A/N: Glad to see people liked the last chapter. All the commentary has been fun to read.

Chapter Ten: The Next Day

Belinda Hendricks was sure she was imagining the entire thing.

"You what…?" she asked, baffled. John Smith—quirky and strange and a good match for no one—stood there in her sitting room and shrugged almost guiltily.

"I married her, Belinda. What else can I say?"

"What else can you say?! John, you married a child."

"No, I married a woman. It would be different if she were one of the local lasses who I've watched grow up, but Clara is not one of them. I've only known her as a woman and nothing else."

"Do you have any shame?"

"When it comes to my wife? No. Come on Belinda, I'd think you'd be happy that you get the chance to collect double rent on a room for half a month."

"Why…? I don't understand John…" she hissed, exasperated. "Out of all the women who you could have courted after coming home from war, you had to wait until the next one to actually get around to marriage. There's a long list of men I could have expected this behavior from, who were likely to marry and remarry in the same age range despite their own, and half a year ago you weren't even on it. This is only going to give you a bad reputation as a filthy pervert."

"At least I will have a reputation knowing I have a loving wife to go home to at the end of the day." He let a grin creep across his face, satisfied yet sharply acidic. "What do you have, Belinda? You and I never hit it off, so what other options did you end up with? Boarders? Young, nubile boarders? That sounds a lot more suspicious if you ask me."

Just as Belinda was about to shout back with all the rage and fury she could muster, Clara Oswald, now Clara Smith, came down the stairs with her suitcases packed. She came up to the older woman and gave her a hug.

"Thank you, for everything," she said. "Please, don't be a stranger. You're welcome over anytime."

"W-why thank you, Clara," Belinda stammered, taken aback at her former boarder's genuine offer. She tried to not be rigid while returning the hug. "The same goes for you."

"I'm glad. Ready, John?" Clara said. The newlyweds then bickered shortly over who was going to carry the suitcases (they ended up splitting), and they walked out. Belinda watched them make their way down the pavement and out of sight.

She didn't see it lasting longer than the war.

Clara could feel the stares of the neighbors as she and John walked down Wissforn Road with their arms linked and a suitcase each.

She tried to ignore it, she really did. Clara was not ashamed of her choice, nor would she be pressured into being ashamed. She would be living here for a long time yet, possibly forever if that was in their future, and she was not about to start it off in hiding. Her back stiffened, however, as she felt the unseen eyes of mothers-at-home and the elderly boring progressively into her, just as they did when they had left to gather her things earlier. Now, as they were returning, it was clear that it was something much more complicated than simply oversleeping after yet another night of lustful sin. The looks were just as judging, but of a different sort from before. It all put Clara on-edge.

"I thought cold feet usually happened before the wedding," John chuckled, leaning down and lowering his voice so that only she heard. "Relax. They're just curious, is all. This isn't exactly something any of them expected to see."

"A wife moving in with her husband?"

"My wife, no."

Clara rested her head on John's shoulder as they continued to walk along. Yes, she was now a wife… something she wasn't that time yesterday. She was married to the man people tried to set up with old maids and widows, looking very suspect in the process.

At least, she knew, that they couldn't claim it was money she was after, or that marriage was the only option to escape an abusive home life, or that she was, Heaven forbid, pregnant. They had no choice but to consider the fact that they loved each other and were willing to stick it out and live their lives together, in the open and for all to see. She unhooked her arm from John's as they approached the gate to his—no, their—house and took the other suitcase while he fumbled with his keys.

"Did your landlady finally have enough of your antics?" snorted Mrs. Rigby as she leaned over the low garden wall from her chair. She clutched her paperback firmly, marking her place with her index finger. "You better watch yourself, John, or you're going to have to marry the poor girl before too long."

"Good thing I took care of that yesterday then," John smirked. Mrs. Rigby raised her eyebrows in confusion, her expression changing to shock as she watched John wave sarcastically at her with his left hand… a hand that now wore a golden wedding band. She dropped her book in the grass and gawked.

"How… what…?"

"Looks like we'll be seeing a lot more of one another, Mrs. Rigby! Talk to you later," Clara smiled. She walked in the door, which John was holding open for her, and almost threw her suitcases down in the foyer in irritation.

"Oh, come on now…" John sighed as he closed the door behind them. "You have to admit, her face was priceless."

"Yes, it was, but this is going to get very old very quickly if this keeps up."

John rolled his eyes and placed his hands on Clara's waist, leaning down to rest his chin atop her head. "They'll have their fun and before long someone elsewhere is going to distract them with a surprise baby or a new car too expensive for the neighborhood and we'll be old news. I think it's sort of exciting being scandalous for once."

