A/N: Prompt for this one was about Ian and Clara being cooped up while the nuckelavee was on the loose.

Chapter Two: Morning

Clara woke up, comforted by the warm, heavy weight in her arms. Ian still being there meant that he hadn't run off and done something stupid, whether that was run off outside or start rummaging through the things indoors. She thought about the nuckelavee, the gruesome, horrific creature that Innes had under her command, and shivered slightly, pressing her chest closer to Ian's back.

"Morning," he replied. The selkie rolled over and wrapped his arms around Clara, making the hug mutual. He kissed her crown and stroked her back, not letting her see the look of worry on his face. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Yeah, a little," she said. "It was difficult, but I think I got more than a few hours at the least. How about you?"

"Barely got a wink in," he frowned. "It was like a night storm—have to pay attention the entire time, and if you fall asleep, there's a chance to be swept into the sea off-guards."

"…except we're safe here, aren't we?" He stayed silent, not even looking her in the eyes. "Ian? We are safe, yeah?"

"Of course we are, as long as my barrier holds," he said.

"Will it hold?"

"It shall, though I'll have to maintain it." Ian then untangled himself from Clara and swung his legs over the side of the mattress, sitting up. He vigorously scratched his scalp before standing, reaching for the jumper and hooded sweatshirt he had discarded on a chair, the only things he had taken off before going to bed. Cuddling was a welcome distraction, but it was also something the selkie did not want to escalate quicker than it needed to. "I'll get started on reinforcing the spells—we should be safer now that it's starting to get light out."

Clara watched as he walked out of the room, headed for the stairs. The gravity to Ian's voice was worrying her… although, she admittedly would be even more worried should he shrug everything off as no big deal. She took her time getting dressed, peeking out her window every so often at what Ian was doing. He seemed to be gesticulating grandly as he stood atop her garden wall, though she could not hear what he was saying. It was probably for the better, after all; who knew what sort of crazy fae thing he was reciting.

When she was dressed, Clara went downstairs and began to rummage around in the kitchen. Wind howled outside, causing the desire for something warm to flare up in her; well, something more than just tea. She filled the kettle up a bit more than usual and rummaged through the cupboards while it was heating. A few minutes later and she set two bowls of instant porridge on the table. The teapot in its cozy came next, and she sat down rather comfortably to begin her meal. Two spoonfuls in and Ian came back inside, hissing in irritation.

"It's colder than a kelpie's tit out there," he scowled. The still-steaming bowl of porridge sitting at the table caught his eye, altering his demeanor. "Oh, is that for me?"

"Yeah—figured you'd need it too," she said, gesturing for him to sit down. He did, allowing her to see the full-effect of his wind-blown hair, which she giggled at.

"What…?" he wondered.

"Nothing," she chuckled. Clara reached out and patted Ian's fluffy hair, trying to not smooth it out. "It's a good look for you, that's all."

"What is?"

"The disheveled look—the way you don't pay attention to your hair makes it clear to me that you're not used to dealing with it."

He paused, attempting to process her words. "You say that like it's a bad thing, but your face says it's a good thing. Which is it?"

"A bit of both, I guess," she replied. "Wouldn't want you looking like that the first time you meet my dad, but it's definitely a good look for being around the house."

"Now why would I meet your da? I don't even know if we're going to stay doing the whole couple thing," he muttered. Ian shoved a bunch of porridge in his mouth, knowing he needed to shut up.

"Even if we don't stay together, I still get the feeling you're going to be around for a while… much longer than just when Rigsy and Jen come to visit," she said. "I know you can get away with staying here by yourself for Christmas since Dad came here last year, but what if he wants to make the trip again? What about if he decides to come up for my birthday?"

"I'd figure out something."

"What… live with the sheep? You can't even walk within twenty feet of them without having a shout."

"They need to be kept in line or they will revolt," he insisted. "You don't want an ovine revolution on your hands—they're exceptionally good at organizing."

"You are exceptionally good at exaggerating," she deadpanned. Clara sipped her tea and listened to the howling wind. "Is that the nuck-a-creature?"

"The nuckelavee? Yeah," Ian nodded. "Sjeh Mither will discover he's loose eventually, but that day can't come soon enough."

"No, it can't," she agreed. She shivered while she took another drink of tea; hopefully it would be sooner rather than later.