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The TARDIS materialized in Clara’s living room with a soft thump. The doors swung open, blowing some loose papers off her table. A moment later the Doctor shouldered his way through. The currently incapacitated schoolteacher lay draped in his arms. Hers were wrapped in a secure hold around his neck, where she had also buried her face. He was trying hard not to pay attention to the faint wisps of her hot breath. Or soft lips as she mumbled against the sensitive skin. He navigated through the small flat to her bedroom where he laid her down with care.
She looked up at him through heavy lids with an expression he couldn’t read. ‘Better not to ask right now.’ he thought. As he turned to leave, Clara snatched his hand, weaving her fingers with his. He regarded their linked digits and then looked back up at her, concern written on his features. “You okay? Do you need something?” A warm, affectionate smile spread across her face. “Yeah... you. Don’t go." she answered, giving a gentle tug on the hand still tangled with hers.
The Doctor cleared his throat, flustered a bit by her words. “Clara, your head’s not clear right now. Of course, too many Venusian Rumadoras will do that to you.” he chided in a gentle tone.
“Oh, but they were sooo gooooood!” she bubbled, toeing off her heels.
“You need water. I’ll be right back.” he said, disengaging their hands and heading to the kitchen.
Clara found herself overheated and wanted nothing more than her light, comfy pajamas. She dug her feet into the mattress and lifted her hips up to shimmy out of her tights. Kicking them to the floor, she sat up, her head spinning for a moment before clearing. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she pulled, trying to get it over her head. It didn't take long for her to get stuck on her shoulders. She was still fighting with the garment when the Doctor returned. Clara knew because she could hear his strangled gasp - no doubt due to her current state of undress.
“A bit of help here!” came her muffled shout, while her arms flailed.
The Doctor, who had suddenly come to view her ceiling as the most interesting thing in the universe, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. His brain rambled as he crossed the distance to her. ‘No big deal. Just helping a silly human. A friend. A half-naked friend. That happens to be Clara. My Clara. Fuck.’
When his legs collided with the bed, he cautioned a downward glance. By the grace of Rassilon, it wasn’t too overwhelming. He set down the glass of water he’d procured – and nearly spilled on himself when he walked in and saw her. His long fingers worked to find her zip and get it down. The dress floated to somewhere across the room after finally being yanked off the rest of the way. Having completed his task, the Doctor took a short step back, returning to his intense study of the ceiling.
“Thanks.” came her sigh of relief. She scanned the room, spotting her desired sleepwear lying in the chair by the door. Jumping from the bed, she wobbled as everything around her spun. The Doctor instinctively caught her before she could topple over. Clara sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his rough hands against her bare skin.
Their eyes met, and for a moment it seemed that nothing else in the universe existed except them. Had they been able to read each other’s minds, they would have discovered the same feelings were firing off throughout both of them. A heady mixture of overwhelming love and desire, with just enough fear to keep them from expressing it.
Clara cleared her throat. “Thanks... Again.” She shuffled over to the chair to grab the clothes. The Doctor, trying to remain ever the gentleman, turned around to face the other way. Unfortunately, he stood in direct view of her vanity mirrors, which now reflected three angles of the scantily clad brunette. The Time Lord was certain he almost felt his soul leave his body. He was grateful that she hurriedly put on some shorts and an oversized t-shirt.
The next thing he knew, he felt her hands on his shoulders. Before realizing her intent, his Crombie was already pulled halfway down. “Clara!” he squeaked.
“What?” she countered. "You're not getting in my bed with that dirty coat!" she added. Pulling it off the rest of the way, she threw it past him to the vanity chair.
When he turned to face her, she had to suppress a laugh at the way his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. “Oh, relax, would you?” she said, swatting at his chest before pulling at the zip of his hoodie. “I just -" she sighed, slumping her shoulders. She fiddled with the zipper pull, avoiding his gaze.
Her nervous fidgeting stilled when his hand closed lightly over hers. The other applied gentle pressure to her chin, coaxing her to look at him. When he saw her now watery eyes, his brows knitted together with concern. "What is it, Clara?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat, “After everything that’s happened. Time machine or not, Doctor, we don’t know, we can’t.”
“Don’t know what, Clara?” he probed, thumbing at a tear that began rolling down her flushed cheeks.
“How much time we have!” she declared as if it should be obvious. “I don’t want to take any of this for granted. Not one single moment. So, please,” she sniffled, “ just ...don’t leave, not tonight. Not after the amazing day we had.”
The Doctor stood motionless, staring at her with an unreadable expression. It was at that moment she feared that she may have been operating under a false pretense. Had she misread everything that happened at Christmas? Was she projecting all of her feelings onto him without realizing it? ‘Oh God, he doesn’t feel the same way.’ Her heart began to hammer even harder than it had been.
He wished he had the courage to express how much she meant to him, but the words wouldn't come. Action would have to do. With nervous hands he finished unzipping the hoodie, pulling it off, and tossing it to join his coat. Clara's face immediately lit up with a smile that alone was worth it. He stood awkwardly before her, rubbing at his bare forearms. His questioning eyes met hers, unsure of how to proceed, and waiting for a cue.
Clara stepped over to the bed. Lifting the covers, she paused, turning back towards him, “Do you have a favorite side?”
