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Chapter 11

The silence that had spread over her class after her question was beginning to unsettle Clara. It was so quiet that she could swear she heard the breathing of every single student in the room. A piece of paper rustled. A pen clicked. Someone shuffled their feet.

"Anyone?" Clara asked, raising her eyebrows, "Come on, I'm sure at least one of you has read the text. Marcy? James?"

Yet her students all stared down at their non-existent notes.

"You do realize you've got an essay to hand in next week?"

"The essay question is stupid," James complied. He finally raised his head, staring at her. "You didn't even give us a second option to choose from!"

Clara heard some of the others mumbled in agreement. She quickly straightened her back. "That's because I know you can do it," she replied, but instantly realized that her voice lacked authority once more. They were right. She should have given them more options to choose from. Yet she would be damned to admit that right now.

Then suddenly the class was startled by a loud noise coming from the corridor and at first Clara didn't know what to make of it – until she recognized the opening riff of a Queen song. Now she didn't need a lot of imagination to guess what was going on on the corridor.

"Excuse me for a moment," she told her class and turned her back on them, heading outside to see what exactly the Doctor was up to now.

Once she stepped out of the classroom, she spotted him right in front of the door, the guitar slung around his chest and a small but quite loud amplifier hooked to his belt. Clara had almost laughed out loud, if only out of sheer confusion.

"Doctor, what the hell are you doing?" she asked, smiling at him.

The playing stopped and he threw her a wicked grin. "Shout at me," he whispered.

Clara's voice dropped instinctively. "What?" she asked in confusion.

He nodded towards her classroom. "Shout at me. Scold me for making a noise. Make it loud enough so they can hear you."

Even though she wasn't quite sure what was happening or why, Clara began to get an idea about what he was trying to do. She had to refrain from laughing out loud.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Oswald. Was I too loud?" he asked, his voice raised, making sure that the students inside could hear him properly. He made a waving gesture with his hands, telling her to play along.

Alright, if that was what he wanted. "Damn right you were, Doctor!" Clara told him strictly, "I don't even want to know what this thing is doing in this building, but you're going to stop that right now! Some people are here to learn and would like to do so quietly!"

"Good, that's good," he whispered before he raised his voice again. "I am so sorry, Miss Oswald. I promise it won't ever happen again."

Clara smiled at him, almost laughing once more, but she was determined to finish their little play.

"No, it won't, because if it does, I will report you to Mr Armitage. My students have a very difficult essay to prepare for and if they fail because of you, I am going to hold you responsible!"

"Oh, that is really not fair!"

Clara had no idea what to reply to that now, but luckily the Doctor kept the game going.

"Insult me," he whispered, "Come on. Do it."

She inhaled sharply. "Take your guitar and your midlife crisis and butcher Queen somewhere else!"

"Yes," he replied, "Yes, I'll do that. Sorry again, Miss Oswald, it won't happen again. Do you want me to come inside and apologize to your class?"

"No need. You've distracted them for far too long and I don't want you to give them any wrong ideas about Jane Austen."

"Tell them I'm sorry, then," the Doctor said before his voice dropped to a whisper again and he smiled at her, "See you after class?"

"Yes," Clara replied, grinning. He was an idiot, but a very sweet one.

After stepping back inside the classroom, Clara found the entire class suddenly very much alert. She cleared her throat. "The Doctor wants me to tell you that he's sorry about the disruption. He won't ever do that again."

"Did you just shout at the Doctor?" Marcy asked carefully, her eyebrows raised in confusion or awe. Clara couldn't quite tell.

"That's right, I did," she admitted and not without pride, "Now, back to Jane Austen and my previous question."

When James raised his arm to answer the question, Clara could hardly hide the smile on her face. The Doctor's little trick might not have worked miracles, but she could tell that the class seemed a little more impressed by her now.

"You are a genius!"

The Doctor looked up from tuning his guitar when he heard Clara's voice and he saw her standing in front of his desk, smiling broadly.

"I don't know how you thought of that or why it has worked, but my students actually participated in my class today. Some of them looked quite impressed," she giggled and the Doctor loved seeing her like that. The sound of her laughter made his heart jump with joy.

He had spent all Sunday thinking about something, about a way he could help her out with her students and it seemed as if his little trick had worked.

"Glad I could be of assistance," he said, granting her a sincere smile, "Now they only need to fail that essay and you'll be feared on the entire campus."

"Well, I'm not sure I wanna be feared," she said and sank down to sit on the edge of his desk, "But a little respect would be nice."

The Doctor looked up at her, just taking in the sight for a moment. He had no idea how she did it, but Clara seemed to look a little bit prettier with every passing day.

"You'll have that, don't worry," he reassured her, "It just takes a little time."

She sighed. "Yeah, Amy said the same thing."

When Clara fell silent, the Doctor racked his brain for something else to say. He didn't want her to leave just yet and she would if he didn't keep the conversation going.

"Did you have a nice time at the cinema the other day?" the Doctor asked her and suddenly Clara seemed to tense up. For some reason she avoided his gaze.

"Not really. Danny picked a horrible movie," she admitted and hesitated for a moment before she continued, "What about you?"

The Doctor scoffed. "Same actually."

Something about the way Clara acted seemed strange again. Her great mood had vanished at the mention of Saturday night and the Doctor wasn't sure whether it was because she had had a horrible time or if maybe Missy wasn't so wrong after all.

"But I had promised Missy that she could pick the movie, so I had to suck it up. She's letting me live with her at the moment. I owe her for that," he explained.

Suddenly Clara's head shot back up. "She's the friend you've been living with?"

"Yep," the Doctor said, "The very one. We've been friends since we were children. Missy is. . . different, but you get used to it, I guess."

"Oh, well," Clara smiled at him, "Say hello from me. Tell her it was nice to meet her."

The Doctor couldn't help but return her smile. Missy had been right. Damn, she really had been right. Now he only needed to think of his next step.