Notes: Betad by Leah of course. This chapter is quite long, and I really hope you think it's okay, because it's a bit different from the others.
Genre: Human AU. Clara as a primary school teacher, Eleven as a single father.
Summary: At Little Heath Primary School, the last thing Clara expects is to be drawn to the moody and slightly eccentric father of her favourite pupil. She swore she was never going to let her work interfere with her life, but as they get closer, how long is that promise going to hold?
Rated: T (for now)

Chapter Four

Rory's apartment was just a bit smaller than hers, one floor of a lovely old Victorian building right round the corner from the school. And she had to hand it to him; for a guy living alone he kept the place extraordinarily neat- everything had it's place, from the stuffed bookshelf in the sitting room to the neatly organised, if sparse, kitchen.

She dropped her bag on the floor and sunk into one of his armchairs, listening as his voice echoed out of the kitchen and down the narrow hall, idle chat about the school that she could absorb and not have to comment on.

He appeared in the doorway, clutching a platter of food and drinks, and set them down on the coffee table in front of her.

"- so anyway, I'm really glad you decided to come."

She chuckled and tucked her hair behind her ear, smiling up at him. "So am I."

His cheeks flushed red and he ducked his head, focussing instead on the copious amount of food he'd just bought in.

"Umm, I wasn't sure what you liked…so I just went ahead and got everything."

"Yeah, I can see that," she teased.

Bowls of olives, crisps, nuts and a lot more were crammed onto the plate until it was overflowing. She took an olive and popped it into her mouth, before grimacing and swallowing with difficulty, the food getting stuck in her throat.

Rory panicked, instantly bending down next to her. "Clara what is it? I haven't poisoned you have I?"

She splutteredfor a few seconds, and Rory looked ready to pull her to her feet and perform the Heimlich manoeuvre if that's what it took, until she forced it down and coughed.

"Woah, it's okay, Rory, calm down!" she exclaimed, laughing at the look of relief on that transformed Rory's face when she began to speak. "I just thought I could persuade myself that I like olives. Turns out, I can't." She smiled apologetically apologetically, leaning forward to take a handful of crisps. She froze mid-air, her fingers tight around a few crisps when she noticed Rory hadn't moved from his position in front of his chair.

"What?"

Rory's mouth wasgaped open. "Clara! I thought you were dying!"

"Oh. Nope, still very much alive, thanks."

"If you didn't like olives, you could have just said!"

Her nose wrinkled. "I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

"They would have hurt a lot more if you'd choked to death in my house!"

"Rory, relax, I'm fine!" she giggled. He made a harrumphing noise and dropped onto the sofa opposite her.

"So, you were saying, before you mistakenly thought I was taking my last breaths?"

Rory half scowled at her and shrugged his shoulders. "I can't remember now."

Not wanting to risk the conversation running out, Clara searched the room around her, eyes alighting on a rather large dvd collection by the bay window, and grinned. .

"How about we stick a movie on?"

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. You chose one. I like most stuff."

A couple of minutes later Rory stuck an old John Wayne classic in the machine and let the opening credits roll. Clara had moved over to the sofa so she could see the screen, and he dithered for a second before sitting back down next to her.

"John Wayne was my Dad's favourite," he explained. Clara just nodded and reached for the snacks, steering well clear of the olives this time.

About twenty minutes into the movie, however, and Clara was getting 'd never been to Rory's house before, and little details of the room kept on catching her attention- the knick-knacks on the windowsill, and the slightly wilted pot plant in front of the fireplace, all so very Rory-like. She knew she should be paying attention to the movie, or at least the man next to her, but her mind kept skittering away to worry about other things. The room was filled with a heavy kind of silence she wasn't used to when she was around him. It pressed against the walls, and she could tell, just from it's presence, that the atmosphere was different from how she and Rory usually were. She wasn't used to it, and she didn't like it, but it was if awkwardness had crept through the space under the door when neither of them were movie continued to blur in front of her eyes.

They were on a date. She was lying to herself if she called it anything else. Rory had cornered her after school that evening, just as she was reaching her car, and stammered out an invitation to meet up at his place later. He looked so eager and cute, his hair being ruffled by the afternoon breeze, and she really didn't want to hurt him, so she'd agreed. His face splitting grin as he scrawled down his address for her nearly broke her heart.

