Clara and the Doctor, co-workers, holiday party, secret crushes. What could possibly go wrong?
And done. I’m sorry you guys.
Clara groans as the sun filters through her bedroom window. Who was the idiot that forgot to close the curtains? She turns onto her side while pulling her blanket up over her head, praying that the room would stop spinning.
“I bring presents.” Amy says from the bedroom doorway. She waves a bottle of paracetamol in one hand; the other holding a mug of tea.
Why is everyone shouting?
“No one is shouting.” Amy places the bottle down on the bedside table and sits herself down on Clara’s bed.
Oh, out loud then.
Clara groans again, lifting the blanket away from her face. She brightens when she sees the tea and makes a “give me” motion with her free hand. Amy laughs and brings the mug over to Clara. “So? How was it?”
“We are not talking about last night. We are never going to mention last night again. I am currently waiting for my grave to open at my feet so I can hurl myself in. My cause of death will be listed as utter and complete mortification.”
Just thinking about last night makes her queasy all over again. How was she ever going to step foot in her office and face him again? Yup, she was going to have to quit.
“That bad?”
“Let’s see, I drank a wee bit too much, got mauled by Craig, was saved by the Doctor, who didn’t seem all that impressed with me, and yup, might have told him that I was really into him.”
“YOU WHAT? HE WHAT?” Amy shrieks, clapping a hand over her mouth at Clara’s wince. “No, no, no, back up. Wait. Back up. Back up. What the hell happened?”
Clara sits up a bit more and reaches for the bottle of paracetamol. She shakes out two tablets and takes them with a sip of her tea. “God, where to even begin? I am not sure I will be able to live through the story again, it was that tragic.”
“Nope, I need every single detail and you better not leave a single thing out.” Amy leans forward; this is going to be good.
With a sigh, Clara lays out everything that had happened from her encounter with the Doctor in the coat check to his “saving her” from Craig’s wandering hands. She tells Amy how the Doctor insisted on driving her home and how she just blurted out the things she had said. It got a bit hazy but she was pretty sure she can recall the look of horror on the Doctor’s face after she spoke.
Amy leans back as Clara buries her face in her free hand, the heat rising from her cheeks. God.
“Okay. Look, I don’t think it was horror-“
“It was!”
“It wasn’t horror, I am sure it was just surprise,” Amy repeats. “Look, you’ve said that the two of you haven’t had a chance to really talk so it was probably just surprise. From what you’ve said, he seems a bit of a loner so it could have just been shock. It would be the last thing he would expect to hear from you.”
“Yes, but now I can’t unsay it. It’s out there, the words just hanging over me and every time I see him I am going to be reminded of what a complete idiot I was. He’s going to be reminded of what a complete idiot I was.” Clara waves her hand in frustration, nearly tipping her mug over.
Amy grabs the mug from her and places it down. “So maybe instead of avoiding it, just face it head on. Go talk to him.”
“Avoiding sounds good, avoiding sounds real good. I think that’s the best plan.” Clara says, nodding her head. “I will just pretend like it never happened. Will just go to work and we’ll all pretend it never happened.”
Amy says, “So you’re not going to talk to him anymore, just gonna ignore him?”
Clara sighes, “I bet he is just going to ignore me anyway. I mean, it’s not as if we were friends. He is going to pretend nothing happened and then I won’t have to.”
Amy stands up, staring down at her friend. “Hey, I think this could be a good thing. You’ve liked him for a while and now he knows how you feel. This could be as good an excuse as any to talk to him. Talk to him about something more than the weather.”
Clara lays back down as Amy leaves, pulling the blanket over her head again.
Yeah, she was going to have to quit. No way was she stepping foot in that building ever again.
++
Clara spends the next day agonizing over what to do. Her gut is telling her that he will likely avoid her, going out of his way to make sure they minimize their contact. He is a noted scientist and professor, she a children’s book editor and what in the world makes her think that he will even want to be friends with her, never mind anything else. She convinces herself that she need not go out of her way to avoid the Doctor, he will do that for her.
So why does the thought of never speaking to him again fill her with so much sadness?
Monday morning arrives too quickly and it is a disaster; it starts to rain a few minutes before she arrives at her building, her tights are laddered and as she races to catch the lift, she slides on a puddle of water causing her to reach out and grab at the nearest body to keep herself upright.
Of course, it was the Doctor. Of course it was. Her humiliation is now complete.
She closes her eyes for a second before removing her hand away from his arm.
“Are you all right?” His voice expresses concern. He reaches his hand to grasp her elbow to help steady her but hesitates, hovering around her instead.
She watches the doors to the lift they missed close before turning to him. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know it was going to rain today. Thanks for the catch.” She leans over and presses the button to recall the lift. A few times in case that makes it arrive faster.
