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Goodbye Until Tomorrow

"I wish we could just fly away."

John turned to Clara, her words hardly registering as he surveyed every feature on her face. He needed to remember everything about her, so that even when they parted and she went home and he went wherever with Nardole, he'd still have her in his mind.

Clara looked down at her pale, shaky hands. The wind was biting her exposed stockings with December freeze, but she didn't care. The students passed on the paths below them, but she didn't care. The bench was gaining a layer of ice even as they sat, but she didn't care.

Her eyes turned up again, tears freezing to her face as soon as they tracked down.

"I wish we could just fly away and never answer to anyone."

John smiled lightly, considering the idea. Running away, just him and Clara. The two of them against the world.

It sounded fantastic.

"Maybe I can whip something up in the Physics lab before I go," he said with a sad smile. "A spaceship. Or even a time machine."

Clara leaned her head on his shoulder.

"I wish we could just stay here forever," she said quietly.

John's furrowed brows turned down to her.

"Is there something wrong, Clara? Do you not want to go home?"

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

"It's fine. It's just; there's always something to do. Or explain. Or study for or apply for. Even now that we're on holiday, there's still people to deal with and things I don't want to talk about that'll definitely come up." She sighed. "I just want a break from it for a bit."

John nodded, leaning back into the bench.

"I know," he agreed. Then he took her hand in his and gave her a soft smile. "But we have today."

Her eyes brightened.

"Yes, we do."

Clara shook the thoughts out of her head and looked up at John.

"Promise you'll call me?"

"Every day."

Clara pecked him on the cheek, satisfied with his answer. John blushed, satisfied with her kiss.

"Good," she said.

They sat back, hands still interlocked, and gazed down at the students still rushing about the campus below their bench on the hill.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Clara snatched a gingerbread cookie off of the kitchen counter as her dad pulled the second batch out of the oven.

"Be careful with those!" he said with a laugh. "You'll burn your hands."

"Nah," Clara said, biting into the cookie. "Cookies would never hurt me. We're besties."

Her dad set the oven mitts on the counter and surveyed his work.

"Not bad this year, are they?"

"Not bad," she agreed.

He patted her on the back as he went out of the room. The cookies called her attention again, their siren call tempting her for another. But before she could choose one, her phone began buzzing. She knew who it would be before it was out of her pocket.

"Hey!"

"Clara, hi," replied John.

"How's your Christmas Eve going? Nardole trying to peek his presents early?"

There was a moment's pause.

"Er, well, I'm on my own here actually," John said hesitantly. "Nardole's at his parent's house and Missy's with her friends."

"You can't be alone at Christmas!" Clara cried.

"It's fine; really, I'm not super religious anyway."

Clara shook her head.

"Doesn't matter. Come to my house! It's just dad and me; we've got plenty of food.

"I'm really alright; I don't want to impose…"

"Seriously John, if you don't come visit us, we'll just have to bring Christmas to you."

John sighed, but Clara could hear the smile in his voice.

"If you're sure it's alright," he conceded.

Clara brought the phone down to her shoulder.

"Dad?"

He peeked his head out from the dining room.

"Clara?"

"Would it be okay if John came over for Christmas tomorrow? He doesn't have anyone to celebrate with and…"

"Of course!" Her dad said with a smile.

Clara thanked him silently.

"John, it's absolutely fine. You're always welcome here."

There was another long pause.

"Okay, I'll be there" John said. "Thank you a million times."

They said their long goodbyes before Clara hung up and had another cookie. She smiled to herself, excited at the idea of seeing him tomorrow. But a sadness weighed heavily in her chest as well. John didn't have anyone to be with on holidays. And it wasn't because they had passed away, like her mum. It was because they didn't want him there.

Clara had to make this the best Christmas John ever had.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Clara woke early the next morning like a kid ready to see what Santa had brought for them. Keeping her pajamas on, she hurried to the kitchen and made up some pancakes and sausages, stealing another cookie as she worked. By the time her dad came down, she had a whole meal prepared and the table set.

"Happy Christmas, Clara."

"Happy Christmas!" She replied with a grin, serving up the pancakes on two reindeer-decorated plates.

"Someone's excited," her dad commented.

Clara sat at the table a shrugged, nonchalant.

"Christmas only comes once a year."

"I'm not sure it's Christmas you're excited for."

She blushed, but then laughed.

"Dad!"

He kissed the top of her head.

"Well, I'm excited to meet him, too," he said. "With all you've told me."

