Well, I got two prompts since I introduced the new prompt system in the last chapter. I'll take them in the order I got them, so without further ado, here is the first prompt!
Okay, just a tiny bit of 'further ado'. This chapter is short but sweet, and I'm honestly sort of proud of it. I think it turned out well. Let me know what you think, and leave me a prompt if you want. Speaking of which, the next chapter should be quite interesting - I got a great prompt from a guest.
Enjoy and review if you wish. I'd appreciate it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, sadly, but I wish I could own Clara Oswald. She's too precious.
PROMPT FROM Hamster_the_Angel: "STORM"
The rain started just as Clara neared her front door, her petite frame hunched beneath the weight of three overfull grocery bags that she was toting on her shoulder. She sighed wearily, laying her bags on the step and fumbling in her jacket for the key to her flat. By the time she'd finally found it, the fat droplets falling from the sky had already drenched both her and her groceries, and were now pooling on the doorstep. Clara gave vent to her frustration by somewhat childishly sticking her tongue out at the roiling gray clouds overhead - being drenched to the bone was not helping her mood.
As the intensity of the storm increased, she desperately tried to maneuver the grocery bags over the threshold with her feet. Finally she stumbled inside her flat, almost blinded by the searing force of the raindrops, slammed the door, and sagged against the wall, sighing with relief.
"Ah, Clara! There you are. I made tea," a cheery voice suddenly announced from behind her.
Clara shrieked and whirled around, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. "Oh my stars! You scared me!" she chided the Doctor.
"Oh, sorry," he apologized at once, scooping up her grocery bags and setting them on the table by the door. "Didn't mean to."
She stared at him suspiciously. "Okay, two questions. Question one: what the hell are you doing in my flat?"
He opened his mouth and then shut it again, evidently trying to work out an answer that would stave off her suspicion. "Erm... well... I just... came to see you," he explained feebly. "That's sort of it, really."
Clara removed her shoes and peered inside them, wrinkling disdainfully as she saw puddles of water sloshing around inside. "Okay, fair enough. Question two: why are you being so nice? You made me tea, and you apologized when I said you'd scared me. You're never that nice. What's going on?"
His silence gave him away, and Clara narrowed her eyes at him. "Alright, Mister. Spill the beans."
The Doctor cleared his throat and cast his eyes downwards. "Erm. Well. I got here about an hour ago, and -"
"And you were bored, and so you destroyed my flat," Clara finished flatly.
He hastened to reassure her. "No, no! Not your whole flat. Just... sort of... your kitchen is kind of a mess right now; I tried to make pancakes and set the table on fire. And then I spilled all the flour on the floor." Catching a glimpse of the murderous glint in his petite companion's eye, he continued,"I made up for it though. I fixed your TV - it now has access to 2,033 channels. Seriously, how were you living with only 20 channels; that's so rubbish. Also, I adjusted the heights of all the doorframes to match your tininess, and I made your refrigerator bigger on the inside. And I made you tea."
Clara shook her head, but amusement shone in her warm brown eyes. He'd evidently done his best to make up for the damage. "You're hopeless, you know," she told him. She collected her groceries and slid by him into the flat, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as she passed by. Tiny droplets of water rolled off her body as she walked, sinking into the carpet.
The Doctor stared after her in bewilderment. "You're wet."
Wow, it took him a while to figure that out. "Noticed, thanks," she called back, dumping the groceries in her living room and causing a rain of droplets to spray against the couch as she did so.
"Why are you wet?"
Clara stared at him in disbelief. "Um, hello? There's a giant storm out there?" Right on cue, a stark flash of lightning illuminated the churning clouds and an ear-splitting peal of thunder rolled through the air, shaking the windows of the flat.
He peered out of the window with interest. "Oh, so there is."
"Too busy setting my kitchen on fire to notice, I suppose," she replied cheekily, tugging at her limp strands of hair in an attempt to remove the tangles caused by the rainfall. "Alright, I'm going to go change out of these clothes. Try not to destroy anything else. I'll be back in a bit."
She grinned at him again before turning around and heading off to her bedroom, walking slowly and gingerly in order to avoid getting water on the carpet from her saturated clothing. The Doctor stared after her in silence, watching as her slight form was lost to view.
The memory of her elfin features and roguish smile replayed itself in his mind, a warm, soft memory that filled his hearts with happiness every time he thought about it. There was something about Clara Oswald's smile that singled her out from every other human being on the planet. Those slightly upturned lips, the faint arrows at the corners of her mouth, the indent in her left cheek that made her smile look mischievous, slightly self-satisfied... beautiful. That smile could fill a whole room with the love and warmth that it expressed. That smile, that lopsided, gorgeous smile, could work wonders.
It was that smile that had first attracted the Doctor to her, that had first made him realized that he needed her. It was the sort of smile that you could hear. And the Doctor heard that smile in Clara's voice all the time. From the first time he heard her voice, he heard that smile, and he knew with absolute certainty just how important she'd become to him.
Clara suddenly reappeared, clad in a fuzzy, pastel blue bathrobe. Her hair, which was still noticeably damp, was now tied back in a limp ponytail. She looked absolutely adorable, but the Doctor wasn't about to say so. He hastily shook himself and turned away, trying to make it look as though he hadn't been staring after her the whole time. "Funny choice of clothes for an adventure," he commented.
She laughed, playfully poking his back. "That's 'cos we're not going on an adventure, silly. We're staying here."
"But why?" he whined childishly. "I was going to take you to Skauron-Zad today. It's a planet where everything is made of gold. And it's got the best shoe industry in the universe," he added hopefully, attempting to entice her into coming with him.
