Boss/Intern AU
Twelve/Clara
K+
Clara rushed into the conference room just as everyone was finding their seats. Fifteen pair of eyes turned to her, and she flashed them a breathless smile.
"Sorry."
Mentally cringing, Clara found an open chair and took her seat. She pulled out her notepad, pen, and audio recorder and set them up neatly in the space in front of her, along with her water bottle that she wished were a cup of hot tea. There was a projector set up with a slide titled 'Intern Orientation 2014' and Clara felt her heart race with a mixture of excitement and nerves.
She didn't go to the mixer the night before because her train had been delayed from Blackpool, and everyone seemed to know each other already. Some even seemed to be nursing hangovers, and it was with a hollow feeling in her chest that Clara realised she already had to catch up on her first day.
The door to the conference room burst open as an older man strode through carrying a briefcase that was unceremoniously tossed onto the table in front of her. Clara and several other people sitting near her jumped back and turned their eyes to the man standing at the head of the table.
He was tall and thin, with an equally thin face and a mop of salt and pepper curls cropped close to his head. He ran a hand over his face as he surveyed everyone sitting at the table, his gaze lingering a second longer on Clara. She sat up straight and tried not to look fazed—she didn't know who this was, but she'd guessed that he was the intern supervisor and he'd met everyone last night. He was probably wondering who the hell she was.
"Good morning," he said in a voice that wasn't exactly loud, but a blonde girl sitting near the back of the table groaned and clutched her head. "I'm Dr John Smith, but you can call me the Doctor. I will be your supervisor during your time at TARDIS Industries."
Clara reached for her audio recorder and pressed record; she'd made it a habit of recording all of her lectures in university, so it was without a second thought that she'd brought the device to her first day of (unpaid) work.
"He's kind of hot," Clara heard a young woman mutter behind her while the Doctor continued to introduce them to the company.
"You only like him 'cause he's Scottish," a young man replied.
Clara glanced at the couple—they seemed like a couple—and smiled inwardly when the redhead elbowed the boy in the ribs.
"You will not succeed in this program if you do not pay attention," the Doctor said sharply.
It took Clara a moment to realise that comment was directed at her, and she returned her attention to the man practically glaring at her. "Sorry," she muttered.
The Doctor paced the width of the table as he talked, never once consulting the slideshow on the board or pausing for breath. He seemed equal parts eager and impatient—Clara couldn't tell if he wanted to get this over with because he was looking forward to the next few weeks or dreading them.
"Are there any questions?"
Clara's hand shot in the air. He raised an eyebrow. "Miss Oswald."
Her cheeks turned pink. So he knew who she was, then. "Will we be assigned projects on a daily basis, or will they be on-going?"
The Doctor smiled—well, sort of smiled. His lips tightly stretched across his face before he glanced at the rest of the room.
"That, ladies and gentlemen, is an excellent question."
Clara sat up a little in her chair and scribbled some notes on his response, ignoring the muttered jibes from her co-workers about her being the 'teacher's pet.'
Once they were dismissed, Clara grabbed her things and rushed over to the Doctor while the rest of the interns headed to their stations in the pen.
"Doctor? Sorry, I had a few more questions."
He sighed. "Yes? What is it?"
Clara blinked, no longer sure if she ought to ask him or not. These were the questions she'd felt too embarrassed to ask in front of the group after the 'teacher's pet' comment. "Um, I just wanted to know if we're allowed coffee breaks? Or if we could get a tour of the rest of the offices?" She grimaced. "Should I be asking someone else?"
His gaze flicked up and down her face. "I'm the intern supervisor—who else would you ask?"
"Um…"
"Coffee breaks are fine, but try to limit yourself to one or two a day. As for an office tour…" He flicked his wrist up to glance at his watch. "I can probably make time for you around 4:30 this afternoon. Meet me here and we'll work our way down to the second floor offices."
Clara nodded. "Right, yeah. Great. I'll see if anyone else is interested."
The Doctor paused while grabbing his briefcase from the table and spared her a glance before staring at the door and giving a sharp nod. "Right, do that."
And then he walked out of the room disturbing the air so much that the ends of her hair and the sheer fabric of her blouse fluttered after him.
Clara stood in the doorway to the conference room with a two paper cups of coffee warming her hands. She'd picked them up at the café across the road right before she was supposed to meet the Doctor and now she felt like she should toss one in the bin so she didn't look like she was a kiss arse for buying the boss coffee. Then again, he was taking time out of his day to show her around the rest of the offices…
Oh. She'd forgotten to ask if anyone else wanted to come along.
