A/N: Clara kept running away on me in Chapter 6 of "More than Modesty," and I kept the drafts so I just reworked this as a standalone story. Here is hoping it works okay… Thanks in advance to anyone who takes the time to read this! Ideas and prompts for future work are very welcome.
emmacat1234, hope this is a little more whouffle for you!
Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and friends.
For once we ended up exactly where the Doctor had planned. He said a night of dancing at a Boston dance hall in 1923, and that was exactly what happened.
We didn't see an alien all night. No one had to start rescuing anyone. There was nobody plotting world domination, or at least no one who could actually succeed. There was that one gentleman who insisted one day he would marry into the British Royal Family and then the Empire would rise again, but he passed out on the table so no big worries there… Or at least the Doctor hadn't thought so because we just kept on dancing.
The closest we came to trouble was my rather shoddy footwork, I've never had the chance to dance like that and I can't say I was any good at it. But the Doctor was patient, and oddly he seems to be a really top notch dancer, going from waltz to Charleston to foxtrot without a second thought as I struggled to keep up and not step on his feet. I guess when the world isn't ending the Doctor dances.
The high flying atmosphere of the roaring twenties had been a welcome change, after Victorian values gone crazy, and the problem of a few million cybermen, it was nice to have a night off from saving the world. Yes, it was a very fun evening all in all, but right now I'm tired and I just want to put on my pajamas and get some sleep. Dancing is rather exhausting. I don't know when we went in, but I know we didn't leave until the place closed.
Wanting to just curl up and go to bed is currently a rather problematic proposition though. I've been standing outside of what should be the door to my room for about twenty minutes. Instead of it being the door to my room though, all that's there is a small closet which has a mop leaning in the corner, and a fez sitting on the shelf.
The TARDIS doesn't like me.
No matter what the Doctor says, she just flat out doesn't like me.
"You grumpy old cow! Put my room back where it belongs!"
No answer and no change. Not that I was really expecting either… I usually try not to talk to the snog box at all. The Doctor is just kind of weird when he does it, which is rather frequently.
Giving up on the closet deciding to change itself back into my room, with my not overly comfortable but better than nothing bed, I decide to go back to the console room to think of what to try next. When I arrive the Doctor is running his hands over the buttons and levers, relishing being close to his beloved ship.
"Did you change your mind about sleeping? Did you want to go somewhere else instead? That dress would look wonderful on you in Montreal too, I know a nice little dance hall there that's opening in a couple of years, the French Canadians are almost as good as the prerevolutionary French sometimes when it comes to parties, and it will have an excellent trumpet player, we could go there!"
"Another day maybe, I still intend to sleep." I say, it does sound like fun and maybe my dancing would improve with more practice.
"You haven't changed, and your bedroom is back the way you came." He informs me, like I might have accidentally forgotten.
"Your snog box has decided to move my room on me." I say, very accusingly as I point at the main console.
"Not a snog box." He says rather indignantly, as always defending his time machine.
"That's beside the point right now."
"Okay… So pick something out from the wardrobe and find a spare room."
"It's more the principle of the thing, it's not okay for her to do this."
The Doctor seems at a loss. I know he wants us to get along but I don't see that happening anytime soon… The only time we managed to get on side for a few moments was when he needed rescuing from the pocket universe, and that truce hadn't lasted long.
"Did you ask her nicely to put it back?" He finally says very carefully, putting a hand somewhat protectively on the edge of the console.
Okay chin boy, we're going to see how you like it.
I step forward, surprising him as I undo and take his bowtie. I know I can't expect to run away with it, he would catch me before I made it out of the console room and the TARDIS would be on his side, so even if I made it into the hallway, I would probably find myself running right back into him after she flipped the corridor about or something.
So I just put both hands behind my back, clutching the bowtie firmly inside of them, and stand there giving him what I hope is an 'I am the boss' look as I wait for him to react. This is a game now, and it's his move.
He takes a step forward. I take a step back. He moves to my right. I move to his left.
We stand there looking at each other for a moment.
He goes to move forward again, but when I go to take another step back he follows me, putting both his arms around me and pulling me against him, closing both his hands over mine which are still tightly grasping the bowtie.
Looking up at him I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He doesn't want to pry my hand open forcibly, but oh he wants that bowtie back. I know that I can't move now unless I give up the bowtie.
We have somehow reached an impasse in this game rather quickly. I can't go anywhere but he also can't get what he wants, unless one of us gives in we are stalemated.