She evidently knew what he was up to, and refused to take the bait. "You're not going to get me out of this flat today, Doctor. It's raining, and I don't want to go outside. Or anywhere, for that matter."
"Not even for shoes?" he asked desperately.
"Nope," she confirmed. "You and I are going to have a down day." She settled herself on the sofa and drew her knees up to her chest, curling into a ball.
"A - a what?" he demanded, awkwardly sitting on the couch at a safe distance from his companion (he didn't want to be the recipient of any sudden hugs. And, at the same time, he sort of did. And then he felt annoyed at himself for wanting to be hugged by Clara, which was why he sat as far away from her as possible, in case he felt an urge to hug back.)
"A down day," she repeated slowly. "It's when you just sort of... relax. Watch TV. Read. Do nothing. Chill, basically."
"A whole day for just being down?" The Doctor was disgusted by the concept. "That sounds awful."
She giggled, her cheeks dimpling. "I know, that's why I'm making you do it," she smirked.
He subsided into a disapproving silence, knowing there was no point in continuing to argue. Clara grinned to herself. He thinks he's so cool.
She suddenly noticed two mugs of steaming hot tea on the coffee table. She leaned forward and picked one of them up, appreciatevely sniffing its rich, soothing smell. Leaning back against the couch, Clara cautiously took a delicate sip of the tea, expecting it to be too sour or too hot (after all, the Doctor had made it). Instead, to her surprise, it was done to perfection. "This is pretty good," she complimented the Doctor, cradling the mug in her hands. "Not your first time making tea, then."
He picked up his own mug, casting her an amused glance. "I may not be able to make pancakes, but tea is a necessity. Of course I know how to make tea."
"Well, good on you, then," she replied. "Best tea I've ever had."
The Doctor felt a ridiculous amount of pleasure at Clara's praise. Don't be so stupid, it's only tea, he berated himself. Nevertheless, he couldn't hold back the waves of happiness that surged through him whenever Clara flashed him an approving smile.
Together, they watched the storm in silence. Rain rattled the windows as lightning lit up the sky, followed by menacing rumbles of thunder. The nearby buildings were no more than hazy blobs behind the sheets of moisture that were pouring from the clouds. "They called me the Oncoming Storm, once," the Doctor finally announced, unable to bear the silence any longer. The sight of the storm had made that particular memory resurge.
Clara glanced at him, surprised by the comment. "What? Who?"
"People. Everyone." He paused, his mind awash in a flood of memories. "They... thought I was like a storm, I guess. Powerful. Dangerous. Destructive." His mouth twitched in a bitter smile.
Clara tilted her head, a strange expression on her face. She carefully set down her mug and slipped her hand into the Doctor's. "Doctor, you look at me right now. You're not a storm, d'you hear? You're not. You're -you're like a rainbow. You're mysterious, and awe-inspiring, and yeah, you have a tendency to disappear sometimes when someone gets too close to you. But that's..." she paused, searching for the right words. "It's amazing," she finally finished. "It's just... amazing."
The Doctor didn't say anything, but Clara knew that he was grateful. Without speaking, she scooted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, placing a tentative hand on the front of his jacket. He sighed loudly. "Oh, shut up," Clara murmured. "You know you like it."
"I know I don't. I told you, Clara, I'm not a hugging person." But all the same,he couldn't resist shifting so that he was a tiny bit closer to her.
The rain began to abate, and eventually stopped altogether. The roiling clouds parted, beginning to dissipate, allowing watery sunshine to peep through. Everything seemed sharper and more focused after the storm, and the shadows cast by the clouds contrasted sharply with the sunshine, casting an ethereal, unsettling hue on the world.
A beam of sunlight sliced through the clouds, resting on the floor of Clara's apartment. She stared at it, almost overwhelmed at its simple beauty, and then peered out of the window. "Look, a rainbow," she cried with childish enthusiasm, pointing gleefully to the colorful arc rippling in the sky. "Isn't it amazing?" She searched the Doctor's eyes for remembrance of their conversation.
The rainbow was reflected in Clara's eyes, making them shine brighter than ever. The Doctor glanced outside, his eyes scanning the rapidly lightening sky. "Yes," he breathed quietly. "Yes, it is."
Satisfied with the Doctor's answer, Clara finished her tea and leaned back against his elbow. Several minutes passed in this fashion. Bored and uncomfortable, the Doctor began to squirm and fidget. Clara noticed this and started to take pity on him. "If you want, we can watch Breaking Bad or something; I've got all the seasons," she offered.
He groaned. "No, I've seen all ten of them. Twice."
"How many?" she asked with interest. "There are only five."
The Doctor stared at her and understanding dawned on him. "Oh right, it's only the twenty-first century. Just you wait till 2105. Breaking Bad 2."
"Are you kidding me? They started it up again?"
"Yep. I could even take you to see them, if we could stop having this rubbish down day," he told her.
Clara considered the proposal. Suddenly a roguish smile lit up her face. "I reckon I've made you suffer long enough," she grinned. "Sure. Let's do it. And then we can stop at that shoe planet you mentioned; I need a new pair of heels."
"Wait - you mean we can go?" The Doctor was stunned by her sudden change of heart.
Clara got to her feet and winked. "Down days aren't really my thing anyway."
I think I've found my style. This is probably how many of the chapters will be written in the future: I'll have things in it that could be interpreted as Whouffaldi, but that aren't overly romantic. I'm trying to cater to both groups, even though I ship Whouffaldi myself. Please let me know what you think of this style, and if you would rather have more or less Whouffaldi-type action.