A/N: I've had this prompt in my head for a while now, but when the book arrived in my mail yesterday, I just had to write it down immediately.
The Doctor gently tightened the duvet around Clara's sleeping form. At the motion, his companion mumbled a few incomprehensive words in her state of unconsciousness; he could only conclude she was either thanking him for providing her some heat or scolding him for disturbing her while she tried to get some rest. A mixture of both, he nodded his head.
Watching the peace reign in her features as she dozed off next to him after an exhausting day saving planets and civilizations – the moment he treasured the most each and every day, although he would never loudly admit it to her. Bringing her comfort in his embrace, with their bodies spread across the gigantic and fluffy mattress of their bed, their legs tangled and their hands held.
The way her big wide head fitted perfectly into the curve of his neck; the way her ears sometimes searched for his chest in the hope to find the sound of his heartbeats there; the way their bodies grew so close together the physical barriers were put aside and they would become one only, in mind and soul. All those little moments, where their senses silently abandoned their defenses and they were allowed to be themselves, those were the moments that made the Doctor alive.
He planted a deep soft kiss in her forehead, feeling the smoothness of her warm skin. Like the delicate swing of a feather in the air, he made his way out of their bed, the TARDIS slightly increasing the gleam in the room – still not bright enough to bother Clara in her sleep. With light steps, he circled around the place, thinking to himself on how he should make his companion feel like the most important being in all of time and space in their next day, were it by taking her to somewhere special or by simply filling her body with kisses and gentle rubs as a sign of his devotion and of his love for her.
With one eye fixed on her, whilst the other traveled the whereabouts of the room, he spotted an unfamiliar object on the desk. Frowning, he walked towards it, carefully raising a crafted book in the air, its shiny golden cover bringing a sparkle to the reflection in his eyes.
"The Companion's Companion Official Guide," he read the words bigly printed in a quiet tone, chuckling to himself. He soon found himself next to her in bed once more. "Oh Clara, what are you up to."
Double checking she was still sound asleep, the Doctor flipped the first few pages. The first few sentences in the diary felt like simultaneous stabs to both his hearts, "If you're reading this, then I'm no longer traveling with the Doctor. I don't know why and I don't want to know."
He fought the urge to bring her inside his embrace and promise her over and over again that he would never leave her side, that he would never travel with anyone else, not for as long as he had that face, even if he knew his promises would get lost in the wind. He straightened himself up and pushed the thought to the back of his head – they were already living the eternal.
"The new Doctor: This wasn't the face I was expecting. To be honest, I don't think it's the kind of faces anyone expects. It's the kind of face that just happens."
The Doctor scoffed annoyedly, stealing yet another glance from the woman lying by his side. He surely wanted to make several remarks about her own notes. "He can look angry, but that doesn't mean he's angry. He likes lots of sugar in his tea. He tells a lot of people to shut up. He's not the hugging type."
Of course he wasn't the hugging type – hugging required too many physical bonds. No; the only person he would ever hug was Clara, but that was only because she gave wonderful warm hugs – or was it because he had fallen in love with the way her petite arms made him a home in her embrace?
"Look at this. He looks terrifying. He's a healer and a warrior. A hero and a legend. He's ancient and brand new. This face means he's the Doctor."
He softly placed one of his hand atop of hers, freely thrown somewhere across the mattress. At first, he hated his face. He still would, wasn't it for Clara, who had taught him to love his face just as much as she loved it. Taught him to love himself just liked she loved him.
"He's brilliant. He's a genius. He's a problem-solver. He's a hero. He's... terrible at talking to people."
The Doctor merely shrugged. The only people he was fond of was her, Clara Oswald. For all he cared, the only person for whom he had a duty of care was her. He would walk through hell if that meant his promise of never failing her and never letting her suffer would remain unbroken.
"How to be brave: You're going to have to be brave, and I'm a teacher, so I'm going to teach you how.
1) Keep that chin up, even when scared. Especially when scared.
2) Find your strength. It might be drawing or singing or science. It might be looking after others or texting very fast. Whatever it is – own it and believe in yourself!
3) No fiddling. No squirming. This is a superhero pose for super-people.
4) Look like a superhero, but think like the Doctor. That means think clever, thing big and think about keeping everyone save.
5) Keep eye contact at all times – not just with weeping angels, but all monsters.
6) Big secret here – pretending to be brave makes you feel brave. Strange but true… PRETEND!"
The Doctor swallowed hard. One of his deepest secrets was that he was terrified, all the time – and Clara was one of the few people who ever knew that. It was the look in his eyes, she had once told him, how they not only sparkled the wonders of the universe, but sometimes, let out sprinkles of his own soul. Although she couldn't know the reason of his fears.
He was scared of losing her. He was so frightened that he would fail to be kind and to be brave when she wasn't there anymore.
"If you agree to run with the Doctor, save the universe, battle aliens, stop him when he goes too far, push him when he won't go far enough and be the very best friend you can be, then sign your name below.
Run, you clever thing, and remember me."
He already struggled enough from the idea he would have to let go of her one day, there was no way he could ever forget her. Ever.
The Doctor quickly flicked to the last page of the journal, finding himself a blank page. He fetched a pen from the nightstand and allowed his voice to express itself through his writing.
"Oh, Clara.
Clara, Clara, Clara…" were that too many Claras in a sentence only? "You can't explain me in a book! I'm the oncoming storm. I'm an enigma. I'm Doctor Disco. I'm… slightly offended, actually."
He smiled to himself at the bantering. Oh, he knew he would never hear the end of it if Clara ever came across that letter. Although he knew he had invaded her privacy by reading her book of him, part of him wished she would find this before her time had run out. Before their time had run out.
"But I supposed, in a way, you do know all about me. You definitely don't know how to get around the TARDIS or what my faces really mean. But you understand me. You're bossy, and a control freak, and you're brilliant. We really do deserve each other."
They were exactly what each other needed. They were so different and yet so similar; there was nothing in the universe that would threaten them apart, not until they began to threaten the universe itself.
"All of these companions… their memories and their letters and their notes. Their long days and their short lives. Their journeys with me might end, but my journeys with them never will.
I'll put this back where you hid it, and I'll pretend I never saw it. I'll pretend there won't be others. But know this: I love you, I'll always love you. I cherish all of our moments together and I dread the idea that one day we might run out of moments. You've taught me to be my best self, you taught me more about myself than I knew there was to learn, and I want to live the rest of my life in the warmth of your smile and the strength of your embrace. The mystery of you is the one I want to spend the rest of my life exploring."
No, not that – he wasn't good with talking about his real feelings; not out loud, not when he wasn't in the depths of the TARDIS, alone with her, where he could be himself, not to anybody who wasn't her.
"I'll put this back where you hid it, and I'll pretend I never saw it. I'll pretend there won't be others. But know this: I'll never forget you, my Impossible Girl.
The Doctor."
Laying the book in the bedside table, the Doctor brought his torso near hers; all of his self-resistance wasn't enough to restrain himself from wrapping both his arms around her and tugging her closer to his hearts.
Knowing that their heartbeats could finally beat in the same rhythm. Holding her as tightly as she held onto him.
He was home, at last.
A/N: Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)