Just the two of us
Written by Loverly Souris
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Ballroom and baby
Ballroom
She is taking his breath away – he is rooted there, next to the TARDIS door, literally gaping like a bloody fish.
She isn't beautiful.
No.
She is utterly divine. Ethereal.
Clara Oswald is impossible in several ways – one is that she always manages to do something that makes him fall in love with her. At this moment, she is just standing in front of him, but it is more than enough.
"What? The cat got your tongue, Doctor?"
He momentarily snaps back into the real world and steps to her. He gently lifts her hand to his mouth and presses a kiss onto the red glove. "You look... amazing."
Even the glittering mask she is wearing can't cover the blush on her cheek, and he finds that adorable. He reaches to cup her face into his palm and stares at her crimson lips for a long moment.
Where on Gallifrey did she manage to get that lipstick?
"Uhm, Doctor... they are going to start the masquerade without us."
He regains his wits in a second, but caresses her cheek one last time before he lets her go. He promises himself though, that he is going to be brave next time and taste those sweet, inviting lips – while hoping that this next time is going to be very, very soon.
Until then, he offers his arm and leads her into a 49th century ballroom in New Paris.
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Baby
"Do you remember Renée? My friend?"
The Doctor was in the middle of stuffing a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, but as soon as he heard Clara's question, he nodded. Of course he remembered – she was Clara's only friend who knew him, a ditzy, but otherwise extremely friendly half-French blonde. The two girls' personality couldn't have been more different – it was natural they were best friends.
"She is expecting a baby."
The Doctor swallowed loudly and glanced at Clara. "Really?"
"Yeah. It's great. I'm happy for her." Her smile was a bit strange and she must have felt it too, because she suddenly grabbed her glass and took a sip of wine. The Doctor didn't lower his gaze.
"They are fine, aren't they? Renée and the baby?" he asked worriedly and Clara stared at him, waving her hand.
"Oh, of course they are healthy. Everything is fine."
"Then what's wrong?"
Clara blushed and started eyeing the pattern of the table cloth. She was silent as her flustered expression turned into something sombre and sad, the light in her eyes dimming, the corner of her mouth curling downwards. However, the Doctor didn't say anything either – not until a long minute later, when Clara finally answered.
"She asked me when we are going to have a baby. She said that if we hurried up, I might be able to catch up with her," she chuckled, but it was as half-hearted as her smile. "She said it'd be splendid to throw a double baby party."
The Doctor reached for her hand, took her fingers into his large palm and started caressing her knuckles with his thumb. They had already talked this over, several times actually, and he was hoping this issue would never make Clara sad again.
It wasn't her fault – it was entirely his.
"I'm sorry," he said. It'd been so painful to see the disappointment in the eyes of his love after all those failed attempts, the longing when they saw children… He was able to give her the universe, but unable to make her other dream come true – a huge, loving family with a bunch of kids.
What kind of husband he was?
"I know, Doctor," she smiled and this time, it was genuine. "I'm alright. We're alright. I mean, the snog box sometimes behaves like a spoiled child anyway."
The Doctor smiled back and kissed her hand.
They were never going to have children – but he'd do anything to create a perfect life for her. He didn't let go of her hand throughout the rest of the dinner and on their way back to the TARDIS either.
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Thank you for reading! :)