Raising A Soufflé
"Shoot!"
In a puff of dense black smoke, Clara Oswald could often be seen removing the remnants of a soufflé from the oven. She liked to blame the TARDIS, oh how she'd like to blame the cow, but she's never been able to make the temperamental dessert. Not in all her 25 years. Her mother tried her hardest to teach her when she was little. Clara just never had the touch. They always ended up too burnt or too runny or they wouldn't rise right or they'd deflate as soon as she removed it from the oven no matter what she did.
How she wished that there wasn't anything for her to even make soufflés with.
She asked The Doctor to include a kitchen in the make-up of the TARDIS after their journey to Trenzalore. She thought that she wanted it and he thought that she deserved as much. And ever since she's made a total of 58 soufflés, none of which she'd even think to eat. On that 59th she just about had it. Clara slammed the oven door shut with some choice words and exited the TARDIS in a huff, determined to distract herself from her latest failure.
The harsh sounds of both the oven and the TARDIS door forced The Doctor to stir from his usual misdoings. He poked his head out of the library in the direction of the kitchen and called, "Clara?"
No response.
"Now that's peculiar…" He muttered to himself, quickly marking his spot in the book he was reading and making his way towards the control room. As he passed the kitchen he noticed three soufflés on the counter. Two burnt, one runny, all in all a usual day for The Doctor and his Impossible Girl. He chuckled a bit to himself, imagining his Clara as she'd test taste one of her chocolate soufflés before putting it in to bake and savouring the taste.
Then the image of her seeing her masterpiece thwarted. A look of pure dejection that would be quickly covered up by a determined smile. Determination. One of the several words he'd use to describe his Clara Oswald. She would never let herself be defeated by anything, not the Daleks, not the Whisper Men, not the Great Intelligence, and surely not her mother's soufflé.
So where was she? Where was Soufflé Girl?
The Doctor continued towards the control room, sticking his head into Clara's room momentarily and knocking at the washroom door, trying to find her. He called out to her multiple times, fearing that the TARDIS had thrown her out into deep space. After all their time together the two girls still didn't get along.
Frustrated, The Doctor slammed his hands down onto the controls pad and stared straight into the cylinder that fed every little knob and button with a glorious amount of power. "Did you hurt her?" He asked the TARDIS vehemently. She didn't seem to appreciate the accusation. In response, she reversed the gravity and sent The Doctor into the ceiling. He hit the metal with his back, forcing the wind from him.
"Okay." He wheezed. "Gotcha. You haven't touched Clara. Won't ask again!"
The TARDIS seemed to appreciate the half-apology. She returned the gravity to a moderately normal state, a decreased amount allowed him to almost float to the ground like a feather. Once his feet had touched he exhaled a held breath and stretched out his back. Nothing a Timelord couldn't handle, but painful all the same.
He straightened his bowtie. "Thank you. Would you happen to know where she's gone to?" He asked before correcting himself. "Wait, you can't speak, disregard all of that I'll go look for her myself."
Carefully he started towards the door when it opened, revealing none other than Clara with a red leather wallet stuffed in her mouth and several bags of groceries in tow. She closed the door with her foot and looked up at The Doctor. "Hhhhn." She tried to say through the obstacle in her mouth.
"Where did you go?" He asked as he reached to relieve Clara of the bags dangling from her arms.
With her hands free, she pulled the wallet from her lips and smiled. "Just popped off to the market. Needed some ingredients." She said cheerfully, motioning for The Doctor to follow her as she headed to the kitchen.
That didn't seem right to him. Their pantry was stocked to the teeth with everything and anything a soufflé maker could ever need. There was no possible way that Clara could've used it all up in their short time with a kitchen.
'So why the trip to the market?' He thought to himself. He thought over the reasons as he trudged after Clara, often finding himself lagging behind. Once they crossed the threshold into the kitchen The Doctor laid the bags out onto the small breakfast table and asked his companion, "How did you manage it?"
She barely heard him as she started to put the ingredients away. "Sorry, what?"
"How did you manage to use up everything in the pantry?"
Confused, Clara turned to him. "What?"
The Doctor rolled his eyes laboriously. He then pulled two items out of Clara's grocery bag. "Flour and chocolate chips!" He cried, "You really need more flour and chocolate chips?"
"Oh, Doctor." She chuckled to herself, plucking both from The Doctor's hands. "You don't need these to make a soufflé. I'm making cookies! We're not supplied with the ingredients for cookies!"
Upon realising this, The Doctor made a noise of recollection. "I see, I see… wait, hold on, why aren't you making another soufflé?" He ended up asking.
"I've given up on soufflés." Was her curt response. "I'm not my mother. I just can't do it."
The Doctor didn't know what to say. His soufflé girl giving up on soufflés? Now that wasn't right, he couldn't have that. If there was anything that could defeat Clara it most certainly would not be her mother's soufflé. But he didn't know how to rectify the situation! He simply stood there watching her mill about while she put away the ingredients for… chocolate chip cookies. Even in his mind the words didn't sound right.
