It was past midnight, and Clara was still driving. She wanted to get to California by the next evening. She'd finally convinced the Doctor to do something normal, a road trip, instead of an adventure in the TARDIS. (The Doctor had at least protested they go to America. "If we have to spend hours driving, can we at least go somewhere I don't spend half my life?" Clara had agreed, it was reasonable. And then, of course, he'd landed the TARDIS about a thousand miles from where they'd wanted to be.)

Clara liked the quiet, really. The only sounds in the near silence were the low rumble of the car's engine and the soft, steady sound of the Doctor's breathing. He'd fallen asleep on her shoulder a while ago. She didn't mind, really. He was asleep, and if he was asleep, he wasn't begging Clara to let him drive. Because God knew she'd never let him drive. He'd probably crash the car in the first five minutes. (Okay, maybe not. But why take chances?)

He didn't notice he was awake until she heard his murmuring something.

"Huh?" she asked. "Didn't catch that."

"I'm hungry," he said plaintively. His words were still slow from waking up, his eyes still closed.

"Doctor," Clara sighed. "It's one AM."

"But I'm hungry," he complained, a little louder.

She exhaled heavily, leaning her head on the steering wheel for a moment. "Fine. Fine. I'll find the nearest place. Could be a while. Not many food places open in the middle of the night."

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, his head nestling back into her shoulder.

Clara drove for a bit more, before finally seeing a sign for "food next left." She took the turn, praying one of the few places were 24 hours.

She pulled into the parking lot of a small diner, which somehow was still open this late.

"Doctor," she said, shaking him awake. "Doctor, I found a place."

He blinked awake, grumbling and shaking his head lazily. "What?" he said, his words slightly slurred from sleep.

"I found a place for food," Clara said patiently. "You're still hungry, I hope?" Her own speech was slow, tired. She'd been wanting to sleep for the last fifty miles; but again, letting the Doctor drive was not something she wanted to do.

"Yeah, yeah, I am hungry, now that you mention it," he murmured.

"Well, come on then," Clara said, pushing him lightly into sitting up. She got out of the car, walking around to the other side. Opening the door, she said playfully, "Doctor, this isn't a drive-through. Come on."

He reluctantly followed her, stumbling over his feet and leaning against Clara.

"God, Doctor," she said teasingly. "Are you drunk or a heavy sleeper?"

He said something in response, but she couldn't quite catch it.

Luckily for both of them, he'd woken up a little bit after they'd gotten inside and had a few sips of coffee. (He'd been disappointed at first that they didn't have tea; but eventually settled on coffee with about ten sugar cubes.)

A few minutes later, a waitress came to their table. She had brown hair put up in a bun, and thin, rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. She seemed impossibly alert and awake for the time of night.

Clara ordered a cup of hot chocolate, and was pleased to find it come with a generous amount of whip cream. So much, actually, that the Doctor "literally could not resist" taking a finger of it and plopping it onto the end of Clara's nose. She giggled, taking a sip from her mug.

At some point, the Doctor realized that coffee would not help him fall asleep later. The next time the waiter came around to ask how everything was going, he pushed aside his cup of coffee and asked for hot chocolate.

He looked over at Clara, her lip white with whip cream, her cheeks flushed from the steam, and grinned. She really was beautiful.

A few minutes later found them finishing their drinks, Clara paying for both of them. They thanked the waitress and slowly made their way out.

In some unspoken agreement, they'd both decided to sleep for once,instead of driving on. Clara let the Doctor climb into the car's back bench seat first, so she could nestle up against him. She laid her head against his chest,bringing her knees up to lay her legs across his lap.

She took a deep breath of his all too familiar scent. Of old tweed, and the stars, and safety. She smiled a little as he pulled her closer, brushed a piece of hair from her face. She drifted off to sleep with his arm around her, a faint grin still on her lips.