December 12th
He was still watching the bloody squirrel.
All day long the Doctor sat in the same spot. Funny, he complained so often about not being able to move or be active enough in Clara's tiny flat space, yet he'd been seated in the same chair for hours now, gaze fixed intently on that same damn squirrel. Clara was a bit impressed on the squirrel's end, too. She'd hardly even seen it blink. It stayed glued to its branch, gnawing on its same little half-chewed acorn, watching the Doctor with wide, innocent eyes.
"Alright, Doctor." Clara sighed walking up behind him and gripped the shoulder fabric of his white button-up shirt, shaking his body slightly. "As entertaining as this is, time for you and Mortimer to take a bit of a break."
"I don't trust him." He hissed, but then tilted his head to look up at Clara with a quirked eyebrow. "Mortimer?" He asked halfway through a confused chuckle.
"Better than callin' 'im, 'That Squirrel' don't you think?" She pointed out, tugging on his arm again. "Come on. You've been sitting there all day."
"Not much else to do." He complained, shooting the squirrel one last warning glare as it finally scurried away. He allowed Clara to haul him to his feet and tug him away, but let out several annoyed protests as she did.
They both seated themselves on the sofa, shoulders dangerously close to touching, but neither making any attempt to move. They relaxed back, stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.
"How do you do this?"
"For the millionth time, Doctor, I'm human. We do ridiculous human things like sit around and take a breath sometimes."
"But how do you do it for so long?"
"Says the man who just stared at a squirrel for half a day!"
"Hey," He waggled a finger in front of her face, scowling. "I'm just trying to protect you, you know! I've not figured out what it is yet, but when I do..." He glared at the window. "Mortimer over there had better be ready to use those nine lives of his."
"Doctor, its cats that people say have nine lives, not squirrels." Clara said patiently.
"Well Gallifreyan squirrels have nine lives!" He retorted.
"You have squirrels on Gallifrey?" She went wide eyed, laughing a bit in surprise.
"Of course we do. Maybe one of these days I'll teach you how to properly use that tiny brain of yours."
"Oi." She punched his arm lightly, then sighed, relaxing her hands her her lap. "God I'm bored."
"Now you're catching on!" He praised with a mocking smile.
"We were talking yesterday about going out to eat or somethin'." She offered. "New restaurant down the road I've been meaning to stop by. Want to come with me?"
"Why the hell would I do that?"
"Because I'm done making you sandwiches."
"I'll get my jacket."
As if things could get even more awkward.
The tall round table was just big enough for two, and the lighting in the room was fairly dark and moody. Clara short legs dangled off the edge of her stool as she clanked her heels together, risking a glance upward every now and again. The Doctor felt even more uneasy, already itching to escape the tense environment as soon as he had the chance. He sized up the odds for the likelihood of his ability to make it to the door without Clara getting a chance to slap him first, but he knew better than to even try.
"Nice place." Clara noted, seemingly absentmindedly.
"Yep." The Doctor agreed, a bit more hesitantly. "Posh."
It was a bit more fancy than Clara at first had anticipated. She and the Doctor had managed to dress fancy enough, but the duo still felt a bit out of place in the, as the Doctor had very well put it, posh little community.
"Ah, hello." A young waiter in equally fancy dress positioned himself on the edge of their table, small notepad in hand. "What can I get you...er...lovely couple this evening?"
"Oh, we're not-" Clara hastily clarified.
"Very much not." The Doctor piped.
"Most definitely not." The two risked a sidelong glance at each other when the other wasn't looking, then returned their attention to the man.
"Ah." He gave a slight nod. "Father and daughter. Of course."
"My god, that's even worse." She buried her face in her palms for a brief moment, then looked back up with tired eyes. "Just get us some water, thanks." She said a bit too shortly, feeling guilt at the sight of the man's flustered haste as he walked away.
"And some wine!" The Doctor called after him, earning a nod of understanding from the man in reply, and a frown of disappointment from the woman across the table.
The two sat in silence for several more moments, bother afraid out of lingering embarrassment to meet the others gaze.
"Worse?" The Doctor finally spoke up, clarifying.
"Hmm?"
"Them thinking that I'm your dad. That's worse?"
"Well, yeah." Clara laughed, raising her eyebrows out of surprise. "I mean, come on. You being my dad. Is that not a bit weird? Its plain wrong, is what it is."
"And me being your boyfriend, isn't wrong?" He chuckled, biting his top lip with an expression of mocking interest.
She didn't reply.
"Clara Oswald." The Doctor reclined in his chair, crossing his arms and allowing a smirk to light up his face. "At least buy me a drink first."
As if on cue, their drinks were delivered, and both companions blushed a deep scarlet.