As soon as the Doctor set his foot out of the TARDIS and on the soft sand of a beach on the coast of the Pacific Ocean, he knew he would live to regret letting Clara plan their day. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but then she had gone all "Let's hit the beach, Doctor". He had tried to argue that anywhere else in time and space would have been much better and she had responded just as fiercely that he had said it was her turn to decide. There was no point in trying to convince her otherwise, because he would always do as he was told, with her, in the end. She was the boss, his Clara, and she always would be.
The observed his surroundings, and saw happy couples lying under the sun, families eating ice creams, children running around and screaming... he shivered at this sight, even though it was so hot he had already started sweating. He unleashed the top button of his shirt to get some air and turned slightly his head towards the TARDIS. "Clara", he shouted, "Are you ready, yet?".
He felt hurried steps on metal floor coming from behind him. "I'm coming", he heard a muffled sound in returned. She stumbled out of the time machine wearing a pair of dark glasses and a sun-dress, carrying a big wicker bag and a beach umbrella. He frowned at her and she grinned back. "Let's go, shall we?".
She didn't wait for the reply, and she made her way through the crowd. He followed her to a free spot, where she dropped the bag and handed him the sunshade. The Doctor just stared at it, frowning. "What am I supposed to do with this?", he asked her, deeply perplexed.
She sighed, patiently. "I don't know how to put the umbrella well enough it won't fall on top of us while we're under it. Could you do it?", and then she added, with a tentative smile, "Please?".
He scowled, but took it nonetheless. While he made a hole in the sand with the sunshade, he watched Clara extract from her wicker bad two big beach towels and laying them neatly side by side. She smoothed the edges and shook a few grains of sand off them, before standing back up and looking satisfied at her work. Once he was sure the beach umbrella was steady in the sand, without the risk of it flying away any time soon, the Doctor opened it, casting a shadow around them.
He turned to look back at Clara and almost shouted in surprise. He covered his eyes with an arm. "Clara!", he said frightened, "What the hell are you thinking?".
He jumped forward and snatched a towel from the ground and threw it at her, still avoiding to look at her.
"Doctor, what-", Clara asked, confused by that sudden reaction.
He was giving his back to her, arms crossed and a hand covering his eyes. "For goodness sake, Clara", he mumbled, "You're naked! Please, cover yourself".
Clara looked at him, transfixed, her eyes and mouth wide open. "I'm not naked", she protested, but she checked her body anyway, just to be sure. "It's just a bikini".
She had gotten rid of the sun dress that had been covering her bathing-suit while he had been busy with the sunshade. She reached for his arm and tried to make him face her. "Come on, Doctor", she laughed at his modesty, "it's not as if all the other women here are wearing monk robes".
He turned slightly towards her, but his features were twisted in a painful grimace, as if he was trying not to look at her too directly. "But, but you are different. You're always so full of clothes and now you're all... skin", his eyelids lifted very slowly and carefully, "Where did all this skin come from, anyway?".
She patted him gently on the shoulder with a pitiful expression. "Just relax", she said in a soothing tone, "It's OK. Look, I'm covered in all the strategic places".
He glared at her, but decided he wouldn't be able to avoid looking at her for an entire day, so the best he could do was to adjust himself to all that... nakedness. Clara beamed at him and grabbed his cheek and shook it gently, "There you go, you big old grey-haired stick insect", she mocked him playfully, speaking to him as if he was a boy who had finally learned his lesson.
He pulled away from her angrily and lifted his forefinger, warningly. "Don't ever do that again. Ever". She looked at him with a cheeky smile, her body adjusting in a competitive posture and her fists pressed to her hips. "Dare me".
She winked at his startled expression, and turned away to lay the towel back on the sand. He looked at her, frowning, and couldn't help but feel that she had just won a competition he didn't know they were having.
The Doctor sat awkwardly on his beach towel, unable to think of anything else to do. Clara was right next to him, on her own, not looking at him but rummaging in her bag for something. Her arm finally emerged with a bottle of sunscreen. She squeezed some of the white lotion on her hand and started spreading it on every inch of bare skin she could reach.