'Forgotten' might not be the right word—Clara felt extremely out of place with the rest of the interns and didn't know how to talk to any of them. It wasn't that she was shy—Clara usually made a good impression on people and she relied on her natural likeability to navigate social situations—but everyone already seemed to have their groups, their mates, and she always felt like she was interrupting a conversation when she talked to someone else. It was sort of like going to a school dance to find she was the only one without a partner.
The lift dinged to her right, and Clara stood up from the wall she was leaning against when she spotted the Doctor striding towards her. There was something very menacing in the way he walked, something intimidating in the neutral expression on his face. Either this was the most miserable man on the planet or he was incredibly overworked. Perhaps one fed the other.
His eyebrows lifted as he neared her. "No one else?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Good. I hate shepherding. Is this for me?" he asked, pointing to the cup in her left hand.
He spoke so fast it was difficult for her to keep up. "Er…"
"You can say yes; I won't think you're a kiss arse."
She handed him the cup and he accepted it, giving it a sniff.
"Cream and sugar?"
She pulled two creamers and two packets of sugar from the inner pocket of her handbag. The Doctor grabbed the sugars and offered her a little smile before popping off the lid to empty the sugar packs inside. The tension in his body eased as he sighed, and Clara watched him curiously as he returned the lid to the top of the cup.
"Right. Let's go."
They rode the lift to the sixth floor where they practically sprinted up and down the corridors. He pointed lazily to offices that they passed and rattled off a list of names and job titles that Clara would struggle to remember later. By the time they returned to the floor where she was working, it was five minutes after five and everyone had already left for the day.
"They get out of here quick, don't they?" Clara said with some amusement.
The Doctor pulled on his suit jacket. "What's there to stick around for?"
She shrugged. "Just an observation."
He checked his watch. Clara noticed that he was always fidgeting, always acting like he was late for something. He reminded her of the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. "So? First day go well then?"
Clara flashed a smile. She had trouble logging into her e-mail account, she didn't understand the program they were supposed to be using, and none of the instructions for her project seemed to make any sense. But she didn't want him to know she was drowning. "Yeah, good."
"Excellent. I'll see you tomorrow, then."
He dashed to the lifts and pressed the button. Clara watched him with a frown and glanced around awkwardly before walking up behind him. She needed to take the lift too.
The Doctor glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and then returned his gaze to the lift once the doors opened. They both stepped inside and then Clara pressed the button for the ground floor, the doors shutting to encase them in awkward silence. She watched the analogue dial over the doors drop from the four to the three and wondered how old these lifts were.
Just about that time, the carriage came to a grinding halt and nearly knocked them both off their feet.
"Uh… What just happened?"
An alarm sounded—a shrill, vibrating bell that made the Doctor groan and Clara's heart pound even harder in her chest.
"Doctor?"
"Bloody ancient lifts," he muttered before stabbing the call button at the bottom of the floor directory. It lit up, but nothing else happened.
"What do we do?" she asked.
"Pray that someone's paying attention at the security desk."
Clara released a shaky breath and nodded.
The Doctor frowned. "You OK?"
Her shallow breathing contradicted her as she nodded. "Yeah, I just… don't like closed spaces."
"You must love working in a cubicle then."
She tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a gasp of panic. Clara placed her hands on her hips and started pacing the three steps between the doors and the back of the lift, if you could call that pacing.
The Doctor placed his hands on her shoulders. "Clara—breathe."
She nodded vigorously. "I am… I am."
She knew she was having a panic attack—she knew that the likelihood of them being trapped in there forever was slim, but she couldn't tell her heart rate to decrease or make herself stop sweating. She was starting to feel lightheaded.
"Sit down," the Doctor instructed.
"What?" she squeaked.
"Sit—it'll make the lift seem bigger."
They both sat cross-legged on the floor facing each other. Clara started peeling her cardigan away from her shoulders, panicking when it didn't come off easily. The Doctor shushed her calmly and helped her pull the sleeves off her arms.
"Is that better?" he asked.
Clara leaned her had back against the lift and shut her eyes. "Yes."
"Just breathe."
She did as she was told; it was all she could manage to do at any rate. Licking her lips, she took a series of deep breaths before opening her eyes to find him watching her anxiously.
"I'm sorry."
He smiled, which deepened the lines on his face but somehow made him seem twenty years younger. "Don't worry about it. We're all afraid of something."
