Summary; We met on a Sunday morning, both doing our walk of shame… Whouffle/Whouffaldi/Alternate Universe/One shot

London, England

10:20am

The Morning After

Clara Oswald had never been one for one night stands.

Except last night, when she did indeed, have a one night stand. She remembered barely anything, but she was certain that she had sex with a rather lanky looking man whose limbs were too long but he was sweet and had brown hair that dropped over his face and then he would sweep it back with his large hand and laugh with her, the two of them drinking into the night. And that was all she remembered, drinking Vodka and different types of shots into the night with some man she'd met after work when she agreed to a few drinks with friends. A few drinks that turned into ten drinks and then she had met Mr Lanky whose name she could not remember and awoken in a bed that wasn't hers.

She wasn't used to this; she didn't even do this in her Uni days! She was sensible and avoided drunken sex, she always had relationships but apparently last night, this lanky man seemed too irresistible to her. She cleared her throat, her tummy rumbling as she turned her head and looked at the man lying on his stomach beside her. He was butt naked, the silk sheets not covering a single part of him, apparently Clara had stolen most of the duvet in the night. Her throat felt dry and she found herself reaching for the full glass of water on the bedside table, she pushed her brown hair from her face and she shuffling beside her, must have been Mr Lanky waking up.

Clara drank the water quickly until there wasn't any left, her brown eyes wide with the realisation of how thirsty she was. She placed down the glass of water and wiped her mouth, shuffling her legs around underneath the heavy duvet. After a while, she managed to untangle herself and used her upper body strength to lift herself out of bed, apparently she had lost the use of her small legs and god, did she ache. It must have been seem pretty good sex to make her ache, shame she couldn't remember it. She sighed and bent to pick up her underwear, decided against it and just slipped the skirt on that she was wearing last night. She pulled on her bra and shirt and went in search for her tights before she caught her appearance in the mirror.

She stared at herself, a little embarrassed about how disgusting and unhealthy she looked. She had dark rings under her eyes, her eyes were blood shot with the after effects of the shots she had downed last night and her brown hair was all over the place and sticking up in places she didn't even know could be possible. Clara cleared her throat and wiped her face, she needed to find the bathroom and have a quick face wash before she left and did her walk of shame. She had never managed a walk of shame before, never needed to. In Uni, she was always in a relationship with somebody, never alone. And even when she grew older, she had relationships. Recently, her heart had been broken in two by the death of her boyfriend Danny Pink when he was hit by a car over a year ago. Since then, she had gone out almost every night, having gotten used to the hangovers at work. Clara always told her friends and family that she was fine, but really the alcohol was a coping mechanism and happened to be the only thing that calmed her nerves, she was out of control.

Clara bit her bottom lip, staring back at herself as she noticed the wrinkles around her eyes, her eyeliner and mascara was all over her face, most of her foundation had rubbed itself off and she could see how tired she looked now, all the alcohol consumed and sleepless nights of insomnia and marking her student's books. She looked over her shoulder and noticed that Mr Lanky was still fast asleep, although he wasn't snoring like most men and he was muscular, had a fantastic bum and had scratches all over his back from last night and suddenly her memory came flooding back to her. She smirked to herself, her head flying back as her hand reached up to grab the headboard above her, and she remembered how good he felt inside of her, his hot breath by her ear as he growled her name over and over again. What was his name again? She frowned and looked around the room and found another door, which she assumed was the bathroom.

'Where are you going?' a voice grumbled from below her, it was deep and almost soothing and men with sleepy morning voices did something to her.

Clara cleared her throat, dropping her hand from the bathroom door, 'I was just going to clean up, I… um – I've never done something like this before.'

'You've never had a one night stand?'

'Nope,'

Mr Lanky slowly sat himself up, leaning on his elbow as he smiled up at her with that goofy grin from last night, 'Would you like some breakfast? Your stomach has growled about three times since I spoke to you,'

Clara laughed a little nervously and rubbed her stomach, 'That would be nice, actually. Maybe a fry up?'

Mr Lanky laughed and nodded his head, his broad shoulders and muscular arms flexing as he got up and reached for a pair of his boxers, to which Clara immediately turned away, 'You can look, you've seen it before,'

Clara giggled and turned her head to smile at him, 'I didn't want to intrude,'

He chuckled, 'It's fine by me, how about you go and wash your face and I'll cook you the best fry up you could imagine?' he had beautiful green eyes that Clara found herself staring at for a little too long.

Finally, after a bit of an awkward pause she laughed and opened the bathroom door, 'I'll see you in a little while then,'

He nodded, 'See you then,'

As he went to turn around, Clara called out after him, 'I'm sorry, this is really embarrassing… but what's your name again?'

Mr Lanky pulled a shirt over his head, his wild brown hair flicking backwards into a quiff, 'I'm Eleven. Odd name I know, but I'm sure we can discuss that over breakfast.'

