Chapter One - Graffiti
The Doctor, known as John Smith to his employers, had been the official main Caretaker at Coal Hill Secondary School for quite some time now. Every so often Mr. Atif would fall ill while John was still secondary-substitute, and eventually retired due to some chronic illness. Little did anyone know that Mr. Smith was actually a time-traveling alien, let alone the person who had managed to hypnotize Mr. Atif into quitting his job. Only two people at Coal Hill knew of his true identity- Ms. Clara Oswald, English teacher and a traveling companion outside of work, and a student by the name of Courtney Woods by default due to an accidental run-in during his first stint as caretaker. Besides that, The Doctor had peacefully worked as a caretaker, keeping his true intentions under wraps...or so he thought.
Truth be told, he had more than just friendly feelings towards Clara Oswald. She was his Carer- she understood that in his new, older body that he didn't perceive emotions well and couldn't sympathize whatsoever, yet she did so much more than just understand. She sat with him in the TARDIS, writing him cards to use when he couldn't process one emotion or another from others. Clara would also make allusions to him and some TV character -she had said it was some American comedy show- asking him to at least say the odd nonsense phrase 'bazinga' once in a while. But all-in-all, Clara was definitely more than just a friend. She was a part of him.
The Doctor pulled on his orange janitor's coat, grabbing a broom and beginning his evening routine. First it was sweeping, then it was mopping, and third would be waxing if it was the beginning of a holiday. Luckily the push-broom the school had supplied him with could do a hallway in one long swipe, so he was on to mopping. To his dismay, mopping dealt with all washing-related chores. Graffiti washing, occasional dusting, and restroom cleaning were part of that job. To his benefit, today was only double-duty: graffiti cleaning while in the restrooms. Earlier that morning the secretary had dropped off a pink slip informing him about writing in the bathroom that needed to be removed immediately. So there he was, actually having to work a profession he pretended to work as. He pulled the yellow elbow-height gloves onto his hands, grunting as he had to put the second one on with assistance from his mouth and teeth. He grabbed his mop, wiping down the floors full of dirt and grime, and moved onto the stalls. The Time Lord grabbed his sonic screwdriver from his breast pocket, aiming it at the toilets, erasing them of germs on a microscopic level. Sure, he had agreed to do the mundane cleaning, but he never agreed to do it without advanced futuristic technology.
After each toilet was cleaned appropriately, he began to search for the infamous graffiti. And what a motherlode he found. 'Coal Hill sux', a plethora of 'fuck/fuck you's, various musical logos about blinking almost 200 times, twenty or so pilots, one's romance in chemistry class...
Then there is was, written in bold sharpie marker for all to see.
"Ozzie loves the Scottie"
The 'i' in Scottie even had a heart instead of a dot.
The Doctor let out a very heated 'harrumph', his cheeks turning a bright reddish-pink. He begrudgingly grabbed his pad of steel wool, erasing every crude doodle and phrase...except that one. He simply couldn't do it. Maybe because none of them proved a point? Or said something...factual? The alien himself didn't even know the true way to define his feels for said 'Ozzie'. He had fancied her in his previous body before he regenerated and vice versa, but that had been before he became...this. So dark and cold and...old. So old. No one could love a grumpy old man like him. Clara had invested herself in Danny, so she obviously had moved on from him. He wasn't even on her mental radar when it came to relationships anymore.
He left the girl's restroom that evening, unable to get the gumption to remove that single sentence.