Clara shut her eyes again and touched a hand to the side of her head, willing the world to stop spinning. It had gotten easier to breathe, but her head was spinning even faster and she could feel the sweat glistening on her skin. The Doctor must think she was a basket case.
That wasn't exactly what he was thinking as she sat there in her black camisole, skin shining and chest heaving as she clutched the side of her head, but he quickly glanced away when the lift shifted and she opened her eyes.
"Ah, here we go."
Clara scrambled to her feet and grabbed her cardigan from the ground, then stared at the sheer blouse in her hand in disbelief as the horrible realisation set in: she hadn't been wearing her cardigan. She'd just taken her blouse off in front of her boss.
She managed to get it back on by the time they made it off the lift onto the ground floor.
"Well," the Doctor said, turning to her just as she tucked the back of her blouse back into her skirt. "I hope you've enjoyed your first day. Looking forward to more."
She heaved a sort of laugh-sob that made him smile. He'd seemed really quite horrid at the start of the day, but Clara was starting to like him (although not like that—she was sure he was married with kids her age.)
"See you tomorrow, then," she said when they parted ways outside.
As soon as he rounded the corner, Clara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "One down, fifty-two more days to go."
A few days later, Clara still couldn't make heads or tails of the program they were supposed to be using. Every time she thought she'd figured something out, she discovered she was actually wrong or another dilemma presented itself. They ought to name the damn thing Hydra.
She knocked on the door to the Doctor's office one morning and smiled hesitantly.
"Yes?" he said impatiently. His expression softened when he looked up from his desk and saw Clara in the doorway. "What is it?"
He was wearing glasses. It took her a full five seconds to process why that was significant and another three for her to stifle that thought before it grow into something inappropriate. "I was wondering if you could help me with something."
He sat back in his chair a little, like he was preparing to stand. "Yes, what is it?"
She felt a pang of embarrassment that had nothing to do with the lift/panic attack/blouse removal incident, that is until the combination of the Doctor's curious face and the heat rising in her cheeks made her feel even more awkward.
Clara powered through it. "I'm having trouble with the software we're using to input data and do research. I can't seem to make heads or tails of it."
An almost knowing grin curled his mouth to one side of his face and he stood from his chair. "Here—sit."
"Oh… OK," she said, feeling slightly odd about being invited to sit in his chair. The leather was warm when she sat down.
"OK," he said, leaning down next to her to close out a few programs before balancing his palm on the desk. "Alright, open it up. It's that little blue icon there."
"Yes, thanks—I've figured that much out," she said a little too snidely, clicking on it.
"Do you want help or not?"
"I-I'm sorry."
He laughed. "Breathe, Clara."
His teasing tone indicated he hadn't forgotten the lift incident like she'd hoped, but it did ease her anxiety about talking to him. He seemed to like her well enough, even though she'd presented herself as a complete nitwit during the past week.
"Alright, you know how to access the spreadsheets, yes?"
"Yes."
"And cross-reference them with the data on this page."
Clara bit her lip, trying to think of any way she could possibly do that, and then exhaled heavily in defeat. "No."
The Doctor placed his hand over hers on the mouse and directed the cursor to the right of the screen, where there was a menu she'd never paid much attention to that helped her do everything she needed. He not only showed her the basics, but also shortcuts that would save her time and help her get ahead in the game. Maybe she was the teacher's pet.
"Thank you," she said when the lesson was finally over. She turned to face him and felt her smile waver when she noticed how close their faces were. "I shouldn't have taken up so much of your time."
"Yeah, but you'll make up for it later."
Clara suddenly felt two inches tall. That wasn't a solicitation, was it?
The Doctor's eyes went wide and he backed away from her. "No, no—I didn't… You'll make up for the time by working more efficiently."
She breathed a sigh of relief and then smiled, enjoying how the tables had turned. For once, he was the one flustered. "Got it."
She stood from his chair and then left his office with another 'thanks' that she hoped straddled the fence between casual and professional before walking back to her desk in the pen. Her heart was racing.
Was it bad that she was a little disappointed?
Yes, Clara—that is definitely bad.
Later that week, she checked to see if he wore a ring on his left hand. He didn't.
They didn't interact much after that. He would glance at her sometimes in passing, or address her stiffly during intern meetings, but otherwise he seemed to be avoiding her at all costs. He was probably afraid she was going to file a sexual harassment complaint.
A week before her internship ended, she knocked on his door and tried not to look on the verge of another panic attack when he invited her in. He stuttered when he asked her to keep the door open.
