Well, here's chapter 16, and it's very odd. I seriously don't know where this wacky idea came from. It's absolutely bonkers. But tell me what you think!
IDontKnow: Thanks for the lovely review! Glad you're enjoying this.
TheFezWearer15: Your prompt is next!
Hamster the Angel: You're welcome, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the last!
Prompt from guest(Whovianeverlark17): "THE SQUIRRELS ARE ANGRY"
Clara sighed and rapped sharply on the TARDIS door. "Okay, I've been standing out here for five minutes, and it's freezing. Did you get lost in there or something?"
On the other side, the Doctor let out a muffled exclamation of disbelief. "Lost in my own TARDIS? Are you mad?"
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," she muttered sourly under her breath. "You can't find your way out of a paper bag, let alone a box that's bigger on the inside."
Fortunately, he didn't hear that last comment. "I'll be out in a bit," he called. "Just putting on my shoes."
Fingers of wind playfully tossed Clara's chocolatey strands of hair in a halo around her head as she rolled her eyes. The Doctor is such a diva, she thought to herself. They'd just been drenched in an ill-timed rainfall on the planet Carbonia (the rain there was composed of acid that conveniently ate away at clothes but not at skin). Needless to say, they'd had to speedily hustle back to the TARDIS to procure changes of clothes before their clothing completely disintegrated.
For once in her life, however, Clara was ready before the Doctor. He'd been deciding on a pair of shoes for the last five minutes. While she could understand having a fascination with shoes - she had a hundred and two pairs herself - she'd never expected the Doctor, of all people, to have one.
Clara fiddled with her jacket as the wind speed increased, trying to draw up the zipper. She wished she'd chosen to wear something more substantial than tights - she'd forgotten how cold London could be in winter.
Growing impatient, she leaned closer to the TARDIS and called,"Doctor, you promised me coffee, and it's not getting any warmer out here." The TARDIS had landed in the middle of Hyde Park, and Clara was the only person in the nearby vicinity unfortunate enough to be out in such miserable weather. When the Doctor didn't deign to respond, she muttered some choice words under her breath, brushing her windswept hair out of her eyes and gingerly rubbing her nose to make sure that it hadn't gone numb from the cold.
All of a sudden the TARDIS door swung open beneath her. Startled by suddenly having nothing to lean on, Clara fell forward into the doorway with a squeak of surprise.
Her fall was halted as she slammed into the Doctor's chest. The impact probably would have hurt, but her face was so numb from the biting wind that the collision had no effect on her whatsoever.
"Have you got frostbite?" the Doctor asked concernedly. "In your toes? Because people tend to fall over a lot when they've got frostbite in their toes."
Clara sighed. "No, I haven't got... what in God's name is on your head?"
The Doctor was wearing a top hat that was polished so much Clara could make out her reflection in it. It looked absurd, perched as it was on top of his beetling eyebrows. She also noticed that his left hand held a thin, silver-tipped cane. "It's... a top hat," he answered bemusedly, perplexed by the question.
She rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know that, you numpty. It was a rhetorical question."
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because - I don't know! It was rhetorical! My point is, why are you wearing that?"
The Doctor grinned, dramatically flourishing his cane. "Because we're in the nineteenth century, and I'm trying to blend in, and because it matches this little beauty." He indicated his cane. "Sonic cane. Not as good as my screwdriver, but it works. And it'll help me blend in."
Clara's mouth twitched in a smile as she tapped the Doctor's chest. "You, blending in? That's like saying Jane Austen's a bad writer. Also, I hate to break it to you... but I'm pretty sure we're not in the nineteenth century." On cue, police sirens began to wail in the distance.
The Doctor was crestfallen. "But I was going to take you to an nineteenth century coffeehouse."
"Well, the snogbox landed us here instead, so let's go to Starbucks." Clara flicked the top hat off his head. "I'm not going to be seen in public with you wearing that."
Casting a longing glance at the hat, he reluctantly laid down the sonic cane and slipped his screwdriver into his jacket pocket instead. "Fine. Let's go." He followed his slim companion out of the TARDIS, smiling to himself at the way Clara's features lit up whenever the prospect of coffee was close at hand (She was addicted to the stuff. Once, just for fun, the Doctor had hidden the three giant sacks of coffee beans she kept in her pantry in the TARDIS, to see how she would react. When Clara woke up and discovered that her coffee store had vanished overnight, she threw a temper tantrum and overturned her whole apartment to search for it. It had been rather amusing to see her so livid... however, the situation stopped being funny after she'd discovered that the Doctor had stolen the coffee and decided to pretend he was a punching bag).
The Doctor shuddered at the recollection and hurried to catch up to Clara, who was already several feet ahead. "Come on, slowpoke," she called. "It's bloody cold." Her cheeks and the tip of her nose were bright red, and her hair looked like she'd stuck her finger in an electrical socket, but her warm eyes were sparkling with exhilaration.
