Thank you sooooo much for the reviews :) They make me so happy! Now I'll just tease you with some cuteness before we plunge back into action :D

Chapter 8

"Clara, I said only the essentials," the Doctor reminded her impatiently as she continued to pack everything she liked into the shopping cart, "I have no idea how long we'll be staying. This might all go to waste."

Clara gawked at him. "Excuse me, I find tea to be very essential," she replied right before she dropped it in the cart.

"Yes, but two packets of it? You know we can go shopping again when we're out of tea?"

She shrugged. "I drink a lot of tea."

The Doctor glared at her but eventually decided to let it pass, knowing he could never convince her to put one of them back anyway. Besides, if everything went according to plan they would indeed be staying at the house in the woods for a while.

They walked through the aisles together, picking food and toiletries and just when the Doctor was about to reach for an aftershave Clara slapped his hand away.

"Ouch!" he hissed by instinct even though it hadn't really hurt at all, "What was that for?"

"We're going to be living together, so you better pick one that smells nicely because I do not want to be surrounded by a smell that reminds me of a drug dealer," she explained and took a tester bottle from the shelf to have a sniff. He watched as she wrinkled her nose and went on to the next one, staring at her with pure disbelief.

"You're quite bossy, has anyone ever told you that?"

Clara let out a giggle before she came to look at him. "Thank you. And yeah, constantly," she held a tester in his direction, "What do you think of this one?"

The Doctor bent forward to smell it and hated to admit that he liked it. "Just take it so we can leave," he grumbled and pushed their cart ahead in the direction of the drinks department.

"Hey, haven't you forgotten something?" Clara called after him and the Doctor turned back around, "Or are you gonna grow a beard?"

He frowned at her before double-checking the contents of their shopping cart.

"You've already got razors," he stated plainly and wondered if he was missing something.

"Oh no," Clara laughed and grabbed another pack, "You're not using mine. Trust me, after I've used them you don't want them in your face."

While he was still pondering her words her facial features suddenly changed into a mischievous smirk and even her posture shifted a little. If only he knew what she was talking about.

"Or do you?"

If the Doctor hadn't known better he would have thought that Clara was flirting with him in a very, very strange way.

"Let's just get going, shall we?" the Doctor cleared his throat and continued pushing the cart to finally put an end to this confusion. He dropped a case of water bottles into the shopping cart when he spotted Clara again, approaching him with two bottles of wine.

"I know that look on your face," she said, "And yes, this is essential, too."

"It hardly is. Put them back."

Clara smiled at him daringly as she lowered them into the cart, not breaking eye contact for a second.

"Clara-"

He broke off when she reached out to the shelf to grab another bottle, the smile still on her face. "Yes, Doctor? You were saying?"

"Nothing," he growled in defeat, watching as Clara placed the bottle back because her persuasion technique had worked, "You're bossy. And a brat."

Clara giggled as she placed an arm around his shoulder, guiding him to push the cart in the direction of the check-outs and he stiffened under her touch again. He would get used to it at some point, he hoped, because there was only a small chance she would stop touching or hugging him.

"Let's just pay and get out of here," she suggested and the Doctor could only agree with her.

It was almost dark when they met with the owner of the house to exchange money and keys but even in the twilight Clara could see that it was a nice, cosy hut. She was fairly certain that she would like it here, at least for the time being.

"If you have any more questions, just call me," the man said as he handed the Doctor a small note, "This is my phone number, wifi password and my address. I live 30 minutes from here in the city."

"Thank you," the Doctor replied for them both as Clara was still busy looking around.

"Well, have a lovely time," the owner smiled at them, "Honeymoon, isn't it?"

"Actually-"

"Yeah," Clara interrupted the Doctor, putting on a smile as she reached for his hand, "Newly-wed and all."

The owner gave them a bright smile as he walked back to his car and Clara knew that the Doctor was about to say something, scold her for telling people they were married but before that could happen she grabbed a couple of their bags and headed inside, leaving the Doctor no choice except to do the same.

