Elwick bid them goodnight with a smile, tucked his clipboard under his arm, and hurried off.

The Doctor stared at the door, then searched his pockets. 'My glasses have gone.' Without another word he opened the door, pulled her through the bedroom and into the bathroom, turned the bath taps on full bore and then wrapped her in his arms.

She gasped and her heart raced, was he going to kiss her again?

He spoke softly into her ear, 'I don't want to worry you, but someone's been in this room. The hair I trapped in the door's gone. We may be bugged now, without the sonic glasses I can't check.'

She let her breath out slowly, he was being careful. He stood very still, stiffly even. It reminded her, unhappily, of their early hugs. The kiss had scared him. Perhaps he regretted it. She had to put him at ease, it was terrible to see him this tense.

'Look, that kiss, it's okay. It was just for show. I get that,' she whispered. His body stayed taught, coiled like spring. 'Please. Please don't do this,' she begged. This pretense was turning everything upside down. What was she supposed to do?

Get him to focus on something, to plan. He was best when he had something to do.

'What do we do, Doctor? If there's a bug in here, how do we beat it if we can't find it?' He relaxed very slightly in her arms.

'We just keep pretending. You can do that, can't you? Pretend?' There was a tightness to his voice.

She felt the burst of energy she had on the dance floor slip away. He'd been pretending. Now he was embarrassed. 'Of course, pretend. Let's just get through tonight. We can share a bed. We've been friends long enough. It's no big deal.'

'No big deal,' he said.

'Okay. They left some night things on the bed, I'll get changed, you come out in five minutes, then I'll come back in here. Then we're both ready for bed, no blushes.' Clearly the idea of being closer to her horrified him, and she was furious with herself for thinking that kiss meant something more. Well, she would make it easy for him.

'Clara-'

'Stop it. I trust you, okay. If that's what you're worried about, don't. You're my best friend, and I trust you.' She hoped that would make things clear enough. She wrestled herself from his grip and hurried out of the bathroom before he could see she was fighting back frustrated tears.

The Doctor lay in the bed, feeling ridiculous in a pair of satin pyjamas, and stared unhappily at the ceiling. "I trust you," she'd said. That was all very well, but could he trust himself?

Christmas turned everything upside down. Missing her life hit him like a tonne of bricks. She more or less told him he was the one for her, the one she'd have married, didn't she? Then she kissed him chastely on the cheek and ran away with him in her nighty. If that wasn't the mother of all mixed messages then he was the Flying Scotsman. Now, the sands were shifting again. The image of Clara dancing with Prince Richard the Ridiculous came to mind. It had been a very long time since he'd wanted to thump anyone, but Prince Chump-Head earned that dubious honour. It didn't make him feel any better. Is that what his feelings for Clara would drive him to?

He heard the bathroom door open. At the bedside she paused for a moment, long enough for him to see how the silk nightdress cling to her, and lace frame the V of her neckline, before she slipped under the covers beside him. He took a deep breath. Things were complicated enough. He needed her a ridiculous amount, and one day, one way or another, she wouldn't be there anymore. And what then? No, his job was to fight monsters, not notice things like silk and lace.

He closed his eyes and pictured the most repulsive Slitheen he could imagine. Perhaps, if he lay still, eyes closed, she would think he was asleep and not speak. If she didn't speak, he wouldn't need to look at her. And if he didn't look at her, maybe, just maybe, they could survive this mess with their friendship and his dignity intact.

'Doctor. I know you're not asleep,' she said.

Of course she knew. This was Clara. She was in his head. She knew. Yet she didn't, not really, and maybe that would save him. She thought the kiss was a ploy to convince Gaskell they were married. He certainly hadn't meant to kiss her like that, but as soon as her lips touched his he was under her spell. What if he kissed her again? Damn! Now he was thinking of kissing her, and there were a hundred and one ways that could end badly.

'Doctor, are you not speaking to me?' she said, sounding hurt.

Could he possibly make this any worse? 'Of course not. I'm just thinking. About. . . a Slitheen.'

Clara coughed. 'Why on earth are you doing that? Couldn't you find anything else to think about?'

There, he insulted her now. If he opened his mouth a bit wider he could probably get the other foot in there too. 'I was thinking about…this ring. I got the amber from Raxocoricofallapatorious.'

'Raxocrocifo… where the Sithleen come from?' Now she was propped on her elbow, touching his hand, a thin layer of silk and lace all that separated them. It was safest to just keep looking at the ceiling. He most certainly was not going to roll over and look at that lace.

