A/N: For Ana (oswinwaled)

The grey-haired man stood on his back to the audience, his hazel blue eyes glowing from the stage lights reflected on them. His lips were curved in a devious smile, the whirring of all the people waiting for him to do something, anything, penetrating his ears and lodging in his brain; he pleased himself from their anxious anticipation. That's who he was.

His name? It was long lost to oblivion, time itself stealing it from the mouth of others; from the mouth of his.

The Doctor is how he called himself.

Next to him, stood a small but fierce woman. Unlike him, she didn't let anybody ever forget her name; not because she would repeat it until it was printed into everybody's mind, but because she had fire, she was a force of nature, she draw everybody's eyes no matter where she was. She walked tall within her 5'2 foot of height and she would leave bits of her essence to all the people who dared to look in her way. Her grace and kindness followed her everywhere, building a character that wasn't so easily forgotten.

That woman, Clara Oswald; the magician's apprentice.

His assistant. The one he had been fortunate enough to fall in love with.

Or perhaps, cursed enough.

The Doctor turned around on his heels and he was facing the audience once more. So many people, so many spectators who willingly offered him money just to be fooled by him. Stupid pudding brains, he would think to himself, only weren't there a bossy woman by his side who lacked the ability to read minds but very well held the power to read his.

She would remind him, they couldn't be more foolish than a stick insect of a man who makes his life from tricking people

He rose his fists in the air, close together, preparing both him and the crowd for his last performance of the night. Clara marched towards him, in her three inches heels that still didn't allow her to trespass the roof of his head – even in them, she barely reached past his shoulder – and she held up handcuffs, getting a long and prolonged oh from the assemblage.

Carefully, she restrained his wrists within the round metal circles. She motioned for a kid sitting in the front roll and handed her the key. She walked arm with arm with him, bringing him to a big box hidden underneath a massive set of red fabric. Clara pulled down the curtain and it was revealed a water tank, getting yet another gasp from the audience.

Trading looks with her – one that deliberately screamed fools – the Doctor climbed the five steps that led him to the entrance. He sat by the edge and sunk his feet in; the water was cold – perhaps even colder than his soul. He closed his eyes and allowed the weight to escape from his body, until gravity pulled him down and he found himself completely underwater.

The assembly became anxious at the sight, but the Doctor didn't pay them much attention. He'd rather focus on the lock before he drowned to death – and that was not the story he would like Clara to tell people of how he had perished from life. The searchlights aimed at the general direction of him; more specifically, at the work his fingers were doing in freeing himself.

Clara placed the palm of her against the side of the glass wall, silently telling him she was still there. Although she looked at the public with serenity, her heart twitched inside her chest every time he jumped inside that tank or did something as equality risky. There were simply too many factors that could go wrong and cut his time short. And she wasn't ready to say goodbye to him, perhaps she would never be. She doubted she would ever forgive him if he dared to die on her.

The Doctor's lungs burned with the lack of oxygen, causing his vision to become blurry. And then, there was a click and the handcuffs fell from his wrists, landing at the bottom of the tank as he desperately reached the surface, looking for air. The audience broke into cheering, clapping and wheezing in awe, some even standing up to praise him.

The Doctor fell back to the stage and walked up to the edge, where he bent his spine forwards in gratitude. People carried on applauding as the curtains closed in, shutting them out forever.

The magician and his assistant were backstage, lost somewhere within the piles of magic junk that was required for each and every show. The room was a mess; of course it would be, Clara had left the Doctor alone in it for about 0.5 seconds and he clearly couldn't be trusted to leave the place neat, not even under the death threat of hers if she came back to a disorganized environment.

She was trying to cleanse it up, putting scarfs and bouquets and card decks back into the suitcase where they resided, when a pair of manly cold hands grabbed her by the waist. She let out a loud squeal at the sudden scare, even though she didn't even have to turn around to recognize to whom the touch belonged.

"Doctor! I'm busy here, mind you," she tried knocking some sense into him, although her hips had already bucked and were begging against his. She could even feel the slight shift underneath his pants.

