Notes: Betad by the ever lovely Leah (tennantsrose on tumblr, Justsmile1 on here) You may have seen this floating around on the whouffle tag already, but I've been persuaded to put it up here too.
Genre: Human AU. Clara as a primary school teacher, Eleven as a single father.
Summary: At Little Heath Primary School, the last thing Clara expects is to be drawn to the moody and slightly eccentric father of her favourite pupil. She swore she was never going to let her work interfere with her life, but as they get closer, how long is that promise going to hold?
Rated: T (for now)
Chapter One
To say it had been a long day would be something of an understatement. Clara gathered up the debris of of her last period class with tired limbs, tutting at the glitter covering every conceivable surface. She sorted which of the kids' work was salvageable and which she'd have to tactfully dispose of and explain away later, smiling at their handiwork. An hour of collage making had seemed like such a great idea this morning as she was punching in and going over her plans for the day, but now there were glue sticks everywhere and bits of paper strewn like snowflakes across the classroom. In short, the place was a tip and Clara wanted nothing more than to sit down with a cup of tea, watch some god-awful soap and then maybe fall asleep on the sofa.
Her meeting with the head of her new school had gone terribly- Clara had stuttered her way through it, stumbling over most of her answers. Mrs Archer had only been checking her progress with handling her new position as the new year three teacher- or that was the premise of the meeting- but the woman had a way of peering over the top of her glasses at Clara that made her feel like a quivering seven year old being sent to the head's office, instead of a perfectly capable twenty-four year old. It was unnerving, when in reality she was a fully grown twenty four year old woman with a proper job and a degree now and everything. Of course, she'd already gotten the job and Mrs Archer was only there to provide Clara was afraid she'd come across as a tad inept. All she could hope was that she displayed the same enthusiasm and love of young minds that got her the job in the first place, and wait and see if her weekly updates improved to the point she could get articulate full sentences out.
Her attention snapped back to her wreck of a classroom when, bending to wipe down a table, she stepped on a paint tube lying hidden against a chair leg, sending red paint shooting up her black boots and across the carpet. Predictably the lid had not been screwed on. And she knew just the little monster who had been using it. She restrained from cursing the kid, and groaning, stepped out of the puddle of paint and looked around for something to use as damage control.
Other than paper towels she drew a blank. Really, she needed Rory, because as the teaching assistant assigned to her class, the two of them had become very good friends very quickly. Rory was sweet and very patient (with the kids and her equally), easy to talk to, and a general blessing in a new school full of rather stuck up middle aged teachers. He was also the fountain of all school related knowledge giving her an 'insiders' tour of the tiny grounds, pointing out where all the supplies were and giving advice on where to sit in the staffroom to avoid pissing off certain members of staff, for which Clara was very grateful.
Rory'd been there a couple of years already, and Clara had been informed she was a very welcome change to the previous teacher of her class, who apparently had sported a rather nice moustache- not that she could help it, but still… Rory had hastened to add. The school had been missing in young life and he had been a bit lacking in friends of his age bracket until she applied. And Rory always made her a cup of tea in the morning. Unfortunately Wednesdays were his days off to visit his Dad, so she was on her own.
Or so she thought. She was still inspecting the ruined state of her leather boots when a shuffling sound from just outside her classroom made her stop and pause. She kicked off her shoe to stop trailing red paint through the carpet and padded over to the doorway, peering through the glass.
Sitting on the tiled floor of the corridor was a very fed up looking girl, her knees drawn up to her chest and crossed arms resting on top of them. She was staring at the classroom door with a petulant look gracing her small features, her little pointy chin jutting out in a moody manner. Crazy brunette corkscrew curls painted a halo around her head barely contained in a messy ponytail. There was no mistaking the little girl sitting sulking in the empty school hallway.
Clara frowned and stuck her head round the door.
"Alexis, are you okay?"
The seven-year-old's head jerked upwards, and when she saw who was addressing her she grunted and let her arms uncross, turning to look at her teacher with a bored expression. Clara stepped round the door.
'What're you doing down there?' she questioned, an amused smile pulling at her lips at Alexis' position on the floor, schoolbag slung next to her, school books spilling out. "Hasn't anyone come to pick you up yet?"
The little girl shook her head and sighed, before her bottom lip protruded in a pout. "Daddy said he was coming, but he's not here. He's always late though so I just have to wait a bit."
Clara's smile dropped and she glanced at her watch. School had finished half an hour ago and every other pupil had been picked up by tired looking parents and carted home.
"Don't you want to come in? I can get you some juice until your Dad arrives?"
Alexis shrugged. "It's okay. I normally wait out here. He'll be here soon, I think."
"You don't do this everyday, do you Alexis?"
"Most days. I don't mind, not really. I just get bored, you know?"
Clara laughed and stuck out her hand, wiggling her fingers invitingly. "C'mon, we can find something to do until your Daddy arrives, yeah? And maybe find a proper chair for you to sit on?"
