I'm back with a new chapter! Yes! *pumps fist* It took another marathon of Doctor Who episodes with Clara in them, but I finally got my Whoufleé feels pumping up again and...akshfdfdf I can't. I really can't. Gah. Must. Write. All. The. Whoufleé. Stuff. I remember why I love the ship so much. *hugs the Whoufleé ship* YAAAY!
Anyways. *straightens myself and clears throat*
Enjoy!
"One night. That's all you need to change everything."
Chapter Eight.
The last colors of the evening were beginning to fade into the darkness of the night when John and Clara walked into a coffee shop. Streetlights were flickering on, giving the entire place a rather mysterious, pretty glow. Clara smiled, sitting herself down at a stool which was placed just by the window. It felt nice; to 're-claim' (as John put it,) the night. Clara suspected that there wasn't going to be anything too extravagant tonight, but she certainly liked the idea of doing this 're-claiming' with John. Besides, he was fun to hang around, even if he had a few annoying, meddlesome qualities. Clara even considered him to be a friend. The soft thunks of two objects being placed on the countertop quickly snapped Clara out of her thoughts.
Clara turned around to see John pushing a mug towards her. He plopped himself down in the stool next to her and picked up his own cup. "Hot chocolate," he said as Clara looked into the mug's contents. "I don't think coffee would be a good idea right now – but this place serves good coco."
Clara took a single sip and smiled. "It does," she agreed, placing her mug back down on the countertop. She folded her hands together and turned to John. "What now?" She asked. "Is this what we're going to be doing tonight? Contemplate on how good our hot chocolate is?"
John grinned and pulled out a large bag of glittering, golden-wrapped objects. "I wish we could," he said, it on the countertop and clasping his hands together. "But I have different plans."
"Oh?" Clara asked lightly. John nodded enthusiastically.
"Clara Oswald, are you ready for a challenge?" He asked in an exaggerated, serious tone. Clara let out a small laugh and took another sip from her hot chocolate. "What kind of challenge are we talking about here?"
"Inside of this bag are over a hundred caramels," John said, pointing at the large bag. Clara raised an eyebrow, but the young man kept going on. "And while you might think caramels are delicious, sweet candies to chew on, we all know it hurts to work on them."
Clara shrugged and nodded in agreement, still wondering what exactly John was getting at. He flashed a smile at Clara and said, "So…I thought that we would have to do a little face-off – name something from a certain, chosen topic and if one of us stutters or stammers or fails to come up with an answer on time, we have to stick a caramel in our mouth until finally, our jaws will be too sore to do anything else."
"Sounds like a dentist's nightmare," Clara stated matter-of-factly, clasping her hands together. She smiled at John. "But fine, let's do it – for the record, though, I'm going to beat you."
"Don't be so sure!" John scoffed, ripping open the bag of caramels. "I've got twenty-seven brains' worth of trivia knowledge up in here!"
"Twenty-seven?" Clara asked incredulously, adjusting her position on her stool. John paused. "Slight exaggeration." He muttered in a somewhat sheepish tone. Clara grinned and swallowing down another bit of hot chocolate, said, "I thought so." She leaned closer to the countertop. "Well? Shall we start? I'll choose the topic – country singers."
"Country singers? Really? That's awfully boring." John said, obviously disappointed. However, he shrugged and quickly said, "Taylor Swift."
"Carrie Underwood."
"Dolly Parton."
"Johnny Cash."
"Tim McGraw."
"Patsy Cline."
"Hank Williams."
Clara struggled to find another country singer's name. She sighed and placed her hands over her face, groaning in defeat. John let out a loud, excited laugh and placed a caramel in front of Clara. "Tough luck!" He crowed joyously. Clara looked up at the young man and, giving him a dark glare, popped the candy in her mouth. It tasted better than Clara had thought – it was sweet, though it seemed intent on gluing to her teeth and therefore, harder to swallow down.
"I got the extra-sticky ones," John said, delighted at Clara's expression whilst chewing on the caramel. She pushed the candy to the side and gave John a rather vehement glare. "Well, thank you," she said, swallowing down the rest of the sticky caramel. "Next topic?"