Clara nodded her head, a little giggle escaping her as she quickly disappeared into the bathroom and Eleven vanished into the kitchen. Okay, yes, Eleven was a fairly odd name but there had to be a story behind it and Clara's inner child screamed out that she wanted to know, she always loved stories as a child. She looked at herself in the mirror again, noting that one night stands were not as bad as she thought they were, well at least not with this man. She turned the tap on and threw water over her face, feeling a little bit more fresh. After around half an hour, Clara made her way out of the bathroom and into the kitchen where she could smell bacon. She pulled out a chair and smirked to herself, arms over her chest as she watched Eleven dance around the room with an apron on. It was quite a sight to behold. And then all of a sudden, he turned around on the spot and screeched like a little girl upon seeing her.

Clara burst into laughter, her hand over her mouth as she tried to contain her giggles, 'Who would have thought a muscular man like you would scream like a little girl?'

Eleven merely rolled his eyes and pointed his spatula at her, 'Not funny.'

Clara scrunched up her nose, 'It is a bit funny,'

Eleven chuckled and nodded his head, 'Okay, it is very funny. Now, I was going to tell you about my name, wasn't I? Well, I don't actually know my name. I was adopted by my parents on the eleventh of November in the eighties' and they weren't sure what to call me so -'

Clara arched an eyebrow at him, 'So they called you Eleven? How creative,'

Eleven nodded, a little laugh that vibrated straight through Clara as he placed strips of bacon and sausages onto their plates, 'Very creative,'

After about an hour, Clara had finally finished her breakfast. It wasn't that she was a slow eater, quite the opposite, it was the fact Clara and this mysterious man named Eleven couldn't stop talking. She told him she was a teacher at Coal Hill, an English teacher and he told her he worked for a company called UNIT but he refused to tell her what they worked on or rather, with. Clara stood from the table, thanked him for breakfast and picked up her bag as she readied herself to leave his flat.

Eleven stepped forward, a wary smile on his face as he took hold of her arm, pen in hand, 'This is my number, I know you're going to shower when you get home so you'll look down and remember it's there. Call me, if you want to,'

Clara nodded, pulling her cardigan further up her shoulder as she looked up at the rather lanky man, 'I think I might take you up on that offer,' she whispered, sending him a wink as she let herself out of his flat and down the flight of stairs.

As she was walking, she remembered to type his name into her phone. What she was completely oblivious to, was the rather tall man walking in her direction. Although, he seemed to be trying to put his shoe on correctly as he hopped in her direction and as if by fate, the two of them walked slap bang into each other. Clara would have flown straight to the ground, but the man managed to catch her by her wrist and lifted her up to her feet with his long arm.

Clara's hands were on his chest, her brown eyes staring up into his gaze, 'Sorry, I should have seen you coming,'

The man with curly grey hair shook his head, 'No, no, completely my fault, lass. I wasn't looking where I was going, struggling to put this damn shoe on,' he laughed and pointed to his shoe that still wasn't on his foot properly.

Clara laughed and stepped backwards, trying to make herself presentable and not look like she had just come out of a man's flat after a one night stand and then she realised how drop dead gorgeous this man was, 'Oh,' she muttered, a faint smile on her lips as she looked him once over.

He was Scottish, taller than Eleven and his eyes were a beautiful blue colour… god dammit Clara, he's far too old for you, old enough to be your father! His voice sent shivers down her spine and she couldn't help but feel intoxicated by the smell of his aftershave and the faint stench of Whiskey on his breath that she quite liked, she wouldn't mind tasting it herself. Clara shook her head, her brown eyes stuck to something on the floor that she suddenly found incredibly interesting.

Scottish man extended his hand, 'John Smith, sorry to bump into you. I actually feel quite bad, could I take you to breakfast?'

Clara sighed, a sort of pout on her face as she stared up at John Smith with the gravelly Scottish accent and wild grey hair, 'I just had breakfast…'

John looked her once over and then to the block of flats, a knowing look on his face, 'Oh, I get ya, lass. You had a one night stand and he cooked you breakfast. Sweet really, mine just kicked me out on my ass.'

Clara frowned, her face a little scrunched up, 'That was a little rude of her,'

John smirked, 'I suppose I should be thankful to her, otherwise I wouldn't have bumped into a lady as lovely as you,'

'Do you use that on all the girls?'

'Only the pretty ones,'

'And I'm a pretty one?'

'Very pretty indeed and you do look fairly intelligent,'

'You're a charmer, of course you are, you are Scottish,'

John chuckled, 'Maybe you could give me your number? You know, I'm afraid I'm going to have to be a gentleman and take you out for dinner in a few days. Maybe send you some flowers to say sorry for walking into you like that, I could have knocked you flying.'

Clara studied him closely, considering the offer before she nodded her head with a grin and pulled on his arm, searching for a pen in her bag before John Smith handed one to her, 'Thanks,' she mumbled with a sheepish smile before she wrote her number down on his skin.

The two of them smiled at each other, said sorry again and walked in opposite directions. As if on cue, both Clara and John looked over their shoulders to see if the other one had checked over their shoulders. Her hazel eyes locked with his blue ones and she had a very good feeling about this…

How was she going to choose between two gorgeous men?