This is my first fanfiction, so please take that into account. I was in love with Clara ever since the Asylum of the Daleks, and her chemistry with the Doctor is just completely adorable. Hope you enjoy this!
Run, she thought. She couldn't do anything more than run. Run as fast as she could, get back to the TARDIS, and fly away from the danger perusing her. Where the hell has the Doctor got to? There was no time to think. Run.
Skidding to a halt in front of the police box, she pulled on the handles angrily, shaking the box and half-screaming for it to open. When it finally relented, she mumbled a quick 'thank you', fell through the doors and slammed them shut, sliding down the wall and gasping for breath.
"Phew, that was close." A voice behind Clara made her jump out of her skin, flinching at the sound. When she looked over, she saw the Doctor leaning against the control panel, a smirk on his lips as he stared in amusement at her shock. "Nearly got killed. Again. Seems to happen every Wednesday with us, doesn't it?"
Clara shook her head, standing up and brushing her dress down, adjusting her hair and rubbing a bit of dirt on her face, making it worse. "That was eventful," she laughed, ignoring the loud shouts and yells from around the TARDIS; the indigenous species didn't seem to like them very much.
"Mmm, could say that. What now, Clara Oswald?" He skipped over to her with a wide grin on her face, completely oblivious to the fact that she was out of breath and a little bit bedraggled.
After shaking her head a few times, Clara finally met his gaze and smirked. "Couldn't we just go home? I need a change of clothes, and Angie's been begging me to introduce you for weeks. You could stay for dinner or something." She bit her lip, wondering if she'd gone too far. Why would a time travelling mad-man want to stay over for tea, anyway?
"That would be lovely, Clara." He put extra emphasis on her name, like he was trying to work out how to pronounce it properly. "You do have fish fingers, right? Haven't had 'em in years now…" he went quiet all of a sudden, and Clara shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other until he snapped back to attention with a flurry. "What time do you want to be back for?" A smile slipped onto Clara's lips when she saw him back in his zone, and she hurried up the steps, swinging on the bars.
"I'd say… 6 o'clock? On Wednesday, obviously. Artie likes pizza on Wednesdays… you might have to make those fish fingers yourself, Doctor…"
Slipping out of the TARDIS doors with her hair still a slightly singed mess around her shoulders, Clara grabbed her keys from her pocket and let herself in, gesturing to the Doctor to keep his voice down. "They can't see us like this. What will they think we've been doing?" Tiptoeing up the stairs slowly, she pulled a face when she heard the loud creak of the stairs under her feet.
"Clara? Is that you?" Angie's voice came through from the living room, and Clara spotted a half-amused, half-panicked look flash across the Doctor's face.
"Uh… yeah, yeah it's me! I'm just going to get changed, we have… a visitor!" She yelled back, her hand rubbing at her temple. "Don't say anything stupid! Make a pot of tea or something, yeah?" Shooting an apologetic look at the man stood at the bottom of the stairs, she rushed into her room, groaning when she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was sticking out at all angles, and her dress was dirty, and a bit ripped at the back. Why hadn't the Doctor mentioned that? Sighing, she rifled through her clothes until she found a suitable dress. It was silver and floaty, similar to the one she'd worn when she was supposedly going to 'Las Vegas', but a little lighter. It felt silky and soft as it stuck to her skin, and as she was sorting her hair out the best she could, she wondered what the Doctor would think of it. Stop that, she thought. No need to worry about other peoples' opinions, just like her Mum had always told her. Padding down the stairs as quickly as she could, she turned the corner into the living room and her eyes immediately found Angie's, who had a large smirk on her face.
"You didn't tell us that you had a gentleman visitor, Clara…" the twisted smile said it all, and before Clara could retaliate, Angie carried on. "He seems very nice, you know, if you get past the whole bow tie thing—"
"Oi! Bow ties are cool, thank you very much, and that dress looks lovely on you, Clara, and Artie, you look rather dapper in those shoes. Now, who wants dinner?" The Doctor's entrances were always rather extravagant, Clara thought, but this one had to be the best. She couldn't help but smile, and it couldn't be wiped off her face, even by Angie's laughter.
"What did I miss, then?" Clara led the Doctor into the kitchen, making sure that the kids were out of sight. She really didn't need any more comments from Angie, or probing questions from Artie.
