The Doctor battled several different urges at once as he and Clara walked to the underground station after the party. He was so focused on keeping his hands in his pockets and staring at the pavement that he must have seemed too withdrawn, because Clara kept casting nervous glances in his direction.
"You're being very quiet," she finally said.
"Sorry," he apologised abruptly. "I was just thinking."
"Oh, yeah—thinking. Thinking's nice."
The Doctor grinned at her attempt to stir up a relaxed conversation when an invisible elephant was trailing behind them. He stopped walking and Clara turned to face him.
"What are you doing for Christmas?" he asked.
Clara shrugged. "Going home, seeing my dad and grandparents—the usual."
"Ah, right. Family. Yeah."
Clara frowned in a way that meant she regretted mentioning her family in front of him. The Doctor hated that he evoked this sort of shame from people. Just because he didn't have any family didn't mean other people had to hide theirs. "What about you?"
"Oh, I've got a few traditions of my own," he assured her. "Sleep in, watch old Christmas movies on the telly, the usual."
Clara's eyes grew three times their normal size. "All alone?"
"Nah," he lied. "There's usually someone around. Strax or Vastra or someone."
Clara nodded but continued to wear a concerned expression. The Doctor fidgeted nervously and wished that they would start walking again or talk about something else. He didn't like pity. He needed it, but he didn't like it. As if reading his mind, Clara looped her arm through his and they continued walking towards the tube stop.
The Doctor didn't usually tiptoe around the subject in hand; in fact, he was usually reprimanded for not exercising enough tact. But when it came to matters of the heart, especially his own heart, he never knew what to say. It was always worse when something actually needed saying. He wished that Clara could just read what was in his heart like an open book, but the only way she could do that would be if the Doctor allowed himself to be vulnerable.
"Well, here we are," she said once they reached the station entrance.
A woman rushing towards the train had to stop and run around them, so the Doctor and Clara moved off to the side to say goodnight. Brixton wasn't that far away, but the distance between his flat and hers felt enormous.
It was almost shameful how attracted he was to this woman, but more than that, the Doctor felt this innocent desire to spend all of his time with her. The world had more colour with her in it.
"I suppose I'll see you after Christmas," she said.
He smiled tightly. "Yeah. Guess so."
He knew what she was waiting for, but the Doctor didn't know what to say. The infinite number of things that came to mind all felt wrong or misleading, and all of the alternatives were pure shite.
"It's too bad you won't be in Blackpool for Christmas. My gran would love you."
He ducked his head and laughed, honestly quite terrified at the idea of meeting hers or anyone else's gran. "I'm sure I'd love to meet her."
Clara continued to watch him patiently as people continued to pass by them on their way to the tube. The Doctor took a deep breath as if to speak but Clara grabbed either side of his face with her gloved hands and kissed him. The Doctor hesitated only briefly before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.
He felt his heart swell in his chest as he clung to her with a desperation he tried to conceal from the rest of the world. He was so lonely, and she was so kind. He feared he was taking advantage of her kindness, because he couldn't see what it was she could possibly want from him. It was difficult, however, to dwell on such things when her lips were pressed against his.
Millennia passed before Clara pulled away, and still it felt too soon. "Oh my stars," she said breathlessly, a coquettish grin on her lips.
"Stay," he said.
"What?"
"Don't go. I-I don't mean…" He cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. "We could get coffee or just talk, or stare at peeling paint or… something, anything. Just don't go home yet, please."
With one kiss he'd gone from guarded and withdrawn to flat out begging for her company. Luckily Clara found this charming, because her response was a broad smile that the Doctor mirrored with a crooked one of his own.
"Okay!" he said, his confidence renewed. "What do you want to do?"
Clara heard a loud vibration, like the malicious purr of a jungle cat on the prowl. She whipped her head in every direction but saw nothing but shadows all around, and then with a gasp she awoke and realized her phone was ringing on her nightstand. She noted the name on the caller ID through bleary eyelids and groaned before answering.
"It's four in the morning," she grumbled.
"Did I wake you?" the Doctor replied.
"Of course you woke me." Clara's eyes snapped open. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, sorry. I just thought you might be waking up early to go to your dad's."
"No, my train doesn't leave until half past eight." Loud, white noise filled the other end of the call, like a stiff breeze against the phone's mouthpiece. "Where are you?"
"Oh, I'm just outside."
Clara sat up, suddenly alert. "Outside where?"
"Your flat. I'm out by the road."
"What?"
Clara peeled away the comforter and immediately shivered at the cold. She placed her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she shrugged into the robe she had hanging on the back of her bedroom door before shuffling into the hallway. She stopped at the staircase landing and stared out the foggy window onto the street below. The Doctor waved up at her.
"Doctor," she whispered into the phone, "what are you doing outside my flat at four in the morning?"
"I came to see you off!"
"Why would you see me off at four in the morning?"
"I thought you were leaving early."
Clara groaned with frustration. She couldn't tell anymore if she was just tired or if he was being especially ridiculous. "Come inside. It's cold."
She hung up the phone and tiptoed down the stairs to avoid waking Nina. She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror and tightened the belt on her robe before opening the door so that the Doctor could enter. With him came a gust of December wind that sent a chill to her bones.
