A/N: I'm sorry if I'm not replying to reviews very often, as I've been a bit busy. Please trust me when I say I appreciate every one of you even if I can't say it individually. In the meantime, here's a treat.

Chapter Four: 11 February 1940

Clara turned the corner and smiled as she saw John standing by the gate to the school, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in an effort to stay warm. He was looking up at the dark, cloudy sky with his teeth chattering in the morning cold. Careful not to catch his attention too early, Clara snuck up behind John and threw her arms around him in a playful hug. John jerked and recoiled in legitimate surprise.

"Morning!" Clara announced cheerily. John did not hug her back, instead trying to curl up with his back hunched and upper arms drawn in tightly against his sides. Clara let go and saw that he was grimacing uncomfortably. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," John lied. He straightened and smoothed out the front of his coat. "It's, well, you took me by surprise is all."

"You didn't look surprised," Clara said, arching her eyebrows.

"I haven't had anyone really hug me in a while." John looked at Clara and tried to gauge her reaction, which was so far confused.

"No one hugs you…? Not even mates or anything?"

"Actually, one of my coworkers, Collette, she's about your age and she hugged me her first day on the job but she hugged everyone her first day. Other than that… no, not really… not for a long time, anyways."

"Oh…" Clara said, her voice trailing off guiltily. "Is it okay though? Can I hug you?"

"I'm not really a hugging person," John shrugged. He saw the concern on Clara's face and added "but if that's what you want… I can try." He held out his arm and Clara took it, pressing herself into John's side to combat the chill.

They walked like that to the bus stop and only separated when boarding one-by-one. The vehicle was mostly empty; early on a Sunday was not the prime time for heading into the city. This allowed them the whole back of the bus to themselves, which helped John's face go not quite as red when Clara pulled his arm around her and nuzzled once again into his side.

"Cold," she claimed, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn't complain, instead observing how she held his hand in place on her hip. It wasn't so much hugging as it was holding and that was fine. He could work his way up to hugging, he imagined. If he could kiss her hand and link arms then eventually a hug would be no problem.

Once in Glasgow proper, Clara began to turn and look out the window to take in her surroundings. Going by her wide eyes, it was clear to John that she had not actually gone in to Glasgow purely to see things. Her meticulous scanning of the landmarks made her look all the cuter. Cuter? Yes, she was cute. They got off the bus (or in Clara's case: bounced) and were greeted by a chilled breeze.

"So where are we going to go?" Clara wondered. She looked up at John, who was scanning their surroundings pensively.

"Not sure," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "I was trying to come up with something this entire time, but I haven't been in Glasgow for much other than my books for a long time. There's a good chance that some of the stuff here's been closed because of the war, now that I think about it. I really should have thought this through better…"

"Well, when you were here a lot, where were you?" Clara asked. "No one makes a claim about Glasgow being lovely, let alone any city, without being in love with it themselves."

"I wouldn't say I'm in love with Glasgow now, but instead simmering a strong like for her," John chuckled. "I used to go to university here, once upon a time when dinosaurs roamed the earth and we humans fought them for dominance."

"Then let's start there," Clara said. "You at least remember where that is, right?"

"Of course, but we'll have to catch another bus," John smiled. He held out his elbow, which Clara happily took as they walked along the pavement.

The next bus ride was considerably shorter and soon John and Clara found themselves wandering part of the grounds of the University of Glasgow. It was quiet, as it was still early, leaving them two of the only people about.

"Where is everyone?" Clara asked. "Church?"

"Aha, no, probably still sleeping off whatever they did last night," John laughed. "Common uni student behavior… I thought you knew even if you never participated in such nights. Didn't you need to go to university to become a teacher?"

"I sat exams early and studied a lot," Clara frowned. "I didn't have much time to fritter about and learn about what my classmates were doing."

"Well you have time to fritter now, if I have anything to say about it," John said. Something caught his eye and he perked up. "Hey, the museum's still here… and it looks like it's open too. Want to go take a look?"

"Sure, why not," Clara shrugged. She allowed John to drag her up to the grey-brown stone building and usher her in. Soon they were wandering halls filled with paintings, every third one or so sending John to spiral off into a story from his school days.