Clara smiled. It had once seemed so impossible that her dad would even consider liking John. This was beyond anything Clara could've hoped for.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Clara and her dad were sitting on the sofa sipping on eggnog when the doorbell rang. Splashing the drink as she set it clumsily on the table, Clara jumped up to answer it, throwing her blanket aside.

"Coming!" She called.

When she opened the door, she first only saw a pile of presents standing in front of her. John peeked his head around with a timid smile.

"Hello," he said.

Clara lifted the top present off to reveal his face.

"Happy Christmas."

Clara's dad came up behind her, shaking his head with a smile as his eyes landed on John.

"You're a few hours late, Father Christmas," he joked.

Clara stepped aside.

"Come in! It's bloody freezing outside."

"Thank you," John said, wiping his boots outside before stepping gingerly into the room. "Should I take my shoes off?"

Clara smiled to see him trying so hard.

"Whatever you want. Make yourself at home."

And there it was again. That flicker of sadness when that word -home- reached his ears. Clara frowned to herself as he set the presents down and shook her father's hand with a plastered on grin.

"I'm Dave," her dad stated.

"John Smith."

Dave smirked.

"I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Smith."

John's cheeks turned pink, but Dave clapped him on the shoulder.

"Only good things," Dave assured.

Clara led them to the sofa and got John an eggnog. There the trio stayed for what felt like half the day, talking and laughing and eating and drinking.

When the light outside began to dim and the turkey in the oven smelled of a million wonderful things, they found themselves drifting into the dining room. Dave served the food while Clara set the table, both of them adamant that John was a guest and therefore was only allowed to sit and be waited on.

"Here we go," Dave said, carrying in the turkey. Clara and John's mouths watered just looking at it.

"This is a bit different from the ramen noodles I'm used to," John said with a smile.

Dave served him first, giving him an extra helping of pudding. When all three plates were full, the three dug in with knives and forks clanking in excitement for their meal.

They were silent for a while before Dave set his fork down and folded his hands. He had a smile on his face that Clara knew to be playful, but it sent chills down John's spine.

"Now, John. What's this I heard about you and Clara ending up in prison?"

John's heart sank. Suddenly the food weighed heavy in his stomach and he felt a wave of shame that he was even eating all this wonderful food, guilty as he was.

"Mr. Oswald, I was an idiot. Honestly. Clara had nothing to do with it. I shouldn't have...I should've…"

Dave patted him on the arm.

"John," he said, warming his smile. "It's okay. Clara told me. You're a decent kid. I like that you're honest. But you can let yourself breathe, okay?"

John let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and returned the smile, though he wasn't hungry anymore. He picked at his food for a minute, feeling Dave's eyes still watching him.

"John," the man repeated.

John looked at him like a deer in headlights.

"John, I want you to know that you're always welcome here."

John's face turned almost as red as Dave's, but the older man forced himself to continue.

"I don't know your whole situation, but...from what I've heard, you're a good kid who deserves a good home. And a family. And, well, as long as you and Clara are happy together...you can be a part of our family."

John blinked hard, staring at the half-eaten turkey in the center of the table to avoid the eyes baring down on him. He didn't know what was stronger in him, the gratitude, the joy, the peace.

Whatever it was, he knew he never wanted it to go.

And so he smiled.

And when Dave stood to put away the leftovers, he jumped out of his seat and threw his arms around him.

He hadn't even realized he was about to do it; he didn't even know this man very well. But something compelled him to keep his arms around him.

Dave patted John's back. When the physics student pulled away, he was wiping at his eyes.

"I'll, er, be right back."

John hurried out of the room, wiping his sleeve across his face as he went. Clara followed close behind him.

She found him in the corridor, leaned against the wall and staring up at the ceiling. She rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"You okay?" She asked quietly.

John nodded, laughing at himself.

"I'm…" he looked around the space, with its lights and green decorations; its little dents and crayon markings. "I'm happier than I've ever been."

He took her hands in his.

"Clara...thank you."

"For what?"

He shook his head.

"Everything. Literally; every single thing you've done for me."

She gazed into his eyes.

"Thank you for exactly the same," she replied.

Clara's eyes flicked up to the doorway the were stood beneath and smiled. "John."

He looked up and found a little green plant. He rolled his eyes, but his grin widened.

"Mistletoe," he stated.

Clara took his face in between her hands and held his gaze.

"You have a home here, John. Never forget that. Even if you end up on the moon," she chuckled.

He smiled broadly and placed his lips on hers.

John didn't know if 'home' meant this house, or Clara herself. But that didn't matter.

He had a love.

He had a new life.

And this new life, with Clara, was better than anything he'd ever had before.

John smiled his goofy smile for the rest of the night.

And, in fact, for the rest of his life.