tumblr prompt: They get off to a rocky start, but Clara starts to fall for him but he's reluctant because he looks a bit older, so she has to seduce him over time...

A/N: Something Old, Something New is the title of the first fic in this collection, a title I will now use for all of my 12/Clara ficlets that are written in response to prompts from tumblr. I like having my 11/Clara and 12/Clara fic collections separate, since they sort of exist in different storyworlds (although sneaky 10's wriggled his way into the 11/Clara collection... wiley bastard), and that is why what was once a one-shot fic on my account will now be a series of fics. I suppose I should change the cover!

Also I don't know why I ask for prompts when I take them and do something completely different! It's something along the lines of what was asked for, but I tend to wander…

He would catch her staring sometimes and, whenever he was in the right mood, the Doctor would pretend not to notice. But every now and then that prickly feeling he got on the back of his neck when he knew she was staring would unsettle his nerves. He would meet her eyes with a steady gaze and Clara would glance away, sometimes quickly as if he had just caught her looking about the room, but sometimes sheepishly because she knew she'd been caught.

He knew it wasn't easy for her, looking at a new man and hearing a different voice, yet reconciling with the fact that he was still the same person he'd always been. The thing was, it was an even harder adjustment for him.

As usual, nothing tasted right. His new depth perception was probably the hardest thing to adjust to. He was constantly reaching for levers on the TARDIS console and grasping nothing but air since his hand had reached two inches to the left, and his joints - they weren't really stiff, but they weren't…

Well, they weren't his. But they were now.

He had gotten used to seeing the same face in the mirror for centuries. Almost half of his entire life had featured bow ties, a big chin, and floppy hair, but now he was all eyebrows and nose, and he was right back to that properly skinny build that was - granted - remarkably lightweight and easy to run with.

But whenever he looked at Clara, the Doctor was reminded of one thing that hadn't changed. She still made him smile. Even whenever he was in a sour mood, she would meet his eyes and smile lightly and he'd feel his traitorous lips stretch across his teeth. He would then scowl at himself and Clara would laugh. He would laugh. She made him happy.

Sometimes when he caught her eyes, he saw something he hadn't expected to see there again - that appreciative, lingering look that betrayed her physical response to him. At first she had been withdrawn and shied away from him whenever he got too close, his body and face both strange and foreign to her. But now…

Now she laughed and leaned into him whenever they stood next to each other, her eyes boring into his for several seconds until the Doctor forgot where he was and what they were doing. She would sidle up next to him at the console and lean into his space as he readied the TARDIS for flight, which was often rather distracting and probably accounted for half of those moments where he'd reach for a lever and miss. She would cling to him tightly whenever he narrowly escaped some form of danger and wouldn't let go right away, not even after the rush of relief had dissipated. Instead she would relax against him and lay her cheek against his chest with a sigh that made his hearts thrum rapidly.

He honestly didn't know why she was acting so strangely, so the Doctor usually he changed the subject, made a joke, or patted her on the head before moving onto the next matter of business, hoping whatever was going on with her wasn't serious.

But one evening, Clara gave the Doctor a very clear idea of what motivated this bizarre attachment. They were staying at an inn in Colonial America, becoming the "Dr and Mrs Smith" once again since the puritanical sensibilities of the time frowned upon an unmarried couple sharing a room. It was the middle of January and howling winds beat at the shutters. The only thing louder than the sound of them rattling against the window was the rattling of Clara's teeth as she shivered violently next to the fire.

He would always remember how small she looked, curled up on the rug next to the hearth with the quilt from the bed wrapped around her shoulders as she stared distantly into the flames. He had offered her the armchair he was sitting in, but Clara had declined in favor of being closer to the fire.

"Aren't y-you c-cold?" she asked after the wind whistled spectacularly loudly, drawing their attention to the window.

He looked down at her and shrugged. "Not terribly."

Her eyes lowered to his knees, or at least that's what it looked like, and the Doctor could almost see the wheels turning in her head. When she met his gaze again, she surprised him by asking a question he'd never expected from her

"Would you… Would you h-hold me?"

Her wide eyes and plaintive tone almost reminded him of a child, but there was something scared there, too - as if she feared him saying no. The seconds ticked by and he merely stared at her before coming to his senses and nodding in reply. He watched, hearts thudding wildly for some reason, as she stood and crossed the two feet between her and his chair. She stood at his knees for a long time as she considered the situation and then slowly lowered herself into his lap, her legs draped over one arm of the chair and her head sinking against his shoulder.