"I took something of yours; did you ask me nicely to give it back?" I say, more flirtatiously than I meant to while raising an eyebrow at him. That was the reason I had started this in the first place wasn't it? Because he had suggested that I ask the TARDIS nicely to give me my own things back?
"No." He admits.
I felt the exhale flutter on my forehead when he said that… Okay… flush against each other, I didn't mean for this to happen…
He starts moving one of his thumbs across my clasped fingers. Doctor, I am not letting go of that bowtie, stop trying to coax it gently away from m-
That train of thought crashes rather badly as the whole room suddenly veers off to the right, knocking both of us off of our feet and sliding towards the railing around the main console. The Doctor, who was already kind of holding me, okay definitely holding me, rolls us as we slide so that he takes the brunt of the impact and I fall into him before we are jolted again, and end up slipping through the railing and landing in a heap on the ground below.
I am on the top of this heap, with our legs tangled and hands all over the place. Somewhere between when we were standing up and landing here I lost hold of the bowtie, no idea where, we can find it later, right now I just want the lurching and shaking to stop, I am getting sea sick here. Or space sick? Possibly time vortex sick? Uhh…
When the room finally stills the Doctor groans, I feel one of his hands push my hair back into place and out of his face.
"Hit a bit of turbulence did we?"
"A bit yeah."
I notice that my skirt has ridden up higher than I would like as I try to move to get off of him, but I don't get far before we are being thrown about once again.
Oh my stars, you grumpy old cow, please stop.
This landing ends worse for me as my back smacks into the cold metal floor. The Doctor slams both of his arms out to my sides to stop himself from landing roughly on top of me. Great, just great. TARDIS, if you have been trying to shake us apart so he could have his bowtie back this whole time you did a worse job of it than you did aiming for Victorian London!
We both just stay there, I think assuming we were going to be rather forcibly shaken from our current position again by the TARDIS, but the moments pass and everything stays motionless. We're both a bit breathless from being knocked about, and the Doctor is hovering over top of me, arms on either side of me and legs between mine where my skirt has continued to ride up. Did I mention that this was just great?
I am looking up at him, and he notices it… instead of moving to let me up, he tucks a stray bit of hair behind my ear and runs his hand down my neck.
I meant to say 'down boy' I really did.
"Buy me a drink first." Comes out instead, in all fairness to me it was a bit hesitant at least, somewhere between a question and a statement, which is good right?
"If we are getting technical, I already did." He says in a low tone of voice.
Well. That is annoyingly true. One drink. I had coerced him into having one drink with me in Boston. Just enough to try and ease my nerves about tripping over my own feet without impairing their coordination any further.
Wait a minute, when did my hand end up on his back? I'm supposed to be encouraging him to move, I think, not holding him here.
"I lost your bowtie when we fell." I'm not sure if I am trying to distract him or myself at this point. I'm also not sure why I am trying to distract either of us.
"I have others." He says, shrugging a little.
Neither of us are trying to move, we really should be, shouldn't we? And shouldn't he have told me a rather long story about his bowtie collection, including various historical references and a few planets I will never have heard of but will probably visit soon?
His hand on my neck has moved a bit, so that two of his fingers are resting right on the spot where I know he can feel my pulse, which is probably beating a lot faster right now than I would like it to be. I am supposed to be the boss, but I don't know if I should pushing him away or grabbing that fantastic hair and pulling him in. If we are honest I know what I want to be doing, but I don't know if I should or how he would take it.
"My room is still gone." I blurt out. Oh Clara, that can easily be interpreted in more than one way...
It could be taken the way I think I meant it to, as an attempt to return to the original problem I came in here with. Which of course was that the snog b… ahem, that the TARDIS was being rude, and had decided to make my room vanish.
Alternatively, if you, you know, chose to, I suppose you could have taken that statement to mean that I have no room for us to go to if this continues… Whatever this is.
The Doctor is clever, looking at his face I know damn well he understands that that was a loaded statement. His fingers are still right at over my pulse which is hammering away as I wait to see what he will say.
"You might not have a room, but mine is probably right where I left it."
Where did the blushing Doctor go? I had been seeing less and less of him recently, but still!
"Can we go there then?" I ask, taking a deep breath finding a bit of my poise returning. A tiny bit, but a bit none the less.
As I keep saying, he could have taken the comment on my room either way, and he made a choice, he told me which way he wanted this to go, and even though it might be a bad idea… I want it to go that way too…
"You're the boss." He whispers in my ear before helping me up. Then, pulling me against him once we are on our feet again he adds. "See what happens when you ask nicely?"