Late morning light illuminated the snow on the lower part of the roof of Clara's house, reflecting into the bedroom where it pierced the closed eyelids of a newly regenerated Time Lord, and coaxed him from his rejuvenating slumbers. He blinked a couple of times, yawned prodigiously, ran a hand through his mop of thick brown hair, then sat up abruptly. "Clara?" he questioned, but got no response from the empty room or the hall immediately outside. He could hear noises downstairs, however, so he decided to get up and investigate the source.
Jumping out of bed, he noticed his reflection in the mirror on Clara's dresser. His green eyes grew round and his mouth opened in a circle of surprise as he appraised his countenance. Coming close to the mirror he took a good look.
"Back to the raggedy man," he remarked, twitching the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. "Even down to the raggedy clothes." Standing up straight he quickly unbuttoned the shirt, removed it and tossed it aside, leaving himself in an undershirt. He then spotted on a chair the clothes that Clara had retrieved from the TARDIS the previous evening. He stripped off the torn black jeans he was wearing, and slipped into a pair of neat dark brown trousers. He had only just got them on, when he heard the distinctive ring tone on Clara's cell phone. For some reason he wasn't sure of, he slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs, as quietly as a cat, until he was just outside of the kitchen. The downstairs noises had been coming from this direction, so he was fairly certain she was in there. He peeked around the corner to see Clara standing at the stove, staring at the kettle, evidently waiting for it to boil. Her cell phone was at her ear, and she was murmuring quiet responses into it. She was dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas, a loose robe and fuzzy slippers. Her rich chocolaty brown hair was a bit mussed. She must've just gotten up from the bed she'd made for herself on the living room couch, which he'd noticed on his way to the kitchen.
Seeing her in such a simple domestic way made his hearts do an odd little flip. He couldn't figure out why, but it made him happy. With an excited smile he crept forward towards her, as she kept her back to him, her attention still on the phone call. As soon as he reached her, he rapidly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. She gave a yelp and jumped, dropping the phone that he smoothly caught before it hit the floor. Turning her head and tilting it upward to look into his face, she gave him a glare. "You scared me half to death," she hissed in a quiet voice. "My dad probably thinks something awful's happened to me."
He gave her the phone. "Set his mind at ease, then," he smiled at her. As she took it from him, he dropped his hands back around her waist, continuing to hold her against himself. This was not lost on Clara, whose further brief conversation with her dad was with a slightly shaky voice. The Doctor added to her nervous state by leaning down and kissing the side of her head, several times.
"No, Dad…I'm okay, I'm fine, I just got startled by something, that's all. Nearly dropped the phone. Yeah, I'll see you on Christmas day. I'm still doing the cooking. No, I won't lose the turkey this time, I promise." She gave a sigh. "Yes, I'll follow your instructions to the letter. Look, I really have to go, the kettle's almost to the boil. Love you—bye." She tapped the phone to turn it off, set it on the counter and turned in the Doctor's arms to face him.
"You're awake," she observed. "How do you feel?"
"Much better, now that I've rested. And even better still, now that I'm here with you." He gave her a blissful smile that made her heart ratchet up its tempo. The significance of their position was not lost on Clara. She had gone from a Doctor who took frequent opportunities to touch and hold her to one to whom touch seemed to be anathema. Now she was back to a Doctor who was more physically attentive. The change was most welcome. Looking up to his dreamy visage, Clara found her gaze dropping from his eyes to his lips, and her heart almost stopped when she realized he was moving them closer to hers, as his eyes began to close.
"D-Doctor," she stuttered, "what are you—"
Before she could finish, the front door slammed and a voice cried out, "Hey, Clara! Let's go before all the good trees are gone—!"
Danny Pink appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, just as the Doctor and Clara jumped guiltily apart from one another. Both of their faces were flushed pink. Danny looked from Clara to the Doctor, sizing him up. The Doctor leaned back against the counter, his hands bracing himself on it. Clara walked forward towards Danny, her arms crossed across her chest.
"Danny!" she blurted, with forced cheerfulness. "You're here! That's right, you did say you were coming about now. I forgot the time! Look at the time! Time I was getting ready."
Mr. Pink was not about to be distracted from the sight of what he had been assuming was his girlfriend, in the arms of another man. A slightly cross one replaced the gobsmacked expression he had been wearing. "Who's this, then? And…how long's he been here?" he asked tartly, nodding in the Doctor's direction.
"It's the Doctor…you've met the Doctor, remember?" Clara rattled off, and then squeezed her eyes shut in frustration and smacked her forehead as she realized he remembered an entirely different looking Doctor. One who looked decidedly older and appeared to be more…fatherly…in relation to Clara. The present Doctor looked anything but parental at this moment, especially since he was smirking at her. She punched him in the arm for being a smart alec, and turned back to an increasingly irritated Danny.
"Are you crazy? That's not the Doctor," Danny snapped, his voice getting a bit louder. "He's old enough to be your dad. This bloke looks younger than me."
"Why, thank you, P.E.," the Doctor drawled, tipping his head in Danny's direction. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Danny glared at him. "How do you know what that old man called me? You his son or something?"
At this the Doctor threw back his head and laughed. "He'd really be insulted if he could have heard that," he chuckled.
"Danny," Clara reached over and put her hand on his arm. "This really is the Doctor. Remember…I told you he was an alien? And he showed you his TARDIS, his spaceship? Well…as an alien, besides having two hearts…"
"And twenty-seven brains," the Doctor wryly inserted, looking innocently up at the ceiling. Clara scowled back at him, then turned again to Danny.
"…he's able to change his appearance. When he dies…if he dies slowly…he…regenerates…into a new form and face. He just did it recently, apparently. He's done it several times. This is the thirteenth time he's changed." She looked up into Danny's face, hoping he could take it in.
"So he went from looking like some old granddad to looking like a teenager." Danny's expression clearly showed he was not happy with the situation. "It certainly looked like you were enjoying that, too."
Clara frowned, and especially when the Doctor interjected with "I'm satisfied to hear that. It was what I was aiming for after all." He sounded a bit smug. Clara wanted to smack him again. Especially since it was obvious he was goading on Danny.
Suddenly it clicked in Clara's brain. She remembered several times when his older self interacted with Danny—they never seemed to get along. She had put it down to his being irritated at the thought she would date a man who had been a soldier. Now she realized it might have been something else entirely. He was jealous of Danny's attentions to Clara. And now that he was in his younger form—he was getting his revenge.
Clara looked from a scowling, obviously angry Danny to a smirking, obviously cocky Doctor. Things were rapidly getting out of hand.