He tried to confront her on the issue several times, stepping forward, stepping back, cursing himself, and repeat. Eventually, when she had everything tucked away, he came to his senses and came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her tiny shoulders. "Why not give it one more go?" He started with an enthusiastic tone.
Clara scoffed. "Why bother? They're never any good."
"Well…" The Doctor said before shaking his head. "No, no, that's not true! How many soufflés have you made?"
She threw a look over her shoulder at her recent attempt. "Counting that one? 59."
The Doctor laughed a bit. "See! Brilliant! 59!"
"How's that brilliant?" She returned with a look of skeptical belief. Like she wanted him to convince her to make another, she wanted someone to believe in her soufflés.
The Doctor removed his arm from her, stepped in front of her, and rubbed his hands together. "Because! 59 is a horrible number to end with!" He beamed enthusiastically. "Now, 60, that's a much better number!"
"You're mad." Clara surmised rather correctly.
"Yes, quite." The Doctor agreed. "But think about it! Would you rather be known as the girl who made 59 soufflés or the girl who made 60 soufflés?" He asked with a childish exuberance.
Clara ducked her head and chuckled into a closed fist. "60 does sound better."
With that, The Doctor barked out a laugh. "That's settled then! You'll make one more soufflé and if that soufflé is absolutely perfect, you'll keep making them!"
Clara chuckled a bit more. "I suppose. But it's never going to happen."
He gave a swift kiss to the top of her head. "Oh never say never, my dear Clara, I'm a thousand year old alien with two hearts and eleven different bodies! And you're the girl who jumped into my time stream and survived! We specialise in the impossible!" He said, grabbing her shoulders before giving a full-body twirl.
"I supposed we do, Doctor." She managed to get out in between his excited bursts. "Now, go do… whatever it is you Timelord's do. I need to concentrate."
Another kiss to his companions head and he rushed off to the library once more. But, this time, he kept an exceptionally close eye out the doorway. He had come up with a plan for Clara's soufflés during his brief time of indecision. He just needed her to leave the TARDIS for a while after she finished her dessert of choice so he could put things in motion.
About ten minutes later the distinct sound of the oven door closing brought The Doctor from the map he had been observing. He ran to the kitchen just in time for Clara to turn 'round towards him. "Everything alright?" She asked, shedding a pair of oven mitts and moving to clean up the mess she'd made.
"Yes, quite alright, it's just… there's something I need you to do." He said rather cryptically.
Clara's head whipped 'round to look at The Doctor. "And what's that?"
"There's no easy way to say this…" He muttered, wringing out his hands nervously. "I need you to go to the market."
She chuckled. "That's all? Market's just around the corner, why can't you go yourself?"
"It is?" The Doctor asked as he continued to wring out his large hands. "Well… there's a different market… one that's-" He looked at the timer on the stove, "twenty-five minutes away on foot. It sells the… sells the… custard! It sells the custard that I like! Last time I went I made a poor impression on the shopkeep… I'd rather stay away from the area, if you wouldn't mind going in my place."
Now, Clara was smart, really smart. She knew he was up to something, as he usually is. But she decided to take the bait. "A market that's twenty-five minutes away? Twenty-five there and twenty-five back?" She asked.
The Doctor smiled wide. "Yes, precisely."
"And that just so happens to coincide with my soufflé being finished?" She continued, crossing her arms and leaning against the fridge in a rather sassy fashion.
He pursed his lips, thinking he'd been caught, puffed out his cheeks and exhaled before saying, "Coincidentally, yes."
"I don't believe you." Clara countered. "But I'll go. As long as you promise not to even think about touching my soufflé." She turned to leave but quickly turned back with an accusatory finger in The Doctor's face. "You pinky promise that you won't touch it?"
"Cross my hearts, scout's honor, all that." He returned with his usual charming smile. When Clara didn't take her eyes off him The Doctor groaned and offered his pinky finger, sensing defeat. "I promise."
She smiled in triumph, linking their pinkies and giving them one good shake. "Right. Good! I'll be back in a bit!"
At that, Clara left the TARDIS to go and fetch some custard, leaving The Doctor all alone. Once the sound of the door clicking shut rang through the ship he clapped his hands together and ran straight for the control room. "Soufflé Girl…" He began as he started flipping switches and pulling levers. "No, Clara, my Clara, will get…" He paused to do a twirl and pushed a single button, "her perfect soufflé!"
Clara returned to the TARDIS about an hour later carrying a small bag full of instant custard. She pushed the door open and she couldn't believe the sight in front of her. It was breathtaking. Now, during her time with The Doctor, Clara Oswald has seen plenty of outrageous things.
