I feel so tired right now. *groans and faceplants on the desk* That's probably because it's 12:13 AM over here...and I'm listening to really, really quiet music from a station that I don't remember...and it feels like autumn because I never feel like this unless school is coming around the corner and even though it's August, I still freaking about what's going to happen in September and...

Oh, my gosh. *blinks* I really need to sleep now. O.O

And I'm also sorry for the little mistake before (I put in the wrong document by accident...) but here's the correct document!

Enjoy! Hopefully, this story sounds better than what I'm feeling right now. XD

Exhaustion

Coal Hill School was almost completely silent except for perhaps the squeak of the janitor's shoes against the aluminum floor. The lights occasionally made a buzzing sound as it flickered from the long usage of the day and a few lockers slammed here and there, telling Clara Oswald that there were still some students in the building – probably for after-school activities and such.

Clara was actually a bit relieved – the thought of being by herself in this school (no matter how welcoming it was,) spooked her. Right now, she was seated at her desk in her classroom, grading through the large mound of papers placed beside her. Even though it was only five o'clock, Clara's eyes were struggling to remain open. It had been a long, tiring day for her, after all.

And it was a Wednesday.

Clara was supposed to go traveling with the Doctor today, but she couldn't go to him straight away – she needed to get these papers done, no matter what. She had to, even though these essays were just handed in today and she still had about a week to finish them all…but Clara didn't want to procrastinate! How awful would that be? No, Clara needed to stay on schedule!

Stifling a yawn, Clara flipped through the next part of the essay she was currently grading. She flicked her pen lazily across the paper, marking the mistakes that the student had made and sometimes leaving a little tip or two when it came to writing this kind of thing. This went on for quite some time until suddenly, finally, the door swung open.

"I'm busy grading – I can always arrange a meeting –" Clara started to say, though she was abruptly cut off by a loud, rather annoyed, "Do you know how long I waited for you? I've been sitting in the TARDIS, wondering when you were going to show up and I've been looking for you and I finally found you here and – what are you doing?"

Clara managed a small, tired smile and leaned back in her seat. "Nice to see you, too, Doctor," she said, shaking her head. "And just so you know, I'm grading essays. I want to get this done today."

The Doctor frowned and plopped himself in a desk across Clara's. He resembled something of a pouting, unhappy child and Clara had to bite down on the insides of her cheek to keep herself from giggling. The Doctor drummed his fingers against the desk and asked, "Do you have to get these done today?"

Clara paused and sighed, picking up her pen. "Well, no," she murmured, "but I would like to get them done today, or else I'll be running around and wondering what to do with the papers on the day before I'm supposed to actually hand them back to the students."

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. "Is there a certain due-date for these papers? I thought that only students got due-dates. Or boring businessmen. Or publishers. Or editors. Or writers!" He replied, leaning in from his desk. "And you're not any of those! Are you?"

Clara puffed out a sigh and returned to the essay. "No, I'm not any of those, but I want to hand them in a week from today, or else I'll forget about the essays and I'll be in a humongous mess."

The Doctor flicked at one of the papers and started to flip through the pages. "Why can't you just save it for tomorrow?" He whined, throwing it back onto Clara's desk. "We've got so much to do and look at you! Just sitting there, grading papers instead of exploring and looking at new worlds and meeting new people and –"

Clara groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Doctor," she mumbled. "Listen, I understand where you're coming from, but right now, I would love nothing more than to have a bit of quiet right now."

The Doctor huffed out a breath, crossing his arms and giving Clara what he had thought was a dark glare, but to Clara, it looked nothing more than a little child trying to imitate an owl, which, naturally, wasn't very impressive. Unruffled, Clara went back to flicking through the essays.

A dull, unexciting silence continued shortly after. The only sounds now (besides the janitors and the few students, of course,) were only the drumming of the Doctor's fingers against the desk and Clara occasionally flipping and marking through the papers.

Clara wasn't quite sure how much time passed, but her eyes were beginning to cramp up now. A nagging headache was beginning to settle in and Clara was feeling more tired than ever. She rubbed her brow and looked around at the essays, hopeful that there would only be a few more to grade.

But no, the mound of papers had not at all shrunken in any way and/or form. Clara screamed inwardly, trying to bottle up all of her frustration inside – she just wanted to sleep now! However, sleep would have to wait. (Sigh.)

Clara dejectedly brought one of the papers towards herself and then, without warning, her head hit her folded arms and she fell fast asleep.

xXx

The Doctor looked up from the desk the very second he heard a soft, somewhat muffled thud. He frowned and turned around to look for the source of the sound – only to find that Clara Oswald's head was resting in her arms. The Doctor slid out of his seat and walked towards Clara, nudging her on the back.

"Clara?" He whispered. "Are you – ah, no, she's asleep."