She liked Rory, she really did. He was funny and kind and lovely, and her made her feel comfortable, like she was perfect in her own skin. She'd moved into the town completely alone, where everyone she saw on the street swept along in a sea of strangers; Rory was a friendly face, one she couldn't do without, so getting ready at her own house, she'd decided she was going to make this work. She fixed her hair, smoothed out her dress and told herself, that for both of their sakes, she could fall in love with Rory Williams.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Given enough time.

Rory was brilliant, perfect even, at making her feel safe. But Rory was Rory. If he was ever going to sweep her off her feet, he would have done it by now. He was warm and lovely and everything a sensible girl should want. Which left her with the conclusion, that maybe she wasn't as sensible as she should be. She wanted a streak of something else, someone to keep her on her toes, someone to think about late at night, a person to overtake her mind. Someone mysterious, but loving. Dangerous but like being home at the same time. Someone like, if she knew him better, The Doc-

No. No, she wouldn't think that. Like she said, she didn't even know the man. He was trouble, that much was clear. Moody and unpredictable at best, hiding god knows what from everyone around him. The Doctor was a step too far, and besides she couldn't think of him like that- it wasn't approved of and she didn't know the first thing about him. She pushed it to the the back of her mind, firmly, into a box labelled 'Ignore.' It didn't stay sealed for very long.

It had been two days since she'd seen him last, since the revelation about where he worked, and the tense conversation they'd had about it. The weather had degressed into a near constant film of rain again, so the kids waited inside for their parents/ The Doctor had also regressed into being late again. Alexis was left after all the kids had disappeared, but she had taken to roaming the corridors again, ignoring Clara's incessant suggestions that she come inside and sit down. This meant that Clara would poke her head out of the door minutes later to find Alexis gone, and no sign of The Doctor, not a hello, or even a goodbye. And if she felt hurt by this, she wouldn't even admit to herself. She wondered how she could feel sp drawn to and confounded by a simple man. She had the distinct impression that The Doctor had instructed Alexis to start waiting outside the classroom again, just to avoid contact with her. What had she done to make him do this? Was asking about his work stepping over some invisible line she wasn't aware of? If so, how the hell was she ever meant to get to know this man better at all? All she could feel was sad about it- that The Doctor thought isolation and avoidance were the solutions to whatever problems he had, when in reality, she knew they were only ever going to make it worse. And it was utterly maddening that he met her three times, and now all she could do was wonder why his eyes were so dark, and his smile, when he allowed it, so luminescent.

Rory shuffled on the sofa next to her, awkwardly trying to put an arm around her, and then retracting it at the last second, feigning reaching for the volume control on the remote instead when she looked up at his movements.

She watched him settle back into the sofa, and pretend to train his eyes on the screen, and wished that her heart did all the cliche things- skipping a beat, or speeding up or something. But Rory was just Rory. Attractive in a loveable nerd kind of way, but he didn't set any part of her body racing.

And she could give herself all the time in the world, but she didn't think that was going to change.

"Rory?"

"Hmmm?"

"How much do you like me?"

His eyebrows furrowed over his nose, and he snapped to look at Clara next to him.

"Sorry, you what?"

"If you could rate your attraction to me on a school of one to ten, where would you put it?"

He paused the DVD, fingers fumbling on the remote controls as he narrowed his eyes at Clara. "Are you seriously asking me to put a number on you?"

She nodded firmly. "Yes."

"Clara, what the hell?"

Her chest deflated and she sighed heavily. "I was just trying to gauge how horrible I was going to have to be to you, because I hate being mean."

Rory's eyebrow jerked upwards, and he licked his lips nervously.

"Okay now you're scaring me. Possibly more than when you were choking. Please tell me you're not about to do what I think you are."

"Rory…."

"Oh, God you are, aren't you?"

"Rory, I-"

"I didn't even get all the way through my first date with a girl and she's dumping me. Does that even count? Oh my God!" He threw his hands upwards and Clara cringed at the sudden movement.

"I really like you, Rory." she tried, her voice soft, hoping to placate him. It worked some, and his hands fell to his lap with a muted thump.

His voice took on a defeated tone that made Clara's heart feel heavy in her chest. "Sure, yeah, but not like that. It's okay, I've heard it before Clara, it's fine."