They walked together in silence - it was too cold to talk. The sounds of the bustling city around them were slurred and muffled by the frigid wind, almost as though Clara and the Doctor were stranded in their own little bubble through which nothing could penetrate.
Clara dug around in her jacket pocket, trying to figure out if she had enough money to buy them both coffee. To her disappointment, she only had four pounds - enough for one cup. Looks like the Doctor'll be missing out, unless he's got his own money. She suddenly realized that he must have some form of money - how else did he pay for the things he needed? Did he have a credit card that just happened to work on every planet in the universe? Suddenly curious, Clara opened her mouth to ask him about his finances.
And then, to her surprise, the Doctor clamped a hand over her mouth.
She didn't actually mind the sensation of having his hand over her lips, but she thought she should at least pretend that she did for the sake of appearances, so she let out an indignant, albeit muffled, exclamation.
"Don't move, Clara," the Doctor hissed in her ear, his curly gray locks tickling her skin. "Not a finger."
Clara scanned her surroundings, trying to figure out what had scared him, but she was unable to see anything out of the ordinary, just trees, grass, clouds, and a lone squirrel that was -
No way. It can't be.
She cast a tentative glance at the Doctor. Sure enough, his eyes were riveted on the squirrel, and he was staring at it with so much intensity that she was surprised it didn't shrivel into a heap of ash.
Despite the seriousness etched into every aspect of his face, Clara couldn't resist letting out a small giggle.
"Why are you laughing?" the Doctor demanded.
She pointed to her mouth.
He sighed and reluctantly removed his hand so that she could talk. "I'm laughing because it's a squirrel, Doctor," Clara finally answered, the hint of a smile still lingering in her lips. "A squirrel. And you're looking at it like it's going to attack us."
"It might," he replied darkly, fastening his arm around Clara's elbow as if he were preparing to make a quick getaway.
"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "It's a squirrel. See?" She pulled away from him and started to walk towards the squirrel in an attempt to emphasize her point.
The Doctor's hand shot out and clasped the back of her coat. She let out a shocked squeal as he jerked her back towards him. "Don't go near the squirrel, Clara," he cautioned her in a voice that was so serious she began to doubt the creature's innocence herself. "Stay away from it."
"Why?" she demanded, feeling annoyed at herself for putting up with the Doctor's silliness for so long. "It can't hurt me. It's a squirrel." As if to prove her point, the creature propped itself up on its hind legs and squeaked endearingly.
But the Doctor's face paled. He slowly turned around, and his face paled even more. Curious as to what could have provoked such a response, Clara whirled around... and gasped.
A group of squirrels were clustered behind them, crouched on their haunches and staring at the Doctor and Clara with something akin to disapproval in their beady eyes. There must have been at least twenty squirrels, all of which were grouped in a semicircle.
"Okay, that is a bit uncanny," Clara murmured out of the side of her mouth, edging closer to the Doctor. "Why are they doing that?"
"I don't know. That one from earlier told me to turn around, but he didn't say -"
"No. Stop." Clara held up a hand. "Wait. Did you just say it told you to?"
"Well... yes." The Doctor regarded his companion bemusedly. "How else would I have known?"
"Squirrels do not have a language," Clara told him slowly. "No. You did not just follow a command given to you by a squirrel."
"Oh, don't be so racist," he scoffed, airily waving his hand. "Of course squirrels have a language. I mean, you wouldn't question that humans have a language, would you?"
"And you can speak Squirrel, I suppose."
"Of course."
"I don't believe you," she answered in a sing-song voice. "You're making it up."
The Doctor drew himself up with as much dignity as he could muster while being surrounded by a pack of angry squirrels. "Clara Oswald, I'll have you know that I can speak just about every language this universe has ever heard," he declared firmly.
"Even that tree over there?"
"Yes, Clara, even that tree. It's wishing it could grow bananas on it. That plant next to it is wishing the dog that lives around the corner would stop urinating on it. The beetle by your foot just said it wants to change its name to John."
Clara shuddered at the mention of the insect and scooted away (she had a mortal fear of beetles) as the Doctor continued. "The -"
But he never got to finish. The squirrel they had seen earlier, having joined its comrades, now let loose a torrent of haughty chatter.
"Oh, stop it!" The Doctor frowned. "That was ages ago." Disgruntled, he repeated the sentiment in the squirrels' language, emitting a series of short barks and flowing chirps. Clara was dumbfounded, and could only stand still and watch as the Doctor communicated with the squirrels.
Finally the squirrel finished its tirade, and a long silence ensued. The Doctor rolled backwards on the balls of his feet. "Clara, the squirrels are angry," he breathed. "Very, very angry."
