Chapter Text
No. She shouldn't. She couldn't. She absolutely one hundered percent wouldn't allow herself to begin to feel or even think that way. She couldn't think about his wonderfully lanky figure, or his ancient eyes, or that ridiculous, yet strangely attractive, bowtie. Shut up! Her mind was reeling, thoughts racing a mile a minute; and all of them were about him. Trying, unsuccessfully, to clear her head, Clara Oswald nearly began to bash her head against the T.A.R.D.I.S. console in an effort to calm her hyperactive thoughts. She was bracing her forehead for impact when he strolled in from somewhere deep in the T.A.R.D.I.S. Damn.
As he strode into the control room, the Doctor witnessed one of the stranger things he'd seen throughout all of his travels; a stressed Clara Oswald nearly banging her head against the control panel. He quickly rushed to her and grasped her from behind, wrapping up her small frame and encasing it in his. "Clara, what areyou doing?" he questioned incredulously. As he stood there holding her, his thoughts began to drift. No. He shouldn't. He couldn't. He absolutely one hundred percent wouldn't allow himself to begin to feel or even think that way. He couldn't think about how good it felt to hold her in his arms, or her adorable little nose, or how clever she was or... Shutup!
"Clara I wish you would just tell me what's wrong!" he exclaimed frustratedly. He had been trying, and failing, to coax what was wrong out of her for what seemed like forever. It had been about two minutes. "Doctor! I'm fine." she calmly stated. He cocked his head quizzically, analyzing her tone to make sure what she said was true. He seemed to accept it and shrugged his shoulders, working his way over to one of the plush chairs set around the console. "If you're sure you're alright, I'll drop it." He smiled. "You can tell me anything, you know." he said sincerely. A small smile broke across Clara's face. "Ya." She shrugged the question off quickly, trying not to convey what was going on in her head. God he is so sweet. He's so... perfect. No!She quickly broke away from those thoughts and snapped back to reality. She had to stop thinking about him. But how could she unfall in love?
It had been nearly three hours since the Doctor had last seen Clara. After their slightly awkward encounter, she had excused herself to the kitchen. The Doctor knew better than to disturb her when she was baking her soufflés, but it was now nearly midnight T.A.R.D.I.S. time. He didn't need sleep, but he'd had enough companions to know overtiredness could really put a damper on future adventures. In an effort to prevent any possible tantrums or arguments as a result of lack of sleep, the Doctor made his way to the kitchen to notify Clara of the late time. He gently knocked on the door and carefully slid it open. "Clara? Clara do you know what time it is? It's getting late, you need your rest." The Doctor received no response. As he entered the room, he began to scan for Clara, wondering where she'd gone off too. His eyes rested upon her sleeping figure, her head on an open cookbook on the counter. A smile broke across his face; she was perfect when she slept. She had a serene look on her face, and her chest rose and fell steadily. Rather than wake her from her peaceful slumber, the Doctor felt it best to let her sleep and carry her to her room. Quietly padding to where she was laying, he took a minute to absorb the moment. He never wanted to forget how she looked at that particular point in time. Gently pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he swept her up bridal style and hugged her close to his chest. She was light in his powerful arms, and he had no trouble carrying her towards her room. As they were approaching her hallway however, Clara stirred and groggily opened her eyes. "How did I..." she murmured softly. "We're going to bed." he replied. Clara smirked and began to drift to sleep once more. "Are we now, Chin Boy?" she cheekily answered. Flustered, the Doctor nearly dropped her. "Not what I meant!" "Mhm." Her last act before once more entering a deep sleep was to shakily reach up and straighten his bowtie. She then lowered her arms and rolled in tighter towards the Doctor's chest. Gripping her tightly he carried her to her room, and only let go when she was safely tucked into her bed. Pressing another soft kiss to her forehead, he backed away towards her door. Just before he left, he shot a fleeting glance at her silhouette curled up in the bed. Goodnight my beautiful, maddening, impossible girl. He readjusted his bowtie once more and... his bow tie.
The next morning, Clara awoke to the ever so familiar sound of the Doctor tinkering away at the T.A.R.D.I.S. Gripped tightly in her hand was the Doctor's favorite bowtie.