'Is it a wedding ring? You know, when you stole the President's daughter?' she whispered.

'No, I've actually not had it very long. It reminds me of things I've won and things I've lost. Wars, places…people I care about.'

He gently moved his hand away from hers. He laced his fingers tightly together, and laid his hands on his own chest, determined they would stay there, far, far away from the lace, and the silk, and Clara. He needed to centre himself.

'Clara, please, let's just go to sleep.' He heard her sigh, felt the bed move as she lay flat again. He rolled over to turn out the light on the bedside table, and stayed as far over that side of the mattress as he could. She sniffed quietly in the darkness and at that moment he didn't feel like a good man. He closed his eyes, to the intrusive image of a fat Slitheen in a lacy silk night dress.

It was going to be a very long night.

Hours later, he was in a half-dream, an intoxicating place full of Clara. He could smell a trace of apple from her hair. Her lips were soft and warm against his. After a moment of hesitation her lips parted and her tongue slid into his mouth. She was pressed full against him, that thin layer of silk barely separating them now. His hands tugged her nightdress and found her soft skin beneath. She moaned quietly. He was lost, quite lost.

He breathed her name.

Clara, his impossible girl.

Clara, beautiful, strong, brave, funny.

Clara, so right for him.

Yet she was not his. How could she be? This was a dark desire he should keep buried in the murky corners of his mind.

He had no right.

He forced himself fully awake.

She was in his arms, her chest pressed close, legs intertwined with his, murmuring softly.

He was flushed and sweating. Damn! How could he have been so stupid? His low level telepathic abilities coupled with close proximity and early morning hormones induced a shared dream state.

Gods, he was an idiot. He should have warned her, at least. He tried to move away, so he wasn't pressing himself against her, but she murmured discontentedly and moved closer. She was breathing fast, flushed, her closed eyelids fluttering rapidly as if she were still dreaming. Which was odd, because he was awake now, any shared dream should be severed. Unless her mind picked up where his left off…

He became aware of a spiky red presence with a clipboard at eye level.

'What are you doing? My wife is sleeping.'

Elwick turned his head apologetically. 'Breakfast in one hour, sir.'

The Doctor looked for something to throw, but the small man was already gone. He looked down at Clara, she was stirring, hair mussed against the pillow, cheeks flushed red. She would wake up and know exactly what he'd done. He took a moment to ponder, sadly, how easily the words "my wife" rolled off his tongue. Then he sighed, swallowed hard, and prepared himself for whatever punishment was due to a Time Lord who should know better when he took advantage of his best friend in her sleep.

Outside the suite, Elwick paused and wrote on the list secured to his clipboard. He had to admit, their story held up well. These two were deeply in love, any fool could see that. He made his way wearily back to his quarters. Perhaps he could catch a couple of hours rest now. Gaskell had him up all night, first trying to get into that blue box where the guards had already failed, which turned out to be hopeless. Then Gaskell had him polishing the guards boots, and the lazy oafs hadn't cleaned them for days. The Prince's jibes sent Gaskell into a rage and Elwick caught full force of it. Elwick wondered, not for the first time, why he stayed on the Royal Frigate at all.

'What was that?' Clara asked sleepily as she woke. The first thing she noticed was that she was in the Doctors arms. The second thing she noticed was that his early morning presentation was the same as any other man. When he gallantly tried to move that part of him away from her she made a very serious deal with herself not to laugh at him, but soon realised she was more than a little aroused herself. God, that dream! It was so vivid. She flushed as she thought of it, blurting out 'Did you dream that too?' before realising a far better strategy would be to ignore the whole thing.

He looked mortified. 'Clara, I'm so sorry. It was a shared telepathic state, it happens sometimes…Honestly, I woke up before anything…' He sat upright and put his head in his hands.

She sat up too, aware of two more things, firstly that she hadn't woken up before things got interesting and she wasn't a bit sorry, and secondly, with the room likely bugged, everything they said might be over heard. She sat up too, took his hand, and looked into his eyes hoping he would catch on.

'Honey, we're married, it's no big deal. Nothing we haven't done lots of times, right?'

He looked at her, and nodded very slightly. 'Of course. Caught me by surprise, that's all.'

She smiled at him, as warmly as she could, and hoped he could see in her eyes that it really was okay. She nodded to the bathroom. 'You want to take a shower?' He scrambled out of bed and shut the door firmly behind him.

Clara lay back on the satin sheets and closed her eyes. It was more than okay. It was amazing. They were going to have one hell of a talk when this was over.


Thank you for following along!

Regress