A/N: This came from a prompt on tumblr: "Canon-divergent AU where 12 and Clara are both teachers at St. Luke's. Shenanigans. Rumours. Gossip. Bonus points for Bill Potts."

2755 words; could probably be longer, but I didn't want to ruin what I already had; the thought of a Whouffaldi teachers AU is pretty interesting in of itself, but add the canon setting of St. Luke's and it's chef kiss levels of good

An Index Card for You

He had seen her for more than a few terms at this point—she was young yet, but he was able to rule out her still being a student. Brown hair and eyes, a smile that was not only dazzling but dangerous, and poise beyond what he was normally used to seeing. The way she held herself was completely wrong for being on the fun end of a degree, which could only mean she was a member of faculty…

"Stop makin' eyes; you're creeping me out," Bill mumbled through her chips. The Doctor, her tutor-slash-mentor-slash-substitute-father-figure, snapped back to attention, coming back down to Earth in the rowdy canteen.

"Am not," he grumbled, swiping a chip. "I'm just trying to remember where I've seen that woman before…"

"…in the teachers' lounge?" Bill frowned. "Heather had her for one of her Brit Lits—not in your league."

"Who ever said that?!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," she scoffed. "She's like Liverpool and Man City; you're Old Firm."

"Is this a quip about my age? I will dab at you."

"No, just… ugh… aim a bit more Dundee than Manchester."

"You're racist."

"I'm the racist one?"

"You and Heather are both English, but what's stopping me and Miss Brit Lit… other than…?"

"How am I having this conversation with you?" Bill nearly dropped her sandwich as a grin swept across his face—he was messing with her, of course. She put her sandwich down properly and rubbed her temples in frustration. "All the headaches I missed out on, you're making up for tenfold."

"That's a lot of ground to cover." He glanced over towards Miss Brit Lit and—poof—she was gone. Scratching the back of his scalp, the Doctor at least had a better clue as to what was going on.

Hmm… who did he still know in the Literature Department…

She noticed he was in her lecture hall… again.

It wasn't that he was difficult to spot. Nah; he looked like he slid into the room after taking a very long and comfortable nap, longer than any of the rest of them had been alive. Perched up at the top of the bowl, he'd sit there, listening to her, and then duck out before she had the chance to call him out after class.

He always seemed to pop in during Wednesday lectures too—of course.

"Ma'am? Why's the Doctor always here?" She glanced up and saw one of her students, lingering before handing in an essay.

"Now that would be between me and him, now wouldn't it?" she replied with a smirk. She took the essay, handing back his previous one while winking.

Now that set off the rumor train down the tracks at full speed.

"You're going to get us into trouble," her secretary deadpanned later that night. "Let me remind you how dangerous this entire operation is."

"You make it sound like we're going to die, the immortal and the woman between heartbeats."

It wasn't that they were going to die.

The Doctor strummed idly on his guitar whilst Bill sat on the other side of his office. Normally she didn't mind as he experimented with the instrument, but this time… it was getting on her nerves.

"What's it called?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"I forgot."

"You say that a lot."

"Writing music is very different from other sorts of things—it's natural to forget sometimes."

"You've way crossed over the threshold of 'sometimes' there, mate." She rolled her eyes as he continued. "You sure it isn't called 'Brit Lit'?"

"Don't be absurd," Nardole said, shuffling in with tea. "If anything, it's called 'River'."

"You don't know everything about me," the Doctor huffed. He swiped a biscuit off the tray before the egg-shaped cyborg even placed it on the table. "I have secrets too, you know."

"Not hidden from me, I expect," Nardole chided. He turned around to leave the office, only to have a guitar pick flicked into the back of his head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the Doctor said, going back to strumming along, having held onto an extra pick for just such an occasion. Bill snickered as Nardole retreated from the office, leaving the two of them be.

Maybe, just maybe… if only certain parties weren't so irritating.

Sitting down at one of the many benches, the woman opened the bag with her lunch and opened her book, settling down for a nice read. She'd long lost track of how many times she'd read the books covered in her syllabus, but she didn't care. They were enjoyable and that was what counted. She held the book with one hand and pulled chips out of the bag with the other, casually eating them, as someone in the corner of her vision walked up.

A coffee appeared in front of her in offering.

"It goes good with chips," he said. She took an experimental sip—he looked like he thought he was guessing, but he remembered. He stood there awkwardly, stuffing his hands in her trouser pockets, feeling so exposed he was going to die. "I'm the Doctor."