"At least now everyone will know we're married by lunchtime and we won't need to tell anyone," Clara frowned. John just nipped at her ear and grinned devilishly.

"I bet we can get in another go before half the neighborhood knows," he murmured. "Actually, let's be knackered by the time my coworkers get home for supper."

Clara scoffed in feigned upset. "What? Don't think I can hold out for longer than that? You don't even know the meaning of knackered."

"Teach me?" John asked, his brow raised in jest. Clara brought a hand up to his face and guided him down to her, leaning into a kiss.

"Lesson One: bring your wife to bed," she whispered huskily. John bent down further and easily lifted her into the air. He kissed her again as he carefully made his way towards and up the stairs—didn't want to fail the first lesson, after all.

"Miss Oswald, where were you yesterday?"

Clara stopped writing on the chalkboard and turned around to face her class. Sure enough, she saw the little hand that had shot up in the back of the room. The school day had only started ten minutes prior and it was already shaping up to be awkward.

"That is none of your business Michael, and please call me 'Mrs. Smith' from now on."

"…but you're not married," the little boy protested.

"Oh, my husband would beg to differ," Clara smiled.

"If you're married, then why do you have a manfriend?" one of the other students asked, using the term they had coined for Mr. Smith. Clara looked away, holding back a snicker, before turning back to the chalk board.

"No way! You got married yesterday?! To your manfriend?!" another student gasped. Clara smiled at the chalkboard and kept on writing. Her lack of argument sent the class into an uproar. She finished writing her sentence and turned back around to face the class, keeping her face stern.

"I will only take questions from good children who do their coursework and don't bother the teacher with gossip in the middle of class," she said, raising her voice above the children's. The class settled down and quietly raised their hands. "Yes…?"

"Does this mean you're not going to come stay with us at night anymore?"

"I will still stay with you at night and teach during the day; my husband doesn't want me to turn back on my obligations to you children just because I am now married."

"Are you gonna live here forever now?"

"Forever is a long time, but, I can see myself living in Clydebank for more than a few years yet."

"Isn't he old?"

"Only on his birth record." Clara sighed; she better cut this off soon, before things got out of hand. "Okay, one more question and then work."

"Are you going to have a baby?"

Clara blushed and tried not to look frazzled. "No… I don't plan on it… not in the near future, anyway. That's enough for now; open your books to page 212, please."

The class responded with a groan. Why didn't they get to know anything exciting?

"John? What happened to you the other day?" Verity asked. "You just sort of disappeared after lunch. That's not like you."

John grinned broadly at his coworker, adding an eyebrow twitch for emphasis. "I will have you know that you are looking at a changed man."

"Yeah, and it's kind of creepy. Where did you go?"

"Glasgow," John smirked. He pulled on the semi-fine chain around his neck, bringing it and his wedding ring out of his jumper. Verity opened her mouth, closed it, bit her lip, and tried to figure out how to scold him.

"That's where you were!" Collette gasped as she came over to the lockers. "Oh, wow, how romantic!" John put the ring back underneath his jumper and chuckled.

"Well, you can say I've been worse over a two-day period," he said. Collette giggled at that, though Verity simply frowned.

"I can't believe you, going and marrying some young English girl who wasn't even planning on staying longer than she needed to be!" Verity snapped. She kept her voice low, as to not make a scene. "John, she is younger than Collette."

"By a year."

"She is younger than Collette."

"…and what's wrong with Mrs. Smith being younger than me?"

Verity sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. For being dead middle between her coworkers, she sometimes sure felt as if she were still at home with her kids.

"Collette, John is old enough to be your father."

"So…? Mam and Dad tell me love takes all shapes."

"Yes, but… you don't understand."

"I know what you're saying," John interrupted. "Let me tell you Verity: I would not have married Clara if I did not mean it from the bottom of my heart. Since meeting her, I've felt like a different person. She's the one I've been waiting for, not someone else's widow like everyone keeps telling me."

"…and how do you know you're the one she's been waiting for? Have you thought she just might be in it for your royalty checks and war-pensioner's stipend?"

"I actually have to physically go to the publisher with a new story if I want regular royalties out of my books because, well, 'John Smith' isn't exactly a unique name, and call me a pensioner again and, oh, I'll make you wish you swallowed those words." He grinned again, flashing his teeth so that Verity cringed and leaned backwards in an attempt to physically distance herself from him. It was then that one of their coworkers came over, a bemused look on his face.