Clara had been right about the house. It truly was cosy. As soon as she entered Clara was facing a staircase that parted the main room into a smaller kitchen area with a table and chairs and an open door behind which she could see the bathroom. The other half was meant as a living room, a sofa and comfortable looking chairs arranged around a coffee table and all of them facing the telly. She also discovered bookshelves with more than enough material to read.

"That's a lot of wood. Better be careful with open fire," the Doctor commented and only now she realized that he had followed her inside. He wasn't wrong however. The entire hut was built out of wood, the floor laid out with carpets and everything about it made her think about winter and snow and skiing for some reason. She had been to the Alps one winter with her friends and they had stayed in a place exactly like this.

"Wanna have a look at the upstairs?" Clara asked him and the Doctor nodded in agreement before he followed her along the stairs. Like the online description had promised they found two bedrooms, both with a large bed and a drawer for their clothes.

"Which one do you want?" the Doctor asked her after a moment.

Clara gave a light shrug. "They look identical, so I don't really care."

There was something about settling down here that made her uneasy, even though she should probably be feeling quite the opposite. They had been on the run for only two days and yet it felt like forever. But as soon as they stood still Clara realized that all of it had only just happened. Her father. Her house. All those people in it. Quickly she brushed the thought aside and decided to busy herself with making dinner while the Doctor unloaded the car.

"You shouldn't have told him that," the Doctor said, poking around his risotto.

Clara took a sip from the wine and placed the glass back on the table. "Told what to whom?"

"The owner," he replied reluctantly, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation, "That we're married."

Clara frowned. "Well, he asked and it's as good a cover story as any. Why? What's wrong with that?"

He didn't look at her, instead the Doctor kept pushing the contents of his plate from one corner to the other. "Because I'm older. I don't want people to get the wrong end of the stick."

Clara giggled and brought the glass back to her mouth. "For the record, I've slept with men older than you. There's nothing wrong with that."

Finally the Doctor looked at her and his face was a mask of both shock and horror – and maybe something else that she couldn't quite place. "I've slept with women younger than you," he replied coldly.

"Yeah, but I bet you were younger, too," Clara laughed.

When once again he lowered his gaze to his plate she knew that she had caught him. But it took him only a moment before his eyes were back on her.

"Look at you," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice, "Smoking, drinking wine, talking about the men you've slept with. You really have grown up."

"Then maybe you should stop seeing me as a child," Clara said sincerely. There was no anger in her voice, it was merely a suggestion.

The Doctor smiled in reply. "I'll do my best."

When Clara had retreated to bed she had assumed she would just fall asleep like she had done the nights before, only better because now she had an actual bed and she had it all to herself. However when she had turned over for the 20th time she realized that sleep wouldn't come so easily. Her body was tired and yet her mind was restless, constantly going over the past two days. Did someone survive the explosion at her house? She was sure of that, but how many? Who had survived? Had someone started investigating the death of her father already? Did they have any leads? Would they be looking for her to ask her questions? Would they call her grandmother?

Oh God, her grandmother. She hadn't thought about her once since she and the Doctor had run away. If her grandma had heard of the explosion she probably thought Clara to be dead. She needed to call her.

Clara threw the covers aside and walked across the corridor and into the Doctor's room without even knocking.

"I need to call my grandma!" she blurted out, "What if she thinks I'm dead?"

Slowly the Doctor scrambled into a sitting position and switched the light back on to be able to look at her.

"Clara, you can't call her now. It's past midnight," he tried to reason with her and he sounded very, very tired, "There's still time tomorrow. Go back to sleep."

"I can't," she complained loudly, the despair audible in her voice, "I've tried for the past hour and it's not working. I can't stop thinking about it."

"You slept the previous nights. Just give it another try."

He was right. She had slept the previous night but he had been lying next to her then. With him in the same room Clara didn't feel quite so lost and lonely.

"Can I sleep here with you?"

"Clara-"

"Please?" she almost begged him.

Finally the Doctor lifted up the duvet, but not without one last sound of protest. Quickly, before he could change his mind, Clara climbed into bed next to him and sank down into the soft pillows.

"Now sleep," he ordered her and turned off the lights again. Clara closed her eyes and focused on his breathing. Yes, now she would be able to sleep.