The way his eyes lit up and his hands gestured as he regaled his adventures was something entirely new to her. Even during their second date, where they had sat up drinking tea and talking, he had not spoken this animatedly before. Now he was cracking jokes, awful jokes, though it was the little twitch the corner of his mouth made as he looked at her for a response that made her laugh. She watched him sketch a couple of the paintings, amazed that he was even allowed to do that in the first place— the way his grin turned clever and his whole body shifted into a pose of relaxed confidence as he processed the artwork in front of him was mesmerizing. He was where he most belonged and it made her smile just to see it all.

It had felt like only a few minutes, but before long they came out the other end of the corridors and found themselves in the main lobby again.

"Oh, already?" John asked, scratching his head. "I could have sworn there was more."

"I think there was as much as you remember, but we got a little too wrapped up," Clara chided, giggling. Her stomach gurgled loudly, silencing her laughter and causing her to go red in embarrassment.

"Skipped breakfast, did we?" John smirked as he checked his wristwatch. He double-checked the device and hissed. "Feck, how did we just spend five hours in here?"

"It was fun," Clara assured. They exited the building and found that the sun was high and warm, with many more people milling about and taking advantage of its presence. "How about lunch then, hmm?"

"That sounds like a plan," John agreed, just in time for his own stomach to squelch in a declaration of its own. Clara raised her eyebrows critically, to which he indignantly turned away from. "Come on, I know a pub just down the road with great pie."

Sure enough, the pie was some of the best Clara had eaten in a long time despite the fact the pub was dim and dingy and possessed strong smells she did not want to investigate the sources of. She and John laughed and giggled as they swapped stories about work and John reminisced about the varied drinking contests and philosophical debates he would find himself roped into in that very pub. They took their time eating and didn't notice how they spent multiple hours nibbling at pie and sipping their drinks until they stepped back outside and noticed the late-afternoon sun.

"I can't believe I told you I was going to show you Glasgow and all we've done so far is go to a museum and eat," John groaned as they walked down the pavement, headed nowhere in particular. "This must feel like a let-down. The day's almost over too… some date this turned out to be."

"It's not as bad as you make it out to be," Clara smiled. Something in a shop window they passed caught her eye and she stopped walking. "Oh, hang on John, I'll be right back." She disappeared into the shop, coming out a few minutes later clutching a small handful of tiny blue flowers.

"Shouldn't I be the one buying those for you?" John asked, confused. Clara laughed in response as they linked their arms back together.

"No; one of the other boarders in the house presses flowers, and she's never seen a harebell before on account of growing up in India. I just thought of it when we went by the shop—it's only a few stems."

"Thoughtful," John mused as they turned to walk into a park. A few minutes passed before an idea crossed his mind. "Clara?"

"Yes, John?"

"Mind if I… um… sketch you?"

"What, now?" Clara asked. John nodded his head silently. "Sure, I guess. Where did you want to…?"

"Right over here," John replied, taking Clara by the hand and leading her off the path. He sat her down at the base of a tree. "I'm sure your housemate won't mind her bluebells come a bit used." He concentrated as he gently took the flowers from Clara's hand and placed them behind her ear, weaving the stems into her hair and leaving the blossoms suspended by seemingly nothing. She rolled her eyes and chuckled at him as he knelt down in the grass a few feet away and took out his sketchbook.

A couple pose changes and many sketches later, the sun finally began to sink behind the buildings. Clara and John left the park giggling at one another and how they had managed to spend the time. They found a chip shop and bought fish and chips to-go as they began the long walk back to the Clydebank bus. It was dark by the time they finally boarded, sitting in the very back so as to quietly hold hands and let the sides of their legs touch without any spectators. The bus ride back seemed shorter than the bus ride to and eventually John and Clara found themselves meandering along through the dark town, light from the moon and the stars peeking through the thin, wispy clouds as their only guidance.

"I know you've been insisting today was nice, but I promise you that next time we're in Glasgow it's going to be extra-special," John sighed. They were walking down the pavement with his arm draped over her shoulders and hers around his waist.

