said that the lovely green dress you are wearing is very flattering on you." He repeats, adding elaboration.
And with that he spins around and saunters out of the library, leaving me a little stunned.
After that, it became a bit of a game. Once in a while he will just drop random comments that are kind of suggestive but not overly blatant, more like compliments. Usually these are said with a bit of a lower tone of voice, a raised eyebrow and sometimes even a wink, as if he wants to make what he is doing more obvious without commissioning himself a rank in the Innuendo Squad. Apparently he took the challenge of proving me wrong about his sensibilities much more seriously than I first thought.
The comments get a bit more personal as this goes along. Like he was waiting to see how comfortable I would be with it, and once his more subtle remarks about my clothing stopped fazing me as much, and instead brought a smile to my face and a 'why thank you Doctor' to my lips, he was free to carry on.
All of this was perfectly okay, if a tad… frustrating… until one day he made the mistake of doing it when somebody else was within earshot. It's not the first time that that has happened, but usually the person who heard him didn't know either of us well enough for them to really care or for us to be bothered.
This time is different though. This time its Angie…
She finds us standing in the narrow stairwell leading up to the attic, with me resting against the wall and the Doctor leaning forward over his one hand which is above my shoulder. She sees this, and then hears him say "we're going to have to get you out of that dress."
This of course prompts her wolf whistling at us, before laughing loudly as I duck under his arm and throw myself up a few steps to create a more nanny acceptable distance between us while trying hard not to blush horribly.
Now to clarify something, the Doctor hadn't actually gotten that suggestive with me. He was certainly playing the statement up, but the real reason he said it was because I had managed to get roxalona dust from Pluume all over me, and apparently prolonged exposure makes humans dizzy for days, so I needed to get out of the clothing that'd been showered in it for my own well being.
"I was going to ask you if I could go to Vicky's place for the night, Nina is already on her way there." She says when her laughter is more under control.
"Sure thing, just text me when you get there okay?" I squeak. Is the Doctor chuckling at me?
"Like you'll be paying attention to your phone Clara."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
She rolls her eyes at me.
"Artie and Dad are gone all night on Artie's school trip. And I'm going to leave the house and not be coming back till morning. Your boyfriend is here and judging by what I just overheard, with all of us cleared out you will be rather preoccupied with someone who is definitely not your phone."
Even if I had been able to control my blush at having my 15 year old charge catch the Doctor and I in a, somewhat circumstantially compromising position, there is no hope for me now…
Angie gives me an evil look, walks into her room, hoists a small backpack over her shoulder and wishes us a goodnight as she heads down to the door.
There is no question about it now, after the door slams shut the Doctor is definitely laughing at me.
"Clara if you turn any redder you'll be at risk of ending up on Mrs. Gillyflower's reject pile."
"Different kind of crimson horror Doctor… She isn't supposed to catch me doing… that kind of thing … I'm supposed to be responsible and in charge and… stuff."
He grins.
"Ms. Oswald, 'things like that,' oh dear, who has delicate sensibilities now?"
I sit down on a step and rest my head back against the wall. I'm more flustered by this than I ought to be. It isn't a big deal really, Angie will tease me about it for a bit, but that might actually be a good thing if it gives her something not standoffish to say to me.
When I don't have a witty reply, the Doctor's expression changes a bit, going from 'I have an excellent chance of winning the game' to 'something is wrong with Clara.'
He sits on a lower stair across from me.
"Sorry…" He says awkwardly.
"Don't be, it's okay, really." I tell him, reaching to ruffle his hair a bit, which is kind of an odd thing for me to do.
"I might have gotten a bit carried away, I was having too much fun."
"You didn't get carried away, I was enjoying it too."
Well. That is an interesting place for us to end up at. I do believe both of us just said that we liked being suggestive around each other. We actually properly said that, and now we're kind of staring at each other.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven seconds. Neither of us is looking away.
"I read something somewhere once you know." I say.
"You read a lot of somethings a lot of somewheres." He says.
"It was a silly little thing about eye contact. No idea who came up with it."
"Hmm?" He still isn't looking away.
"It was a general rule about six seconds."
"Rules are meant to be broken."
"You don't know what the rule is yet."
"Okay, so tell me." He shrugs.
I hesitate at that.
"Clara." He says.
"If you don't break eye contact with someone for six seconds, you either have murderous or… amorous intentions."
"It has been fifty-six seconds since we first made eye contact." He informs me.
"Well I knew it had to be more than just six…"
"I would go back to being a monk in 1207 for the rest of my life before I would physically hurt you Clara." He says sincerely.
"So…"
"This could be taken as a suggestive thing to bring up." He says to me, standing again and offering me a hand up.
"I suppose it could." I say, not letting go of the hand that helped me up.
"Now. Clara Oswald, let's see about getting you out of that dress."
"Doctor, that could be taken as a very suggestive statement."
He uses the hand I am holding to lead me up the few remaining steps to my attic and closes the door behind us before he leans close and whispers in my ear.
"I know."
A/N: Sorry, I try to keep these two in character to the best of my ability and within cannon plot most of the time, but 'Ask Nicely' was too much fun to write so this happened…
