Fluff, basically. Better days equals less depressing writing, for once. ;-)
"So we ended up trapped in the basement of a funeral parlor, with Charles Dickens on one side of the bars surrounded by the Gelf – they're these creepy ghost things, from another universe – and there we were, thinking we were going to die in a tiny English town on Christmas years before Rose was even born –" Clara could see the Doctor grinning from her place on the carpet beside him, so she knew the story must have turned out all right, even if he didn't get back to her enough to finish telling it. He was lost in his memories, the good ones, and Clara smiled at the look on his face.
He turned his head to look over at her, sprawled out on the fluffy gold carpet on the floor of the planetarium, his eyes wide with mischief and merriment.
"Do I get to hear the rest, then?" She tightened her grip on his fingers, giggling as he retaliated by trailing his fingers up her stomach.
"Nah, another time. We won, Gelf left, Rose survived. Have I told you enough about Rose yet?"
"Not nearly, no. She sounds lovely." Clara was goading him a bit, hoping he would divulge more stories, especially about his former companions. He always seemed lighter afterwards, and that benefitted everyone.
"Well then, Rose it is." He grinned again, but she could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. Rose was a touchy subject; sometimes she made him happy, and sometimes the memories were too much.
"Tell me something wonderful. Tell me…"
"Oh, how about her mum? Jackie Tyler, hell of a woman, slapped me! Multiple times! The first time, it was 'cos…"
He carried on, weaving stories with his clever words and tracing patterns on her skin.
And Clara smiled.
Would love reviews! I know it's just fluff but responses absolutely make my day. No kidding.
-Reinette