The Doctor sighed and giving Clara's head an affectionate pat, returned to his seat. He stared at Clara for a bit – he didn't have the heart(s) to wake Clara up from her slumber – she looked at peace and though the Doctor wasn't a mind-reader, he felt that the young woman was in dire need for rest.

The Doctor's eyes landed on the pile of essays sitting on the corner of Clara's desk. He gave it a long, hard glare and stood up, gathering the papers in his arms. "You are the reason why Clara's tired, I bet!" The Doctor hissed at the essays, as though the bits of paper were intelligent creatures. "Do you know how annoying you are? Giving stress to students and teachers alike, I tell you…you're exhausting."

With a disproving hmph, the Doctor set the papers down at his desk and started to flip through the pages. He looked back up at Clara, (who, by the way, was still sound asleep,) and looked back down at the essays. Then, the Doctor turned his head to stare at Clara again, and back down at the essays.

This went on for quite some time before the Doctor finally said, "Because you have been so mean to Clara Oswald, I'm going to have to grade you know, myself!"

With that, the Doctor snagged one of Clara's red-felt pens and started to read through the essays. Most of them were dreadfully dull and boring and mechanic-sounding, though the Doctor gave them all passing marks, anyways. Dull and boring and mechanic-sounding seemed perfectly fitting for school, after all.

The Doctor was just finishing up the last essay when Clara lifted her head from her arms. She made a small gasping sound and looked around the room with wide, frantic eyes. "The papers!" She said worriedly and turned to look at the Doctor. "What are you doing?"

"You fell asleep," the Doctor replied simply and made an impressive, brandishing gesture at the essays laid out before him. "And I decided to finish up the essays for you! Isn't that great? Now, we can go visit…" His voice trailed off as Clara marched towards his desk and started to shift through the essays.

"Is there something wrong?" The Doctor asked quizzically when Clara's facial expressions didn't show any signs of change. "Are these the wrong essays?"

Clara brought her hands to her face and shook her head with a long, low moan. "Oh, Doctor…why did you grade the essays? They're probably all wrong now!"

The Doctor blinked and crossed his arms, feeling wounded. "What do you mean? I haven't graded them wrong! I'm sure they're all perfectly fine! I'll have you know that I'm an absolutely wonderful grader!"

Clara threw her hands up in the air. "That's it," she said, her voice getting higher and more hysterical by the second, "I'll have to start from scratch again! I'm going to have to spend another bloody five and a half hours grading these and they'll probably end up looking awful and I'll –" She abruptly stopped, a frustrated, choking sob escaping her lips. "This is going to be awful!" She finished tearfully.

The Doctor stared at Clara, wide-eyed, and asked shakily, "Who are you and what have you done to my Clara?"

Clara looked up at the Doctor and with an annoyed cry, punched him on the arm. He winced, rubbing the already-sporting bruise and asked, "What was that for? What's going on? You're all…weepy and moody now!" Before Clara could protest or argue (or punch the Doctor again,) he went on, "The Clara Oswald I know would look at the essays right in the eye and grade them and hand them back as though it was no one's business! The Clara Oswald I know has done things that were much scarier than grading essays – this should be a piece of cake! The Clara Oswald I know wouldn't break down and cry and she certainly wouldn't look at this as the biggest challenge of her life!"

Clara frowned, wiping away her tears. "I never said this was the biggest challenge of my life," she said, and though her voice still trembled, there was a definite note of annoyance in her voice. The Doctor smiled in spite of himself – his Clara was slowly re-surfacing.

"Well, you're acting like it is!" He retorted, jumping to his feet. "So, tell me, Clara Oswald – are you still in there? Are you actually going to continue with your crying or are you going to look at me in the eye and thank me for helping you with your papers?"

Clara gave the Doctor an indignant glare, though it only lasted for a few seconds before they both burst into laughter. "There's my Clara!" The Doctor said enthusiastically, sweeping the younger woman into a strong hug. Clara grinned and buried her face in his shoulder. "Thank you, Doctor." She replied quietly. "I've just been so tired and so scared lately and I just didn't know what to do –"

The Doctor hushed her quickly in case Clara would go hysterical again. "Enough of that, Clara," he said, giving her another quick embrace. "What matters right now is that it's over and we can just forget about this." He looked at her in the eye, a smile lighting up his face. "So, what do you say, Clara? Would you like to get away from here?"

Clara grinned. "Of course, Doctor," she said. "Lead the way!"

A/N - Dedicated to anyone who's feeling particularly anxious or stressed out. And needs a Doctor to sweep them away and bring them on an unforgettable adventure. :')

Then again, I've been feeling that way lately, but I know for a fact that there's loads of other people who are feeling just the same way. :)

Please review! I would love to know how I did on this little one-shot - I'm still trying to get used to writing in Clara and the Doctor's perspective on things. XD Constructive criticism is always welcome, but flames are not!