I dreamt this thing up last night after thinking and reading and writing Whouffaldi. It's official, you guys - this ship has taken over my life. XD

It had been another typical day for Clara Oswald. Traveling with the Doctor to an Earth look-a-like, disabling a few faulty machines, saving civilizations, et cetera. And while she was used to all of the excitement, Clara still found herself weary and tired after swimming around the ocean of the planet. (She had swum around the waters with the Doctor, pushing people up to the surface and occasionally ducked into the deeper parts of the ocean with the help of the protective suit she was wearing. The Doctor needed one, too, though he had been extremely reluctant to accept it.)

So Clara was standing on the damp, slippery dock with a towel wrapped around her shoulders (courtesy to a few shy people whom were saved) and waiting for the Doctor to push himself off the water. Shivering only slightly, Clara looked up at the sky – night had fallen upon them all now, and it was speckled with great, white stars and moons of different sizes. (Which explained the great tides on this planet.)

When the Doctor finally did appear on the dock, his face was drawn in a tired, pinched expression – an expression that Clara was sure that she wore herself. Still, she smiled and started to hand a towel over to him. "Looks pretty wet," she commented jokingly as he sat down on the dock. The Doctor took the towel, breathing heavily, and to Clara's surprise, he didn't even bother making a comeback. Clara sat down beside him and kicking lightly at the water, said, "But all in a day's work, yes?"

"That's right," the Doctor responded softly, his eyes fluttering to a close. He let out a long, low sigh from his lips and slowly, gently, his head tilted towards his chest. Clara giggled softly into her hand and nudged him gently on the shoulder. "Tired, are you?" she whispered. The Doctor's head gave a simple bob of acknowledgement. Shaking her head to herself, Clara stood back up and turned to the still-wet inhabitants of the planet. "We'll be off, then," she said sweetly. "My friend is uh – sleepy. So…" Gesturing with her hands, Clara added, "This is where we say goodbye."

"Thank you for your help, kind ones," a man spoke, his head bowing. "We will be forever in your debt."

"Oh, no need for that kind of talk," Clara replied. "We were happy to help."

The man smiled back, though a second later, it faltered. "You said…your friend was sleepy?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows. Clara nodded sheepishly. "It's been a long day for all of us," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Apologies if –"

"No, no, dear girl, it's not that – it's just – it looks like he should move away from the edge!" the man cried, and stunned by his sudden outburst, Clara whirled around.

Clara's eyes widened as sure enough, the Doctor fell into the dark ocean. Shrieking, she ran to the edge of the dock. "Doctor!" she shouted. Instantly pushing the towel away from herself, Clara dove right in after him.

The ocean, needless to say, was spooky at night. Clara silently thanked the people of this planet for developing lights in the suit she was wearing – without it, it'd be pitch black. And of course, the oxygen tank stored at the back of the suit, which Clara would be dead without. The light of the moons above weren't offering much help either, for other organisms kept getting in the way. Fighting to look past the darker blobs and shapes of underwater life, Clara managed to spot the Doctor slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the ocean.

His eyes were closed, his arms floating above him in a ghost-like, sleepy movement. He appeared to be completely oblivious to what was going on around him – which Clara regarded with a chill going up her spine. It wasn't every day she could see the Doctor in a vulnerable position and right now, she would consider this to be very vulnerable indeed. And since when did the Doctor ever grow tired?

Clara cursed herself furiously in her brain. She should have caught the signs – the Doctor was never tired, and suddenly he was. Clara should have brought him back in the TARDIS when she had the chance.

Heaving in another (unnecessary) breath, Clara kicked herself forward a bit harder. With outstretched hands, she found herself seeking for the Doctor's arms – a leg – a hand – anything that Clara could grab ahold of so they could get back to surface. It was all a hassle – every once in a while, Clara would see the Doctor's eyes open, and then he'd look bewildered by his surroundings, but almost immediately return to sleep.

I'll check on him later, Clara thought and with one last push towards the Doctor, she caught onto his arm. Tightening her grip, Clara set back to work on getting back to the dock. If swimming down to the Doctor was hard, getting him up with her was much harder. For one, he weighed a bit more than he looked – and though everything was supposed to be lighter in the water, Clara still fought to keep them together. Not to mention that the other creatures in the ocean weren't exactly looking friendly, either. (Clara had to avoid them with a few shudders.)

It seemed like an eternity had passed when Clara finally threw herself onto the dock. There was a crowd of legs – a pulling sensation – and suddenly, she was flopped over on the wood with the Doctor lying by her side. She could hear the worried murmurs of the people around her, of the stirring action which was happening beside her. Clara weakly propped herself up on her elbows and almost by instinct, reached out to take the Doctor's arm again, only to feel his hand instead.

"Did I miss something?" the Doctor's thin voice reached Clara's ears. Clara let out a small, surprised gasp and turned over to look at the Doctor. His eyes were open now, if not still full of an odd sense of dazedness, but at least they were open. In a quiet, uncertain voice, Clara replied, "A bit, yeah."

"Care to elaborate?" the Doctor asked, slowly sitting up.

Clara smiled dryly at the Doctor. "Oh, you know – you putting yourself in a stupid situation, me saving you…" she teased. The Doctor's expression didn't change. "So the usual, then?" he asked quietly. Pressing her lips together, Clara agreed, "The usual."

xXx

"So are you going to tell me why you decided to fall into the ocean? And why you're suddenly tired now?" Clara asked as the two reached the TARDIS. The Doctor looked over at Clara. "Am I not allowed to get tired, Clara?" he inquired, a note of humor tinging his voice. The brunette crossed her arms and replied, "Well, no. Not really. But it's just…you don't usually like that sort of stuff."

"Doesn't mean I don't need it once in a while," the Doctor replied. As if on cue, a loud yawn erupted from him. Clara couldn't help but to laugh at that. "Well, lots of swimming and saving – suppose you could afford a nap or two on the way." She said. The Doctor looked back at Clara, a slightly apologetic look on his face. "Do you mind?"

"God, you're even asking for my opinion on the matter…that's a new one," Clara noted. She gently tapped her hands along the Doctor's shoulders. "Mind if I join you?"

"Never heard such a request before," the Doctor replied, his eyebrows rising to his hairline. Clara snorted. "Well, I did just save you again – I think I deserve some unusual privileges on an unusual rescue mission."

There was a pause.

Then, "You better not kick me off the bed."

Clara beamed at the Doctor's retreating back. "Right-o, Doctor," she replied cheerfully.

A/N - I swear writing about Twelve and Clara has now become a daily obsession. If I don't write about these two, I'll go insane. Or something of the sort. Speaking of which, I think I'm going to release more Twelve-and-Clara fics from now on, purely because I LOVE THESE GUYS! CUTIES!

As always, reviews would be awesome! Constructive criticism is allowed, but flames are not!