"I am minding me," he tempted, lips pressed hardly against the crook of her neck, casually nipping and sending chills down her spine.

The shivers underneath his physical contact were incessant. "You're still soaking. You're going to get me all wet."

One of his hand descended from her waist to her buttocks; one arm strongly trapping her inside of his touch, whilst the other offered squeezes to her inner cheeks. "That's how I like you, my dear."

His remark granted him a nudge between his rips, but she soon switched inside his embrace, so she was facing him. Her chin risen up, his head facing down, and they were diving into the other's eyes. Clara pressed her palms against the back of his neck and their lips met, locking the passion and the fire that never ceased to exist ever since they first became acquainted.

"Wakey wakey, sleepy head."

Clara groaned at the sound of a voice calling for her, although her moans were muffed by her head buried in a feather pillow. She did her best to ignore the person lying next to her and return to her magical dream of the two of them hopping in the back of flying dogs, but the voice was soon added to a gentle yet annoying jabbing against her bare shoulder pad.

"I'm sleeping...!" she stated the obvious, even though her sentence was contradicted by the attempted punches she threw at the general direction of his. Not aiming to hurt him, just to potentially knock him out and he would be asleep, too.

The Doctor could only chuckle at her failure. "It's one in the afternoon, Clara."

"So?!" she snapped, finally managing to open her eyes and shoot at him glares that could kill. "It's not my fault if you kept me up until five am, making love to me."

He was waiting for her morning mood to subside in a sitting position, his side of the bed resembling like it had barely been touched or slept in. "I didn't hear you complaining back them."

"Of course you didn't," her body immediately curled in a ball when he merciless yanked the blankets away from her, "I had so many orgasms I barely had the time to breathe."

"And since when that's a bad thing?!" he prompted, pulling her by the arm to try and get her up, but she had made her body as light and malleable as a tuft of a bird. "You're welcome, by the way."

Her lips maliciously grinned at him. "Come back to bed, love."

He lowered his torso down, until his warm breath was landing on her temples, tickling her sensible skin. "As tempting as that sounds, I can't. We can't. We have to pack."

A line appeared between her brows and she was forced to sit up, the worry beginning to rush amidst her veins. "Pack? Why, are we going somewhere?"

Her intertwined his fingers on hers, pulling them to his face until they were cupping his own cheek bone. "As a matter of fact, we are, Clara."

"Doctor, you're scaring me. Where are we going?"

The Doctor broke away from her touch and stood up, fumbling his velvet coat with the red lining inside that she had just noticed he was wearing. A smug smile shaped his face, "Tell me, Clara. What's the one place you've always dreamed of going?"

Her anxiety gradually eased down, and she crossed her legs in front of her. The amusement in her face nearly matched his own. "Stop teasing me. It's not like we could afford going to Paris."

Like a trick of magic – he was still a magician, for god's sake – he pulled two pieces of paper from behind his back. "Two train tickets for Paris. It's happening, babe."

Her mind was traveling faster than her muscles capacity to move, and she almost tripped down when she stumbled out of bed. She had to touch them to believe they were real. For her, she was still caught up in some dream. "I cannot believe this! How did you..."

"We've got a gig there. France demands un peu de magie," he ducked his lips as he attempted a very terrible French accent, one that she laughed at.

The happiness was clearly written all over her lines; she lacked the ability to get rid of a smile that went from ear to ear. "Is this really happening?!"

The Doctor's heart melted inside of his chest. Paris was nothing compared to the bright smile across the face of woman he loved the most in the world; he draw his strength from the warmth of her smile. "It really is, Clara."

Unable to hold herself back, Clara threw herself onto him. The Doctor spun her in the air several times, both of them crying out squeals of love and joy.

"Voìla, I give you... Paris."

She stepped out the train right after him, being met by the warm breeze of a summer's day. They were still inside the station, therefore there wasn't much to be seen from there, apart from French signs with English translations underneath them.