"Ver, what's Johnny done now?" he chuckled, leaning an elbow on John's shoulder. The older man turned his head towards the newcomer.

"I got married the other day, and somebody doesn't seem to want to accept it," John smirked. The other man's face fell as he stood upright.

"…wait a second… not that English girl you were seeing, right? Please tell me it wasn't the tiny English girl."

"Who else would it be, Steve?" John asked. He pulled the chain out of his jumper again and left it to hang against the fabric. "I love her, so I married her. I'm a bit late to the game but I know how it works."

"Obviously you don't…" Steve said, looking rather uncomfortable as he stared at John's wedding band. "John, she's not marrying material…"

"What do you mean 'she's not marrying material'? I married her!"

"You don't marry a fling, John."

"She's not a fling. Steve, you and the other guys were cheering me on just a while ago… not you too…"

"It was funny at first, because you with that stupid love-struck look on your face is genuinely hilarious, but it got less funny the more often you came in chewed up like a bit of gristle," Steve frowned. "I hate to say it, but you just went and turned a side-piece into your main squeeze and there's something not right with that."

"See? It's not just me," Verity scoffed. "Took you long enough Steve, but glad you're finally seeing things my way."

With that Verity and Steve both walked away, the former dragging Collette along with her in case John got any more "bright ideas". John leaned into the metal lockers and sighed as he was left alone. Others passed him and performed double-takes, taking note of his ring and whispering to themselves to spare him the embarrassment. Eventually Will came over and blinked in surprise.

"What happened to being the happiest you've ever been?" he laughed. John shrugged.

"You know Clara's not a fling, right?"

Will paused for a moment before tapping his wrist. "What I do know is that shift starts in four minutes and you're nowhere near your station; hop to it or you might get bit by the top brass." He held out a hand, which John took and allowed a pull forward that took his weight off the lockers. They walked out to the floor together and went straight to work; there was still a ship to build, after all.

"Clara? May I please have a word with you?"

"Huh? Sure," Clara replied. It was lunchtime, leaving her alone as the kids were downstairs in the cafeteria. She looked over at Miss Macintyre, the school headmistress, as she walked into the room and sat down on one of the desks. She didn't look too thrilled.

"What's this I hear from the kids about you no longer being Clara Oswald?"

Busted. "I was a bit later than I had expected coming into work this morning, or else you would have been the first to know…"

"Clara, when you said the other day that you needed yesterday off last-minute, I honestly thought it was for your other job for the kids. I didn't think it was because you wanted to get married to the town's artisan bachelor."

"I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression, but it was very moment's notice…"

"This time two days ago you weren't even engaged. Are you sure this is what you want to do with your life?"

"I look forward to the day people stop asking me that," Clara sighed. "You, my old landlady, John's neighbors… no one over the age of ten seems to be happy for us and it's like listening to a busted record."

"That's because none of us really understand what you see in him."

"I know that, but I'd think it's obvious that I brought out something in him no one else has before. He's kind, and sensitive, and thinks the world of me, and have you seen him lately? He's a dish," Clara blushed in embarrassment.

"It's been my experience that John Smith has only been as kind and sensitive as you say for roughly four months and even then it seems to be exclusively around you," Miss Macintyre said, trying to ignore the last part of Clara's statement. "He can oftentimes be very rude and callous, even if he does write books for children… or at least so he claims."

"It's true; I've seen his work," Clara replied. She let her shoulders go stiff as she adjusted her posture and sat on the very edge of her seat. "Tuesday afternoon I married an artist currently being useful in a shipyard and there is an age gap between us. I am aware of how it might look, but considering I didn't go into this marriage either pregnant or sending my beloved off to the front lines I think I did alright in the long-run."

"Clara, he was the town bachelor… didn't you once think that there might have been a reason for that?"

"…because I hadn't been awarded my Higher School Certificate yet?"

Miss Macintyre frowned at the joke. "Clara, be reasonable… or at least don't claim you weren't thoroughly warned about this."

"I think I've been warned enough," Clara said. "Still… you haven't seen him with that jumper off…"

"He's a weedy, pasty old man."

"A weedy, pasty old man who has been at a job where he's been working out all day for the past seven months—he is actually incredibly fit for his age." Clara smiled as Miss Macintyre tried to hold in a grimace—that was something she had not wanted to know. "Is that all, Miss Macintyre?"

"For now, I guess. Congratulations, Mrs. Smith. I hope your marriage outlasts anyone and everyone's expectations."

"Thank you."