John grinned, bringing his mug to his lips. "Flowers," he said lightly, taking a few sips from his drink. Clara slapped her hands together. "You're on," she said enthusiastically. "Lily."
"Rose."
"Daisy."
"Petunia."
"Jasmine."
"Ehm…" John's voice trailed off and Clara grinned, pushing a caramel towards John. "Your turn," she said sweetly. John sighed. "That's not fair! My brain blanked!" He whined childishly, though he unwrapped the candy and threw it into his mouth. He chewed on it for a few seconds, wearing the same, frustrated expression that Clara figured was on her own face just a few minutes ago.
And so, the rest of the hour was spent quickly with this little game until the owner of the coffee shop told them that closing time was almost upon them. Finishing their hot chocolates, Clara and John quickly bid the coffee shop owner a goodnight and sped along to the apartment building, still continuing their game.
To Clara's surprise and relief, Rory and Amy had not yet returned to the building when John opened his apartment door. The two settled down on the carpeted floor and shot their answers at each other, sometimes giggling and rolling around the ground at one another's faces and reactions to not answering on time. (Clara realized that John had the most adorable, frustrated expression ever, which looked something like a baby wailing with puppy dog eyes…)
Clara and John grew more and more excited from the caramels as each hour passed. By the time the clock announced it was midnight, Clara and John were curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in hand to calm their nerves. The two had agreed to spend the rest of the night simply talking and laughing over stories that were exchanged.
"And…and then, Amy gave me yogurt and I spat it out on her kitchen floor." John laughed, shaking his head. "She was so annoyed…and then she gave me beans and I spat that out in the sink…and the rest of the afternoon was spent running around the house, looking for something to eat and annoying Amy's aunt through it all."
Clara giggled – the mere idea of a little, five years old John Smith being a ruckus even at such a young age was a bit too much for her. She folded her legs underneath herself and closed her eyes. She was growing tired, and the wine was beginning to get to her. Of course, Clara wasn't drunk – she didn't do drunk, but instead, she was simply finding it hard to keep her eyes open…and she was so, so warm next to John and it was so, so dark outside…and the apartment room felt cozy and snug.
"Oi, are you falling asleep on me?" John asked, though his voice was surprisingly lower than what Clara was accustomed to. She opened her eyes and looked up at John. She managed a small nod, wrapping her arms around her knees. John smiled and slung his arm over Clara's shoulder, pulling her into himself. Surprisingly, Clara didn't bother protesting. She was too tired. She rested her head on John's shoulder and fell asleep to the sound of John's heart beating in his chest.
xXx
Clara didn't wake up right away. She felt comfortable just the way she was. Her entire body was warm and happy and she didn't want to leave this vision just yet. Clara smiled to herself and curled deeper into the blankets of her bed, but instead of feeling the warm fabric, she felt a pair of arms tightening around her.
Wait, what?
Clara blinked her eyes open, still dazed with sleep, and came face-to-face to see John's face. His eyes were closed, much to Clara's relief, and he, too, looked somewhat lost in a place far, far away from here. A soft sigh escaped John's lips and he buried his head into a couch pillow.
At once, a hundred memories came rushing back to Clara – she was with John last night. The two were playing that silly caramel game…they were in the coffee shop…and then they came here…had wine, fell asleep…on the couch. In John's apartment room.
Damn, this was the second time Clara spent the night at John's. She wasn't quite sure whether to accept that as a good or bad thing. However, she took a few moments to look around her surroundings – she was still on the couch, though from the way her body was positioned, Clara assumed that she had been sleeping next to John. Right now, in fact, she was still curled up next to John.
She let out a small gasp and sat up. John stirred in his sleep, mumbling a few incoherent words and scrubbing a hand across his eyes. The door to John's bedroom swung open to reveal Amy and a bed-headed Rory, which Clara might have found amusing, except she was a bit too surprised over her situation with John to even care at the moment.
"Well, look who's awake!" Amy said cheerfully, walking into the room. She plopped herself down in front of the couch and grinned at Clara. "How was your night?" She asked. "Rory and I walked in to see you two looking so sweet and nice together that we couldn't bring ourselves to wake either of you."
