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Chapter 21

It was perfect. Everything was perfect, including John, who felt perfectly nervous. He had been extra careful preparing the lasagne that was now in the oven, he had set aside a bottle of wine and was now considering having a glass already just so he would feel a little less terrified, but eventually thought better of it. He was going to kiss Clara tonight, he was going to make that step and yes, by now he was already sort of looking forward to it. How could he not? Clara was smart, funny, loving and very, very pretty. John would have to be both blind and stupid to not want to kiss her.

How had it happened the first time? Their first kiss? John didn't know and he vowed to ask Clara about it later, but he felt quite sure that she must have made the first move back then. He would never have dared to kiss her.

When the doorbell rang, John's heart skipped a beat. The moment had come and his body was already tingling all over with excitement. Could he even wait until after dinner? He threw a last glance at the oven and realized that the lasagne would still need a moment, so John took a deep breath and went to open the door.

"Hi Clara," he beamed at her, "Did you forget your key?"

She hesitated for a moment as if she was confused about something and John felt the need to give her the good news straight away. She had overslept this morning and left the house in a hurry. Her day probably hadn't been very nice, so he was now determined to make it better.

"I made dinner," John announced happily.

Finally her face lit up and Clara smiled at him. "Well, I can't say no to that, can I?" she said and stepped through the door, "Must have left my key at home this morning. Sorry about that."

John breathed in deeply, trying to get his pulse back under control. Waiting until after dinner was going to give him a heart attack.

"What did you cook?" Clara asked him when he had followed her into the living room.

"Uhm, I made lasagne," he replied and then granted her an apologetic look, "Sorry, I wanted to make your favourite, but I didn't know what that was."

"Lasagne is perfect," she replied with a smile.

"So, uhm, what is your favourite?"

In response Clara giggled. "Tell you what. You'll keep cooking for me and when you've found my favourite, I'll let you know."

John laughed nervously. "That's, uhm, that seems fair."

He looked at her for a long moment, watching her smile at him in return, waiting for her to say something because he had no clue how to go on.

"So, do you need help with dinner or anything?"

"No," he said before his voice turned a little more harsh, "No, absolutely not! You will sit down and not lift a finger."

Clara raised her hands in a surrendering gesture while she sank down on the sofa. "Alright, not going to argue with you," she replied, "I'm not stopping you. Go for it!"

John frowned at her. "For what?"

"Well, best husband award, obviously. I'm assuming that's what you're trying to do here."

"No, it's you," he argued and instantly Clara raised her eyebrows, a sheepish smile on her lips.

"Just in case you haven't noticed, John, you just said you're trying to do me," she laughed after a moment.

"Do you a favour," he growled, "Stop laughing!"

John still heard her chuckle when he turned around to head towards the kitchen and he groaned internally. The whole situation was utterly weird and he felt like he was the one making it weird by being a nervous wreck.

When he glanced into the oven, John found yet another disappointment. He had neglected to switch it on and now the lasagne would need a lot more time than he had expected. Damn, he needed to get it over with. He needed to kiss her just to get this damn nervous feeling out of the way. With a heavy sigh he reached for the wine and the glasses and went back into the living room.

Clara was still exactly where he had left her, sitting on the sofa and turning a book over in her hands before she discarded it on the coffee table.

"Sorry, I'm afraid the lasagne will need a bit more time," John said, granting her an apologetic smile while he held up the wine and glasses. "Wanna start with a drink?"

Clara gave a shrug. "Why not."

He opened the bottle and proceeded to pour them both a glass, trying very hard to keep his hands from trembling as he did. Usually Clara had a way of making him feel better, making him feel at ease around her, but tonight his fear seemed to overshadow everything else. Tonight he just couldn't seem to connect with her.

"So, uhm, how was your day?" John asked as he handed her the glass. He took a huge sip from his own, only just resisting the urge to empty it in one go.

"Ah, you know. Same old, same old. Teaching kids," she said, "What about you?"

"Uhm," he began and then smiled at her, "I went to my practice today. I think it's time I started working again, you know. Maybe it'll help with the memories and if not, at least I'll have something to do."

Clara nodded, sipping her wine.

"What do you make of Nardole?" John couldn't help but ask, "He seems a bit. . . odd, doesn't he?"

She snorted in reply. "Have you looked at yourself lately?" Clara asked him, glancing down at his plaid trousers.

"Okay, good point," he admitted and continued to drink his wine. It wasn't really helping. He needed to get it over with. He needed to kiss her. Now.

"Clara, I need to tell you something," he said nervously and averted his gaze, "I'm really nervous tonight because I've had a discussion with Missy and she's right and I'm absolutely terrified."

"Why? What's wrong?" Clara asked him and he could hear the frown in her voice.

"There's something that I need to do, that I want to do and it's scaring me because I'm really bad at intimacy and I've made dinner so we could have a nice, romantic atmosphere, but it's not working and I don't know what to do," he blurted out, "I want to kiss you."

"Okay, John, stop-"

"No, let me finish," John interrupted her, still not brave enough to actually look at Clara while he said what he felt like he needed to say, "I want to do it for both of us. I know you want it, I know you've missed it and I want to try it."

"Really, John, I have to tell y-"

He didn't let Clara finish. He couldn't wait a moment longer or his heart might jump out of his chest in fright. John looked up, leaned forward and pressed his lips on hers before Clara had a chance to finish her sentence.

John had expected a lot of things to happen. That his memories would come back, overwhelming him in an instant, that he would die of sheer fright, that he would chicken out at the very last second. What he hadn't expected was for Clara to push him away and what surprised him a lot more was that it hurt when she did.