"It was perfectly acceptable; I ought to thank you."

"For what? We didn't get to see nearly any of what we could have," John frowned, still convinced of his failure. Clara just tightened her hold on his waist in an one-armed hug.

"Thank you, John, for a lovely birthday," she said softly smiled as they turned the corner of a street. John glanced down at her and blinked in confusion.

"It's your birthday too? You never told me that."

"Yeah, it is. Best birthday I've had in a while."

"You should have told me and maybe we could have gone somewhere a little nicer," John sulked. He sighed dejectedly and added, "So how old is the birthday girl?"

"Twenty-one."

John coughed in surprise. "O-Oh, that's right. You did say you weren't alive during the First World War. Well, you weren't alive during the fighting anyways. Twenty-one's the oldest you can really be, isn't it?"

"That it is," Clara said. She took her head off John's shoulder and looked at him. "When's your birthday?"

"November."

"What day?"

"Just… November. Here you are: back safe and sound."

Looking, Clara frowned to see that they had already reached the boarding house. John walked her up to the porch, staying on the bottom step as she continued up. Their arms and their hands lingered on one another as they slipped apart. By the time they were no longer touching, John spun on his heel to leave.

"See you another time then."

"Wait… John?"

Clara suddenly grabbed John's arm, stopping him from walking any further. He turned around and saw her on the porch with the flowers still behind her ear and light streaming out the window from behind her, the blackout curtain not yet drawn. With him still standing on the bottom step he was just short of being at eye-level with her.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"…am I?"

"Oh, I think so." Clara smiled and leaned in towards John, bracing herself on his shoulders, and kissed him softly on the lips. She was slow and deliberate, internally chuckling at how he froze up in shock and couldn't even summon the muscles to respond.

She parted and leaned backwards, still smiling at his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and made to head towards the door. His hand, however, grabbed the nape of her neck and gently guided her back. When she looked again at his eyes she saw they had softened and become hazy, accentuated by a warm smile. As they kissed she found his movements his movements were affectionate, though unpracticed, and they stood there enjoying the moment until they were interrupted by a disapproving throat clearance. The house matron was standing in the entryway, her arms folded and her foot tapping.

"I think it's past your bedtime, my dear," John smirked, glancing at the matron as Clara's eyes flit open. She blushed and walked back into the house, allowing her hand to trail behind and stay on his face as long as possible. Once she was in the house, the matron came over to the steps and stared down John.

"Out of all the men in this town, I never thought I'd have to worry about you," she hissed.

"Belinda, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to me—you've never even been on my radar." He had his hands raised in mock defense, flashing his teeth out of the corner of his mouth. "There is a reason your missus status is only a courtesy, or should the young ladies not know that?"

"I will not have a boarding house of sin, John Smith," the matron snapped back as she went red in the face. "Do not think you can coerce any of my boarders into shaming themselves now that you've suddenly discovered what your cock is for."

John burst into laughter, nearly falling into the porch steps. "Ach, Mother help me… I don't think I've ever heard you say a funnier thing in my entire life!"

"Then explain to me why you keep on seeing this girl, John. A girl. Is this another one of your rushes where you think you're too good to play by the rules everyone else has to follow? Act your age, like you've got a brain in that head of yours, for once in your life!"

Sighing wistfully, John leaned on the rail and looked up at the night sky. He could feel the cold glare pricking at his neck, but happily ignored it. "Don't worry, Belinda. Your house will always be one of virtue and respectability. I'm not making her do anything she doesn't want to, which should be respectable enough for any household. Besides, I don't want to screw this up—I've always known there would be a girl out there for me, but I never thought it would take this long to find her… or if I ever would."

"Well, then just know I've got my eye on you John," Belinda huffed. "You're an old man without even kids that need caring for. It's not proper."

"Shagging the nanny? Blimey, Belinda, I'm not your brother."

"…and keep it that way. Now shoo; I need to lock up now."

Without another word, John pushed himself off the railing and began to walk away. He smiled to the dark street as he went along the pavement—if it wasn't proper, then may he be called up to serve King and Country tomorrow.