Title: Home
Word Count: 1,506
Characters: 11th Doctor, Clara Oswald
Summary: The Doctor has come to be comfortable with the fact that he loves Clara and fluffiness ensues!
Rating: T
Song Lyrics: 'Alone Together', by Fall Out Boy (I use way to much fob, sorry (not sorry) guys)
I don't know where you're going,
But do you got room for one more troubled soul
I don't know where I'm going,
But I don't think I'm coming home
And I said, I'll check in tomorrow if I don't wake up dead
This is the road to ruin and we're starting at the end
He's always been so caught up in looking for Gallefrey that he's never really stopped to smell the roses. Then she came and she was a whirlwind of unknowns and all of a sudden Gallefrey didn't seem nearly as important as it used to, and he didn't know if he was terrified of that or not.
He yearned for their Wednesdays together. He loved looking at her face and touching her hands and maybe most of all kissing her forehead when he felt it was necessary (it usually never was. He just liked kissing her). He's been fighting it for so long, but he can't help himself anymore. He cannot turn back the clock and he won't ever do that because he wouldn't want to be rid of this feeling- not now and not ever.
He's come to the conclusion that he loves her and there's simply nothing he would do to alter that. He doesn't know what to do; he's in a bit of a predicament, to be honest. He doesn't know if he should tell her or have her break his hearts. (You only need one awkward person aboard a space ship, two might be overdoing it a bit) And he isn't sure if she even likes him like that because all she ever does is tease him. (Isn't that what girls do when they like someone though?)
And he isn't sure why he's become so fascinated with such a simply impossible and improbable earth girl; it's not normal; it isn't proper- but he doesn't really care anymore. He looks at her and he sees all the beauty that the universe has to offer. She is so beautiful, and he really can't think of a word in the English language that can describe how beautiful she is.
So when he's all alone in the console room while she is fast asleep, he whispers to himself in his whimsical native tongue. He tells the TARDIS how highly he thinks of this woman, this person, and how wonderful and clever and beautiful she is. (The TARDIS doesn't care, but at least she listens) Maybe Clara hears him and maybe she doesn't, but when he's thinking about her, he doesn't have any other cares.
To him, she is the image of everything that a human should be – compassionate, kind, clever, and maybe a little bit iron-willed. And that's what he likes about her. She doesn't listen to everything he tells her to do, no matter how infuriating that may be. She is everything to him.
He doesn't know what he would do without her, if she were to die suddenly or leave him without an explanation. He might die of grief, or mope around in her room and cry trying to sniff the remainder of her scent from her belongings in her room. (He knows that's creepy, but he's too in love to care) But if she did die, she wouldn't want him to spend his days in a puddle of depression, she would want him to run and to never stop running.
So on this Wednesday, she is taking a nap after a long adventure in sixteenth century England and he's watching her sleep while she's curled up on a chair in the library. He starts talking to himself in Gallefreyan about her. Her name is a song that he will never grow tired of hearing and he doesn't know why he feels like this. He feels so happy and genuine, like he is a child again, unburdened with the faults of time, and he loves it; he is in love with loving her and it's this beautiful thing that has captured his heart with no intention of giving it back.
There is nothing in the vast universe that could ever make him stop loving her, and that thought exhilarates him and terrifies him at the same time. But this love for her had him feeling a sense of elation that he can't quite describe; it is so whole, so real, and so raw and all he wants to do is touch her face.
He leaves his book to go and sit by her and he sighs to himself then whispers her name one again loving the way it rolls off his tongue. Before he realizes it, he's kissing the top of her forehead and stroking her soft locks of hair. He doesn't realize that he's woken her up as he's singing her name.
"Doctor?" she whispers quietly. He stops what he's doing and turns a bright shade of pink; she isn't supposed to realize that he has been watching her sleep.
"Hello, Clara." He gulps down embarrassment.
"Why are you watching me?"
