AN: I know I said I wanted to write more of these, but the issue is I almost never finish the one-shots like this I do, which is why they seem to end on vague cliff-hangers. And this may seem like I wrote it a while ago because it's Clarenny set while Jenny was still married to Jack, but I did write it this week. In my head this also takes place just after she gets back from the "Under the Lake"/"The Fisher King" serial.

NEXT DOOR

London, England, October 2015

After a long and ridiculous day spent running away from ghosts in an underwater base, Clara was in desperate need of a chance to kick back and relax. It had been stressful enough thinking the Doctor's death was impending, but as soon as she'd left she'd made good use of her phone - after getting it working again - and called Jenny, who seemed to have nothing else to do since she answered on the second ring. She came over in a shot, and barely had time to courteously ask about Clara's day (and listen to her answer) before trying to take her to bed. Not that Clara was too disheartened, she didn't really want to talk about her day, though she did want Jenny to put some effort into convincing her that they should go into the bedroom. Or at least pretend to, Clara didn't really need convincing - that was the reason she'd called to initiate things, after all.

But they hadn't yet made it to the bedroom. Clara wasn't sure if going all the way into the next room was on the cards - maybe she couldn't be bothered to get up from the sofa? Maybe she was quite alright to stay there and let Jenny do all the driving - for a while at least - because she was sincerely enjoying someone being all over her, and especially the neck kissing.

When someone knocked on the door to interrupt them right when Jenny unzipped Clara's dress, she jumped out of her skin.

"Did you call somebody else as well as me?" Jenny whispered.

"No. I don't-"

"Are you in, Clara? I saw your bike in front of the building." Jenny leant away, much to Clara's chagrin, and raised her eyebrows.

"It's Rita, my neighbour from down the hall," Clara explained quietly.

"And what does she want with you?"

"Not that. She's an old lady."

"So am I," Jenny shrugged.

"She probably just wants a hand with something. It won't take a minute, don't move." Clara kissed her deeply on the mouth and then stood up, leaving her there on the sofa in a stupor. She zipped her dress back up and unhooked the chain from the back of the door, only opening it a few inches. "What's up?"

"I thought I heard you."

"I'm right here."

"Would you help me with the bins again?"

"Oh, um..."

"The latch is still broken. I can never get it to work."

"Right... it's just, I'm a little busy, do you think it could wait a few hours? Or until tomorrow morning? You could leave the bags outside my door, and I'll take them down on my way to work?"

"...Oh. Do you have company?" Rita smiled a little. She had seen many people come and go from Clara's flat in the time she'd lived there, with no judgement thankfully.

"...Maybe," Clara admitted, "Just-"

"Do you want me to take a look at the latch, or whatever's broken?" Jenny called. Eavesdropping. "I might be able to fix it." Frustrated, Clara leant her head on the doorframe for a few seconds, then smiled uneasily.

"Just a friend of mine," she explained.

"A friend who's given you a love bite?"

"Who's-?" Clara made a start, touching her neck. She turned to face Jenny, who was walking over to the door. "Have you given me a hickey? I'll kill you."

"It's only the beginnings of one," said Jenny, "Just put some concealer on."

"That's not the point, I'm a teacher, for... urgh." Jenny pulled the door open further to greet Rita. "This is Jenny. And we're just friends. Barely friends, even, if she's giving me hickeys. Disgusting."

"I didn't hear you complaining a minute ago."

"Stop talking now, for the love of god."

"What's wrong with the latch?"

"Nothing," said Clara, "It just gets stuck."

"I'll help with the bins, I don't mind. See if I can fix the latch."

"It can wait until tomorrow," said Rita, "I wouldn't want to disturb you."

"No, it's fine," said Jenny brightly, smiling, "Clara doesn't mind."

"I do a bit, actually," Clara grumbled as Jenny pushed past her to get out of the flat.

"Where are these bins, then?"

Irked, Clara picked up her keys and followed them out. Rita led them to her flat where two bin bags were ready. They each took one and headed for the lifts.

"Are you a teacher as well?" Rita asked Jenny, trying to make conversation while Clara just grimaced to herself.

"Oh, no," Jenny smiled, "I'm between professions at the moment."

"So how did you meet?"

"That's not important," said Clara quickly. She didn't want to tell Rita it was because she was close friends with Jenny's father.

Jenny laughed a little, "You're being so testy," with her free hand, she prodded Clara in the small of her back, who flinched.

"Don't." Jenny rolled her eyes.

"...I'm a trained chef, actually," Jenny said to Rita, "Just haven't got a restaurant gig at the moment."

"Is it hard to find work as a chef in London?"

"Well, I'm not often in London. I move around a lot. Sort of a drifter. Do you still have drifters?" she asked Clara.

"You're here, aren't you?" she said. The lift dinged and the doors slid open on the ground floor. "The bins are this way."