Clara brought her hands to her face. "You should have," she muttered. "I wouldn't have minded – and for the record, John and I aren't a couple! We had a bit of wine, yes, and we both fell asleep. That was all."
Amy rolled her eyes. "No need to get all defensive and huffy about it," she said lightly. "With that attitude, people won't hesitate to label you two as a couple – didn't you ever hear that one of the most common ways to show attraction is to repel against it?"
Clara sighed, not bothering to come up with a retort. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, anyways. Next to her, John brought his hand away from his eyes, which were blinking open in the same, dazed and confused expression that Clara had. He propped himself up on an elbow and slowly turned his head around at the room.
Clara cleared her throat and John looked down. He blinked, looking down at his arm, which was still wrapped around Clara's torso, and quickly pulled away, a steady flush rising to his cheeks. Clara couldn't blame him. She felt rather warm herself, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she had been sleeping just a few minutes ago.
"Good morning!" John said instead, rolling into a sitting position. "And when did you two come back?"
"About one in the morning." Rory replied, finally speaking up from the doorway. "It was quite a night – there was some trouble coming back, though, and the taxi took a bit longer to bring us here." He looked over at John and Clara thoughtfully, as though he, like Amy, was beginning to speculate something between them. However, unlike Amy, he didn't say any of his thoughts aloud. Rory simply ended his statement with a small, awkward shrug.
Clara picked at a few, invisible strings from her shirt and stood up. "I suppose I'll have to get going now," she said to Amy and Rory, desperate not to look at John. How could she? Of course, nothing really happened between the two, but looking at John after being…caught (even if they technically weren't "caught",) felt wrong and awkward and odd.
"Are you sure? You can have breakfast here, if you'd like." Amy said with a frown. Clara lifted her shoulders into a small bob of a shrug. "I have some other things to tend to," she murmured. "But thank you for the offer." Giving Amy and Rory another halfhearted smile, Clara walked for the door. Just as Clara placed a hand over the doorknob, she felt someone hurrying behind her.
"Leaving so soon?" John asked in Clara's ear, his breath tickling her skin. She froze and looked up at John, who was staring at her with a disappointed expression on his face. "Really, staying for a few more hours wouldn't be too much trouble for any of us."
"I've got some work to do. Didn't do much of an editing job yesterday." Clara mumbled under her breath, beginning to turn the doorknob, though John grabbed Clara's wrist from turning it any farther. She sucked in a quick breath and turned to John. "What are you doing? Let go," she said in a stern, quiet voice.
"Does this have anything to do with last night?" John asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Clara cast her eyes to the ground and pulled away from John's hand. "I need to get going." She simply said and before John could object any further, she pushed open the door and hurried out.
xXx
"…and now, I have no idea what to do or say when I see John again." Clara finished her story with a slightly exasperated and hysterical note. Martha stared at Clara from the laptop screen, her lips slightly parted and her eyes wide. They had grown considerably larger during the entire time Clara had spilled each and every detail about the events from last night. There was a small silence from Clara's friend until finally, she asked, "And you're absolutely sure that's all you two did?"
"I'm pretty sure, yes." Clara replied, bringing her face into her hands. Even now, her cheeks were burning from re-counting the hours she had spent in John's arms. And the stupidest thing about it all was that she had actually felt comfortable. Clara didn't even think about John that way. Yes, maybe John had a nice smile and maybe he had an adorable, endearing talent in keeping Clara busy, but besides that, she couldn't feel or see anything else about him that really caught her eye. He'd be a nice friend – Clara always labeled him as a friend. So, was it alright for her to be happy with him for that one night and still think of him as a friend?
Oh, God – did John think that Clara liked him now?
Clara's heart sank at the thought. She didn't really want to deal with a secret admirer at the moment, thank you very much.
Martha bit down on her lip and said, "Well, if that's all you two did, it can't be that bad, right? I mean, you might want to clear everything up with Amy and Rory and John, but besides that, I think you all can return to normal. Stuff like this happens to the best of us."
Clara sighed and shrugged. "Maybe, yes," she said reluctantly, "but you weren't there – the thing is, I felt comfortable and alright with the idea being with John last night. And that scares me a little."
