A Little Chat With the Doctor
Summary: DOTD end scene filler re-write. Clara & the Doctor have a small sparring match...which the TARDIS then finishes with flair. Pure fluff! Established canon Whouffle –friendship-! No kissy-wissy. Just hugging & some teasing. Rated K+.
-A/N at the bottom.
Disclaimer: I do not own Matt Smith. Or Jenna. Or Doctor Who. But I will cry like a baby when he leaves us at Christmas. I don't want you to go! :,o(
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The Doctor crept back into the TARDIS quietly, softly closing the doors behind him. From Clara's vantage point, she could tell he was smiling. So that was a good sign. Contemplative, yes...clearly off in his own little world...but somehow, a little pensive...anxious, even...but...excited too.
"So...you look very happy about somethin'...considerin' everything that's happened. Had a nice chat with the curator then?"
"Yes...you could say that...yes..." he said to himself more than her.
"Well? Let's have it! What did he tell you about your painting? Did you get your answer?"
"Yes...I...did...in a way..." Still off in la-la land, then. Can't have that.
"And...? Come on, Doctor! Don't keep a girl waiting..." That got his attention. He looked up only to witness her giving him the classic cheeky grin.
He starts to chuckle...then a chuckle became a snort...which rose quickly into a manic, ecstatic laugh. He ran over to her then, coat-tails flying. "Clara! Oh Clara...you will never believe who I just ran into!"
She threw him a slightly worried look. "You didn't actually...*run into* the curator did you? Cuz...yeah...ow!"
"Oh...noo...no! Nononono...nothing of the sort!"
"Okay. Good. That's a relief." She blew out a breath.
"No, Clara! It's way better than that! Much, much better! Better times infinity!"
Her eyebrows shot straight up. "Really? OK...tell me already! Besides, I've been with you long enough to believe anything now..."
"Ha! Time for some new coordinates!" He shoved the main lever on the console upwards and started twirling, hopping, skipping, and dancing his little dance around the console with boundless glee & energy, like a kid high on too many sweets.
Except Clara was a feeling a tad lost at this point. "Wait! What? Doctor! What did he say!?"
"I've got a lot of work to do..."
"What? Sorry?"
He whirled around to face her. "That's what he said! Oh Clara! It worked! What I-we-did...it worked! All thanks to you!"
And with no warning, he picked her up by the waist and spun her around in circles at arm's length, laughing madly all the while. She meanwhile, was forced to cling to him tightly, holding on for dear life, surprised yet over-joyed to see him so happy...and joined in his laughter.
He twirled her around a few times, before finally placing her back on her feet...and it finally dawned on her at last...
"But...but...but that means-..." she ventured slowly, as realization hit.
"Gallifrey stands!" he whispered excitedly, hands gesticulating wildly and a wide grin plastered on his face that seemed to grow wider with every passing second. It was quite contagious, that smile...and Clara couldn't help but match his glee.
"Oh my God! Doctor! That's...that's...that's absolutely brilliant! Oh, you clever boys! I knew you could do it!" With that, they launched into another tight hug, which he seemed to melt into for a little while, allowing himself the comfort and the contact, then pulled back abruptly.
"Oh dear...I've just remembered. I owe you a trip to Mesopotamia & Mars...as well as cocktails on the moon...so sorry. Things got a bit...you know..."
"Wibbly-wobbly? Timey-wimey?" she offered, cheeky grin back in place.
"Yeeeaaaaahh...a bit...sorry..." 'OK...that was weird,' thought Clara, 'now's he's starting to sound like his past self...the one with the sand-shoes and the nice suit.'
"Chin, it's OK..." she gave him a patient smile. "This was much more important—and actually, a lot more thrilling- to sort out than some silly adventure to Mars. I'm not sad...we can always go whenever we want...you know, what with you havin' a snog box n' everythin'."
"Oi! Clara! How many times do I havta say it! It is not a snog box!" He pouted.
"Oi yourself...I just witnessed your previous self get married to Queen Elizabeth the 1st, for Gods-sakes! And then there's also that mysterious woman with the curly hair...your ex-wife, apparently...Professor Song..."
His face immediately scrunched up in a disapproving frown upon the mention of River. "What's your point, Clara?"
"My point, Chin Boy, is: you've had loads of girls come travelling with you in this box—don't try to deny it!-over the years...who knows what sort of trouble you get into?" She smirked playfully & waggled her eyebrows for full effect.
"I...uh...oh...er...but...that's not...that's private, that is!"
Clara couldn't help the snort of laughter coming out of her lungs at that moment...the mortified look on his face was priceless...mouth opening & closing, like a big red puffer-fish.
"Oi! Shut it! What I do in my own personal time...and...and...other regenerations...is my business only! Got it? And just so we're clear...The TARDIS is not a snog box. She really doesn't like that particular nick-name."
She loved how indignant he could be sometimes over such small things; how quickly she could wind him up...it was swiftly becoming her favorite past-time, aside from the running and the saving, and the monsters and the creatures, and the insane things that happened to them on a daily basis.
Still chuckling under her breath, she relented. "Fine...fine...I won't ask any more questions about your old girlfriends...and I promise I won't call her that anymore..."
