Thank you so much for the sweet reviews :) Let's see how their first meeting after their. . . encounter will go:

Chapter 13

When the Doctor turned around the corner, he briefly considered the possibility that he had gotten the time wrong because there was a small crowd standing in front of the photo studio, obviously waiting to go inside. He was about to pull out his phone and call his manager to confirm his suspicion when he spotted the woman at the centre of the crowd and realized that he had arrived at precisely the right time and that Clara was already here as well, signing autographs in the company of a studio employee who hovered over her like a bodyguard. The Doctor reached them just as a woman in her 40s started talking to Clara.

"Could you sign this CD for my daughter?" the woman asked. "She's only eight, but she's already a huge fan."

Clara smiled in response as she took the CD to sign it, but somehow, the smile seemed forced. It didn't take a genius to know that she was uncomfortable with the situation. "Of course," she replied nonetheless. "What's your daughter's name? And why didn't you bring her?"

"It's Charlotte and-"

"Like any good eight-year-old, Charlotte is at school right now, working hard and making her mother really proud," the Doctor interrupted her sentence and put on the most charming smile he could muster as he looked at the woman.

She smiled back at him, seeming a little nervous all of a sudden. "Yes, she's a good kid," she replied.

"Oh look, Mr Obvious has finally arrived," Clara jibed as she threw him a dark glance, but the Doctor had no time to reply when he realized that the mother of the girl named Charlotte was still staring at him as if he had said something awe-inspiring.

"I'm sorry," she said eventually, still looking straight at him. "You're the Doctor, aren't you? Could I please take a selfie with you?"

The deep frown on Clara's face, along with the little stab of pride he felt for being recognized for once made a gleeful smirk appear on his face, but before he had a chance to agree, Clara spoke again.

"In case you don't know, a selfie is a photo you take of yourself," she explained, her voice slow as if she was talking to a child.

"Thanks, but I know what a selfie is, Mrs Obvious," the Doctor hissed and then turned his attention back towards the fan. "Of course. I'd be happy to take a photo with you."

The woman giggled a little nervously and drew out her phone while the Doctor bent down to be at her level and scowled into the camera. His trademark look. The woman snapped a photo and slid the phone back into her pocket.

"Thank you so much," she said excitedly. Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor could see Clara roll her eyes at them. "I've been a fan of your music since the 80s."

"Doctor, we have to go," Clara said impatiently. "Makeup is waiting for us inside."

"Makeup?" he asked, but he never got an answer as she turned around on her heels and headed inside. When the Doctor glanced at the man who had watched over Clara while she had signed the autographs and taken selfies, he was beckoning the Doctor to follow Clara inside. So he did.

However, once the Doctor had caught up with her, he found himself standing in a room that looked like a hairdresser's salon. Of course, Clara would want to get her makeup done by one of the present artists.

"Oh, uhm, I'll wait outside then, see if I can find Missy," he said and gestured towards the door as just another woman walked in.

"You can wait here, Doctor," she told him in a friendly manner as she approached Clara. "Sylvia will take care of you in a moment."

While Clara sat down in front of a large mirror and the woman started to inspect her hair, the Doctor thought that he must have heard them wrong. Surely, there had been a misunderstanding.

"I don't need to be taken care of," he replied, a frown on his face.

The door opened again and a woman who looked like she could be called Sylvia stepped inside and she beamed at him. Yep, that was definitely Sylvia. Behind him, the Doctor could hear Clara chuckle.

"Have a seat, Doctor," Sylvia told him and gestured towards the chair next to Clara's. "Let's have a look at you."

"I don't need you to have a look," he said harshly. "I don't need makeup."

Still, Sylvia remained smiling at him while Clara's chuckling continued. "It's just a bit of powder and something for the hair."

"My hair is fine," the Doctor barked. "And I certainly don't need powder or anything like that."

"Give up," Clara told him, the laughter still audible in her voice. "Your manager ordered it, so you're gonna get your makeup and hair done whether you want to or not. She was very insistent."

The Doctor looked from Clara's amused faced to the other two women who merely nodded in agreement, confirming her statement. Missy. Somehow, he should have known she would do something like this and that was the exact reason he hadn't wanted this photo shoot in the first place. That and Clara's presence while he was being humiliated by a makeup artist. He growled in reply but eventually sank down into the chair because he knew that he was defeated.

"How come you all know about this and I don't?"