Martha lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "But you were drinking wine, weren't you?" She asked slowly. Clara nodded in response. Martha shrugged. "Then, it should be just fine, Clara – you weren't yourself. Alcohol makes you think and feel certain things that aren't there." She said matter-of-factly. "So, what you experienced is completely normal."
Clara felt relief slowly starting to pour into her veins. Martha's explanation sounded reasonable enough – Clara obviously didn't have any real feelings for John. It was all the drink's fault. She made herself a mental note to not ever drink wine with any other man again.
"Sounds fine," Clara said, all worry draining away. She drummed her fingers against the desk and grinned at Martha. "So…how is everything back in England?"
The conversation quickly took a turn to Martha's medical studies and the weather and whether or not the writers and producers of Merlin were going to bring the show back. Overall, tears were shed, laughs were uttered and jokes were traded and in the end, Clara was feeling much better than she had in the morning.
Once ending the Skype session, Clara settled back in her seat and pulled out a few papers from Kalifa Whinford's files. She held the manuscript out at a length and puffed out an exasperated sigh. "Alright, Hazel Gordon," Clara muttered under her breath, "I'll have to tackle you now."
And so, Clara went straight to work, not bothering to look up or away from her laptop screen unless it was to answer a few messages from the Idelette or some other writers who wanted to arrange a meeting. Thankfully, these writers were more accepting and kinder than Kalifa and Clara managed to set all of those meetings for next week.
In other words, Clara felt as though she was on a roll. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and though she was completely useless when it came to computer technology, Clara felt like something of a genius hacker or some other computer-specialist at the time. Clara even managed to edit an entire three chapters worth of annoying, IQ-deducing dialogue from Hazel Gordon and her admirers.
Pushing herself back in her seat, Clara let out a satisfied, weak cheer and pushed Kalifa Whinford's saved documents away from her laptop screen. "It's been a while since I typed up some words of my own story," she mused aloud, pulling up her documents. The silence that followed shortly after was rather comforting for Clara – again, just like it's always been; it was just her with her words.
Clara still wasn't quite sure what she was trying to write in her story – it was either about a rather bland, boring girl who was locked up in her room by an overprotective father, or about a heroine who was trying to escape the clutches of a man who called himself her father. Clara couldn't make up her mind on what story-line she wanted to pursue. In the end, she decided to ignore the beginning of the story and write up some other scenes instead. That always helped her writing abilities when she was stuck.
Slowly, the scene Clara was writing came to life in her mind. A young boy kept throwing rocks at the girl's window in the story – Clara wasn't quite sure whether this scene was going to be placed in the middle of the story or the beginning, but either way, it was interesting. According to the girl in the story, she couldn't tell if the boy was throwing rocks to harm her or simply catch her attention.
It was quite fun, experimenting with the girl's emotions in watching the young boy. Was she scared? Nervous? Angry? Excited? There were so many things a young girl could feel when seeing such actions.
However, once re-reading the passage, Clara shook her head. It sounded too much like a Rapunzel story – much too sappy, too simple, and too plain. That story wouldn't catch the sight of anyone. With a disappointed sigh, Clara highlighted the passage and stared down at the delete button. However, just as she was about to tap it, a few loud knocks echoed around the room.
Clara pushed herself away from her desk and headed to the door. Once swinging it open, she took one look at John, who was wearing a rather ugly clown mask, and with a small shriek of surprise, slammed the door on his poor hand.
"Ouch!" John shouted from behind the door, his voice only slightly muffled by the mask. Clara's eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth, opening the door again. John was sliding down the wall, holding his hand and wincing in the pain of it all. Clara dropped to her knees, and with one of her feet, held her apartment door open so it wouldn't close on them.
"What were you doing?" Clara asked, looking at John's hand and wincing at how stiff and red it looked. "Why were you wearing that mask? You scared the living daylights out of me!"
John forced a smile, though it quickly twisted into a grimace. "I was trying to make you laugh," he said. "Clearly, you don't know a joke when you see one."
"Oh, yes, of course – next time someone goes to my door wearing a creepy mask again, I'll definitely invite him in." Clara said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though it quickly faded away as she looked at the hand again. She bit down on her lip and gently placed her own, not-based-up hand over John's, though he cringed and immediately pulled away.