"I wasn't watching you sleep! That's creepy and totally-"
"Something you would do." She finishes for him. He scowls and she smiles a lazy smile of victory.
"I'm sorry," he mutters, upset that his little moment was ruined because of his foolishness, "I have to go fix the stabilizers anyway."
"You're doing it again." She sighs.
"Doing what?" he asks.
"Being weird. I didn't have a problem with you watching me," she admits, "it was… nice. Like you were guarding me. Again." He smiled at the memory of the day when he showed up at her house dressed like a monk, and even then, he was in love with her. She really must not have had an idea of the effect she has on him.
"What don't I have an idea about?" She asked drowsily. He mentally kicks himself in the head.
"About how much the stabilizers need repairing." He winces at the awful excuse.
"Okay. Whatever; don't tell me, your best friend. I get it." She says and her tone of voice hurts him. Does she not understand how much he loves her?
"Clara, it's not one of those things that I can tell you. I wish I could but I can't and for that I am sorry."
"Is it like those nights when you think I'm sleeping and you talk to yourself in some weird language in such a love struck tone? Doctor, are you in love or something? Because if you need girl advice, I am your girl." She sits upright on the couch and moves really close to his face with that girly gossipy smile visible. (God, how he loves it when she smiles)
"Maybe…" he cringes.
"What does she look like?" she asks, and he suddenly feels his palms grow clammy. He can't tell her; so he makes his description as discrete as possible.
"Uh," he starts out awkwardly, "She has these eyes, and they're the color of melty caramel candies, and the rest of her is the most beautiful thing in all the Universe and it's not fair, Clara it just isn't fare because she's the only thing in the Universe that I can't have."
He doesn't know that she understands Gallefreyan; he doesn't know that she's been studying it since she had remembered that she lived a life of a Time Lady once, and he doesn't think about how she's been listening to his melodic ramblings about her each night.
"Oh you silly old man." She laughed.
"Clara! This is not a laughing matter."
"You are a laughing matter, Doctor. All this time and you never thought to tell me?"
"Well, it's rather personal."
"Well, duh." She said, "It's quite obvious who this person is."
"Oh?" he asked, scared that his secret had been released.
"You seem to doubt my ability in translating Gallefreyan, Doctor." He gulped. Many profane words in many languages ran though his thoughts.
"Shit." He blurted out then quickly covered his mouth. She laughs. She tries to say her name in his native language, it was a little malformed, but it was still as melodic as ever and his heart melted.
"All those things, all those wonderful, beautiful things that you have said about me, Doctor, are they true? Please, be honest because if they aren't I don't know what I'll do to you. It better be true because a girl can develop thoughts and feeling when you continuously say things like that." She pleads. He doesn't know what to say.
"Please, Doctor, just say something."
"But there isn't anything to say."
"Oh." She says sounding deflated. And his eyes open wide.
"No, no, no. Please don't cry – Clara, damn it! You're killing me, oh my goodness, you're killing me." He mutters as he scoops her up into a hug, "You silly human, of course I meant what I said! How could I not? You're beautiful, Clara, absolutely beautiful and I think I'm in love with you. So please don't cry."
And she's smiling the biggest smile he has ever seen and he starts grinning like a mad man and before he knows it she quickly brushes her lips against his and color floods to both of their cheeks.
"I've been waiting to do that for a while."
"Well, we've got a time machine; we have all the time in the world."
Say, yeah
Let's be alone together
We could stay young forever
Scream it from the top of your lungs, lungs, lungs
Say, yeah
Let's be alone together
We can stay young forever
We'll stay young, young, young, young, young
AN: omygoodness, it's been like two weeks (I think) and guys, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. I just haven't had the inspiration or the time to write anything and idk I was really angry at myself for it. (I started like three storylines and I hated all of them)
So I owe it to you guys to put something up this weekend. I hope you like it!
Please review and follow and favorite and checkout my new one-shot, Anything Can Happen. (Its whouffle because that's pretty much the only thing I'm confident with writing)
-bleuboxes