She eventually turned her head in his direction, holding out the sun lotion, half expectantly, half uncertainly. "Doctor?"
"Yes?", he asked, completely unaware of what she was asking him.
"Could you..", she seemed unusually shy, "...put some on my back?"
"Why on hearth would I want to do that?", he asked, sincerely curious.
She rolled her eyes and made an impatient sound. "I can't reach. I don't want to get sunburnt".
He scowled but gave in. he took the bottle in his hand and moved behind her as she moved her hair out of the way. The lotion was cool in his hand and it made Clara shiver at his touch, when he started spreading it on her shoulders. His hand was shaking slightly and it only got worse when he realized that what he was doing was, in fact, touching her bare skin. He tried to ignore the frantic beating of his hearts and, in stead, focused on anything that wasn't the shape of her body or the way she responded to his touch.
When he finished with her back, the Doctor backed away a bit too quickly and gave her a gruffing "There. Done".
"Thank you, Doctor", she smiled at him.
He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, but then he stopped, his hand raised in mid air. "Why are you looking at me like that?".
She was peering at him curiously, her forefinger and thumb lifting her chin. "Aren't you going to change?"
"No", he immediately burst out, "I mean – should I?"
"Of course! We're on a beach. You're expected to be wearing a bathing costume", she laughed, "And anyway, I'd be able feel you sweat in those clothes even if I were a mile away".
He pondered on her words and then spoke, very slowly, "Maybe I should change".
Clara clapped her hands happily, as if she was a little girl who had just been promised a big present for Christmas. "Well then. Chop chop. Off you pop to get changed".
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but he did what he was told and staggered to his feet. "Yes, ma'am", he said, with a smirk, on his way to the TARDIS.
It was taking him more then necessary to come back, and Clara knew it wasn't because of the time required for him to put on a bathing costume. She thought that he was probably standing behind those blue doors, too ashamed to exit them any time in the immediate future. In fact, that was exactly how she found him when she decided to go and rescue him from himself.
When she entered the console room, Clara just managed to catch a glimpse of him ducking behind the console. "Doctor! Why are you hiding?", she laughed and ran towards him, but he backed away and they started a chasing game which ended with Clara's victory. She managed to seize him by his wrists, stopping him in his spot, so she could observe him properly.
He looked away, his sharp cheeks red in embarrassment, but he didn't move. He was wearing a pretty common black boxer-like swimsuit. Clara had seen him naked when he was still young, what felt like a lifetime ago, but she had never seen this particular regeneration so exposed. He was even skinnier than she had thought he would be. Her eyes rested on his chest, which she noted was free of fat or muscles. "All in all, he's not half-bad", she though, even though she would never say.
She knew she was making him feel uncomfortable, so she settled her eyes on his face, shifting their focus from the rest of his body.
"I can't go out there", he rapped his arms around his torso, as if to cover it in the best way he could "I'll go and change back into decent clothes".
"Don't be silly, Doctor. You're just fine", and then she grinned at him, encouragingly.
"By the way", she added, making fun of him, "You're very daring, showing all that skin".
"Shut up", he snapped, as she dragged him kicking and screaming outside.
As time went by, the Doctor seemed to get more comfortable with all that sudden and personal nakedness. They played cards under the beach umbrella for a while, until Clara suggested to go for a swim. He wasn't as keen as he made Clara believe, but he felt as though she deserved to be happy. His new proposition for that day was to lower his grumpiness to a minimum. At least, he would try.
While they were walking, he asked her why she had wanted to go to the beach, having all of time and space to chose from. She was silent for a couple of seconds. "I had a heavy couple of months at work, and England is always so cold and wet", she started, looking at the ground in front of her, "In the end, I realized I was spending half of my time staring out of the window and dreaming about the sun and the sea and maybe just some relax".
She looked up and met his eyes. Her arm insinuated itself gently behind his own, in a way that they hardly even touched, but made him slightly uncomfortable, nonetheless. "So here I am. Thanks to you", she finished, beaming at him.