Clara took a seat across from him and tucked her hands under thighs as she stared at deep blue coffee mug next to his keyboard. She didn't know how to say this, but she started talking anyway.
"I was just wondering if you'd heard anything about recruitment for full-time positions," she asked. "I handed in my resume last week… I understand if you can't say anything."
"I can't," he said, his tone rather apologetic.
Clara nodded. "Right. I just thought I'd ask."
She stood from her chair and smiled tightly before turning to leave the room.
"Clara?"
She turned at the doorway. "Yes?"
He gazed at her for a moment. "This company would be lucky to have you."
Their eyes met and remained locked together for several seconds. Her heart fluttered in her chest.
"Thank you, Doctor."
Clara then turned and practically ran back to her desk. She wondered if could handle working in the same office with him for another week, let alone the next few years. She was constantly asking herself why she always felt so awkward around him even though she already knew the answer.
All of the interns were meeting down the road at their favourite pub for a round of drinks to celebrate the end of their summer run at TARDIS Industries. Clara promised to meet up with them later, but she didn't feel much like celebrating.
She hadn't gotten the position she'd applied for.
It shouldn't have come as such a shock to her—she hadn't performed as well as some of the others and she'd had a rocky start, but she had shown the most improvement in her work performance over the past several weeks.
She stayed late that last day to pack up her things for sentimental reasons: she always got sad when things ended, and she didn't want anyone to see her cry if tears did spring to her eyes. Given how much she'd cried the night before when she realised she'd put so much effort into this internship only to get nothing out of it, tears were a possibility.
Clara was sniffling when she put the last of her things into her 'I 3 READING' canvas tote she'd gotten free at Blackwells when she'd bought an outrageous number of books one summer. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone clear his throat behind her, and she stared with muted horror when she saw that it was the Doctor.
His navy jacket was folded over one arm, his tie loose and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was blistering hot outside, but professional menswear dictated a suit and tie be worn year round.
"You're still here," he said.
She smiled tightly. "I was just about to leave."
"I'll walk you out."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Electricity crackled between them. She'd done her best to ignore it these past several weeks, but never before had they felt more alone. Her time at TARDIS Industries was over—they wouldn't have to see each other anymore. She felt equally saddened and relieved by this realisation. As much as she liked him, she never felt quite at ease in his presence.
Trauma dictated she shouldn't take the lift alone with him again, but someone else hopped inside with them just before the doors closed. Perhaps that was why the lift rode smoothly all the way to the ground floor.
They passed by the security officer at the front desk on their way out the door. Once outside on the pavement, they turned to each other with expectant looks on their faces they didn't know how to quell.
"I'm sorry you didn't get the job you applied for," he said.
Clara bowed her head. "Thank you."
"I think it's my fault," he said.
Her eyes snapped to his. "What? What do you mean?"
His mouth opened but no sound came out at first. "I recommended you for another position. It's a lower starting pay, but you could work your way up faster and I think you'd enjoy it more. It involves lots of charts."
She managed half a smile. "Why would you do that?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Her expression softened. "Thank you, Doctor."
He shrugged and glanced away. "Well, thank me if you get it. You should hear back in a few days. I wrote you a hell of a recommendation, so if they don't give it to you, I'm inclined to take it personally."
The Doctor nearly fell off the kerb when she jumped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a rush of gratitude. He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he allowed them to hover just behind her shoulder blades until she pulled away from him.
"Sorry," she said. "That wasn't really professional."
"No… it's fine." He cleared his throat. "Were you lot meeting for drinks at the pub?"
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah, I was about to catch them up."
"Ah, right. Well, then… have a good evening."
"You too, Doctor."
She turned to walk towards the pub but then quickly swivelled around.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?" he asked, turning to her.
She nodded in the direction of the pub. "Come join us."
Once again, his mouth opened but no sound came out. "Ah, ha… No, I don't think so. Thank you."
"Why not?"
"I don't exactly fit in with a group of twentysomethings."
Clara smiled but shook her head. "Oh, Doctor; I think you severely underestimate how likeable you are."
His heart fluttered. "Maybe some other time."
She laughed nervously and mouthed 'OK' before turning around, clearly disappointed. Before she could take two steps away from him, Clara once again whipped around and called his name.
"Yes?"
She stared at him with an inscrutable expression before practically jogging the three steps that separated them so she could stand on her tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek. He couldn't help but jump back and stare at her in surprise.
"Some other time, OK?" she said, her invitation clear.
His answer was automatic. "OK."
Two weeks later, Clara Oswald had a new job, and a date with the man who'd helped her get it.