"That bad?" Clara asked uneasily. John nodded and let out a low, long exhale of breath. Clara sighed and stood up. "Come on; let me get you some ice for that." She said, gesturing inside the apartment room. Clara tugged at John's good hand and immediately dragged him inside before he could say anything else.
The second they were inside, Clara was ducking into the small kitchenette and instructing John to sit down on the couch. She dug around the fridge and after a few minutes of struggling with the icebox on one of the shelves in it, Clara managed to break apart a few fairly large ice-cubes and wrap them up in a towel. She kicked the fridge door shut and walked back out to the couch, where, thankfully, John was sitting.
"Here," Clara murmured, sticking the little ice-pack out to John. He took it with a small smile and placed it over his hand gingerly. Clara carefully sat herself down next to John, (so the ice-pack wouldn't slide out of the way,) and planted her hands on her lap. "What were you doing, anyways?" She asked. "Besides trying to make me laugh, I mean."
"And failing." Clara added halfheartedly after a second of silence. To her credit and relief, John let out a small laugh. He shifted the ice-pack over his hand and replied, "You left so quickly this morning that I thought I had done something wrong – I wanted to talk to you."
Clara chewed on the insides of her cheek uncomfortably as John turned to look at her, a serious expression writing itself on his face. "So, did I do something wrong?" He asked earnestly. "Because if I did, please tell me. I don't want to receive another cold shoulder from you."
Clara blinked. "Cold shoulder?" She asked incredulously. "What cold shoulder?"
"Oh, don't say that – you know what I mean! You sometimes get all huffy and mean and isolate and…it's quite troubling sometimes." John muttered. Clara felt an annoyed, angry flush crawl up to her cheeks and shot back, "Well, I'm sorry if it's so troubling, but that's just how I like to deal with people who annoy me."
John's (ridiculously thin) eyebrows shot to his hairline in surprise. "So, I have done something wrong?" He asked tentatively.
"No!" Clara replied, though her voice hadn't lost its indignant tone.
"Then why are you looking at me like that?" John asked dubiously.
"I don't know! I just – gah." Clara threw her hands up in the air, accidentally knocking over John's ice-pack in the process. Oops. She sighed and leaned down, scooping up the ice-pack and placing it slowly over John's hand. "Sorry, you didn't do anything wrong last night," she started, though John's eyebrows jumped again.
"I knew it had something to do with last night!" He cried, crossing his legs. Clara sighed and placed her hands over her face in exasperation. She heard John suck in a breath and mumble apologetically, "Sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted – go on."
Clara allowed her hands to slide off and she replied, "I was just a bit funny and addled after drinking wine. I wasn't that drunk, don't worry, but um…it put us in that position."
"'In that position'?" John asked, frowning. "What do you mean, 'in that position'?"
Clara waved her hands around again. "You know, the entire…" She weakly tried to imitate their positions before, which only made the situation look more awkward than it already was.
"Oh." John mumbled quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Ah. That's what you meant. I see."
Clara nodded. "Um…so, what I meant to say is that…I'm sorry for acting the way I did." She paused. "And I'm sorry for slamming the door on your hand. Is it any better, by the way?"
John shrugged. "I think so, yeah," he replied. "And just so you know, I accept your apology – it's all fine."
Clara smiled, relieved and stood up. "That's great," she said with a smile and stuck out a hand. "So…er…friends?" She asked halfheartedly. At John's bemused look, she rolled her eyes. "I won't feel completely comfortable until you shake on it." Clara explained.
John grinned and grasped Clara's hand with his good hand. He shook it gently and replied, "I…yeah, we're just friends."
Clara let go of John's hand and sat herself down on the couch again. "Right," she said, suddenly feeling more cheerful than she had for the entire day. "Um…what now?"
A/N: From now on, I'm going to try and make each and every chapter at least 4,000 words. It's hard, though - I'm used to writing chapters with a minimum of 2,000 words...but after realizing that those chapters look much shorter on the actual FanFiction page, I've decided to increase the length. It may still look short, but...*cringes and smiles* I'm trying!
As always, review! I would love to hear what you guys are thinking of the progression in Clara and John's relationship - constructive criticism is always allowed, but flames are not!