"I've always been curious about where other things are in this building," Jenny mused, "You're always, 'come upstairs as soon as possible.' No time to take in the sights."

"I don't think the bin room is a sight," said Clara, trying to open the door. Predictably enough, it was stuck. "There you are, it's ready for you to work your magic."

"I don't think I ever stop working my magic," she said wryly, putting down her bin bag. She tried the door once to no avail, prompting her to violently force it with her shoulder. It gave immediately and Jenny didn't even lose her balance. They took the bin bags in and dumped them in the large wheelie bins before Jenny turned her attention to the latch, standing on tiptoes to see it better. Clara just crossed her arms and lingered, trying to ignore the smell. "It just hasn't been screwed in properly, that's all," she said, "I can fix it now." She took out her sonic screwdriver.

"What's that?" asked Rita.

"Just a screwdriver," said Clara, Jenny pointing it at the latch. It hummed and the screws worked themselves free of the wood and dropped into her hand.

"An interesting girl who carries a screwdriver everywhere."

"Well, they're very useful," said Jenny.

"My Earnest used to have a Swiss army knife he took everywhere with him. We even buried it with him."

"You never know when you might need a can opener in a pinch. He sounds like a very sensible man. Such a shame Clara hasn't got any practical skills."

"I have plenty of skills," Clara argued.

"Couldn't fix this latch, though," Jenny said, "Come and hold this still for me while I screw it back in."

"Fine, fine..." She reached up to hold it in place while Jenny slowly drove the screws back in to stop it getting jammed in the bloated doorframe as much.

"It's rusty. Probably needs oiling."

"Do you not carry oil with you?" Clara jibed.

"I mean, I could go get some now, if you like?"

"I have a bottle of WD40. Earnest always kept one," said Rita knowingly. "I could fetch it?"

"Oh, I'll do it, I don't mind," Jenny offered.

"No, I'll come by and sort it out tomorrow," said Clara firmly, "I'm putting my foot down."

Jenny grinned and told Rita, "It seems I'm needed elsewhere. How did you meet him? Earnest?"

Rita was very surprised to be asked about her late husband. Clara wasn't sure she'd asked that particular question about him.

"I was on my way to college - secretarial school, in the 70s. He was an electrician, he was there fixing the lights one day, and made me promise that as soon as they were working again I'd type out my parents' phone number for him. We had our first date the next evening and he brought me a box of shortbread his mother baked. Six months later, we were married at a little church in Lambeth. I suppose it's not a very interesting story."

"I think it's a wonderful story," said Jenny, stepping back from the door with her hands on her hips, admiring her handiwork. "I'll drop you round some shortbread if I get a chance - there's nothing better than home-made shortbread."

"You don't have to go to any trouble on my account."

"Nonsense, I love shortbread. I was thinking of baking some anyway, I know Clara likes it. And I think this door is fixed now, except for the rust." She tested it out, closing it and opening it, this time with very little trouble. "Good as new. If you have any other odd jobs-"

"I'll be sure to enlist your services again," Clara cut her off, "Can we go back upstairs now?"

Jenny asked Rita seemingly endless questions about what Earnest had been like on the lift ride back up to their floor, until Rita turned the tables and tried to inquire about Jenny.

"Do you think you'll get married? Young people these days don't seem to be interested in settling down."

"Is that a dig at me?" said Clara.

"Not at all." Clara wasn't sure she believed her.

"I am married," said Jenny a little awkwardly. Clara looked at the floor as the lift whirred. Rita glanced between them.

"Oh."

"It's complicated," said Jenny.

"You don't have a ring."

"No. I don't."

The lift stopped and the doors slid open. Jenny went out first, but Rita touched Clara's arm and she paused.

"She seems very nice."

"She is."

"And very sad."

"Mm..."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Clara. If she's really married."

"I-"

"Clara?" asked Jenny.

"Right here," she stepped into the corridor, forcing a smile. "And I'll oil that door tomorrow," she added to Rita, "I have plans tonight."

"I'd hate to get in the way of them." Rita shuffled back into her flat, while Jenny held Clara's door open for her.

"Friends with any more of your neighbours?" she asked when they were back inside.

"Not particularly. This is England, people don't talk to each other." She locked the door. "Wash your hands, please."

"Alright, grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy," said Clara, grumpily, "I just had a long day, with these ghosts, and... you know, I just... just wanted to relax." Jenny smiled, washing her hands as bade. "Maybe I want your full attention."

"Well, you've got it now. So, why don't you wash your hands now, and I'll go into your bedroom and start taking my clothes off?" she suggested.

"There's a candle in there, actually - would you mind lighting it? It's scented."

"A scented candle? I must be special."

"I... it reminded me of you. It's honey."

"Sounds delicious. I'll be waiting." She kissed Clara again on her way past, then slipped into the bedroom on the other side of the flat, leaving the door ajar.