And yet, Clara Oswald felt the beauty and the magic overtaking her. She hugged his body sideways, regardless of all the luggage he was carrying – he had argued they were too big for her small frame to handle on her own. He didn't seem to mind. "Don't be silly, Doctor. You can't give me Paris."

They picked up a slow pace towards the exit of the building. "Fine. Paris, I give you Clara."

The urge to roll her eyes was giant, but she was too busy taking in every little detail of her surroundings. "You can't just give me away either, you daft old man."

He was oblivious to her comment. "Why not? Paris would be only lucky to have you."

"Well, for starters, I'm not an object or some property to be given away like that," she complained, still unable to uncling herself from him. "Besides, it's not like my heart doesn't already belong to somebody else."

The Doctor instantaneous blushed, although he couldn't deny the hint of a beam that was surfacing over his lips. "I can only conclude that person to whom you've given your heart is the luckiest man alive."

"Or woman, let's not be outdated," she corrected him, raising herself on her tiptoes to see past the crowd around her but she was still too short. "Her name is Jane Austen and she makes me the happiest person ever."

"An educated magician's assistant. You're one of a kind, Clara Oswald," the Doctor teased her, wanting nothing more than to lift her in the air and grant her the view she so desperately sought for.

When they finally reached the outside, Clara felt the tears piling up in the corner of her eyes. There wasn't much to see, nothing but old buildings and a very cramped road, but there was something different in the air that somehow brought a whole new meaning to her life. Like falling in love.

She just couldn't tell whether she was falling in love with the city or with him all over again.

Despite the great amount of people having to circle around them, too busy with their rushed lives to pay them any attention, Clara tightened her wrap around him. "Thank you, Doctor. I know this mustn't have been easy to pull off."

A huff of air escaped the gap between his lips. "I told you, Clara. We've got a gig here."

"Yeah," her head barely shifted up and down. She knew him well enough to conclude that a show wasn't the reason they had ended up there; it was the work of his love for her. How he would move mountains if she asked him for, if that was what would make her feel like the happy

And not only was she happy. Clara Oswald also felt like the most loved person in all of time and space.

For the first time, she locked her eyes away from her surroundings to his image next to her. To her surprise, she found him already glancing down at her, with eyes that had lost the ability of appreciating the beauty around him, for her beauty was the only thing he ever desired to see. "I love you. You know that, right?"

The sparkle in his eyes somehow increased at the sound of her voice. "And I love you."

Although they were on a business trip, the Doctor and Clara Oswald were the very definition of the romantic lovers tourists that fulfilled the streets of Paris.

They were camped in the grass, next to the Eiffel Tower, protected by the shadow that the big monument offered from the bright rays of sunshine. They were both wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses, although the Doctor had some trouble keeping them on and always ended up peeking at her from above the shades – she was uncertain whether he didn't notice his manners or if he simply did it to retrieve a giggle from her.

Out of the sudden – and startling Clara as he went –, the Doctor stood up and stumbled towards a young couple walking around the garden, holding hands. Untrusting of his own French skills, he spoke in English, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but this very nice boy has something to give you."

Although he had received weird looks from the younglings, his hand traveled to behind her ear and pulled a white lily from there. The couple was amazed at his performance; the girl took the flower on her hand as she repeated merci a few times in a loop.

"What can I say," the Doctor prompted, walking back towards the love of his life, "I'm a true love's fan."

Clara laughed loudly at his statement, waiting for him to sit down next to her once more. The moment he did, yet another white lily appeared at the palm of his hand, and he gently placed it in her hair. She didn't thank him, although the gratitude was written all over her face; specially in the smile she wore.

God. Her smile was the purest and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"It's not magic, in case you were wondering," he clarified, causing her to glare at him funnily. "Nah. I just stole them from that garden we passed by earlier."

She fixed the flower in her hair, so it wouldn't fall off. "Who would have thought. My husband is not only a con man but a thief as well."

