Title: Nine in the Afternoon
Word Count: 1,417
Characters: 11th Doctor and Clara Oswald
Summary: From the moment he met Clara Oswald, he knows that she's something so much more than just an extraordinary human girl.
Rating: T
Song Lyrics: "Nine in the Afternoon", by Panic! At the Disco (Very cute song so go listen to it PRONTO)
AN at the bottom
Back to the street where we began
Feeling as good as lovers can, you know
Yeah we're feeling so good
Picking up things we shouldn't read
Looks like the end of history as we know
It's just the end of the world
Back to the street where we began
Feeling as good as love, you could, you can
Into a place where thoughts can bloom
Into a room where it's nine in the afternoon
And we know that it could be
And we know that it should
And you know that you feel it to
He doesn't think that he has ever believed in love at first sight.
Well, technically he never really saw her; he heard her, even though it wasn't really her. Rather, an echoes of her being that was fabricated by time to help save him. (And you thought your relationship was complicated.) But, the second time he met (again, not really) her, she seemed familiar and comfortable to be with – almost too close to have only just met.
The first thing he remembers about his first time actually seeing her (another one of her echoes') face was that he thought she was beautiful; she had a funny accent going on (he could get used to it) and he knew that she was something special – his own star.
And during that adventure of the telepathic snow in Victorian London, she kissed him; he wasn't sure why, for they had only just met the day before, but it was lovely. If he had the choice, he would rely, that moment many times over. (What can he say, she is a very good kisser. Not that he wasn't; he's had tons of practice.) If only he had kissed her back instead of flailing his arms about…
Then, he went through that creepy teenaged girl phase where he pretty much tried to find her address (and her time period that was also equally important) and what she was. He didn't understand how the same woman had died twice in two completely parallel times. At the time he was busy stalking her much like a teenaged girl stalks her favorite member of a band. (He never would have thought that he would ever sink that low just because he was infatuated with some human (?) girl)
She later ended up calling him, asking about the internet and he couldn't believe (it was really her) how awful she was at computers. He hopped into his TARDIS and went to go help her with her internet problem, because she sounded really quite hopeless (and because he was going to see her in person).
She ran away with him; they went to all sorts of wonderful and not so wonderful places and did all sorts of wonderful and not so wonderful things. Although, most of the things they (he) did resulted in them having to run from mad, blood thirsty aliens. It usually ends positively and with a hug. (He says usually because Clara covered in alien gizzards is not a fun experience for anybody.)
He kept getting these feelings, sort of hat it felt like for him when he was with River, but these were much more evident. He ached when he was without her, even when she was just down the hall in her room on the TARDIS. His hearts fluttered when she held his hand and hugged him after a long (or short) day of running away from crazy power hungry aliens. He never wanted to let go of her – he loved throwing little glances at her when she wasn't looking (she always is).
:::
:::
The dreams are the weirdest part – it's the only thing in his head that really creeps him out. Sometimes, he dreams of her dying over and over again – in the past, in the now, and in the future. Other times, he dreams of her just being Clara; they will be running away and in the heat of the moment he'll blurt out he loves her as they are about to die. But in the end, they survive and he apologized profusely; she shuts him up and confesses her unyielding love for him and it ends in a sweet little kiss. Those are his favorite dreams. And on a rare occasion, he'll dream of her in erotic ways – they will usually do very naughty things to each other. He usually wakes up during those because that's when it's very obvious that the dreams aren't real at all; they're just a figment of his imagination.
Then, he'll cry silently in the dark because he is a cruel man to torture himself in such an intimate way. He cries out his heart and soul simply because he is a man, a very old heartbroken ad love-struck man. He knows that he shouldn't love her like he does. He can't do such a thing to her (or himself for that matter.)
He can't bear the thought of losing or leaving her like he always seems to do with his companions. (He should really stop making a habit out of that…) But not being able to tell her that he loves her so much that he would split the stars for her hurts him just as much as the thought of her not being in his life.
He looks at her so frequently anymore that he doesn't care that she's looking at him with a quizzical expression. He's so caught up in the idea that a girl, a beautiful wonderful impossible girl, was born to save him that he doesn't notice her staring back with such an intensity that it would make the sun freeze just to look back. He doesn't see the longing in her eyes when he sits down next to her and thinks about how perfectly she fits into his arms. He is such a blind old man.
But he does notice how he's hugging her impossibly tight and keeping her impossibly close to him. He notices the smell of her hair and he notices the little dribbles of nervous sweat beading on her scrunched up forehead. He notices the fast pace of her heart and he notices how she is nervously glancing back and forth from his eyes to his lips when they arrive safely back inside the TARDIS after being chased yet again by monsters from a child's nightmares. (Although this time, Greek Cannibals were chasing them, so it wasn't nearly as bad.) (Clara later told him that being chased by Cannibals was probably worse, so he decided that it would be best if I put that little fact in this little narrative)
"We made it." She whispers, "We aren't dead!" he laughs; and with her pressed against him he feels more alive than ever. And with a rush of adrenaline, he kisses her. He doesn't care that she probably won't kiss him back because all he cares about is her. And friendship be damned, he loves her so much he's willing to face her rejection than to never say (or do) anything at all.
To his surprise, she welcomes his lips to hers and their kiss is everything that it should be – it's loving and full of longing and elation and so many words that can't be expressed in just English. It's quickly becoming more heated and sloppy; his hands are exploring her hair and hers are pressed up against his chest and working their way up to his shirt collar. He knows their moving too fast, and he doesn't wasn't to stop, but he doesn't want Clara doing something she'll regret. She stops and pulls her tightly into his chest, wrapping his long arms protectively around her and kisses her forehead.
"Why did you stop?" she peeps out between hasty breaths.
"Because with you, I know I have all the time in the world to make you feel special. And besides, you wouldn't smell nearly as nearly as nice as you do now."
She lets out a shaky laugh and bury her head into the crook of his neck.
"You are so strange, Doctor, you know. One minute we're running from aliens that are trying to eat us than were kissing like there is no tomorrow. I don't know what to think."
"Well, looks like there isn't going to be a tomorrow because I plan on kissing you quite a lot from now on."
Cause it's nine in the afternoon
And your eyes are the size of the moon
You could 'cause you can so you do
We're feeling so good, just the way that we do
When it's nine in the afternoon
Your eyes are the size of the moon
You could 'cause you can so you do
We're feeling so good
AN: HELLO DEAR READERS! Sorry for such a long span of not updating this. I swear, I've been really busy. (I'm in my school's play and the drama lady in charge is Satan and keeps us there for WAYYY to long) I don't think she understands that I have very patient and lovely readers waiting for me here on the interwebs.
So, long story short, my updates may be getting a little spread out. I'm sorry, I'm just as frustrated as you, but there's this grand old thing called life that I actually have (despite popular beliefs).
ALSO- if you happen to like the Lunar Chronicles, I wrote a little One-shot with Cress and Thorne (oh my god they are so cute don't even get me started *flails arms and makes inhuman noises*)
I know the tenses in this one-shot are fifty shades of fucked up, and I need to work on that, so if you could leave me some nice ole suggestions on how to fix that problem… (Because it is a very big and not nice problem.)
So, please, be a doll and follow and favorite and leave a nice review (constructive criticism is appreciated. FLAMES ARE NOT TOLERATED! THIS IS A NO PLACE FOR HATE AND THOSE WHO DO NOT COMPLY WITH MY WISHES WILL BE EXTERMINATED!)
Lots of love,
bleuboxes