To name a few there was the company that harvested her mind and implanted all sorts of software program into her noggin in the process, the Ice Warrior from Mars that called off a nuclear strike as she started to sing Hungry Like the Wolf, the two creatures that were separated by a pocket universe and were only chasing and terrorising people so that they could be reunited, the old woman who was infusing Lyle & Scott models with an ancient red toxin so they could procreate after the Apocolypse and was gladly hosting a red leech on her chest, and then there was the whole jumping into The Doctor's timeline and being spread out across a million different countries and even a few planets.
But as she took a step into the TARDIS she realised that there was still so much more to see. See, she didn't take a step; she simply lifted her foot into the air, crossed the threshold, and was suddenly floating in the air. All around her she saw the same thing, knick knacks dangling in the air, cords hanging the wrong way, and a certain Doctor gliding into the control room.
"Close the door! Quick!" He called.
She turned, with some effort, and reached for the door. Finding that she couldn't she threw her head back and kicked it shut. With that settled she turned back 'round and reached for the railing. "What've you done to the gravity?" Clara asked, followed by an overly giddy laugh.
The Doctor raised his arms towards the ceiling. "I turned it off! Well… I converted the TARDIS into an anti-gravity chamber! It's like being on the moon!"
"But… why?" Clara continued, still not seeing what the point of it all was.
He held up one hand and one finger, signaling her to wait. "Because…" He started, reaching his other hand behind his back and pulling out…
A soufflé.
Clara's hands tented over her mouth as she suppressed a gasp. "You…" She stuttered.
"Yes. It's a perfect soufflé." He returned. "No gravity, no sinking!"
Before Clara even knew what she was doing she was pushing herself up off the railing and used it to propel herself at The Doctor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and they spun off to the right a bit and towards the walls of the TARDIS. With one arm The Doctor returned the hug, chuckling into the chocolate brown hair of his Impossible Girl.
"You… you're fantastic." Clara managed to get out.
The Doctor pulled her away to see the tears in the corner of her eyes. He carefully brushed away the wetness with the pad of his thumb. "And you're brilliant."
She smiled up at him with an almost stupid grin on her face. She hadn't felt that good in such a long time and she was truly reveling in it, reveling in her Doctor. She buried her face into the shoulder of his tweed jacket, her arms still around him.
After remaining as such for a while, he asked, "Now, feeling hungry?"
Quickly Clara untangled herself from The Doctor and nodded. "All the time!"
"Good! I have just the thing." He chuckled. "Come here."
The Doctor had his free arm extended and was ushering Clara towards him. Hesitantly she allowed herself to be enveloped by the madman, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. Once settled The Doctor gently tossed the soufflé off into the distance and began climbing towards the kitchen. He'd then reach the soufflé and repeat the action until they reached their destination.
The big softie that The Doctor was, he had made up the breakfast table to look like a bistro set up. A single vase with a single daffodil, two plates, two sets of silverware, two café chairs, and a single wax candle burning bright.
"You've really outdone yourself." Clara laughed. "And all in your snog box."
She gave The Doctor a suggestive look to which he responded with his mouth fluttering open and shut and a single phrase, "Shut up!"
With a blush threatening to colour his cheeks, The Doctor reached out for the table and both the chairs, pulling them closer motioning for Clara to take her seat.
"After you." He said quietly. She obliged him, sitting down happily but some distance away from the table. The Doctor did the same. He then grabbed the edge of the table. "We've got to do it at the same time." He said cryptically.
Before Clara could question him, she did as his did, she grabbed the table and he started to count down from three. Upon hitting one they both pulled themselves towards the table and the table stayed in moderately the same spot. They reached up their hands and high-fived each other with glee. The Doctor then reached behind him and pulled the soufflé to the table, settling it between them.
"Now, shall we?" He asked, holding up his spoon.
Clara nodded. "Sure, let's!"
So the two enjoyed Clara's magnificent chocolate soufflé, laughing and talking about all of the adventures they were going to have. All around them salt shakers and napkins were seemingly floating in the air and they were barely even privy to it. That just showed how accustomed they were to the oddities of the universe. Well, they did have a couple thousand years of experience piled together.
Clara was just realising that when she was distracted by a smudge of chocolate on the corner of The Doctor's lip. She crooked her finger unconsciously at him. "Get closer, you've got a little-" She paused to wipe off the mark with her pointer finger. "There! All better!" She smiled, putting her finger into her mouth and sucking off the chocolate.
She sat there for a minute and went, "Oh, what the heck." She leaned over the table and kissed The Doctor briefly on the lips. Not a passionate kiss, but definitely an appreciative one. "Thank you, Doctor. This was… this is perfect." She said once her rump had returned to her seat and the soufflé was nothing but crumbs.
He squirmed a bit in his seat, wiping off his mouth with his napkin. "Yes. Right, of course. Not a problem." He said in a quiet rush. Then he added, "Let's do this again soon, then?"
Clara thought that she'd scared The Doctor off with her kiss, as innocent as it was. She was very glad that she didn't. She smiled a bit brighter, nodded briskly, and said,
"Let's."
Raising A Soufflé
A Whoufflé One-Shot