"A-are you sure? I'm sorry I led you on."

"Hardly, you only agreed to one date, Clara. I'd rather we stop now so you don't have to try and find feelings you don't have." There was barely hidden bitterness there that tugged at Clara's heartstrings; but it was true, she couldn't try and make something out of nothing more than a lovely friendship, even for his sake- it wouldn't be fair.

"I'm so so sorry, Rory."

"I already said it's fine."

"Rory…"

"Clara," he answered flatly, his face and voice totally deadpan.

"Rory, don't be like that…"

"Like what?" He snapped. Then his shoulders sagged, the hint of the fight he was about to start leaving his body. He turned back to look her in the eyes.

"Is there, I mean, another man or-"

"No, no. Of course not." she answered quickly, cutting him off.

He crossed his arms, frowning at her. "You're an awful liar Clara, did you know?"

"I'm not lying," she protested.

"It wouldn't matter if there was- I can take it."

She attempted to level out the stress in her voice, pass it off as nothing. "Rory, I promise there's not."

"You can tell me, it's not like it's a parent or anything-" His face fell. "Oh wait."

Clara paused- panic clouding her mind for a second. Could he guess? What would he think? She didn't think she could handle disapproval from Rory; bear to see disappointment in his eyes.

Instead, his irises just widened.

"Alexis' dad?"

Her face flushed red, and she bit her lip, hard."Wha-what about him?"

"You always talk about him, ever since that first day. If you're attracted to him, I guess it's only natural."

"I-I'm not! I just, want to know more about him. I'm curious"

Rory folded his arms and looked at her sceptically, his eyebrows hidden in his hairline.

"Isn't that the same thing?"

Clara's reply got stuck in her throat, heavy on her tongue, and her mouth shut to trap it of its own accord. Was that the same thing, indeed?

/

The clock on her dashboard blinked red in the dimness of the car interior; not even half nine and she was already heading home. Rory's face as he showed her to the door was etched into the back of her mind- just that weak look of resignation far worse than any anger or irritation he might have had for her.

She had stopped on the doorstep, pausing with her car keys already in hand.

"Rory, please, don't write yourself off'cause of this. You're a wonderful man, and I'm probably the stupid one, okay? I just wasn't ready, and you're great Rory, honestly, some day someone is going to realise what a gem you are- not that i didn't realise it, I just can't appreciate it and…' She sighed 'It's probably better that it's not me, honest."

He smiled weakly, nodding, already inching the door shut behind her. She really couldn't blame him.

"Promise me you'll remember that? Rory,please just promise me?" she insisted, wedging her foot over the threshold so he couldn't give up just yet.

He rolled his eyes, not maliciously, but at her usual bossiness. "Yeah, Clara, I will." His eyes met hers and he sighed. "Promise."

"Good." She hesitated for a second before withdrawing her shoe. "Well good night, Rory. See you Monday, yeah?"

"Monday," he agreed quietly. Clara nodded and slowly climbed down the steps to the street, keeping her shoulders straight. She heard the door click shut behind her.

Now she was driving home, the streetlights on either side of her blurring into orange streaks, throwing odd shadows into the night. The roads were empty, not surprisingly as it was a small town, and she was oddly hypnotised by the quietness of the evening and the amber rays infiltrating into the car. Her mind wandered off the road, back to her conversation with Rory, his poor injured face- his implications about The Doctor; and started running into circles, skidding down alleys of her mind she'd perviously blocked off and left uninhabited, all dead ends leading to The Doctor until just his name was hurting her head.

Was she attracted to The Doctor on more than a superficial level? What did that say about her? Would The Doctor ever open up to her? What could she do to help him? Hundreds of questions, each one allowing a billion more, all expanding in her mind at once, now that she let herself think them. His face flickered in front of her eyes, too, the smile she so rarely saw being conjured up by her imagination until the soft upturn of his lips was all she focussed on. The the street ahead faded into the background against the noise in her mind.

The T-junction barely registered. She indicated without thinking, not stopping where she should've, and swung the wheel left into the darkness.

She didn't notice the oncoming vehicle- until the side of her car buckled and the sound of screeching metal and squealing brakes filled the evening air- right before everything collapsed.

AN: My poor Rory. Anyway, I hope you liked it! Thoughts?