"Oh, not much. Angie said something about you being over-protective, laughed at me a bit, asked me something about me seeing you which I couldn't quite grasp – she does talk fast, that girl… oh, and Artie was showing me his new shoes." He leant against the counter next to Clara, his arm brushing against hers ever so slightly. There was a short moment of silence, during which Clara realised that they were always touching in some way. It wasn't an attached kind of touching, or at least, she didn't think that it was, but more of an 'I know you're there and appreciate that' kind of touching. That didn't stop the hairs on the back of her neck standing up, though. Do the trick, Clara. Don't fall in love with him.
"Right, well… I guess I should get cooking, then." She turned to the stove, grabbing a few things from the cupboards, then felt the Doctor reach out and take her hand. She looked at him inquisitively, and frowned in confusion. When she felt his fingers brush against her cheeks, she relaxed completely, her whole body sub-consciously arching towards him.
"No, you won't. I'm making omelettes for everyone." He laughed and grabbed a pan, turning to her and 'giving her a face', telling her to go and entertain the kids. Do the trick again, Clara.
"So… do you like him?" Angie edged closer to her on the sofa, her eyebrows raised. Clara fidgeted, but tried not to make it obvious. "You dressed up for him and everything, look at you," Angie poked at the dress, making Clara's cheeks redden a little. "You do, you obviously do… tell me, then. Is he a good kisser?"
That comment surprised Clara a little. Her lips felt hot all of a sudden, static and itchy, like there was a trace of something on them. She licked the feeling away and shook her head, laughing quietly. "No, Angie. Not going to happen."
"But you'd be so cute. He's so tall and handsome, if you take away the bow tie and the weird flicky hair thing, and have you seen the way he looks at you? I haven't seen someone be like that around you since Rupert."
"Who's Rupert?" Clara flinched and looked up to see the Doctor stood in the doorway, and confused, and slightly sombre look on his face. He seemed sad, but a soft kind of sad. The kind of sad that can't be seen unless you really know a person.
"Oh, no one, just—" Clara was interrupted by a loud, obnoxious Angie.
"Her ex. Kind of. He really fancied her, you see, but Clara kept turning him down, over and over again. Bit mean, really."
"Well, she's a feisty one, isn't she? Firecracker." The Doctor chuckled to himself, his eyes flitting over Clara's burning cheeks for a few moments. "How did he look at her?" Clara's eyes met his in alarm, and she couldn't even deny it any more, a blush flooding her face and her eyes staring into his with a worried look.
"Doesn't matter. Angie, do your homework or something. Doctor, you said you were making omelettes." Standing up, she twisted her dress nervously, shot the Doctor yet another worried smile, and then went to find Artie.
One hour and a few complaints later, they were all sat around the dinner table. "Where's Dad?" Asked Artie, who had his eyebrows knotted together in dismay.
"He's working late tonight, remember? Just… eat up, Artie." Clara was ridiculously uncomfortable; that smile hadn't left Angie's face since she'd laid eyes on the Doctor and herself, and it was making her feel as though she was being watched. She'd never liked that feeling much.
"Once we've finished, can I show your boyfriend my school project?" Artie was so obliviously sweet, that it took a moment for his words to sink in.
"Oh, no, we're not— He isn't— She's just—" Clara and the Doctor stared at each other in alarm, and Angie's smirk grew wider.
"Angie! We're just friends, alright?" A deep sigh filled the room from more than one person, and a hesitant silence followed whilst everyone dug into their food.
"But seriously, you do look like someone Clara would go for, Doctor. And Clara, why do you call him that? The Doctor? Is it some weird nickname that you gave him? I know that girls do that with boys they like. Snugglemuffins or… munchkin or something. The Doctor is kind of weird, but it's cute." Words were tumbling from Artie's mouth and Clara was almost at a breaking point. It was only the Doctor's hand on her arm that stopped her from standing up and yelling at them both.
"You want to know something about me, Artie? I'm an alien. I have two hearts and…" he paused to look over at Clara fondly, "and twenty-seven brains."
"No you don't. If you were an alien, you would have big eyes, or a bumpy face or… something. You wouldn't have a big chin and weird hair. That's too boring."
"Excuse me! The chin shall not be mentioned, and as for the hair," he flicked it to the side dramatically, "I think it makes me look rather lovely, don't you?" It was only after a few moments that Clara realised he'd directed the question at her. She nodded quickly, and then started stacking the plates, escaping to the kitchen whilst the Doctor continued to amuse Artie, and Angie sulked on her phone.
