Last Christmas, Last Kiss
What if the Doctor had one last dream before he and Clara had to wake up?
A/N An AU within canon, I don't own anything. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. And look! The Twelfth Doctor! For while he doesn't flirt with Clara, he has given so many clues about how he used to feel about her. For its my theory that while the Doctor's feelings about people change upon regeneration, he remembers how he felt. Enjoy.
"Wakey wakey!" Santa exclaimed, a manic look to his twinkling old eyes.
"Wait...how much time do we got? If you're connected to my subconscious then you must know." The Doctor asked standing to his feet. Santa smiled in understanding.
"Technically. Six minutes and forty three seconds. Just enough time for one Last Christmas." He said.
"Okay. Bit lost here." Clara commented.
"I'll give you some privacy." Santa said leaving the room. The Doctor stood there, taking deep breaths.
"Soo...are we going to open more crackers then?" Clara asked to the Doctor's back.
"Actually..." The Doctor began. But Clara's eyes widened. His voice wasn't Scottish anymore. In fact, he sounded like he did when...
The Doctor turned. Clara gasped.
"Chin..." Clara whispered seeing the Eleventh face of the Doctor once more. With youthful square features, rocket fin ears, non existent sensitive eyebrows, deep set green eyes, floppy brown hair and that beautiful, wonderful magnificent oversized chin. His clothes had changed too. But they weren't the purple professor look she had known during their too brief time together. The brown tweed jacket with jeans were more...hipster professor. It had all happened in an instant.
"What are you doing?" Clara asked.
"Something I wanted to do for a thousand years." The Doctor said crossing the room and kneeling before her. To her shock he pulled her close by the neck and kissed her deeply. At first, she let loose a muffled squeak of surprise. Then she moaned as he deepened the kiss.
Finally, he released her, pressing his forehead against his,
"It wasn't impossible Clara. It wasn't impossible." He whispered desperately.
"Why didn't you ever...?" Clara trailed off.
"Because I'm a coward. And when I regenerated...I thought...I hoped it would just be my face that changed. I knew you wouldn't care. But I didn't think the way I felt towards you would change. I still loved you, but I couldn't see myself making love to you. Not like I could when I looked like this. So I pushed you away. I insulted you to distance myself. To make you fall out of love with me so we could still be mates." He said.
"You love me?" She asked in awe.
"But I'm a selfish old man Clara. And since this is my dream too, I want one last Christmas. One last Christmas where I can do this." The Doctor explained. Then he kissed her again. Clara kissed him back, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Think we have time to take this to the bedroom?" Clara asked between kisses. She let loose a giggle when she was suddenly lifted up into his arms.
"It's our dream. And remember hours here in the dream are actually mere minutes." He purred, kissing her on the way to the bedroom.
"So does that mean we're having a quickie that lasts all night long?" Clara asked as he laid her down on the bed.
To her surprise again, he didn't blush and sputter. He chuckled, stretching out the length of her,
"Let's find out."
Five minutes or six hours later, Clara had finally fallen asleep, contentment on her face. Their clothes were strewn about the bedroom. Somehow his third boot had gotten hooked on the ceiling fan. And Clara was wearing his red bow tie like a headband. Nothing but a sheet covering his hip, the Doctor took a moment to commit every detail to memory. From the way her brown locks fanned out on the pillow , to how her little but shapely leg had hooked his, to the drool escaping the corner of her mouth as she snored lightly.
"You know she can't remember this. It'd be cruel." Santa spoke up, appearing suddenly in the corner.
"I know." The Doctor said, swallowing back the lump in his throat as he stroked her cheek with his fingertips.
"So why do it at all?" Santa asked curiously.
"So that I can stop asking 'what if'? What if I had figured out a way to beat the Silence without having to regenerate? What if I had told Clara how I felt about her? What if I had kissed her? Made love to her? Now I know. Even if Clara never can." The Doctor said.
"Why not? After all you said she didn't care about the face." Santa asked.
"But my new face doesn't smile when she walks into the room. Doesn't hug her as if it might be the last. He doesn't even hold her hand. And he never will. She deserves more than that. And since being the Doctor means never being cruel...I have no choice. This dream has to end." The Doctor said putting his fingers over her temples.
"Then it's time to wake up Doctor. It's Christmas Day." Santa said gently as the crimes of a nearby fictional church rang the hour.
"One last kiss..." The Doctor sighed pulling Clara in to touch her lips to his, their world going white.
"So...New Years in New New York in the year five million twenty five. Not bad Doctor." Clara said raising her glass of champagne to her Doctor with the Scottish accent and black suit. He nodded, his blue eyes taking in her petite form clad in a low back silver gown.
Catching his eye, Clara popped a grape in her mouth and asked confused,
"What?"
Flashes of two naked figures tangled in sheets, panting and moaning in pleasure filled his head. His mouth said,
"You've had a bit of a wash."
"Thanks for noticing. Happy New Years to you too." Clara sighed, turning back to watch the fireworks over the city skyline. The Doctor looked down at her free hand. His fingers twitched close to brushing hers, but then he pulled away, tucking his hands into his pockets.
"Happy New Year." The Doctor sighed, watching the fireworks.
"You know at Christmas, when our brains were almost eaten by the dream crabs, I remembered everything about the dream. All but this last bit. Last bit is fuzzy. Like...I should remember but I can't. Do you remember?" Clara asked.
Images of her skin beneath his fingers, her nails raking across his bare back, her lips parted as she cried out his name.
"Always." The Doctor told her softly.