He agreed, too pleased with the accuracy of her description. He pulled one of her hands to his lap and traced invisible lines across her skin. Following the path of her bones and joints, so delicately; for him, she was art herself.

The whole auditorium was dark, except for a big spot of light in the middle of the stage. Allowing a big metal box to be seen by the audience, the object itself thrown between the magician and his assistant.

The Doctor stood his arm for Clara, which she gladly accepted. Carefully, he helped her get inside the container, before grabbing some handcuffs to place around her wrists. Always eyeing him with the corner of his eyes, just to make sure she was alright, no matter how many times they had already practiced their illusion. She would always come first; Clara Oswald was his sanctuary, not the magical shows he had been performing ever since his youth.

Because magic made him forget who he was. He only found himself again after he had met her, after she had taught him to love himself as much as she loved him. She was the fresh air after being underwater for too long. It was like he had been drowning and she saved him.

Even though they were amidst a presentation, he placed his lips against her temples and left a moist evidence of his love there. With reassuring eyes, she lowered herself and the top closed above her, metal locks being pushed down right after, trapping her inside the four narrow walls. He circled around the coffer a few times, before hopping on it. Deviously smiling to the crowd, he bent down and pulled a red curtain from the floor and gradually rose it in the air, until he reached a standing position and could no longer be seen.

Not even a full second later, the drape fell back to the ground. The assembly emitted gasps of astonishment at the sight; the magician had suddenly disappeared, and his assistant was the one standing atop of the box. Clara jumped off the bin and unlocked the suitcase. It was then pushed open and the Doctor came out of there, holding the handcuffs between his index and thumb.

The audience broke into applaud and he stepped out of the tiny box, where Clara was already waiting for him. He wrapped his arm around her waist; he would always thank her first. He could worry about all those clapping fools afterwards.

"You were amazing there. Did you see all those people applauding you?"

Clara merely shrugged. "Babe, as much as I might love your compliments – you know I do – you damn well know they were all hyped because of you."

He gave his tights a few smacks, insinuating she should take a seat on his lap; she did. "Clara, dear, I am what you've made of me."

"So?"

"So, I am only a façade. A cover for how amazing you actually are," he spoke truthfully, caressing the smooth skin of her cheek with the tip of his fingers.

"And I just let you take credit for my awesomeness," she hissed, running her nails in the encounters of his mouth.

"Truly amazing," he emphasized.

Although she smirked at his assess, it wasn't a happy one; it was one built from nostalgia. Clara laid her head in the curve between his neck and shoulder. "It's a shame we have to go back to England, really. I've had the best time of my life traveling abroad with you."

The Doctor made curls in her hair with his fingers, sharing her feeling to his heart. "Unless... Unless we don't."

She hummed in acknowledgement. "Hmm. Don't tease me."

"I'm not," he guaranteed, forcing her to move her chin so they could establish eye contact. "Really, Clara, let's keep traveling. Home isn't going anywhere. Let's just pack our stuff and move from country to country, performing wherever we might land. Let's not stop. I mean it."

Her eyes had become incredibly wide at his insinuations, her heart beating three times faster inside of her chest. "You're serious?"

"Yes!" the Doctor basically shouted. "Just you and I, making our way through Europe. Don't tell me that idea doesn't make your heart skip a beat."

"Several beats, actually," she confessed, between anxious chortles. "You think we can actually pull this off?"

He pushed a few locks of her hair away from her face. "Do you trust me?"

Clara placed one of her hands atop her own heart. "With all my life."

The Doctor desperately crashed his lips against hers; the seal of his promises to her. "And I trust that our love is strong enough to help us achieve anything that we want. Clara Oswald, will you aboard this adventure with me?"

She had no idea why she had become so emotional. Clara pressed her forehead against his, each of her palms cupping one side of his jawline. Although she wasn't grinning with her lips, her eyes smiled for him. "Yes, Doctor. Yes, I will."

Sometimes, all that anyone ever needed was a leap of faith.

A/N: Any feedback here or on twitter (dutiesofcare) is much appreciated :)