"I know—the students can't stop raving about you."

His ego wasn't entirely certain how to take that.

"I… uh… met Jane Austen once—nice woman," he said, attempting small talk. The woman on the bench placed the coffee down next to her bag so she could take a couple more chips.

"In order to have done that and properly remember, you would need to be around two-hundred-fifty years old," she noted.

Oh, yeah, that's right—he was not supposed to be that old, or at least not draw attention to it. He cracked a smile and pointed at her. "Ha, you caught me." His hand then made his way to his mouth as he bit his pointer knuckle… what had he wanted to say again…? Why was his brain short-circuiting so severely?

"…anything else…?" she asked. A light seemed to go off in his brain and his eyes lit up as he began to rummage through his pocket. He took a pack of index cards out and began to shuffle through them.

"I feel like one of those was meant for you," he said. "I don't know why, but when I saw them the other day, after listening in on your lecture session, I realized something in here was for you."

"Really…?" She raised an eyebrow and watched him scramble for the specific card he needed. "Go on…" He finally found the card and cleared his throat.

"I completely understand why it was difficult to not get captured…?"

She smirked at that. "Nice try. Better luck next time."

Before he had the chance to say anything, she closed her book and left, taking both the chips and coffee with her.

They had until the end of time to do this.

"You were with Miss Brit Lit!" Bill marveled. The Doctor was sitting at his desk, going over an essay of hers. "Angie saw you! You were flirting!"

"I was not flirting," he defended. "I don't flirt."

"You handed her a coffee and looked like a blushing schoolboy trying to hit on the marm," she smirked. "A regular bleeding Casanova."

"I am not that predator," the Doctor snapped. He jabbed the end of his pen at her accusatorily. "Take that back."

"Okay, fine, you weren't like Casanova… more like some nervous kid asking his crush out."

"Nardole!" The aforementioned poked his head in the office. "Remove the annoyance from my office! And then stay out or you'll become the new annoyance!"

"Oooh, touchy subject," Bill laughed. "I bet you don't even know her name." Nardole took her by the elbow and began dragging her out, rolling his eyes the entire time. "I'll be back in a couple hours for that!"

"Your lot really needs to learn how to stop annoying him," Nardole scolded once they reached the outer office. "Just let him be; just because he's a widow doesn't mean you have to try setting him up with every trollop you see him chat with."

"Here's the thing though: Miss Brit Lit ain't what one would normally refer to as a trollop," she defended. "Seems a little older than I'd normally like, but otherwise I can't blame him. An enigma and riddle in a rather tight skirt has my mentor wrapped around her finger and I doubt she even knows it."

"The Doctor's a big boy—he knows how to handle himself," Nardole said, "and if not, then Nardie's here to help."

"No. Never say that again."

"What, that I'm here to help?"

"No… just forget it." Bill grabbed her jacket and pulled it on as she walked towards the main door. "Going to get some pies—want any?"

"Cheese, please; and get His Lordship a couple of chicken-and-mushroom. That might cheer the place up."

Ha—wishful thinking.

"I could be wrong, let's try it your way."

She looked at him as they stood there in the Literature Department's main office. The post now in her hand, she saw that he was once again holding the index cards. Part of her wondered how long he'd had them, how often he used them, and if they had been a helping hand for when she was not there.

"Pardon?"

"I… uh… thought that one might be it," he said, gesturing with the cards. This time he followed her as she walked away, navigating the rest of the departmental office with ease. "You're a difficult woman to find, you know."

"Maybe it might be on purpose?"

"I loathe the thought."

"Hey, Al!" They passed by a man sitting at a desk, who looked to be nearly surprised by the scene. "I don't think you should keep following her."

"Mind your business." The Doctor continued on, stuffing the index cards in his pocket as he followed the woman down the corridor. "I know you're not avoiding me—you wouldn't sit in on my lectures if you were."

"…and you need to keep your mind on the actual students," she replied.

"They've been showing up?"

She led him around a corner, towards an otherwise empty corridor lined with empty offices. "So, Doctor Alistair McCrimmon—how long have you been going by that?"

"Long enough." They stopped walking and he saw her face scrunch in… was that curiosity? Incredulousness? Disbelief? Irritation? It seemed like he was a hair away from piecing it all together. "I've been trying to figure out how I know you, though it feels like it was long ago now… what's your name?"

She stared at him for a moment, hesitation, before giving a shrug while putting her papers down on a nearby table sitting outside an office.

