Amy and Rory's wedding day

After the ceremony

'I've sat you next to John Smith,'

'Who?'

'John Smith.'

'I heard you the first time, why have you sat me next to a complete stranger? I'm your Head Bridesmaid, I'm supposed to sit at the top of the table with you.'

'Really? Never heard of that rule before…'

'Yes, you have. Stop bullshitting me, why am I sitting next to the mysterious John Smith?'

Amy pulled on her white wedding dress, careful not to trip over it as she headed into the reception, 'Because I'm setting you up,' she whispered into her ear, grinning as she pushed Clara towards one of the tables on the other side of the room.

Before Clara could reply, Amy had vanished from her side, 'I don't need setting up!' she called after the redhead, a roll of her Whiskey coloured eyes as she turned on her heel and strutted her way to the back of the room where her new seat had been allocated.

Clara Oswald was more than pissed. Oh, she was livid. How dare Amy set her up with a complete stranger without her consent! What if the guy was a complete creep or tried to murder her outside? Okay, she watched way too many films to think that. She cleared her throat and pulled out her seat, which was covered in a silk white sheet. Clara was quite impressed with the decoration of the room, as she had created the entire thing, she was half considering to become a designer. Once she sat down, all the guests from the wedding came pilling in and took their seats around her. Clara fiddled with her short nails, a habit she had picked up from her late mother. She only seemed to do it when she was nervous and of course she was nervous, it was technically a date. A date that involved other people on their table…

Clara bit her bottom lip and watched as Amy's friends took their seats opposite her, she recalled them to be Mickey and Martha Smith and in between them was their little boy. Clara smiled at them a little reluctantly, she didn't really know them and had only met them a few times. According to Amy, Martha had been her Doctor when she had miscarried hers and Rory's first child, they had bonded and grown quite close, she helped out when Clara couldn't be there, when she was too busy mourning her dead boyfriend. She sighed and fiddled with a piece of tissue next to her, wanting to reach for one of the bottles of Red wine. She had put at least five different bottles on each table and a jug of water, so the guests could choose anything they wanted to drink. Finally, she held her glass in her almost shaking hand and poured her first glass of red wine. She sipped it carefully, her anxiety getting the best of her as the other guests sat around the table. Two redheaded children sat down and she recognized them as Jamie and Rebecca, Amy's twin cousins, who had to be around seventeen years old.

Then, the final chair was left and Clara was certain John Smith was about to sit down. She didn't dare look up, afraid to make eye contact with him. The room was noisy, a little too noisy for her liking. She cleared her throat and got up to leave, the whole idea of meeting somebody new so shortly after losing Danny Pink in a car crash terrified her. Before she could leave, a tall man and rather skinny man with insanely curly grey hair sat down opposite her. He had a sharp jawline, for an older man. In fact, she could barely see his jawline underneath all that hair. She slowly sat down, her nerves suddenly calmed by his presence. Clara was going to pretend she didn't find him the tinniest bit attractive, mostly to prove Amy wrong and because she really wasn't ready for any type of relationship. She couldn't help but stare at him, her dark brown eyes inflated and devouring him. He was beautiful and his age helped, how could somebody that grey look that good?

From across the table, John Smith fiddled with his cutlery, bothered by the fact it was all out of place and different shades of silver. Some were dirty, some were clean. He sighed, a little irritated to be here. He was here to support his most hard working employee, Rory Williams, who worked as a Nurse under his wing. John was a Doctor and one that really did not like being set up on dates, especially at weddings, he had more important things to do like tend to his patients. John finally looked up and noticed a very tiny woman sat opposite him, who looked as if she had just sat down and she was incredibly red in the face. John reached for a glass and poured water into it, watching as the cold water cascaded down, settling at the bottom as he picked it up and drank it as quickly as he could. His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry and Clara Oswald's intense stare was driving him crazy.

Over the next hour, as the waiters brought their starters, their main course and the dessert, neither of them had said a word to each other. Mickey, Martha, their little boy and the two twins seemed to get on just fine, talking amongst themselves. John and Clara shared the occasional glance, then John would look away and Clara would blush furiously and bury her nose in her third glass of red wine. She was starting to feel a bit giddy and John was looking at her in a way that made Clara want to take him to bed. Okay, maybe Amy was right, John Smith was exactly what she needed and they hadn't spoken once. John looked her once over, his eyes deliberately taking their time to check her out. She looked fantastic in the dress she was wearing, it was pink and made completely of lace and every time she crossed her leg over the other one, her thigh would show. She had shoulder length brown hair that was currently curly and sat on her bare shoulders, her jawline was sharp and looked as if it could cut him, she was tanned and her Whiskey coloured eyes he was certain he could get lost in.

After they had finished eating, both of them got up and immediately rushed to the front table, where Amy turned to them and told the other guests and family members to carry on eating. She took in their expression on their faces and whatever they were about to complain about, Amy was a hundred percent sure that John Smith and Clara Oswald fancied the pants off of each other. She sat back, wine glass in her hand as she sent her husband a smirk.

'What have you done?' Rory sighed, turning his head to look at Amy who in turn giggled rather loudly.

John bent in front of Rory, his face red with both anger and embarrassment, 'Williams, what were you thinking?'

Rory coughed, wiping his mouth of the spilled wine he had just tipped all over himself, 'Sorry, sir, what?'

'Setting me up with that brunette over there,' he all but growled, dropping his shoulder to the left to get Rory to look at Clara who happened to be also having a go at Amy.

'I had nothing to do with it,' Rory told him, a little frightened of his rather tall boss as he smiled at him and raised his hands in the air after he had placed down his glass of wine.

John slowly nodded and stood up, straightening his lanky body as he watched Clara. Her dress had a slit down the middle of it and was clearly showing off her thigh and he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be in between her legs. No, no, he couldn't think like that. He didn't have time for a girlfriend, he was too busy at work and his divorce from River was far too messy and he had a kid. Surely this Clara woman wasn't ready to have a child? She barely looked twenty. Eventually, he made his way over and glared at Amy, his arms crossed over his chest.

'Why are you crossing your arms like that? Stop crossing your arms,' Amy giggled, noticing John was stood right beside Clara. The brunette shot up, a little embarrassed that she had been moaning about him but hadn't denied he was drop dead gorgeous, for an old bloke.

'I've got cross arms,'

'Cross arms?' Clara questioned him, a playful smirk on her face. These were the first few words they had said to each other and sparks flew immediately, brown eyes locked onto blue ones. Or were they green? They were like a mix of blue and green and Clara couldn't help but get lost in them, it was like staring into a colourful galaxy.

'Yes, cross arms,' John muttered, an tense silence between them before he snapped out of it and pointed at Amy, although he wasn't really angry with her at all, in fact he was thankful to her for setting them up.

In unison, both John and Clara exclaimed, 'We're not your puppets!'

Amy immediately burst into laughter and shook her head, staring up at their red faces, 'Gosh, myself and Rory can't even manage to do that. How could you possibly have said the same thing at the same time? You two are made for each other.'

'We are not!'

'Are too!'

'Not!'

'Are!'

'Not!'

'Okay, whatever you say. Now, can we all move to outside? They're going to move all the tables around and bring the live band in so get your dancing pants on.'

'I hate you!' Clara shouted after Amy, but secretly she didn't.

She bit her lip, determined not to smile as she felt John's bare arm brush against hers. Goosebumps flooded her entire body and she was suddenly feeling a little hot under the collar. John Smith was the first man to make her feel like this and she absolutely hated Amy for it.