Why, hello, everyone! This is my very first Clara x Eleven fic! I never really played around with Clara in any of my stories, so please excuse me if I don't totally get her character right. XP

I ship Whouflee so. Freaking. BAD so I had to write this. I might continue this story, but it all depends on how busy I am and how popular this story gets.

Till then, this story will remain an one-shot. :)

Enjoy!

It's a camera. Take lots of pictures, yeah?

With love,

Amelia Pond

That's what was written in John Smith's birthday card.

Take lots of pictures.

The first time John Smith tried to take a picture with the camera, he almost dropped it. He didn't know much about photography—the nearest he had ever gotten to taking a picture was probably snapping a couple with his phone but even then, they were rather blurry and he always ended up deleting them.

That didn't mean that John enjoyed electronics or computers, though. In fact, he just happened to be one of the biggest computer geeks of his high school. He knew just about everything from little microphones to super computers that the FBI would work with.

Unfortunately, John wasn't always recognized for his intelligence when it came to those sorts of things. To be honest, the biggest need that anyone had for him because of his range of knowledge in computers was to fix someone's laptop or phone or God-knows-what.

Now, John was staring at the camera, which was sitting on his desk. It had been almost a year since his best friend, Amelia Pond, moved away. The red-haired, Scottish girl had gotten up and moved to New York, where she was going to college with her boyfriend, Rory Williams.

Of course, John didn't mind that, he really didn't. He and Rory were great friends, as well. Before the two moved away, Rory, Amy and John were the trio of the school—not very popular, heavens no, but every single student in the grade knew that the three teenagers were best friends.

But then Amy began to date Rory, (much to Rory's delight, of course. He had had a crush on Amy for as long as both he and John could remember,) and then when Rory had to move to New York, Amy packed her bags and went along with him.

When his friends had made that announcement, he pretended to be perfectly fine with that.

However, he wasn't.

How could he be fine with that? He didn't want them to go—not now.

In the end, Amy and Rory moved away and John was left by himself.

Of course, there were letters. There were emails and weekly Skype chats and once, they came over for a Christmas celebration.

But it wasn't the same.

Not really.

Take lots of pictures.

Pictures of what? John thought to himself, picking up the camera. There's nothing to take a picture of.

Frustrated, John started to fidget with the camera as he walked out his apartment door. He slowly walked out of the apartment building and came to a slow stop to the park. Some children were running around the field, while others were sliding down the slide or swinging on the swings or climbing on the monkey bars and whatnot.

John sat down on a park bench and placed the camera closely to his eye. He adjusted the focus slowly and started to turn, trying to catch a scene which might be a perfect setting for a picture.

At first, he didn't see much—the lenses were still taking its time to adjust.

Finally, they landed on a particular sight—a young woman, undoubtedly around John's age, was sitting on another bench. She had dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders and a small, dainty smile on her lips. She was bent over a notebook, scribbling down something with a pen.

John blinked and slowly lowered the camera.

The youth looked up and shaded her eyes to look at the fields. She looked around the park, taking note of everything else, (except for John, sadly,) and bent back over her notebook.

John swallowed.

Wow.

"Clara!" One of the children—a girl from the fields yelled. "Come play with us!"

Clara. So that was the girl's name.

"In a minute!" Clara shouted back, furiously writing a couple more sentences. "Just one more…"

The child groaned and bounded over to her. "You've been writing in that notebook for ages! The sun's gonna set soon!"

"Well, if it's going to set soon, then we should get you home, now, shouldn't we?" Clara asked cheekily. She stood up and stretched, her jacket revealing a small strap of her top.

John felt his face heat up and quickly hid behind his camera again. He found this tactic automatically just as bad, seeing that the camera was enhancing the image.

He stared at Clara through the camera, who was beginning to take the child's hand. "Come on, you. If you're good, I'll tell you a bedtime story." She said in a quiet, mischievous voice.

The child's face lit up at the deal. "Okay!" He said excitedly and looked up. Too late, John realized that the child had noticed the camera.

She frowned and tugged on Clara's sleeve. "Clara," she said, pointing. "That strange man is taking a picture of us."

Blushing, John quickly tucked the camera away as Clara looked up at him. She lifted an eyebrow and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Ah, no. See, I was trying to make sure that my camera worked." John said, standing up. "It just landed on you by accident, so sorry for any disturbances. He quickly turned around but was shortly stopped as Clara yelled, "Can I see the pictures?"

John froze. "What?" He asked.

Clara extended a hand expectantly. "The pictures. You said that you were taking pictures. I want to see them." She said, her hand still outstretched.

John swallowed. He fumbled with his camera and mumbled something about being late for an event.

Before he could say anything else, Clara took the camera from John's hands and twirled around. John watched despite himself as she started to adjust the camera's lenses.

"There." She said, satisfied. "Well, ah, what did you say your name was?"

John blinked. "My name's John." He said.

Clara smiled and handed the camera back to John. "Well, John, I think you ought to get some photography lessons." She said and much to John's surprise, she gave him a rather impish grin.

"Do you have a piece of paper and a pen on you?" She asked curiously.

John blinked and scrounged through his pockets. "I…think so…" He mumbled and managed to find a scrap of paper with a stub of a pencil. He wordlessly handed it over to Clara and she immediately scratched something down.

"Here," she said humorously, handing the paper back.

"What's this?" John asked, staring down at the paper as Clara readjusted her jacket.

"My number. Give a call if you want any more help, yeah?" Clara asked cheerfully and winked.

John couldn't say anything else. He stared as Clara took the child's hand and they walked away.

He smiled and stared down at the phone number in his hands. It looked like he was going to take a lot of pictures, after all.

A/N: Somewhat cheesy? Maybe. I don't know. It's for you guys to decide!

Reviews are awesome, and so is constructive criticism. (Ish. I have mixed feelings about it, but I won't say no to it, either.)

Flames, however, is a must-delete. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it. Join the Daleks. XD