"Well...good. Thank you." He straightened his bow-tie a few times, convinced the conversation was over. He turned back towards the console, busying himself with setting the new coordinates.
But Clara couldn't resist one last little tease. As he went back to fiddling with switches, she tip-toed up to his back and whispered softly in his ear: "Spoil-sport."
His reaction was hilarious...he was turning all different shades of pink, his breathing & heart rate quickened, and he must have jumped about a foot. Then he was back to stuttering again.
"Clara!"
She made a "What? I'm innocent!" face, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly, but her mischievous grin gave her away. He huffed. Took a deep breath. Continued in a much more subdued voice, "What am I going to do with you?" Then he smiled warmly, letting her know that he was just teasing.
In a dead-pan serious & sad tone, she said in reply: "Home. Home, Doctor...I need to get back, actually...I've got classes in the morning. Got a proper job now...unlike you."
His whole expression changed in a matter of seconds, from adorably happy to abysmally unhappy...like someone had just kicked a puppy right in front of him...or indeed, like someone had kicked him..."Oh...but...but I thought...I thought we were-? I was going to take you to-..."
he floundered, then fell into silent acceptance.
"I'm kidding, Doctor! I just wanted to see what you would say. Of course I'm coming with you! Besides, it's the weekend...no classes 'til Monday."
He shook his head slightly. "I am getting way too old for this."
She nudged him playfully with her elbow. "Cheer up, Chin. I do hate to see you so sad...seen enough of that today, I think and I don't much care to see anymore. No more big sad eyes. Come on! You promised me cocktails, Doctor...time you delivered."
The Doctor then bopped her on her funny little nose. "So I did. Very well then...it's a date!"
'OK...he's really asking for it now...' mused Clara. "Is it, though? Down boy!"
"Claaarrrrraaaaa!" he whined.
She giggled into her hand again. This is too easy... "Just kidding again!"
He pointed an accusing finger at her. "Oi! That's enough out of you, young lady! Respect your elders...er...I mean...superiors! Yes! Respect your superiors! Or...or...or I'll..."
She gave him per patented, "Are you serious?" expression and crossed her arms. "Or you'll... what, Doctor?" she challenged him. "What will you do?"
'Oh no.' He was trapped now. He had to think of something good. But nothing was coming to him...and meanwhile, she was tapping her fingers impatiently, waiting to see what he could come up with...when suddenly—inspiration struck!
"I'll let the TARDIS hide your bedroom again! Like I know she really wants to...so, if I were you, I'd be really nice to her from now on..."
'Shoe's on the other foot now, eh Clara?' he mused in delight. Now it was Clara's turn to look like a fish. Her jaw dropped, she frowned, and angrily bit her lip to keep herself from uttering...well, some very choice phrases that she'd regret saying later...and stormed off in a huff, fists at her sides.
Worried that he'd gone too far, the Doctor immediately called after her. Too late. She was already halfway back to said bedroom to sulk. He sighed deeply, very much regretting his words, even if they were in jest, but he knew Clara well enough to know that she couldn't bare a grudge on him for too long. As soon as he landed them on the Moon, he would go find her, apologize, and then they would be off on their next crazy adventure...she'd be having way too much fun to even remember being angry with him.
However, just as he was about to turn back to the console, there came a frustrated "Aaaaarrrrrrrrgggh! She's done it again!" And then, there were some loud banging noises, closely followed by a string of rather...erm..."colorful" curse words...which surprised even him, as he thought Clara was above saying most of them...it kind of scared him, to be honest.
'Oh dear...' Perhaps the TARDIS took their argument to heart and thought he was being serious? 'This can't be good...and here I thought they were getting along, finally...'
Just then, Clara's annoyed voice echoed through the hallway: "Cancel the cocktails, Chin Boy! She's hid my room! Again! And it's your fault! She may not be a snog box, but she's still an old cow!"
He gulped. Wrung his hands together worriedly, wondering whether or not he should get involved in this particular battle. Frankly, he was exhausted from the day's events and besides, who should he side with anyway? Ol Sexy, his loyal, beloved ship? Or the Impossible Girl that just saved his life for the umpteenth time? Either one had a stubborn streak and bad tempers that could be down-right frightening, come to think of it...
'They'll work it out amongst themselves eventually...' he told himself with mock confidence.
At least...he hoped so...or the search for his home planet would be the least of his problems...
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A/N: Hey! Look at that! Whouffle that didn't end in some make-out session between Clara and um...11? 12? 13? Meh...who knows what number Matt's Doctor is anyway, these days, right? ;o) Anyway, I hoped this was enjoyable, at any rate. I had a lot of fun writing it. Feel free to rate, comment, critique...it all helps.
P.S. - Has anyone seen the minisode called "Doctor Who: The Ultimate Guide" at all? It's got Matt & Jenna in it. And it's quite funny and oddly fascinating, well-worth looking up on YouTube, in my humble opinion. The only question I have is: Is it considered canon? Or was it more of a publicity stunt, like the Proms, and therefore, doesn't actually count? If anybody knows the answer, PM me please. Cuz I'm very baffled.