He responded with a mild smile, while he tried to avoid any other human contact that wasn't hers. He looked fiercely at the children who ran too close to them, as he replied to her. "Here you are indeed".
She laughed. "Next time-", but he didn't hear what else she was about to say, because Clara suddenly shrieked.
"Ohi, Clara! Ouch", he cried. She had dug her nails into his flesh. He freed himself from her claws and realized by the splashes he created when he moved that he hadn't noticed that they were already in the water.
"It's freezing!", she apologized. She embraced herself and she rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to warm up. The doctor watched her uselessly try to escape the coldness of the sea by jumping from a foot to the other. "Why is it so cold?".
"Oh, stop being such a coward", and without thinking he lifted her in his arms. He ignored her scream of surprise and the frantic kicking of her legs, and threw her into deeper water.
The entity of the splash was surprising considering how small she was. She burst out of the water, gasping for air and waving her arms madly, more out of confusion than out of fright. She wiped the salty water out of her eyes, before blinking them open. She stared at him with her big dear eyes wider than he had ever seen them and her mouth forming a perfect circle. "Doctor!", she complained.
He looked at her with a challenging smile and she started pacing forward, splashing him with as much water as she could. He covered his face with an arm, but apart from that he showed her an unperturbed smile.
"Is this the best you can do, Clara?", but then she reached him and, with an impressive jump, she literally assaulted him. She clung to him as for dear life, as the Doctor, after a paralysing moment in which he felt completely lost, put all his might into scrolling her off his back, but without any success, and yelling "Get off me! Get off me!". When he understood her real intentions, it was too late. She was too small to lift him like he had done, so she was trying to repay him by making him lose his balance. She managed perfectly in her evil intent, and they both fell straight into the water.
He raised his head from the water gasping, already looking for his companion to glare at her, but she was laughing. It was a contagious laugh, so the slight curling of his lips betrayed his effort to put on a serious face. He surrendered and grinned stupidly to her.
"Now we're even, Doctor", Clara managed to say, after laughing so hard her stomach hurt and she had tears in her eyes.
He looked down at her, shaking his head. She raised an eyebrow, a question implied in her eyes. "I managed to make you forget you were cold, haven't I?" he pointed out, "In this case, I think you owe me".
She chuckled to his words and her eyes brightened. "I guess you're right", she allowed, "So I suppose you won this round".
"But don't get to used to it", Clara warned the Doctor, when she saw him wearing the satisfied expression of a child winning at Monopoly. He laughed and realized how competitive their relationship could be, at times. It sometimes felt as if they were both engaging in a game of power, a never-ending battle between a control-freak and a man who could never be control. They had a relationship unlike any he had ever experienced. It was challenging but for the first time he felt as though they were... equals. He could see right through her and she knew him better than any one ever had in his entire life – and that was saying something. And, he thought, even though he would sometimes lose to her cleverness and quick-mindedness, in the end it always felt like a victory.
They came back from their swim and they both fell down on their bathing towels, to let the sun dry the salty drops of water from their bodies. Neither of them said a word, until Clara offered him lunch. She reached for her bag, out of which she pulled out sandwiches and fruits and drinks. He Doctor observed her neat operation quietly, waiting for her to finish. "The bag", she Doctor stated.
"What about it?", she didn't turn towards him, but disposed their lunch methodically on both their sheets, after she had moved her own closer to his.
"It's a gift from the TARDIS, isn't it?".
"How could you tell", Clara gave him a cheeky smile, which meant she already knew the answer, but he gave it to her anyway.
"It's bigger on the inside". She nodded and passed him a sandwich. She had prepared everything at home, and he had to admit, even though never out-loud, that she had done a pretty good job. They chatted quietly between a mouthful and the next, the Doctor finally unaware of the people surrounding them and of the noise they made. Once they'd finished, she cleared all the leftovers in a plastic bag and dropped it in her new Mary Poppins-like bag.
