WARNING. I have written this around midnight, and am posting it here literally five minutes after finishing it. short, sweet, and I'm going to sleep.

WG2

Clara was curled up into the chair in the console room. Down the stairs, the Doctor was rearranging some cords. She set down the book she had been reading lately and looked off into space, wondering something about this new Doctor.

"Do you believe in miracles?"

"What? OW!" an exlamation of pain came from down the stairs, and Clara stopped herself from giggling at the Doctor's misfortune. It was just that his Scottish accent made everything sound a bit funnier.

"I asked if you believed in miracles." Clara replied. Silence hung in the air for a moment, then the Doctor let out a great sigh that she could hear from upstairs.

"What's making you think about miracles, Clara?" Clara glanced down at the book she was reading. It was a good book, about Joan of Arc. The Doctor had written it himself, one of her echoes had been the editor for this very book. "Nothing, really. I just want to know if you believe in miracles or not." She heard the clanging sounds of tools being set on the ground, and footsteps coming up the stairs.

He came into sight, and Clara made sure to keep her eyes on the alien's face, considering how hard it had been to keep her eyes off the rest of him ever since he'd changed. Sure, he physically looked older, but this one gave her more of a buzz inside, where the floppy-haired chin-boy had only given her flutters and hope.

"I think that sometimes things happen that we don't understand, and they are extraordinary events. In the case of which the word suggests the work of God, then no."

"You don't believe in God?"

"How could I?" the Doctor sighed, looking at Clara with such sadness in his eyes. Clara smiled at him reassuringly, and he continued. "I've lost so much. I've seen the world and I understand how most things work scientifically. There's no place for God in the world of science."

"Oh, I don't know," Clara sighed, "I see it in a lot of things. But that's not what I meant. I didn't want to bring up a religious discussion with you, we've tried that before and it's never ended well." The Doctor nodded, probably remembering the time she threw a bible at his head one Sunday.

Clara Oswald wasn't one for attending church or even living by the rules, but she read the bible everyday and still believed.

Clara said no more, and the Doctor took it as his cue to go back down the stairs. When he'd gotten halfway down, she stood up and walked after him quickly, bouncing.

"You're in a happy mood today." he commented, giving her a smile. She grinned, loving how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his eyebrows relaxed.

Oh gosh, the eyebrows. She could never get enough of the eyebrows, ever since he'd gotten them. The old one, the bow-tie man, had barely any eyebrows. This one though, made up for the lack of eyebrows with not only eyebrows, but with good looks, as well.

She scrunched up her face a bit.

Who'd have thought her, Clara Oswald, would think a physically older man was attractive? She relaxed her face, letting a grin come over. She had always had a thing for older guys.

She was just pretty sure she'd never gone for 1000+ year olds before.

Well, not to her knowledge, at least.

Over the next couple of weeks, the word miracles came to Clara's mind a lot. She thought it a small miracle whenever this Doctor smiled, no matter how many times he did. She always thought it was a miracle when he gave her a loving look, like he'd done in his previous body, and she especially thought it was a miracle when they held hands.

The way his eyes crinkled was a miracle. The way his lips moved as he spoke was a miracle, his Scottish accent was a gorgeous miracle, his curly silver hair was a miracle, his unending love and energy for earth was a miracle, his caution for the TARDIS was a miracle, his care for her was a wonderful miracle.

Basically, Clara Oswald found everything about this man a miracle, and loved him even more because of this.

Miracles? Of course he believed in miracles. The Doctor knew that she was a miracle herself. The way her body and face was constructed so beautifully and carefully, the way her eyes lit up, the way she bounced and hugged and laughed, they were all miracles.

But the biggest, most beautiful miracle of Clara, was the fact that she still loved him despite his older face, and his newfound grumpiness and snappiness. She had found a way past the beast and found the prince within him, and considered it to be good.

Which was why it was no surprise to either of them when they found themselves making out against the wall one day, panting and snogging and whispering. All that emotion, all that tension, all relieved.

They left their marks on each other's necks, and continued holding hands for the rest of eternity.