I said I wasn't going to do it but then ended up doing it. Basically, this is Series 8 angst with post- Last Christmas smut. Ugh, I tried so hard to stay away. :)
This is actually part of a series that I have in mind though it stands alone for now. I always forget to post here at FFN and I am sure I have missed a ton of my 12/C stories here, sorry. *sigh*
For Lindsay, whose graphic here at tumblr inspired the title and series title: post/107009772392
It had started with a phone call and with a few starts and stops, she has avoided looking back.
This past year had been full of bruises and so many regrets. He had spent the past year, pushing her away, avoiding any situation that meant anything too personal, too close. She misses the random touches, his inability to recognize her personal space, the endless ways he would maneuver himself around her in affection. She had begged him to remember her, through all of time she begged, much like this Doctor had begged her to see him. The irony doesn't escape her, the way they avoided what mattered most to the other.
She believed that they had settled into a pattern, he still came for her on Wednesday's; she still saw wonders with him. But it was a cooler friendship, one devoid of those quiet moments and simple touches. She hated the way he would flinch away from her; eyes wary and watchful. She constantly wondered if it was her touch alone or touch in general that kept him so guarded. A boyfriend, a startling reaction from the Doctor, and a few lonely nights later she thought she had her answer. So she hid her pain, buried it a few times behind the false shift of a smile but it never stayed hidden for very long.
One false comfort for another.
She fell into her lies, they flowed from her with effortless wit belied by her awkward attempts to layer those lies over herself. She soon discovers the problem with lies is, they can be rather difficult to keep track of once you've told too many. Danny always saw through them but never really called her out on it. The Doctor pushed her lies to the side, they made his life simpler so they were easier for him to absorb. But lies often times lead to betrayal and in the end, in her grief and pain, her lies laid like so much debris at her feet. She could feel the end coming, her lies like bricks on a building toppling down faster than she can pull them back up.
Do you think I care for you so little?
She can still feel the impact those words made on her chest, the way they curled around her heart and nearly pushed her down beyond her breaking point. Not once, in the past year, had he ever so much indicated that she had meant as much to him. He had even gone out of his way to tell her that his feelings had changed when he had; that he was not her boyfriend and had no intention of being like his former, flirty self. Her response had been automatic, defensive: I never thought you were.
She had missed the former ease of their relationship, knew that she had added her own layer of difficulty with both Danny and her lies. When he told her he had found Gallifrey, he seemed so positive, so happy that she couldn't take that from him. She thought she owed him, owed him for her betrayal, for Danny, for all the lies and mistakes she had made since he changed. It was easy to curl her lips behind another false smile and a teasing tone. Never mind the wreckage that smile left behind.
In the end, it was easy to let him go with one last lie and allow it to splinter her heart into pieces.
It took a shattered reality and Christmas nightmares to point out their obvious flaws. For her, there had been no hesitation, she had dreamed of this single moment since the sunny afternoon she had watched the Tardis leave her behind for the last time. She had raced out to the Tardis, not a single thought to the life she was leaving behind. But it was in the Tardis, watching the Doctor move about console, a slight buoyancy to his step; when doubts began to creep in grabbing a hold of her breath in its icy grip.
It's one thing to dream about the issues, another to address them in person.
He finally turns to watch her while she leaned against the console, ignoring the cool air and the fact that she is still in her nightie. He sighed, "What's wrong?"
"I dunno. I guess I am trying to catch my breath, I was asleep ten minutes ago and now I am trying to decide if this is really real."
The Doctor gave her one of his 'I'm not amused' looks, and waited for her to continue. Clara didn't move, her emotions had taken quite a beating these past months and she was tired. She needs to know if anything between them in the dream had been real. He shifted his stance, pushing forward slightly into her personal space. She sighed and uncrossed her arms, she was not going to have this conversation in her nightie.
"I'm going to change, yeah? We should talk, I mean, we didn't really address anything did we?"
The Doctor leaned against the console and shook his head. "What's to talk about, you're here. We agreed that you wouldn't argue."
"Yeah." Clara rubbed her forehead. "Ok, Doctor. Cause we're so good at the not talking, why change things now?"
He stared at her for a long time, weighing the words he wanted to say to her, all the words that he's avoiding giving her. Maybe the time for words have come and gone, it's time to act.
He pushed past her and she followed behind him as he hurried down stairs and through corridors. "Where are you going?"
She collided with him when he stopped abruptly. He turned around and she stood so close, she could swear an electric charge arced between them.
He advanced slowly; she had no choice but to retreat, stepping backward. Reaching a hand past her shoulder, he swung a door shut behind her and kept going until he had her pinned against the wall with his body. He touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.
She was tired, Clara realized. Tired of going around in circles. Of hiding everything she felt from him, of waiting for something to change, for it to be the right moment, the right time. She had watched him over the past year, slowly sliding into her own personal abyss and knew that he had been partially responsible for sending her over the edge.
Murmuring low, his voice almost soundless, he said, "This is real, Clara."
He wedged a leg between both of hers before she could muster enough indignation, his hard thigh lifting and pressing against her. Her breath whooshed out and her eyelids lowered. Yeah, she thought. We're both exactly where we need to be.