Alexis allowed herself to smile back and started shoving stuff back in her bag, pulling herself off the floor when she was done. 'Okay.'
"Great!"
Alexis followed her back into the classroom and giggled at the sight in front of them both.
"You made a mess," she laughed.
"Oi, Missy, this was all you lot. Fancy helping me clear up? Let's make it a challenge- we have to finish before you have to go."
Alexis groaned, pretending like she was going to refuse but when Clara waggled her eyebrows she smiled and dropped her bag at the door.
"I bet I can do it faster than you, Miss Oswald," she added cheekily.
Clara had to keep her chuckle inside at the girl's determination to make everything a competition. She'd noticed in the last week that Alexis was constantly striving to be the best in whatever she was doing, whether it was English lessons or simply running around in the playground.
"You're on."
Alexis started tearing around the classroom, throwing bits of card and paper in the bin and sweeping the glitter back into its tub. She was strangely proficient for how quick she was being and Clara smiled and watched for a second, impressed, before returning her attention to her attempt to blot the red paint.
She was in the middle of transforming it into a soupy red mess, on her hands and knees, and trying to swear under her breath so Alexis didn't hear, when there was knock on the door. It caught her by surprise and she jumped, her head colliding with the underside of the table painfully before she collapsed back to the ground, rubbing her head. Alexis had thrown the door open with a cry of 'Daddy!' and was now hugging a very startled looking man, frozen in the doorway. His long arms came to wrap around his daughter's shoulders on instinct, but his eyebrows shot up at the sight of Clara sprawled underneath a table, red paint splattered up her dress.
"Umm, are you okay?"
"Oh! Umm…" Mortified, she sat up and struggled to her feet, her head pounding. She attempted to brush down her clothes and quickly stopped when it only made matters worse. "I'm fine! Absolutely fine! Sorry, I was just…clearing up."
"So I see….."
The man in the doorway, evidently Alexis' father, looked like he was trying not to laugh. His lips twisted into a smile at Clara's flushed face, and before she knew it, she was bursting into laughter and his chuckles mixed with her own.
"I bet I look a right state, don't I?" she laughed.
He attempted to school his features, but failed miserably, ending up smirking anyway.
"Little bit. Did you also know you're missing a shoe?"
Clara glanced down at her stocking covered foot and blushed, still giggling. "Ah yeah, I'd forgotten about that."
"Quite understandable. I do it all the time," he chuckled, the neatly combed quiff wobbling as his shoulders shook. Clara couldn't help noticing (and yes checking out parents was wrong, but what's a single girl going to do?) that he was very good looking- in a odd sort of way, she supposed. His face was all finely sculpted cheekbones and a chin that could poke your eye out- but it fitted him perfectly. His face looked young, strong and worldly. His solid jaw made him look thoughtful and intelligent, too. An untraditional sort of handsome that worked with his clothes; a button up shirt pushed up the elbows, braces and a scarlet bow tie. Who wore bow ties these days? Obviously he did, and she begrudgingly admitted that it suited him. Very much. Her blush returned.
She took a step forward and recollected her thoughts. "Well I'll try not to make a habit of it like you then. Sorry, I'm Miss Oswald, Alexis' teacher. You must be her father."
He smiled and pulled a now restless looking Alexis to his side and ruffled her curls. She rolled her eyes.
"Unfortunately, yes, this one's mine. Fancy having her?"
Clara laughed, but Alexis wriggled out of his arms. "Daad!" she whined. He patted her on the head.
"I'm sorry I was late to pick her up. Work stuff has been mad. We really better head home."
Clara nodded understandingly. "Of course. That's fine. Alexis already helped me clear up anyway." She gave Alexis an over-exaggerated wink. "It was nice meeting you, Mr Song."
It was as if a storm cloud had entered the room. Immediately the change in his mood was noticeable. A shadow fell across his face and he grimaced, his hand falling away from his daughter. All of sudden Clara could notice amongst his handsome features the thin lines around his eyes, the greyish tinge under them, the deep worried wrinkles in his forehead. He shuffled backwards, edging out the door.
His voice was short and devoid of the laugher it had held a few seconds ago. "Actually, that's just my daughter's name. Not mine."
Clara, noticing this dramatic change in demeanour frowned and scrambled to fix her mistake, whatever it had been.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to assume, I just-"
He grit his teeth, dropping his eyes from her to the floor, already halfway out the door. "No don't worry about. But we really have to go. Lex- Alexis, come on."
He turned abruptly and disappeared down the corridor. Alexis froze, glancing back to her Dad with wide eyes and then to her very confused looking teacher.
"Umm, bye Miss Oswald," she said finally, giving Clara a small wave. She waved half-heartedly back and watched Alexis scamper out the door, leaving a thoroughly confounded Clara staring after them both.
What a strange man. He hadn't even properly corrected her on his name, if that was what bothered him so much, she realised as she went back to stacking paint pots. A mystery man, then. Clara thought back to his dramatic exit and found herself spending the rest of the evening debating just what secret he had to keep.