...well. For someone who's never been walked in on a kiss, I think I have quite the imagination. (Also, hello from a place where a blizzard is currently storming over me.) Enjoy!

Four. Supply Closet

"Seriously. I don't need you wandering around the school all the time!" Clara hissed, shoving the Doctor into a supply closet. Casting a suspicious look over her shoulder (and making sure that no one was watching), she ducked in after him and closed the door. There was a brief moment of darkness – and reaching up, Clara snapped on the light to see the Doctor looking at her with lifted eyebrows and an irritated expression. "Why not?" he challenged. "I usually park the TARDIS near the school on most days. It's not like the students see us," he gestured to Clara, "as a secret anymore."

"Well, no," Clara shot back, "but still! There are teachers here! And a headmaster! And the actual caretaker! Can you imagine what I'd have to say when they ask why you're here all the time? Or the rumors – dear God, Doctor, I would rather not explain why I'm hanging around an older –"

"Older? I thought you stopped dragging on about that," the Doctor muttered. Feeling her face heat up, Clara bit down on her lip. She shut her eyes tight and said haltingly, "No. Sorry. That came out wrong. It's not that I don't like the fact you look older. That's not it." She puffed out a sigh and added, "But other people might."

There was a dangerous silence.

Then, the Doctor only said, "Ah. I see how it is. Then, Clara, I'll leave you to it. Shouldn't be able to bewilder any other pudding-brains that way."

Clara felt the brush of the Doctor's coat sleeve as he pushed past her – and feeling an instant wave of guilt and panic, her arm shot out to grab him. "No," she said, opening her eyes. "No, that wasn't what I meant." She watched as the Doctor's hand slid away from the doorknob – and putting in more pleading notes into her voice, Clara said, "Just please. One minute." Without thinking, she went on, "Let me make it up to you."

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted. "Clara," he started, but the younger woman was already ahead of the game. She pressed her lips together and standing at the tips of her toes, breathed, "Please? I'm sorry." The Doctor scowled down at Clara, though both Time Lord and human knew that he didn't mean it. "Is that how you plan to go about your life? Coddle and flatter the willing species?" he asked.

"Only once," Clara replied and placing her other hand over the Doctor's on the doorknob, lifted herself a bit higher to kiss the Doctor. It took a few seconds – a few hesitant seconds – but when the Doctor kissed Clara back, she knew as well as he did that he was sold. She smiled against him and teasingly wrapped a part of her leg around his ankle.

"A message?" the Doctor murmured, lowering his lips to nip Clara's neck. She smiled, letting her head fall back against the door as he travelled down, down, down her skin. "You know it is," she whispered. "Come on, Doctor. Let me make it up to you." She shivered lightly under the hiss of his breath on her collarbone. "Clara Oswald," he murmured. "Always much more willing to plunge herself into dangerous situations than she wants to admit."

Clara's lips curled into a coy smile. Ruffling a hand through the Doctor's hair, she replied, "But you know you love it." The Doctor planted another kiss – this time on her shoulder – and said, "Why, of –" Before he could finish, the supply closet door slipped open, causing Clara to crash into a wide-eyed, stunned man.

"Clara?" Adrian asked, bewildered. "What are you – my God, isn't that the old caretaker?" He turned to Clara, who was hastily moving back into the closet – and twitching up the hips of her skirt, just in case. Unfortunately, that gesture was not missed by the other teacher. Slowly, realization dawned to Adrian and blushing furiously, he said, "I'll just –"

"Go?" the Doctor scowled. Adrian nodded his head (almost fearfully) and stuck a thumb behind himself. "Er, goodbye, Clara – goodbye, old caretaker. Mr. Smith, wasn't it? Yes, yes, that was right. Goodbye, you two. Now, if you won't mind, I'll just get back to…to…" He frowned. "What was I – ah, yes! I was just going to go away…from here. I can always find paper towels somewhere else. Ah…right. That was all. Goodbye. Again." With that, Adrian gave another small bob to both Clara and the Doctor – and promptly spun around, closing the door as he went. (Clara and the Doctor missed the grimace he gave to himself when the door closed.)

There was a brief silence before the Doctor said in an almost amused tone, "You really should choose better places to be next time, Clara Oswald." Feeling the prickly sensation of embarrassed heat crawl up her neck, the brunette replied huffily, "It's your fault for getting me to initiate anything in the first place."

"Ah, yes, I see how it is – blame it on the man in the situation," the Doctor said lightly. Clara pushed her hands up to her face and shaking her head, moaned, "You. Go to your TARDIS. Wait for me somewhere else that doesn't include a place where people might actually recognize us. I'll have to try to explain things with Adrian and let him know that things are perfectly normal." She hesitated. "Well, at least, as normal as things can possibly be."

"Maybe you should coddle and flatter him, too," the Doctor muttered under his breath as Clara started to open the door. The woman whipped her head around and flicking her fingers at his arm, replied, "Nope. Coddling is only for grumpy Time Lords. That's you." With a toss of her hair, Clara disappeared from the closet, leaving the Doctor to himself.

That woman, the Doctor only thought, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Clara was hurrying to catch up with Adrian. Smoothing out her skirt and her blouse, Clara couldn't help but to smile. Coddling is only for grumpy Time Lords, she thought happily to herself and with a puff of breath, pushed open Adrian's door.

A/N - I got the entire season eight of DW a few days ago! (And being the person I am, I'm gonna marathon it because I. Miss. My. OTP.)

Reviews are always great! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not!