Chapter 11

John's eyes fluttered open against the light, feathery pillow. For a second he couldn't register where he was, and why he had no clothes on. He smiled broadly as then he noticed Clara Oswald sleeping beside him. She was lying half on him on her stomach, an arm still round his neck and fingers embedded in his hair. He watched her, breathing quietly with her hair covering part of her face. It was a miracle he had even become her friend, much less sleep with her. He decided to chance it, wrap his other arm around her so she was tucked safely in the middle. He couldn't help the pathetic grin he wore and all his thoughts raced by without any consideration. Clara finally woke after another hour of sleeping, and broke free of his embrace.

'Are you okay?' She asked politely, not the type of question he thought would surface when they were in bed together.

'Yes, I am.'

She smiled briefly at him, and he sat up straight.

'Is everything alright?'

'...yeah.'

John didn't quite know what had happened to make them both so uncomfortable but he finally realised that whatever friendship there was between them, they had destroyed it indefinitely last night. He slowly trudged to the bathroom, his mind wandering over the details that puzzled him. He had to remind himself he was nothing more than another man to her, someone she had had sex one night and forgotten about the next. Yet he knew he was more than that to her, but couldn't help panicking that everything would go to waste, perhaps she really would regret it, maybe tell him that it was a mistake like some of the others she'd had. Whatever the outcome, he could openly admit it had been the most amazing experience and nothing could ever change that. Although he was determined to keep Clara at least as his friend. He wasn't ready to lose her.

He slipped back under the duvet, where Clara was slumping against the pillows dragging from her cigarette in the sexiest way possible which almost turned him on again. Her hair now had the messy bedhead look and her vivid red lipstick was slightly smudged. She had changed into a revealing silk nightie from which he could still see her cleavage. She was absolutely perfect. He himself had put on his red and white 60's Y fronts that she smirked at.

'Bit old fashioned aren't they?'

He didn't say anything, her voice was enough to silence him.

'Although, they look sexy...'

He smiled suggestively. If anything, she was leading him on.

'I wear old-fashioned clothes. Maybe it's starting to grow on you.'

'I never thought I'd find them attractive. Probably only because you wear them.'

He could hardly resist their seductive flirting, which made his heart pound. He didn't know how she was able to flirt with him, if this was what she did with all men or if this was something special between them. He could never tell.

'Well, I could say a lot about you in return, Miss Oswald, all of them starting with attractive and ending in sexy.'

'You're getting good at this, aren't you? Have you been practising?' She laughed.

'With a woman like you I have to constantly...' At this point she was getting closer, her face nearly in the proximity of his, 'keep up.'

'John?' She whispered, in a low and infuriatingly provocative tone.

'Yes?'

'I think I might need to draw you like this, in those dashing underpants.'

Her lips sealed his, and her hands dragged him emphatically over to her side and slowly he replied between elongated kisses, 'fine by me.'

She giggled almost wickedly, and caused him to bite down on her lip. It seemed she greatly appreciated it in a vexatious sort of way, just as he did with her arousing forcefulness. It seemed she really did value him, more so than he thought, than all her other men. Her touch was magnetic, electrifying his skin. A few hours later and they still hadn't moved from the warm bed. They were wrapped up in the sheets, and it was by far the best morning he had ever spent. This time Clara had arms around him, stroking his hair as he rested his head between her collarbones. His head was swirling round manically with questions, and couldn't find the heart to repress them any longer. He knew he shouldn't bring it up; allow himself a romantic day and night with a beautiful woman, who also happened to be his best friend.

'Is this different...to what you, uh...usually do?'

He could sense a slight shift to her mood, telling him that she didn't want to bring it up.

She nodded. 'I usually leave in the morning. If the man's nice I might do it again, or give him what he wants, I'm not fussy. But this is different. I haven't stayed round a man's house as late as this.'

'This doesn't change anything, does it?' He asked cautiously.

She still stroked his hair, which he took as a good sign.

'Like what? What could it change?'

'Our friendship?' His face turned to hers, only inches apart.

