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Chapter 12

When the Doctor got home after a long day at the university he still wasn't finished cursing his mouth for being quicker than his brain. Inviting Clara Oswald to join him on Saturday must have been the dumbest idea he had ever had in his entire life but at that moment he had been so comfortable around her, he still had been so enthralled by her and the conversation they had had that the words had escaped his mouth before he had even had a chance of stopping them. She was beautiful and smart and somehow talking to her filled him with an enthusiasm and a spirit that he himself had lacked for years.

Joe was waiting for him in the kitchen when the Doctor stepped inside, immediately crossing the room to retrieve a beer from the fridge. He opened the bottle and took a large sip.

"Long day?" his friend asked him.

"Very long."

Joe cocked an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean we get to do beer and football on telly now?"

The Doctor sighed in reply. "Yeah, that sounds good."

But even a couple of beers and a football game later Clara was still on his mind and it was beginning to bother him. Joe slept with his students all the time, maybe he would know how to get rid of these unwanted feelings. The Doctor quickly brushed the idea aside, knowing exactly what Joe would tell him to do and that was simply out of the question. And yet. . .

"In all those years," the Doctor began, "Did you ever fall in love with one of your students?"

His friend frowned at him. "You're not that naïve to think I love all the girls I sleep with, right?"

"Of course not. But didn't you ever fall in love? Not even once?"

A smile appeared on his friend's face but it was different from the way the way he usually smiled. The Doctor almost thought he looked nostalgic, or even sad.

"There was one, back in Vienna. Ages ago. Louise," Joe said the name with such admiration that every doubt the Doctor might have had about his friend's feelings was wiped away, "I almost married her. You should have seen the women in Vienna, they were all beautiful to the point that it almost hurt to look at them. And then there was Louise, the most beautiful of them all."

"What happened?"

Joe shrugged. "I chased her for months before she gave in, I went half mad because of her. We were happy for a while. And then she left me and broke my heart."

The Doctor took a sip from his bottle. Half mad sounded about right. He was half mad because of Clara. "And what did you do about it?"

"I found another. And then another," his friend explained, "But no one has ever matched up to Louise so far."

That wasn't even remotely helpful at all. The Doctor emptied the bottle and rose from the sofa, announcing that it was probably time for him to go to bed.

After walking upstairs he locked the bathroom door behind him, stripped out of his clothes and stepped under the hot shower water but even that couldn't wash away how he was feeling about Clara. While most of the time his thoughts about her were innocent, like imagining her laugh or thinking about having a conversation with her, sometimes different images would invade his mind. Holding Clara, kissing Clara in his office, running his hands along the curve of Clara's body while he pulled her closer, pressing their hips together. He imagined how her lips would taste, how soft and warm her skin would feel under his fingertips, how he would bury his head in her shoulder, inhaling that wonderful scent of her perfume. The Doctor could feel his body respond to these thoughts almost instantly, his half erect cock twitching at the mental image of what Clara would look like naked, of how she would moan under him when he pushed inside of her. He reached down and began stroking himself, giving himself completely to his thoughts about Clara Oswald. He felt dirty and ashamed but not enough to stop until he had spent himself.

OOO

He found the way back to her apartment without a problem and parked his car right in front of it. There was still time for the Doctor to back out of going to Hampton Court Palace with her. He could still drive off and apologize to Clara the following week, telling her something had come up and he just couldn't make it. But as soon as he imagined her disappointed face while she was waiting for him to pick her up he felt guilty, especially since the only reason for him to stand her up would be the fear of his own feelings for her.

Eventually the Doctor stepped out of the car and walked the last few steps up to her door. After taking a deep breath and gathering his courage he even managed the ring the bell.

"Hey, I'll open the door for you," Clara replied through the intercom, "I'm having a button crisis. It's gonna take a few more minutes."

"Not a problem. I can wait downstairs," he said.

"Don't be silly," he could hear her smile even without seeing her face, "Come on up."

The intercom went dead just before the door started buzzing and the Doctor reached for the handle and stepped inside. According to the name tag and the letterbox Clara lived on the 5th floor and he decided to take the stairs, giving her more time to solve her button crisis, whatever that meant, so he would end up spending less time at her flat.

The door to the inside of her apartment was left ajar and after a careful knock he dared to step inside. Somehow the place looked just like he had imagined it, possessing just the right amount of organized chaos that he liked to practice as well. He found Clara sitting on her sofa, armed with needle and thread and a jacket laid across her lap.

"Hi," she greeted him with a smile, "Sorry, a button of my jacket came loose and I thought I'd better fix them all. Won't take too long."

"It's okay," the Doctor replied, returning her smile.

"Why don't you sit down?" Clara suggested.

"Oh, no, that's okay," he said and pointed towards the large shelf behind her, "I'd rather have a look at your books if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

The Doctor made his way across the room and had only gotten as far as the first rack when he suddenly thought that he loved her. He owned and loved most of these books as well and when he took another step he realized that the same applied to her collection of CDs. It was cruel to have so much in common with her when she was so beautiful and his student and born about 20 years too late.

"Are you judging my taste?" her voice suddenly tore him from his thoughts.

He laughed. "Admiring it. You've got great taste. For someone your age."

And suddenly Clara let out a groan. "Why do people always have to put the age label on everything? I can like Bob Dylan and not be in my 40s. I can also read Shakespeare without having been born in the 17th century. A friend of mine is 31 and has taken up knitting a few years ago. Everyone tells her it's a granny's hobby and yet she knits these amazing things," Clara turned around to look at him, "Why does a good taste in music or films or books have to be related to how old someone is?"

The Doctor was a little taken aback by her statement and he couldn't really find an answer. Because she was right somehow. These things shouldn't be related and yet that's what most people thought.

He gave a nervous laugh. "I can't honestly say."

When she looked back down at her jacket all the Doctor could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her right before he realized that his feelings for her were beginning to spiral out of control. Agreeing to this day at the Renaissance fair had been a mistake. She would love it. He would love it. It would bring them closer and he wanted it to. The Doctor simply didn't want to stay away from her any longer.

"Okay, I'm done," Clara announced before putting on her jacket and rising from her seat with a big smile on her face, "Ready to go?"

"Ready," he confirmed.