"Ravenwood—I used to work in UNIT, but I was in want of a change."

"That's where I know you…" No, it wasn't, but it was close enough to start. "Erm… how've you been?"

"Been better—I mean, I'm teaching in this dump."

"I founded this dump."

She raised an eyebrow—oh yeah, again, he wasn't supposed to be that old. He was almost to the point where he had to change names again…

"Okay, so it just feels like I've been here long enough to found it. Cut a guy some slack."

"Not with that attitude."

Before he could argue, she pulled him in close and kissed him aggressively. While his first instinct was to pull back and run far away, to the safety of his office with Nardole at the door, the way she quickly moved to press him up against the wall and move him almost expertly into place was simply too uncanny to ignore. He melted into her touch and was soon kissing back. Before he knew it, he was bending to pick her up, keeping their torsos tight together as she tugged at his hair and dug fingernails into his shoulder. They opened their eyes and looked at one another—this wasn't a want, but a need.

After making him drop her, Ravenwood urged the Doctor down the corridor and into what should have been an office, but resembled a kitschy American diner… one that felt oddly familiar. "It's a set for the media arts students," she said, writing off their surroundings as she nearly tore off his hooded sweatshirt, "and it's all ours."

"Are you certain?" He watched as she went to the exit door and locked it. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Shut up and make me see stars," she ordered, pushing him down into a booth. He laid across the seat and inhaled deeply as she positioned herself atop of him, making the vinyl beneath them seem all the more unyielding and sticky. As one hand edged underneath her blouse to rest on her bare waist, the other reached up to caress her face, the pad of his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

"What's going on…?" he wondered. "It's so rare I don't know what's going on. It's rather terrifying."

"We're just picking up where we left off," she claimed. "It's been a while, my clever boy."

His eyes darkened as she leaned in and nibbled the back corner of his jaw. "How do I really know you, Miss Ravenwood?"

"Come see me tomorrow, in the commons, and I'll show you," she purred before gently biting his earlobe. "Not there, in front of the students, but that's where we'll start, and our story will continue." She smirked as the man beneath her whimpered slightly, his trousers nearly too much to contain him.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"It's a date."

He ended up not going, mostly because he could not shake Nardole for the entirety of the evening. By the time it was his next lecture, she wasn't there; the class was being run by an assistant. No one knew where she had gone, only that she wasn't around for the time being.

Doctor Idiot, alright.

The sky was a powder blue with fluffy clouds of white and grey as the Doctor laid on the roof of his building, hands behind his head as he watched what transpired above. He didn't move as he heard the stairs door open and shut, nor the crunch of feet moving across the gravel. Bill's puff of hair first came into his line of sight, then her face as she leaned over him, fists on her hips.

"You're being ridiculous."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are," she chided. "Don't pretend like you don't have a time-and-space box that can find her at a moment's notice."

"Find who…?"

"You know who: Miss Brit Lit." He didn't respond, which only caused her to get even more upset. "Cor… you slink home one night having been thoroughly sexed, and you won't even admit it, let alone go out and find her again."

"She doesn't want to be found," he reasoned. "I'm just respecting that."

"You're such a bloke."

"A bloke would hunt her down and harass her."

"You don't get it, hence you're a bloke." Bill nudged the Doctor's side with her boot and scowled when he didn't react. "Christ, you're useless."

"I am not."

"Then stop sulking in this funk!" She was about to kick him in earnest when a wheezing, grinding noise began to cut through the air. On the other side of the flat-topped roof, something began to materialize, which unnerved the human. "Uh… Doctor…?"

"What is Nardole doing with the TARDIS?"

"…I don't think that's Nardole, or your TARDIS…"

The Doctor sat up and turned around, his hearts pounding. That was not his TARDIS materializing, but one he felt he'd seen before.

"Is that another Time Lord…?" Bill wondered apprehensively. She took a step back as the Doctor took one forward.

"Better yet: someone like me." He dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out the index cards. Shuffling through them, he waited until the diner fully materialized before walking up to it. He stood by the door and waited until it opened, precisely the person he wanted to see.

"Wait a second…!" Bill gasped. "Miss Brit Lit!" Her jaw dropped as she watched the two teachers kiss, not entire certain how to process what she was seeing. The Doctor broke the kiss and leaned back, a grin spreading across his face.

"I didn't mean to imply that I don't care," he recited. The woman before him beamed back.

"Let's go see some planets."

"Yes, ma'am."