She'd stated it flippantly during a fight over whether or not she should start spending nights aboard the Tardis. The Doctor imagined it would be easier – he could pick her up, they could have their adventures and he could drop her off a few minutes after they'd left so she could continue their life. Because he knew she wanted very much to continue her life in the real world, she'd made certain he knew. Clara was worried about rapidly aging where her friends and family would not. She worried about three or four days aboard the Tardis, about losing track of time, about become more like the insane man she travelled with.
"Besides," she'd spat in frustration, "She doesn't even like me!"
Looking a bit stung, the Doctor stared at her a moment before asking softly, "Who doesn't like you?"
Gesturing up to her left, where the time rotor glowed a brilliant red – in anger over the discussion, because she didn't like the idea one bit, Clara absolutely knew – Clara hissed, "She. Doesn't. Like. Me."
They landed and she reached for her bag, pulling it over her shoulder and rushing out of the Tardis before the Doctor could continue complaining. She didn't want to tell him that in spite of what she'd said being the truth, the real reason was that he made her nervous.
Not in the terrible creepy way she should be made nervous about a strange man kidnapping her off to her potential death, but in the way where it felt like each outing was sort of a date. Each adventure their dinner and a movie and each time he dropped her off and she stepped back into her real world she could remind herself plainly: he's a time travelling alien and you're using him for a ride.
If she spent more time than the few hours aboard for each trip, if she accepted the room he continually offered with a gleeful smile... if she began to pack a proper bag with a nightie and a change of undergarments, she might begin to see him more as the boyfriend she continually told herself he was not. She might begin to see the Tardis as the home she didn't have to share with someone else's family, but the one she could call hers in some small way.
Clara might stop reminding herself of the lie she needed to protect her heart.
But the Doctor didn't know any of that, or at least she didn't suspect he knew, not just yet anyways. He only heard her discomfort being a machine with a soul and a bite of sass who disapproved of his new companion for some unknown reason. He only heard: my quarrel with your ship prevents my staying on her. And, Clara thought with a sigh as she entered the Tardis on a Wednesday evening, of course he would try to do something about that.
She could hear him muttering as she slowly closed the door behind her. His back was turned to Clara and something popped loudly on either side of him, smoke tendrils curling up from the console as he held his hands up and growled. There were tools in each hand: one resembling a wrench, the other, she had no clue. And he stated sharply, "No, you're going to accept these commands!"
Smiling, she held tight to the railing just at the top of the ramp onto the console space, watching the lights in the room go from an eerily bright turquoise to a scalding red. She knew that red, it accompanied her towards the holographic herd of zebras and faded to a blinking green just as soon as she'd screamed and run away. It was the color the bathrooms turned as soon as she stepped in, leaving her in almost darkness. It was the shade on her metal when Clara had whispered, "You're a jealous old cow and you know it," just before she opened a garbage chute underneath her, sending Clara shrieking into a messy puddle of indiscernible brown goop.
"It was an accident," the Doctor had told her then, and she'd merely nodded.
Now he banged on the console and he picked up a fire extinguisher, blasting the desktop and waving a hand to clear the smoke to get a better look. And he sighed, "Just like her."
Clara's smile faded and she watched him bow his head, shoulders dropping in defeat.
"I don't know why you don't like her – and I believe her when she says it because there's no excuse for the frights and the falls she's had to endure... you've done nothing of the sort to previous companions, and there have been loads of them far less agreeable." He lifted his head slightly and sighed, hands coming up to tinker, "I'm sorry, must have nipped at the desktop stabilizers there, I'll mend it in a mo."
Watching him, Clara frowned and looked around the space, watching the golden color that settled on her walls, and then she heard the Doctor's taps and another long sigh. He was bending forward, pushing at something and then flicking it before leaning back to press his palms to the console, head dropping between his shoulders as his backside shifted towards her slightly. The posture of a frustrated man, too tired to continue the battle, she knew all too well.
"I like her," he stated softly. "She's kind and funny, and she never lets me win, which – to be honest – can be quite grating, but it's the refreshing sort of grating. Like a touch of lemon zest," he chuckled before adding, "Too quick-witted for her own good sometimes," his right hand came up to pluck at something in front of him as he continued, "And she won't stay here because of this feud you've got running with her." He straightened and Clara inhaled, worried he would turn, but he went on quietly at the Tardis, "Our time is so limited and I want to respect her rules and her worries about time travelling and aging and I know, I know – and that's the thing, I know."
She watched his head give a shake, and when he spoke next, his voice cracked in a way that broke her heart.
"Our time is so very limited." He turned swiftly, meeting her eyes, "And you age, you age so very quickly in comparison to myself and perhaps I've been a bit selfish, a touch greedy, wanting you to spend those days here with me instead of leaving me to heavy thoughts and loneliness," he smiled weakly, "It's not your place to alleviate those things and it's unfair of me to request that of you; you're my friend." He laughed hoarsely, and his head dropped as he whispered, "Such a good friend."
"Doctor..." Clara began.
His eyes came up again and he smiled, shaking his head, "I've tried to get her to stop," he looked to a space in front of himself blankly, hands coming up so she could see the rag he held tightly in his left fist, "I've tried everything I can think to instill one line of command into her programming, but she rejects it as she rightly should because it's unfair of me to ask her to simply like you."
Moving towards him slowly, Clara tugged the rag free from his hand and she leaned into the console, looking at the pieces scattered about before nodding at them and declaring, "We'll work something out, Doctor, and nothing she does can stop me from liking you and coming on adventures with you, and maybe," she watched him eye her curiously, "Maybe occasionally, spending a night."
The Doctor twisted to press his hip against the metal beside him as Clara began picking up bits to examine, trying to remember where exactly they went. "Clara, it's alright, I understand."
She smiled and shook her head, "Probably be more convenient," she laughed heartily, "I end up sleeping through the night at home anyways, just drop me off the next morning." She glanced up at him and smirked, explaining, "It'll be just like a sleepover with friends."
His body calmed as he repeated, "Exactly, a sleepover with friends."
Looking back, Clara sighed, "We really should get her back together, Doctor."
Nodding and pushing off, his fingers plunged into the air excitedly before he reached to take hold of her shoulder, telling her brightly, "Right, right, and you'll need safety goggles and possibly a smock – I'll go fetch them for you."
His fingers squeezed lightly at her and Clara closed her eyes as he moved around her, feet stomping quickly off the console space. The lights in the room had brightened slightly as Clara bowed her head. "Not sure what you're worried about," Clara told the Tardis softly just as the Doctor turned a corner into the corridors, "He's going to break my heart a lot worse than I could ever break his."
The engines hummed and the room went its natural shades of blue and Clara smiled sadly at the lever she held, knowing exactly where it went. She listened to the Cloister bell ring and for a moment she thought maybe the Tardis was saddened with her, perhaps, for just a moment, understanding the truth in Clara's statement.
Perhaps, Clara considered as she raised her eyes to the glowing time rotor, telling her the opposite would be true. And Clara took a breath, never having considered it, before hearing his steps bounding back into the room and gripping the console as she would the Doctor's hand as she turned to give him a smile, hoping the machine understood the gesture.