He braced his forearm on the wall by her head and leaned into her, his other hand sliding around and cupping her bottom. His lips brushed over hers. "I want the truth, Clara. Do you really think that this, that this between us, isn't real?"
Clara's eyes closed; he flexed his thigh and pressed upward. "Clara?"
"No." she breathed, softly.
"Yes," he rasped, capturing her mouth with his own. He pulled her close and tangled his hand in her hair, his leg continuing the teasing friction. The smell of her skin, her soap, was like a drug, dragging him under.
His tongue flicked at the seam of her lips, and she opened readily for him. He continued kissing her as both hands moved down, cupping her behind and maneuvering himself while he ground himself against her.
Breaking the kiss, he pulled back, "Then tell me where you want me to be."
Clara closed her eyes, "Here, Doctor. Right here with me."
Her hips rolled and she couldn't concentrate on anything anymore but the way their bodies fit perfectly.
She doesn't remember how they got into her bedroom, she's pretty sure the Tardis had a hand in that. All she understands is the taste of his mouth and the feel of his skin on hers.
"Doctor."
Hearing her moan his name caused his hips to flex, driving against her, slick and sure. She moaned and squeezed her thighs together. He almost came but managed not to pump himself along that stretch of wet silk. He smoothed his hand down to her breast, rubbing the nipple between his fingers causing her to shudder.
She stared at him, willing him to open up to her just a bit more, say a little bit of the words he kept hidden from her. "I just need a little bit of time," he said, quietly, keeping his gaze on hers. "Please."
Her entire body quivered, her eyes grew dark and shone with unshed tears. She doesn't want to change him, only wants him in her life.
He braced his hands on the pillow on either side of her head and leaned down, stealing her mouth in a savage kiss. He took it with a ruthless hunger, kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue between her teeth. She doesn't fight him, or pull back. No, she accepted his tongue, sucked on it, returned his kiss with equal passion.
He groaned, aware of her straining up at him, trying to get more of him. Her thighs tensed, her belly lifting into him. She shifted her hips and he slipped easily between her legs, making her clench tightly in anticipation.
"Doctor," she said, all breathless and low. "Please…"
Her cries were raw, real and he loved it, the way she responded, the way she said his name. She didn't hold back at all, didn't temper her response. Her neck was arched, her teeth clenched, her breasts heaving. "Beautiful", he breathed. "God, Clara you are so beautiful." He moved his hands everywhere, his tongue hot in her mouth, his hips stroking hers.
"S'glad you came back for me." Clara looked up at him, letting him know it was not a question.
He mustered all the will powered he owned and forced himself to stop just at her opening. He used his hands to brush the hair off her face and stared down at her. Stormy grey met brown and clashed. "Yes, only for you."
She gave a soft smile, knowing that this was the Doctor's way of letting her know that he did love her, and reached up to draw him in.
"It's good. So, damn good." He sank in deeper with a groan. His jaw worked as he pushed himself into her.
And then he began to move.
He concentrated hard on keeping his strokes slow and steady, even when Clara wrapped her legs around his hips, tilting her own, trying to rush them along.
She slid her hands along his rib cage and around to his bottom. He reared up and sucked in his breath as her short nails bit into his skin. She leaned up to kiss his neck and smiled when she heard the hitch in his breathing.
"Clara…" he rasped. He thrust deep, but even that was too slow now. Harder and faster he drove into her, his hand joined with hers, and even as they bucked, clawed and pumped wildly against each other, he never let her go. He was covered in sweat as he pumped into her, leaning low to whisper," Come for me, Clara."
Her teeth sank into his shoulder as she shuddered around him and he roared her name, letting his own climax take him. He pulsed inside her, and they both groaned, shuddering. He rolled off of her, gathering her with him as he lay back on the bed.
She smiled as she turned to him, stifling a yawn. He pulled the covers over her, brushing the hair off Clara's face as he did so.
"Ok, if I stay?"
She turned away from him, pushing back into the curve of his body. He wrapped his arm around her, breathing into her hair. "Doesn't mean we aren't having that talk, yeah?"
She feels him take a deep breath against her back, hands shifting through the strands of her hair. She can hear him gathering his thoughts, perhaps gathering his courage. She stops him by grabbing his hand and pulling it around her.
"I'm sorry for lying, that's sincere. For all the lies. I couldn't find an easier way to make it work and look at the wreckage you and I have left behind." Her thumb is stroking his hand, her eyes facing the wall in front of her. She knows that he will understand what she is talking about and feels like bringing Danny's name up right now would not be tactful. "I really did believe that you had found your home and I wanted you to be happy."
She turns in his arms, his eyes are intent on hers. "And yet, we spend these past few months believing each other's lies. What a miserable pair we are."
His mouth curves in small semblance of a smile and he leans down quickly to press a soft kiss to her lips. His eyes are still on hers, taking in every line and curve.
"What did I say about second chances? We got lucky, Clara. It's what we do with it that counts."
She knows that there are mysteries and layers that the Doctor will never share with her, even as his second chance. He'll look away and avoid; she simply needs to be ready for that.
Yawning lazily, she turns again, curving herself back into his arms. She's on the edge of sleep and dreams, when she hears him whisper against her hair. She can't be completely sure if she dreamed the whisper, but she knows he will deny it if she ever calls him out on it.
"You're my home, Clara. I'm happy where you are."