Written for @antennapedia‘s whouffaldi first kiss challenge and set in my Chemistry of Us verse. So angsty and rough. Set in Series 8 and bleeds into Series 9.
at AO3 here.
He doesn’t realize it, or maybe he does, but she lives for
the accidental touches.
The ones that are few and far in between. He flinches away
at her touch, pushes away her hugs.
She’s persistent.
For a time.
It isn’t until she’s abandoned, left behind scared that she
swears it’s over. Swears that she would move on, enough is enough. This craving
inside of her would subside.
She doesn’t ask herself to define that craving.
+
Danny knows better.
They have dinner and she thinks that they might have
laughed, too. Her mood flat and broken by what is missing. He lets her leave
with a kiss and smile and she goes home to her flat.
She stares at the door.
His heart is too wide and she is too hollow.
+
ad·dic·tion:
(–noun) the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that
is psychologically or physically habit-forming.
Let’s explain.
She’s starting again.
+
It’s a night in with Danny, again.
His smile is bright and she flinches, over wine, when clara becomes concern.
And they become a pattern.
She refuses to call it a habit but the truth is, the only
habit she has is lying.
+
“There is no problem,” Clara said, and meets his eyes.
Mistake. Those eyes, bright and level, made her breathing come from deep inside
her. He stood very still as the blood rises in her face, and she said, “I’m
fine,” but it came out faintly, on a breath, and the moment stretched out into
a hot empty eternity before he shakes his head.
“Hell.”
They were always going to meet this way.
He stepped toward her, and something gave inside her and she
met him halfway, in the middle of the Tardis console room, clutching at his
shoulders as he slid his hand around her waist, bumping noses with him as went she
went up on her toes and he bent down, down, down and finally, finally, tasting
him as his mouth found hers.
Clara held on as he kissed her, clutching at his shirt to
bring him closer, and when she broke the kiss, he ran his hands over her,
tracing heat, until she was breathless.
He kisses her again.
For a brief, split second she starts to unravel in second
thoughts and uneasiness. But his mouth is too warm and her hand stretching to
cup his jaw. It doesn’t matter, this or them, but she’s kissing him and he’s
kissing her back. The line, over and over again, screams in her head and she
slides her tongue inside his mouth, a subsequent growl from him skimming
against her lips.
The line.
“What are we doing?” She breathes.
But he’s kissing her again, probably to shut her up. She
can’t help herself and she only wants to press herself closer so she does. His
arm is sliding around her waist and he’s pulling at her. He’s indulging. She’s
indulging. They’re indulging. And it isn’t supposed to be like this. For them.
His teeth tug at her lip and she sighs, pressing her mouth
over his again as his fingers slip under her shirt and sweep over her skin,
leaving chills in their wake. Her head is feeling heavy as her fingers grazes
over his cheek. Her thumb sweeps underneath his chin and the gesture is
suddenly a little too close; he’s breaking away before she realizes it,
breathless and confused.
“I never know which way the wind is blowing with you, Clara,”
his eyes are dark, his gaze hooded.
“Shut up.” But there’s no heat behind her words and she sort
of just relents herself into the moment.
“There’s PE,” he says.
Her eyes darken. “Stop it.”
He leans away from her, releasing his arms and dragging them
to his sides. She already misses him, misses the warmth of his body on hers and
shivers. She’s not sure if her crossed arms were to retain some of the warmth
he had left behind or to brace herself for what she knew was coming next.
But there’s nothing.
He has already moved on, pulling levers and she knows where
they will end up.
+
Has it always been a game? What were the mechanics of the
game? What were the rules?
Who are the players?
Why are they playing?
+
Danny was right.
He was always right and her guilt bears down on her, weighs
her, and threatens to break her.
She misses him keenly.
when the water runs
dry
+
The line.
She crossed it before losing Danny.
Crosses it again when she betrays the Doctor.
Is there a point to the line anymore?
+
She likes the taste of him. He’s been in his scotch. Only a little, since
it’s faint. But it’s him.
His hands are hot on her back, under her sweater. She thinks, yes, and pulls his shirt free (that gorgeous coat already long
gone) so she can slide her hands up his back and touch him, too, making him draw
in his breath and then kiss her harder.
She takes his face in her hands and kisses him again, and he
holds her as if he were never going to let her go, his hands on her everywhere,
kissing her for long minutes until she is dizzy and aching.
“Which way are the winds blowing today, Clara?” His breath is
hot against her face, flushed.
They never seem to move in the direction she needs them to.
Her breath escapes on a sigh.
+
This is dangerous, don’t you know?
When it started, it was about a new way of life, breathing
and passing fancies. She knew then, way way way back then, that it was that and
that alone.
But then this what it is now; thick and binding— god, if
only they weren’t. Is it unnecessarily dangerous to spare and separate herself
from this, she wonders?
But he knows. He always knows. And it frustrates her that
all the men in her life seem to know. But they rotate, here, in these
sentiments.
So it leads them another moment:
“Today?”
There’s a sadness to her smile and maybe she knows.
She watches him as he twists one hand into the other and she
cranes her neck up to look in his eyes. Eyes that wander around the room
aimlessly. Anywhere but at her.
She doesn’t push for an answer.
And then he leans forward, his mouth grazing hers. For a
second.
After a beat:
“No,” he breathes.
+
Now we know the rules of the game:
Teach me to fall. Let me learn to love. The line always
there.
His smile is more smirk. And she knows where they are going.
Finally.
It’s why they play the game, don’t you see?
say you love me 