Yes, yes, I'm continuing this. You thought I had forgotten about this fanfic? Never. I was planning and plotting and it's BACK. Thank you for the reviews. I hope you like.

Chapter 4

Clara let herself fall down on the soft bed, but she didn't feel like resting. Her thoughts were circling the idea of the strange Doctor and she tried very hard to ignore the butterflies tormenting her stomach.

"I can't do this," she told herself. He was, after all, much older than herself and Clara had never considered herself a May-December kind of girl. Yet there was something about that man that was utterly fascinating. She wouldn't quite say that she was falling for him, but she wasn't willing to let the feeling go either.

Clara picked up the novel and and began staring at the words. What if he indeed stayed at the hotel? Where had he gotten the ice cream? And why did he seem so familiar? She slammed the book shut again and got out of bed. She'd be damned if she didn't even try.

The lobby was quiet when she entered it. The clock showed that it was already 3 in the morning. So the world hadn't ended after all. A tired looking man at the reception stared at the very last party guests in resentment, a few couples dancing to a slow song, lonely souls drinking at the bar. She walked up to him and decided to just ask.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she apologized with the sweetest smile she could muster while being utterly nervous, "Could you maybe tell me if a certain party guest has booked a room?"

The hotel employee looked like he wanted to groan, but quickly regained posture. "Sure, if you would tell me his name."

He wasn't stupid, Clara thought. He knew she was looking for a man.

"He only introduced himself as the Doctor," Clara told him, now realizing how stupid it sounded. He probably had a real name, one that he had decided not to give her. Maybe he really disliked her and the ice cream was just his way of apologizing for their earlier encounter.

The man consulted his computer.

"We have five bookings from people with doctor's degrees. Shall I read the names to you?" he asked.

Clara sighed. She couldn't go around the hotel room, knocking on five doors, hoping to find that man. And if Doctor was really just a nickname and not his title, she'd completely make a fool out of herself.

"Or if you're looking for that man over there," the employee said, pointing at someone at the other end of the lobby, "That guy introduced himself as the Doctor, demanding to speak to the head maintenance staff."

Clara turned around there he was, on the far end of the room, talking to who must have been the caretaker of the place.

OOO

"If you would just check downstairs, that would be great," the Doctor told the stubborn man, who completely refused to believe him.

"I don't know how to make this clear for you. The pipes are good. What were you doing in the basement anyway? It's off limits for guests."

"Fine, have it your way. I officially declare this not my problem," he groaned and rolled his eyes.

As his gaze wandered the room, he saw the damned woman again. She was standing by the reception, looking at him, smiling. No, this was absolutely not happening, he told himself. What was the problem with those human women? The Doctor had hoped that it would change with this regeneration, that they would cease to be curious about him. After all, he hadn't even showed her his TARDIS. And then it began to dawn on him that Clara wasn't interested in the opportunity of time travel and foreign planets, but in him as a man.

The Doctor didn't realized that the caretaker shook his head and was now walking away, or even that Clara approached him carefully. He stared at her, desperately trying to figure out what to do with a woman like her. It would be so much easier if he could just open his TARDIS door and use his time machine instead of words or human actions. He knew that he should walk away, but he had been lonely for so, so long.

"Hello stranger," she greeted him with a hint of a smile.

"And here I thought you were in bed, reading. Funny how we keep running into each other," the Doctor replied, hoping his insecurity wasn't showing.

Clara Oswald shrugged. "Not much of a coincidence. I came looking for you. I think the bar is still open. Shall we?"

Without saying a word, the Doctor accompanied her to one of the bar stools. They ordered their drinks without speaking to each other.

OOO

Clara wasn't entirely sure what her next step should be. So she had found him, but what now?

"Dorian Gray was that boring?" he finally spoke and Clara was grateful that he had been the one to break the ice. The way he said those words, his Scottish accent, his low voice sent shivers to her spine.

"I've read it before," she confessed, the alcohol giving her back some of her usual confidence, "And I decided I better follow Wilde's advice instead of just reading about it."

"And what advice would that be?" he smiled coyly, knowingly. Right now she thought there could just as well be a boy sitting in front of her, not a grown man.

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it," she told him. It wasn't simply a quote. It was a confession, and a suggestion.

"I can resist everything but temptation," he finished and Clara wasn't sure whether he meant it, or was just completing the sentence.

Suddenly a thought came to her mind, something she hadn't even bothered to think about until now.

"Are you married?" Clara demanded to know.

She could see that he was taken aback by her question, like it was something he hadn't in a million years expected to hear.

"No, not married," he simply replied.

"Good."

OOO

She granted him the warmest smile he had seen in a few hundred years and it melted his hearts. Clara Oswald would never step inside his TARDIS, but she had willingly stormed into his life and he would not give her back any time soon.

The Doctor reached for her hands and took the cocktail glass from her.

"Dance with me."

It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. He was beginning to enjoy this game that Clara Oswald had decided to play. He could never resist a pretty woman, that was his weakness.

"I know that song," she whispered as he put his hand on her waist. She felt real to his touch.

"Fleetwood Mac. Rhiannon. 1976," he explained. The Doctor started moving her around the dance floor, never sure if she even touched the ground.

Clara crossed the remaining distance between the two of them and put her head to his chest, never standing still. He held her tight.

"Would you sleep with me if the world ended tonight?" she asked out of the blue.

"The world isn't ending, Clara," the Doctor explained. He couldn't tell whether they were both extremely good at this game, or extremely bad, or if it didn't even matter at all.

"We could pretend."