"Cause we didn't arrive at the last minute," Clara replied simply and the Doctor would have loved to throw something back at her, but he was a little distracted when Sylvia started messing with his hair.

"You have some marvellous silver curls, do you know that?"

The Doctor glowered at her through the mirror, but didn't reply and he didn't protest as she opened a bottle of something, claiming it would make his silver hair even more silver. He let her tamper with his hair, he let her use a brush to apply something on his face and he even ignored the fact that Clara was giggling continuously right next to him, no doubt about something that had to do with him. He had promised Missy to at least try to be nice and yet a part of him kept wondering if Clara felt even remotely as strange as he did, if she thought about what had happened in the storage room at all because he certainly did and he wished that he could just erase that particular memory from his head. It would never happen again, so he was better off just forgetting about it altogether and maybe that was what Clara had told herself as well.

Luckily for him, the photographer seemed incredibly busy and it was obvious that he wanted to keep this shoot as brief as possible. He led them into the studio and told the Doctor to sit on a chair while Clara was supposed to stand right next to him.

"Your height difference is too big," he explained. "Gotta do something about that."

He snapped a picture.

"Alright, could you two look a little less like you hate working with each other?"

"What?" Clara asked.

"You heard him," the Doctor said and looked up at her. "You absolutely love this and you can't think of anyone you'd rather work with because I'm definitely the most handsome, most charming and most talented musician worldwide."

His joke had the intended effect. Clara turned her head and laughed at him, but this time, it seemed almost heartfelt. The Doctor had managed to make her laugh and the honest smile almost made her look beautiful.

"I'm sorry, did they paint a new personality on your face while they were doing your makeup earlier? Cause I haven't met the guy you're describing right now."

"Excellent!" the photographer exclaimed and shot two more pictures. "Now, look into the camera and think about this exciting, new project."

Suddenly, the Doctor felt Clara's arm on his shoulder as she leaned on him for the photo and he instinctively stiffened up under her touch. The last time they had been in actual physical contact, the only time had been in the storage room of the club and a moment later, she had kissed him. If he focused hard enough, it was as if he could still feel her lips on his own, as if he could still taste her. Clara Oswald was an amazing kisser and even though he knew that it was best to forget about the incident altogether, a part of him didn't even want to. The memory of how she had felt, how he had felt with her was something the Doctor wanted to hold on to forever.

"Perfect!" the photographer announced after a while and looked up from the computer screen next to his workplace. "We got some really good shots. I'll give them to my assistant for the retouch process and send them to your agents in a couple of days."

"Great," Clara replied. "Are we free to go or do you need anything else?"

"Nope, we're finished for today. If your agents are happy with the results, I suppose I'll see you two again for the big promotional shoot."

The Doctor nodded absent-mindedly. Yet another thing to not look forward to.

He followed Clara back into the makeup room, but something had changed during the shoot, her touch had changed it and now, he somehow found that he couldn't stop thinking about it, about what they had done last Saturday. It was obvious that Clara was pretending like nothing had ever happened, but he couldn't do that. He just needed to clear it up to get it out of his head, so the Doctor closed the door once they were both alone inside the room.

"Clara, we need to talk," he announced.

"Yeah," she agreed immediately. "We never talked about how we're gonna go on with the album and the songs we're supposed to write for that."

It took him a moment to realize what she was talking about, but eventually, it hit him. Of course. The songs. They were supposed to meet and work on them. Whatever they were going to do, it was most definitely going to be awkward.

"Right," he breathed in reply.

"I was thinking you could come to my place," Clara said nonchalantly. "I can't really write anywhere else."

"Right," the Doctor said again. That was not the direction which he had thought this conversation would take. He wanted to talk about their encounter on Saturday, but he wasn't sure how he was going to do that when Clara had obviously switched into professional mode.

"How does Saturday evening sound?"

"I, uhm, I have a gig on Saturday."

To his surprise, Clara chuckled. "A gig?" she asked, her eyebrows raised at him in disbelief. "Don't you mean a concert?"

"Well, it is like a concert, but. . . smaller," the Doctor argued, still feeling a little confused. But if they met in private, they would have a better chance of talking about what had happened. "Sunday?"

Clara shrugged in response and then picked her bag off the floor and strapped it around her shoulder. "Sunday works. Ask your agent for my address and be there by 8," she told him and then simply walked past him and out of the door while the Doctor was left on his own, still baffled and just a little speechless. Well, one thing was for sure now. Their one-night stand would most definitely remain just that.