She released a sigh and continued to shiver, which reminded the Doctor why she had asked him to hold her. He wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands up and down her quilt-covered arm, hoping that he was doing his part to warm her up. He stared at the clock on the mantlepiece as he tried to ignore the feeling of her warm breath on his neck or the softness of her backside pressing into his thighs, both of which were doing a fair job of raising his own body temperature.

"I'm sorry we're stuck here," he said in a low tone, his voice much softer than he'd intended. Her hair brushed against his neck as she nodded in understanding. His fingers were now trailing circles on her back. "It shouldn't take us long to get to Richmond."

Clara nodded again. Her body then grew still against his and her heart rate increased. When she leaned back to look up at him, his brow was furrowed with worry.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Doctor…" She spoke hesitantly, but with a clear purpose. Her eyes fell to his lips.

He swallowed roughly. "Yes?"

Slowly, she leaned forward. The Doctor's eyes widened and he remained completely still, hands motionless at her arms as her lips pressed against his in a soft, firm kiss that felt like it lasted several minutes, but was in reality a brief contact of mere seconds. She breathed against his mouth and then glanced up at him questioningly, waiting for some kind of response.

He licked his lips and swallowed again. "Did you, um… have something to ask?"

She released a tiny laugh, her breath hitting his face as she leaned further back to look at him rather sadly. "Do you not fancy me anymore?"

"Fancy you?" he replied curiously, as if this was the first time he'd ever considered such a thing.

Her shoulders slumped and she smiled faintly, her eyes once again lowering to his lips… or perhaps his chin. "It used to be so obvious. I used to be able to read it all over your face." Meeting his gaze again, Clara sighed. "Now I'm not so sure. Everything's changed…You've changed… And I just…" She pressed her lips together. "I thought some things would stay the same."

She averted her gaze and continued to smile sadly, an expression he had since learned served as a mask for her more sensitive emotions. Lifting his hand, he pushed her hair away from her face and she looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Not everything's changed," he assured her.

She released a shaky breath and smiled, causing the Doctor's hearts to thrum in his chest at the sight of her curved lips and white teeth. She raised her fingers to the wrist of the hand that cradled her face and stared into his eyes, and he thought, I should just do it. I should just kiss her. It wouldn't bring about the end of the world, and he knew she would kiss him back. He needn't be embarrassed, but then what would they do afterwards?

His traitorous mind thought of a few good things they could do afterwards, which made his cheeks grow warm, but he was originally thinking more along the lines of coping with this new, added level of intimacy. He didn't just go around kissing the people he travelled with; he actively avoided it as a general rule, although he'd never had to actively avoid it so much with anyone more than with Clara. If he kissed her, he knew he'd regret it…. Or would he regret it more if he didn't?

The Doctor was still pondering all of the possibilities when Clara leaned forward and captured his lips with hers again, putting a sudden end to his silent debate in the most welcome way. His sharp inhalation of surprise was followed by a hum of contentment that vibrated against her lips, and she leaned further into him. He definitely felt passion for her, but this kiss communicated something more than just physical attraction. It was the fulfillment of a longing he had believed himself to be suffering alone, a longing for companionship and intimacy with a woman who'd somehow wrapped herself so tightly around his hearts, he wondered if they even belonged to him anymore.

She pressed his hand firmly against the side of her face as their heads shifted and the kiss deepened. Clara's fingers then curled around the back of his neck and snaked through his hair, pulling him impossibly close as she shivered in his arms.

The Doctor couldn't tell if it was from the cold anymore, but he held her tightly just the same.

"Clara." He spoke her name in a heavy breath, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to breathe normally.

"Yes?" Her lips were pink and swollen. The Doctor swallowed hard as another traitorous thought filled his head at the sight of her.

"You should… You should probably get some sleep." He licked his lips absentmindedly. "Long day tomorrow."

She smiled incredulously. "Sending me to bed, are you?"

"Yes. I-I mean, not like that…" He coughed lightly. "You should sleep."

"I don't think I'll be able to now," she said with a grin that shifted to something saucier, almost wicked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"No?" He fought to keep his gaze from her lips but failed. She lifted his hand and laced their fingers together, palm to palm. "I could…" He swallowed again. Stop that. "Tuck you in."

Her resulting grin made him dizzy. "Yeah," she said softly, eyes lowering to his lips again. "I think I'd like that."