A/N: Welcome to my new whouffle fanfiction collection! It's a spin-off to my series A Souffle and the Odd Kiss except all these fics are AU and non-linear and based around the human lives of Clara and the Doctor and the house they share together. Prompts are always appreciated :)

Review/favourite/follow if you like. Please do say whether I should continue or not :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

Its The Thought That Counts

In which it's Clara's birthday, and the Doctor bakes her a souffle. And burns down the kitchen.

Clara Oswald had never made a big deal over her birthday; ever since her mum died, it just didn't seem as special anymore. Mum had always tried to make her birthdays as brilliant as possible with the perfect presents and days out and a party with all her closest friends, but when mum died that didn't tend to happen anymore. Don't get her wrong: her dad had tried his hardest to live up to her mum's standards, but the cake just wasn't quite right and the presents not really to her taste and she did appreciate every single attempt; but, eventually, it just stopped. She didn't bother with a cake and her dad would give her some money as a substitute for any gifts.

However, ever since she'd moved in with the Doctor, well- when he found out her birthday was the following month or week or day he just wouldn't shut up about it. She'd said not to bother- she was just turning twenty-five, no big deal; but the Doctor was sure that he was going to make her birthday the biggest deal possible.

And no matter how many groans or moans she emitted, he was having none of it. She's never experienced a birthday with him, after all. And she didn't know whether that factor made her more sceptical about the event or comforted…

-x-

She wakes up in the morning expecting to feel his body next to hers in the bed they've called their own; but when she reaches out for his arms she realises she's gripping onto empty space. There's a slight dint in the pillow where his head should be, signalling that he hasn't be out that long, but her eyebrows furrow as a gesture of confusion as to why he's disappeared in the first place.

Clara stretches out so she's sitting in between the duvet and her eyes are still blurry with sleep- but she can see a little note and a box on his bedside cabinet. Rubbing her eyes she leans forward to reach it, and she can't help but grin at the strangely elegant script looping across the post-it note.

Hello birthday girl! X

Realisation hits her as she remembers that it's the day the Doctor has looked forward to more than she actually has: her birthday. She chuckles to herself, biting her lip ever so slightly, if the Doctor ever knew she'd forgotten… Well, not worth thinking about.

She squeezes the note tight in her palm because even though she'd never admit it, it's probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for her. Her attentions then turn to the little box next to it: wrapped in dark blue metallic wrapping paper and a little tag reading open me on the top. She smirks ever so slightly, teasing at the silver ribbon with her fingertips until the paper becomes loose, and her breath hitches in her throat as it reveals a little red box; but she relaxes when inside is a silver key hanging on a thin chain.

As if it could be anything else, really. What was she thinking?

She removes the necklace out of the box delicately and smiles; keys, well, they were a bit symbolic in their partnership. The Doctor kept so many things locked away but he said, when she came along, that she didn't need to keep so much to himself anymore.

Okay, it was an almost unbearably cheesy moment, but she couldn't help but feel a little fuzzy inside when he came out with that statement. She's never made anyone feel the way the Doctor does about her and it's amazing to have someone so devoted to her for once. She's so used to being the one who does the looking after and the care but with the Doctor, its different. He'd do anything to take care of her and doesn't expect anything in return.

Yet, of course, she'll always give him something in return. Whether that's a kiss or a cuddle or just her presence, anything is good enough for him.

She's about to slip the chain round her neck when she hears an almighty bang from downstairs. Her heart jumps in her chest but when the bang is accompanied by a 'oh blimey, that was NOT supposed to happen!' she can't help but laugh. Oh, Doctor.

She whips off the duvet from her legs and races out into the hallway, gripping onto the bannister and leaning over it. There's a perculiar surge of dark smoke making its way into the hall from underneath the kitchen door, which she is sure is not supposed to happen.

"All okay in there?" she yells out, not sure whether she wants to know the answer.

The door flings open and out through the smoke like a superhero in an action movie emerges the Doctor: although a lot less heroic and a lot more idiotic with a fire extinguisher in his grip- where the hell did he manage to get that? Oh, he better not of stolen it, not again… He grins up at her from the hall, turning rapidly with the extinguisher and emitting pale white foam into the kitchen. "Just a few technical difficulties, nothing to worry about!"

She rests her chin in her palm, giving him a look. "Right. So you have not just blown up our kitchen, then."

He gasps in a way that suggests how could you even think that? "Definitely not, Clara! Do you think I would be that stupid?"

Clara raises an eyebrow. "Debatable."

The Doctor scowls. "Well, no, I haven't burned down the kitchen, thank you very much." then he points a finger accusingly at her, "But don't you even think of coming in here, Clara!"

A hiss erupts from within the kitchen which makes Clara think that they were most probably not going to afford food this month. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good!" he runs back into the kitchen and slams the door, and there are a few clangs and yells which make Clara almost wince with the possibilities of what the state their kitchen is in as of now.

And him, of course.

The door then whips open and his head appears round the corner, a massive grin on his daft face. "And happy birthday! I baked you something!"

He kicks out a small package from the kitchen into the hall, scuffling up the carpet. It's a black, cremated mound of something completely unrecognisable with a little candle submerged in the centre.

"Baked?" she queries, well he definitely did that. Maybe had gone a little too far there.

"Yeah!" he grins triumphantly, "It's a soufflé! Okay, it's a little overdone, but it'll still the taste the same, won't it?"

She shakes her head in disbelief, skipping down the stairs. When she reaches the peak she's even more sure that the Doctor's delicacy isn't fit for human consumption.

There's another fizz and a sputter coming from the kitchen so he frowns and slams the door yet again; a scream of 'I've always wanted to know what that was for!' coming from within.

She sits down on the carpet and crosses her leg in front of the soufflé. Even though this thing is far from edible, it's an incredibly sweet gesture. She had a thing about soufflés. Neither of them had ever managed to bake one right, though.

She blows out the candle before picking up the lump of charcoal and wandering over to the bin in the hall. It has a note on the lid, which she never expected.

Remember: it's the thought that counts! X

Oh, she loves him.