"Um, okay. Why are they angry?" Clara nervously slid her arm around the Doctor's elbow.
"Because of me." He cocked his head and barked a series of what were obviously questions.
Clara rolled her eyes. "How is it that you manage to inspire anger wherever you go?"
A squirrel with a black stripe on its back scampered forwards and answered the Doctor's inquiries, shaking its fist in anger. "What is it saying?" Clara whispered.
"Something along the lines of 'Run, evil giant nut-hoarders, and stay off our territory'," the Doctor replied softly.
As he spoke, the cluster of squirrels condensed into a line and launched themselves towards the Doctor and Clara, their teeth bared menacingly. "I think we'd better listen to them," the Doctor sighed, turning tail and running away.
Clara, after a moment's hesitation - she still couldn't believe they were being attacked by squirrels - followed. "This is not big on dignity," she called, frantically trying to overtake the Doctor.
"Believe me, I've done worse," the Doctor answered grimly, recalling his and Amy's star whale incident on Starship UK. Now that had been undignified.
Clara was grateful that her footsteps pounding against the wet grass mostly muffled the chirps and howls of the psycho squirrels behind her. She could almost pretend they were going for a jog in the park.
Suddenly something hard bounced off her head. Clara gasped and instinctively reached up to touch the spot where the missile had hit. "Did they just throw a nut at me?" she shouted. "At me, Clara Oswald?! Do they know who I am?"
"Yes, they know you're my accomplice, which automatically makes you an enemy," the Doctor replied darkly.
"Well, that's reassuring," she muttered, subsiding into a grumpy silence. Chancing a look behind her, she noticed that the squirrels had increased their pace, and were almost at her heels. Closing her eyes in concentration, she pushed herself to run faster, ignoring the burning in her muscles as she caught up to the Doctor.
It became clear that he was running in a wide arc so as to reverse direction and end up back at the TARDIS. Clara, finding that her energy reserves were nearly depleted, hung on grimly to the Doctor's arm as she ran, using him to propel herself forwards. "They're coming to cut us off, the little buggers!" he yelled, gesturing to the ferocious squirrels. "At the rate they're going, and if they keep traveling in a line diagonal to our path, we won't make it to the TARDIS."
Clara was too tired to acknowledge his words. Her vision pulsed with red splotches around the edges, and she wondered if she was about to pass out. Running had never been her strong suit, even though she had to do it with the Doctor all the time.
He glanced at his companion and realized that she was flagging, falling behind. Suddenly experiencing a wave of protective warmth, he squeezed her hand reassuringly and drew her closer to him. "Come on, Clara! Almost there."
Determination flashed in her eyes. With an incoherent yell, she increased her pace yet again, running even faster than the Doctor.
He stared at her with admiration. Clara, Clara, Clara. You surprise me every time. The Doctor realized that even though he could speak every language in the universe, he still couldn't understand half the things that came out of his companion's mouth. He couldn't read the emotions expressed in those beautiful eyes of hers. And he never knew when she was about to do something daring and impossible. Clara Oswald - the world's biggest enigma.
They reached the TARDIS with no more than a second to spare, closing the door just as the wave of squirrels made a final lunge for their heels. Like darts or arrows, the squirrels made a thump-thump-thump noise as they slammed into the door and bounced off.
Clara's knees wobbled and she slumped against the door, her vision fading. The Doctor awkwardly caught her and held her against his chest, waiting for her to recover.
Finally her panting ceased and she was able to support herself again. Clara leaned back, a gleam in her eye. "So. Angry squirrels. Explain."
The Doctor laughed under his breath, threw off his overcoat, and crossed over to the console. "Long story short, I stole the nuts of every squirrel on the planet, and they declared me an enemy of squirrelkind." The TARDIS hummed amusedly as she remembered the incident.
"But why?" Clara stood next to him, searching his face for answers.
For a moment it seemed like the Doctor was going to answer her. Then he turned to face her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. In a rare display of emotion, he cupped her cheek in his hand and stared at her gently. "Because I did," he murmured. "And sometimes, that's the only reason you need."
All of a sudden he spun away from her and flew around to the other side of the console. "Alright, nineteenth-century coffee house," he announced briskly.
Clara groaned with pleasure and shut her eyes. "God, yes. I need coffee."
"I know," he grinned amusedly.
Her eyes flew open as a thought struck her. "Hang on, does this mean squirrels are going to hate me forever?"
The Doctor did not deign to respond, and Clara sighed. "Great. Of course they are."
As the TARDIS vanished amidst the familiar vworp-vworp of the engines, the laughter of the two best friends faded with it. But, though laughter, memory, and TARDIS alike could fade, the Doctor and Clara knew their friendship never would.
Is there even Starbucks in England? I don't know. Also, do you guys remember the sonic cane? From Let's Kill Hitler?