He greeted her with an apologetic grimace and Clara locked the door behind him with a frown of disapproval. When his grimace morphed into a smile, Clara found herself smiling back begrudgingly.
"You want some tea?" she asked softly.
"Please. Why are we whispering?"
"Nina."
"Who's Nina? Oh!" Clara glared at him in warning and the Doctor winced before continuing in a softer voice, "Oh right. Your flatmate. Is she asleep?"
"Of course she's asleep. What exactly is it you think people do at four in the morning?"
"I don't know. I didn't expect her to still be here. Don't her family live in London?"
Clara filled the kettle with water and plugged it into the wall. "Yeah, but Nina avoids spending too much time with them if she can help it. They're a bit… overwhelming."
"Ah."
Clara pulled two tea bags from the box in the cupboard and plopped them into clean mugs from the strainer by the sink. Once everything was set, Clara turned to face him and leaned against the counter, her arms folded across her chest. She couldn't help but grin at him, standing there perfectly dressed like he was going to the bank or something. "You really got up at three in the morning and came all the way down to Brixton just to see me before I left?"
He made a face. "Well, when you put it like that it makes me sound pathetic."
Clara closed the space between them and stretched on her tiptoes to place a tiny kiss on his lips. "You arepathetic. And a bit of a stalker."
The Doctor frowned but didn't pull away when she kissed him again. It had only been four days since the TARDIS Christmas party, but Clara still felt nervous every time she initiated a kiss between them. The Doctor had yet to reject her. The other night when he'd asked her to stay in town, they got coffee and ended up talking for hours. Clara felt an inexplicable connection to this man, a man whose name she still didn't know and who had dodged her subtle attempts to bring up relationship history in conversation. She still had him in her phone as 'The Doctor'.
"Can I help you with anything?" he asked when the kettle whistled and Clara continued to prepare their tea. He always wanted to help.
"You can fetch the carton of cream from the fridge if you'd like."
Clara always snacked with her tea, so she grabbed a carton of biscuits as well and led him to the small kitchen table to have a seat. He draped his coat over the back of the chair before sitting and Clara crossed her legs under the table as she nibbled on a biscuit. The sight of the Doctor sitting at her kitchen table drinking tea at four in the morning was so foreign to her that Clara felt she must still be dreaming.
For a while they sat in an awkward but not altogether uncomfortable silence, sipping their tea as the clock ticked loudly on the wall. Clara watched the Doctor nervously as his gleeful demeanour from before transformed into the most haunted expression. He finally turned to her when his cup was almost empty and met her eyes.
"I know you've heard about my wife."
He spoke a simple truth and not an accusation, but Clara still felt a need to apologise. She wanted to respond but was struck dumb by the fact that he was finally talking about his past.
"She died last year," he continued. The Doctor's expression fell vacant, like he was trying to distance himself from the painful memory. "Two of my best friends left London afterwards. Said it was too painful, too different with her gone. There were other reasons too, but they didn't… hurt. It felt like they just gave up on me. I haven't heard anything from them in months, but I last night and I saw that they sent me a Christmas card."
The Doctor pulled the card from his coat pocket and slid it towards her on the table. Clara lifted it up to see a beautiful young couple smiling in front of the enormous Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in New York. They looked really nice.
"I wanted to call you," the Doctor confessed softly. He sounded ashamed. "After I saw it. I wanted to talk to you, but I was afraid it was too soon to burden you with my…." He shook his head. "But now here I am, waking you at four in the morning because I can't sleep, and I…"
His expression was stoic, but Clara could tell he was on the verge of breaking down. She stared at him helplessly until she finally willed her right hand to reach forward and grasp his.
"It's okay," she said, meaning more than just the fact that he'd woken her. "It's okay."
The Doctor released a shaky breath and smiled lightly before bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't mean to scare you."
"Scare me?" Clara replied with a light smile. "I'm not afraid of emotions, you know."
He gave a little laugh and she squeezed his hand. He seemed so ashamed of his pain and loneliness, and yet he clung to it like a security blanket. His secrets that kept everyone at a distance, and Clara could tell he wanted to share them with her, to break down all the barriers he'd built, but it terrified him.
"You can always call me, you know. No matter how late it is, no matter how much I grumble," she added with a light grin. "No matter what's wrong."
He squeezed her hand tightly and Clara smiled reassuringly.
"I suppose I should let you go back to sleep," he said after a brief silence.
"You don't have to go," she said almost sadly.
"But I should," he replied, standing. "You've got a train to catch."
"Mmm. Fair point."
Clara stood and he pulled her into a hug. She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes, contemplating falling asleep right there. She followed him towards the door as he made to leave and, despite knowing the layout by memory, banged her toe into the coffee table.
The Doctor stopped and turned when she collapsed to the floor with a stifled cry of pain. "Clara?"
"Toe," she gasped.
She manoeuvred to the sofa where she pulled her foot out of her slipper and examined the chipped nail on her big toe. The Doctor sank onto the cushion next to her as she chanted the word 'ow' over and over again.
"You gonna be alright if I leave you?" he asked with a light chuckle.
"No," she replied sulkily.
Clara leaned her head against his shoulder and pouted. The Doctor wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, his voice a throaty rumble as he said something the soothe her.
That was the last thing Clara remembered before falling asleep.