'Why does everyone think that sleeping with your best friend ruins your friendship? It's a load of bullshit. Unless you really don't wanna be my friend, I don't see how it changes anything at all.'

In a way, he sort of agreed. That one problem everyone fussed over was way too cheesy and dramatic for him. He didn't want to lose Clara as a friend, but selfishly wanted this again. He didn't quite know where there relationship stood, but he would let Clara decide that. The only thing he was in control of was the healing of her injuries, and he'd already failed. He thought about his book being published, if his life would change in any way. Would Clara still want to spend time with him? He was getting ahead of himself. His book wasn't going to be an instant success, he wasn't going to be granted with fame and therefore Clara wouldn't slip away from him. Sometimes even simple fantasies could be burdens to the mind.

'No, I suppose it doesn't.' He said after, turning away. It was lunch time when John finally got up, making something to eat. He thought he'd be a gentleman and bring Clara breakfast/lunch in bed. Upon seeing him carrying a tray she shook her head.

'I thought you might find it cheesy.'

'Yet every woman wants a man to bring them breakfast in bed.'

'Well, it's sort of lunch now.'

'Three times a day then. Men often

'Oh well. I don't really have many plans today.'

'Oh?'

'I don't think I'll be wanting to get out of bed for once. Unless we properly celebrated your success and go out?'

'Nice try. And I thought we already had celebrated.'

His eyes flicked to hers, which she gave a subtle cock of the eyebrows back.

'Really?'

He nodded, grinning.

'Well then, we can celebrate some more.'

She pulled him to her, kissing him so he forgot his own name. The tray was slipping from her lap in their eagerness, and John took hold of it before it fell, withdrawing.

'Eat lunch first.' He nodded toward the food. She consented, while he sipped his coffee.

The next few weeks came and went, with Clara being able to revert back to her usual self but with the warning of his advice and not to do anything stupid. Since their first night together they had done it again, neither of them taking it seriously. Yet he enjoyed it, and couldn't contain the joyous feeling in his stomach when she had called him that second time because she was bored. It definitely made him feel like he wasn't worthless. The last time they had done it Clara had admitted he was getting better at it, which made him just a tiny bit pleased.

Clara would mostly drag everyone else to the bar, which was where he now worked behind. He felt like he was her boyfriend, even though she had never referenced him as such. It had addled his brain a little more than it should have, as Clara had on impulse, kissed him over the bar counter one shift. She had told him no one knew about their sleeping together but John couldn't be sure.

'Ah, bartender, can we have four tequila shots, two bottles of beer and three ciders please.'

He had snorted, studying Clara's face.

'Drinking light tonight?' He joked.

'Yeah, I took some of your advice. Can't knock myself out again, can't I? Oh, and do we get discounts?'

'What? No!'

'But you work here.' She told him, biting her lip and leaning further over the counter.

'That doesn't mean I give you drinks for free or for any less than the usual price.'

'You sound so strict and bossy, I think it's the uniform. At least you got to wear a bow tie with it.'

'They couldn't say no to the bow tie, Clara. Bow ties are cool.'

He gathered up their drinks, and she handed him money. She pushed a shot over to him.

'No, I can't drink in working hours.'

'Oh come on, John, just take it. No one will care.'

He shook his head at her, but took it cautiously.

'You'll still be there tomorrow with me, won't you? To meet the publishers.'

'Of course,' she kissed him on the cheek, 'we'll meet you outside when you're done. I'll have one rolled up and ready for you.' She winked.

'Thanks.' He replied, and watched her walk away. There was something about that attractive saunter that made him want to have sex with her again. It was the little things in the back of his conscious that his brain couldn't let go of, remarking in every little detail he found on her body. He didn't get his hopes up but maybe if he was lucky... He smirked, polishing a glass. He got back to work, but couldn't help his thoughts wandering. He joined them after his shift to smoke, then headed back home. Clara joined him, and after a few more drinks she was kissing him again. It seemed like she actually liked him; she hadn't slept with anyone else other than him since the first time, and the second was just as good. It was the morning after, he had wasted, drinking in bed, ordering takeaways and getting it on again. The last few weeks had been the best in his life and all he could think about was the time he had spent with her.