Chapter 2: Clothes for You

They were still in the wardrobe as the Doctor had begun busying himself with looking through the contents. She had been a little confused until she remembered that he was probably looking for something new to wear. His current outfit was torn and ragged; and even if it wasn't, he probably didn't like it anymore since now he was a new man and had new tastes. It seemed he had read her mind because he called out to her over his shoulder.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Clara became excited at the prospect. She had always wanted to help him pick something out to wear, mostly to get rid of that ridiculous bowtie.

"So what are you looking for?" She moved closer to him and inspected the article he was currently holding.

"I don't know."

"Then what do you want to put on?"

"I don't know."

"Well, what do you like?"

"I don't know."

"Then what do you do know?" She asked, irritated.

"That you're very easily annoyed… and childish." He added when he saw her stick out her tongue at him. She sighed and decided to walk around. Maybe the other side of the room had something he could wear. She looked through the clothes, picking up bits and pieces that she wanted him to try on. After a while she decided to go back to him, mostly because she couldn't carry anymore things.

She went back to the last place she had seen him but couldn't spot him anywhere, just the box of glasses.

"Doctor! Where are you?"

"Over here!" She looked around but still couldn't see him.

"Where?"

"Just head to the staircase!" She looked around and her eyes finally settled on a winding metal staircase at the far end of the room. She walked over to it and hastily dropped the clothes, groaning at the achy feeling of her arms. But he wasn't there either. She took a closer look at the stairs and noticed that they continued in both directions: to a lower floor and to an upper floor.

"Doctor?"

"Up here!" She climbed the stairs and saw him surrounded by what she guessed was his own pile of 'clothes to try on'. It seems like he had already tried some on as his purple coat, and waist coat were no where to be seen, his shirt wasn't tucked in and was unbuttoned at the top, and he was barefoot. She tried to ignore the little stab of pain at noticing that the bowtie was also no where to be found.

"I've found some clothes you could try on."

"Great! Bring them up." She sighed pointedly.

"But it's a lot and my arms hurt from carrying them around trying to find you."

"Well, then what do you prefer? Bringing your pile up, or taking my pile down?" He asked, pointing to the pile of clothes she had spotted. It was bigger than hers.

"Why can't you carry it!?"

"Because I'll be carrying the other pile." He pointed to another pile that was still bigger than the first.

She groaned and headed down the stairs to get her pile of clothes. But when she got back up, he was gone again. She abruptly dropped the clothes at her feet. Was this whole disappearing nonsense going to be a thing now?

"Doctor, I am not carrying these clothes to another floor again!"

"Calm down!" He came into view, carrying something above his head. A mirror. He rested it against one of the racks of clothes and turned to face her.

"You're tired already?" She asked once she noticed that he was slightly out of breath.

"It was heavy!" She smirked.

"If you get that way with only a mirror, then I hope you can still keep up with the Daleks."

"Of course I still can! I've got longer legs now, unlike your twigs." He said, motioning to her legs.

"Well, these twigs come with a strong and youthful pair of lungs, old man." Suddenly a shirt came hurtling toward her, hitting her square on the face. She became a little worried that she may have overdone it with the teasing but then she saw his smug expression and couldn't stop herself from throwing the shirt right back. He promptly caught it before it hit his face and his smirk grew.

"Show off." She stuck her tongue out again.

"You're just jealous." He dropped the shirt on one of the piles and silence fell as they both stared at the clothes. "Well, I guess we better get started."

Four hours, and multiple eye shieldings to let him change, later and they were still trying to finish off his new outfit. Clara's excitement had quickly disappeared after the first hour and now she was just plain exhausted of looking at clothes. If it had been up to her they would have finished two hours ago, but the Doctor kept insisting that something was missing, something that would complete the outfit to perfection.

She still couldn't see it. Everything was fine to her. They had decided on a wine red dress shirt that he promptly decided to wear with the top button undone; a dark gray, tweed waistcoat (she had insisted on the waistcoat – because of the previous him, she had come to love tweed); black, slim fit pants that were tucked into a pair of black, calf-high, punk rock, slightly worn out, lace-up combat boots (she had protested at first but his stubbornness ended up winning); and a navy blue long coat.

She had tried to convince him to wear contacts, (he had absolutely refused to), but now she agreed that the glasses did add a certain flavor to the get up. He did look rather amazing. If only he agreed.

"Doctor, can I leave now?" She called out while lying on the pile of rejected clothes.

"No. You have to help me. Something's missing and I need to find out what." She moved her gaze from the ceiling to him. He was still staring steadily at himself in the mirror.

"But everything's fine. You don't need anything else."

"Yes I do."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something that I don't wear all the time but can carry around for when I do need to wear it. An accessory of some kind…"

Suddenly the idea struck her. She got up and made for the stairs.

"Oswin? Where are you going? You still haven't helped me find what I nee – and she's gone." He sighed and turned back to the mirror. But instead of examining the outfit, he stared at his new face, bringing a hand up to touch the features.

"Do I have one of those faces that no one listens to… again?"

After a couple of minutes, he heard her make her way up the staircase.

"Did you get tired of being bored somewhere else and came to be bored here again?" He turned when he didn't hear the feisty answer he was expecting and saw her a few feet away. Her stance showed a bit of frailty and she was holding something in her hands.

"I think I found something." She walked up to him, unfolding the cream colored scarf and wrapping it around his neck. Her hands lingered on the material before slipping to her sides. She never took her eyes off it, though.

"It belonged to my mother. It was her favorite and my dad gave it to me after she had passed away. I've never worn it, though. Not much of a scarf person." She added with a weak laugh. He could see the tears begin to pool in her eyes.

Without warning, he hunched over slightly and pulled her into a tight embrace. She tensed up for a few seconds but soon wrapped her arms around his midsection, holding onto him a little tighter than she normally would have. After a while they separated and Clara wiped away a couple of tears that had finally managed to escape.

The Doctor took one final glance at the mirror and smiled once he noticed Clara's reflection standing beside his, smiling back. Without breaking the stare, he took her hand in his for the first time and squeezed it.

"Not bad, huh?"

Her smile widened, and she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not bad at all."

Author's Note: So tell me what you think. I would love to hear from you guys. I promise the adventure will start in chapter 3. I just couldn't resist writing some more fluffiness between them :D Also, sorry that Twelve's outfit isn't really creative. I don't know anything about fashion so I tried to compensate with the colors he was going to wear. I hope you guys like it.