They moved closer under the shade of their beach umbrella, finally tired of all the hot and the sun. The Doctor looked at Clara, expectantly. "So, what have you got for me this time?", he showed her the palm of his hand, challenging her to deliver. Clara had put on herself the delicate mission in life to find him books to read. At the beginning he had been all but sceptical, but she had definitely exceeded his expectations. He had already read many of her suggestions – he had been around two thousand years for a reason – but not all of them , which was by itself impressive. Not to mention, she was getting better at each attempt.
He was acting his usual, cool and unimpressed self, but deep down he was anticipating the surprise with excitement.
"Something special", she plunged her hand in the wicker bag and extracted a book she then passed to him.
He took it , hesitantly from her. "Blindness", he read out loud.
"Have you read it already?", Clara was looking eagerly at him, a wide smile matching his deep frown.
He shook his head, slowly, without looking away from the front cover. "What's it about?". "I'd ruin the surprise, if I told you", she winked at him, mocking his constant need of adventure and excitement. He raised an eyebrow at her and accepted the challenge. He found the first chapter, while Clara started reading her own book.
Hardly twenty minutes had passed, when Clara heard him snorting, impatiently. Her eyes emerged from behind her personal world of pages with a interrogative look. "What's the matter?", she asked calmly.
"Nothing", he didn't look at her.
She knew perfectly well he was lying, so she insisted. "Doctor", she warned.
He seemed to ignore her, but as soon as she had given up and she had started going back to her own book, he spoke angrily. "A blindness epidemic?", he burst out, "Seriously? It's not even plausible".
"It isn't supposed to be plausible", she pointed out, "Look at it more as a metaphor".
"And what way of writing is it anyway?", he ignored her, "It's all so... messy! Does he know there are such things as semicolons or quotation marks?".
"Doctor, don't be so biased. Try to understand it and maybe you'll enjoy it", she gave him the look she would usually reserve for her naughtier students, "So, shut up and read".
The way he was glaring at her told her he wasn't at all convinced. Nonetheless, he didn't argue and turned back to the book in his hand and, putting on the most sceptical face he could master, he started reading again.
It didn't take long for the book to absorb him completely. So completely he became oblivious to the world surrounding him, even Clara. She tried to suggest to him to go for another swim, but after repeating herself a third time without having any reply she decided to go on her own.
He didn't budge form that state until he arrived to the last page and closed the book. He finally raised his gaze with a sigh. He hadn't noticed the cool breeze he now felt on his skin nor had he noticed that while he was reading the sun had started going down, melting in the distant horizon in a beautiful sunset.
"He smiled the most exquisite smile, veiled by memory, tinged by dreams". The voice startled him, as if he had forgotten Clara was still there. She was looking at him sweetly, in a way he had already seen before, but had never been able to decipher.
"What?", he asked, bewildered. Only then did he realize that his lips had unconsciously curled into a smile.
"One of my favourite quotes from one of my favourite books", she clarified.
He remained silent, before asking "To the lighthouse?"
"To the lighthouse", she confirmed, her soft smile turning into a wide grin.
They silently agreed that it was time to go home. None of them spoke, as they packed their stuff and cleared their spot on the beach. They slowly made their way to the TARDIS, both tired because of the long day, but happy and relaxed. He opened the doors of his blue box for Clara and, as he followed her a second later in the control room, he heard her asking: "So", she paused to let everything she was holding fall unceremoniously to the metal floor, "Was I right to tell you to give the book a chance?".
He looked at her, hardly able to refrain laughter. She knew perfectly well that she was right. She was hardly ever wrong and she hardly ever lost. He knew that, and, even if he pretended otherwise, he didn't care. To him, losing with her was as good as winning. Being wrong was as good as being right, as long as she smiled and looked at him in the way she was doing in that exact moment.
So when he acknowledged that she was right, his every word, his every feature and his every movement actually told her that he would follow her to hell and back if she asked him to do so. Because all that matter, in that moment, to him, was that Clara – his Clara - was happy.