"That was… interesting." Clara stood in the doorway with the Doctor, her arms folded. The rest of the evening was Angie-less – she had escaped to her room to be a teenager – and Artie and the Doctor argued for a while before Clara sent the kids to bed. They were probably still up, though. She didn't care.
"Mmm, quite the handful." He was stood painfully close to her, his hands resting on her shoulders cautiously, like he was scared to break her.
"Thanks for coming…" Don't fall in love, don't fall in love.
"You're welcome, Clara." There, he did it again. The way he said her name. She searched his eyes for something, but she wasn't sure what she was looking for until she noticed how warmly he was smiling, how nervous he seemed. He wasn't anything like Rupert. Rupert had tried to shape her into something she didn't want to be. But Rupert didn't matter. The Doctor did.
"Where are we off to next Wednesday, then?" She whispered, a smile creeping onto her lips. Don't fall in love, Clara Oswald. Don't do it.
"I don't know. You ever been to Barcelona? And I mean the planet, not the Spanish place. Lovely place, Barcelona. You'd love it. Nice people." He was rambling, and there were a few flashes of something in his face, remorse, maybe.
"As long as it's awesome."
"It's definitely awesome."
"Good." There weren't any words coming after that. She didn't know what to say to him. There was a lot that she really wanted to say, but she didn't know how to word it. How much he amazed him. How his chin didn't look so bad in the light. How she had to force herself not to fall in love with him every single day.
"Clara…" he seemed on edge as well, like he wanted to say something, do something. There was a weird stirring in the bottom of her gut when she felt his hands dance from her shoulders and onto her cheeks, and as he edged closer, she could feel the double-time of his hearts beating faster and faster.
"Clara?" They jumped apart when they heard someone walking up to them, and when Clara glanced over at the Doctor, she could see the redness in his cheeks, even in the dark. "Clara, what's happening? Who is this?" Angie and Artie's Dad stood before them, and she could see his eyes analysing the Doctor.
"Oh, hello! I'm your gover—nanny's gentlemen friend, and we've just been upstairs…" he looked over at Clara in a weird way, like he had never seen her in his life, then said something that she really didn't expect to hear: "kissing!"
"Uh, we'll talk about this later. I trust that the kids are in bed?" He couldn't take his eyes from the Doctor, and he seemed almost aggravated.
"Yeah, they're in bed. Doesn't mean that they're asleep, though…" She felt herself swaying again, something she always did when she was anxious. Moving out of the way to let him through, she immediately turned around to glare at the Doctor, who looked like a naughty school boy, been found sneaking something into the teacher's desk. She grabbed him by the arm, pushing him backwards until they got to the TARDIS. Shoving him against the time machine, she stood on her tiptoes to seem a little more intimidating. "Why the hell did you say that?" She wanted to shout at him, to get angry, but she couldn't. She could never do that.
"Spur of the moment, y'know? Don't get mad at me, Clara. Better me say that we were kissing than… other things." He was genuinely scared of her, and she could tell. It made her feel a little less weak, finally.
"Mmm, but don't you think it would be better if you'd said that we were kissing in your snog box than upstairs? Upstairs sounds suggestive, snog box sounds… classier."
"Classier…? And it's not a snog box, how many times do I have to tell you that!" He was trying to be angry, but his eyes were smiling, and it almost seemed as though… no, he couldn't like the idea, could he?"
She ignored the second question, a laugh escaping her lips. "Yes, classier. I still need to judge that, you know. How much of a snog box it really is." With a smirk and a wink, she skipped up to the door, leaving the Doctor in a flabbergasted mess. That's more like it, she thought, thankful that the kids weren't there to swap the roles. "I need to go and clear things up, thanks to you." Before she stepped inside, though, she heard him calling out to her.
"Clara… who was Rupert?" He seemed genuinely interested, and that made her worry. She pushed the worry away, though, turning around confidently, trying to seem more… Clara.
She saw his face in the light, and his dark, harrowing eyes staring at her, and she felt that stirring again. Don't fall in love, Clara Oswald. Don't you dare. Don't do that to yourself. "He was someone who didn't care about me. That's who he was. He was manipulative, harsh, and cruel... and he tried to change me."
"Oh, I shouldn't have… mentioned that, then." Clara shrugged and took one step into the house when she heard her name again. "Clara? I care about you."
"I know." Don't do it. Don't, don't, don't.
Oh my stars, I'm in love with him, aren't I?