“Ahh... I don’t remember.” He frowned.
Clara chuckled, “How can you not remember?”
The Doctor shrugged, “Because it’s been about a millennium since I’ve shared a bed with anyone.”
Clara did a double-take, staring in disbelief when she realized he wasn't kidding. “You’re serious?”
This wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have, so he maneuvered his way around it. “New body since then anyway.” he shrugged, “So your guess is as good as mine.”
Clara picked up that he didn’t want to talk about it and let it go for now. Climbing in and settling herself, she patted the empty space beside her. He sat down, bouncing a few times to test the firmness - and to stall a bit. Finally, he began to unlace and remove his heavy boots. He called over his shoulder to her, “ Maybe I should-”
“Doctor...” she pressed.
“Yes, Ma'am.” he surrendered. Tucking his long legs under the covers, he settled in beside her. Trying to get comfortable, he fussed with the pillow for a bit.
When he finally settled, Clara scooted down and rolled to lay her head on his chest. One arm stretched out to circle around his waist. Despite his lanky frame, she was surprised to find him quite comfortable to lay on. She wriggled closer, breathing him in, content and a bit shocked that he was allowing this much physical contact. As if on cue, she heard him protest, “I would like to point out that this is a hug.”
She gave him a sleepy chuckle, “No it’s not; we’re lying down.”
“Well, it’s a lying down hug then. It’s hug-adjacent and I’m against it.”
“No, Doctor it’s called a cuddle. Go to sleep.”
“Fine, add ‘cuddling’ to the list then. Besides, you know I don’t sleep.”
“Sure you don’t.” she teased, grinning when she felt his frustrated breath tickle the top of her head.
As they lay there in comfortable silence, Clara felt a warmth spread through her. It felt so right to be here, nestled against him at the end of an adventure.
She decided to take a chance. She could always chalk it up to the alcohol later, after all. She closed her eyes and gave him a light squeeze. “I love you, you know.”
She felt his body go tense against her. He didn’t reply, and of course, she knew he wouldn’t, but that was okay. The way his hearts had jumped from a steady trot to a full-on gallop told her everything.
The Doctor’s mind raced. He didn’t want to say it. Not because it wasn’t true; he had already belonged to her mind, body, and soul when he still wore a bow tie. It was that the simple word, often tossed around so casually, could never encompass the enormity of what he felt for her. He argued with himself internally for a bit. In the end, he concluded that the reciprocation would have to suffice.
“I love you too, Clara Oswald.” he breathed. The Doctor was anticipating quite a reaction and was taken aback when none came. He was about to comment when a loud snore emanated from the tiny human in his arms. His eyes rolled, “Oh, of course.” he grumbled.
“Well, if I’m to be stuck here.” and, he had to admit, this was far from terrible “I suppose I can work on some mental equations." he concluded. Closing his eyes, the Time Lord envisioned a blackboard full of numbers and figures.
************
Clara stirred, startled for a moment by the body wrapped around her before remembering the previous night’s events. She had half-expected him to leave once she was down for the count. She carefully turned around and felt her heart soaring the longer she looked at him. He looked so peaceful and adorable; the disheveled state of his hair and clothes somehow gave him a boyish charm.
She was so tempted to run her fingers through his thick curls but didn’t want to disturb him. Not to mention her bladder was pressing her for relief. She slipped from the bed as easily as she could, tiptoeing across the carpet into the hall.
The Doctor’s eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the room. Seeing the sun poking through the sides of the window shade he realized that he’d actually properly slept. Usually, a catnap was the best he could hope for due to the nightmares that plagued him. Realizing Clara was gone, he touched the space that she had been occupying. Finding it still warm, he gathered she was still somewhere in the house.
Just as he was about to go look for her, he heard the familiar sounds of the bathroom. He let his head fall back against the pillow. Trying to recall, the Doctor couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this...normal. No intergalactic wars, no running, no being shot at, stabbed, or exterminated. Just the Doctor and Clara, together, without a care in the world. He found himself smiling at the thought.
‘Could things be different this time?’ he pondered. ‘Could it not end with some tragedy for once?’ His smile faltered then. He was old enough to know better. It was the very reason he had held her at arm's length since he regenerated. But, after thinking he had lost her for good, he had felt so forlorn. Then, with a smile and a kiss, she had taken his hand and he was alive again.
She had been right in what she said last night. They had to make the most of whatever time they were given. Right now, he just wanted her back in his arms. He heard her coming back and closed his eyes; a ruse to make her think he was still asleep.
Peeking in and seeing him still out cold, she quietly slipped back under the covers. She sidled as close to his side as she dared without potentially waking him. Clara wondered how long the universe would allow her to enjoy this.
She squealed in surprise a moment later when The Doctor suddenly turned and in one swift move had her back pressed against his solid chest. She was certainly not about to complain. That didn’t mean she couldn’t tease him though. “I thought you were against cuddling."
“This isn’t cuddling, it’s spooning. And you know I love a good spoon.” he smirked, amused with himself.
“So, to be clear, this is not on the list then?”
“Shut up." he grumbled softly, nuzzling the back of her neck.
Clara simpered blissfully and closed her eyes.