“No problem.” He hesitates, “Did you have a nice weekend?”
Really? Small talk. Can’t he just let her wallow in her humilation in peace?
She opens her mouth to reply but before she can say anything, he turns to face her fully, leaning down close. “Can I…can you….coffee with me this afternoon?” He stumbles over the words and she watches a flush creep up his neck. “If… that’s ok?”
“Uh…” She knows she looks must look like a walking tragedy, eyes wide open but she can’t seem to get the words out. Before she can even gather another breath, the lift arrives, doors sliding open with a soft ping. He steps into the empty lift and calls back to her, “Never mind, sorry. Sorry.”
That catches her attention, “Wait, yes. Yes, Doctor.” She rushes the lift and manages to squeeze in next to him before the doors close. Looking up at him, she smiles, “Yes, I would like that very much.”
++
They had agreed to meet at the coffee shop two blocks down from their building. Clara understood that to mean that he was not interested in having the others in the office speculate why they would be leaving the building together. The day drags on, broken only by Craig approaching her late in the day. He mumbles his apologies about how he had behaved at the party; blaming the alcohol and his own idiocy, careful to avoid mentioning the Doctor. She accepts the apology for what it is but he was still a prat and she makes a mental note to tell Danny that she really doesn’t want to hang with Craig in future.
Finally, she makes her escape and as she steps outside the building, she realizes it had stopped raining and the sun was desperately trying to peak through the clouds.
She decides to take that as a good sign.
The coffee shop was just ahead and Clara slows down, doubtful thoughts starting to creep in. What if he decides not to show? What is she misunderstood why he wanted to talk to her and simply was using this as an excuse to tell her he wasn’t interested? Ugh, what if he saw her as someone with a silly crush and was trying to let her down gently?
She hesitates on the doorstep of the shop, letting the wave of insecurity and embarrassment overwhelm her for a moment.
What if this was a huge mistake?
She almost decides to leave when she sees the Doctor sitting in the corner of the shop, eyes watching her steadily through the window. As if he knew her internal debate. Sighing, she pushes open the door and makes her way over to his table.
“I thought you were going to leave.”
She shrugs, “I almost did.” She nervously twists the rings on her left hand, watching him carefully. He asks if she wants anything to drink and she shakes her head. She issn’t really interested in drinks right now.
“Look, I am s-“
“About Saturd-“
They both start to speak at the same time. He smiles at her, gesturing for her to continue. Her heart gives a little flutter at the smile and she knows she is in deep.
“I just want to say, that I was really hopeful that I could get to know you at the party and I am sorry that it just did not end up working that way at all.” She continues before he can speak up, “I have really just enjoyed the conversations we have had at work and I thought….but when you said no to dinner and then stayed anyway…well, I guess I should have known then.”
He starts at her last sentence and leans back, running a hand over his face. “I really wasn’t going to stay, Clara. I want you to know that. I-I would have liked to…you know…stay. With you. At dinner.”
She smiles and he only stares at her, calm. She feels relaxed for the first time in days, maybe even weeks.
“I was worried about you,” he says. “I mean, I didn’t want you to think that I was so brusque with you after…after you fell because I thought you weren’t capable of taking care of yourself. I was just worried about you.”
She nods and busies herself with a paper napkin on the table, pulling at the ends lightly. He mirrors her gestures, nervously picking first at the black jumper he wears and then his fingers opening long and sweeping over the column of his throat; they move carefully against his skin and she leans closer without realizing it.
His hand drops then, curling his fingers into his palm. “I want to get to know you as well,” he tells her.
If she’s surprised, she doesn’t show it. She turns her gaze away and looks out towards the busy street, watching people pass by on their way to whatever is calling to them. She counts the minutes that the silence stretches between them.
“Why?” She fidgets and blushes. “I mean, we’re so different.”
She sighs, out loud and her hands pile into her lap. She rubs her thumbs around the rings on her fingers. She counts them once, twice, and then looks down as if to make sure they’re still there too. These little games – nuisances, as her grandmother used to call them – are old and friendly, too far from habits and too close to be anything else.
“Aren’t we?” She asks and doesn’t mean too. She’s blushing again when she looks up and takes a tiny peek at him, watching him carefully.
“We’re not so different, you and I.” His eyes widen as Clara leans even closer, trying to absorb every word. “We love books and in the conversations, I have heard you have with Danny, you seem to want to travel and it’s something I have also wanted to do. Also, theater; you mentioned once how much you love theater.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
He’s quiet then, after. She’s briefly reminded of the party and everything that went wrong that evening and can feel the wave of embarrassment curl through her again. Will she ever stop remembering that evening with trepidation? But he is here, telling her, in his own quiet way, that he likes her as well.
And, she could go with that.
“Yeah, maybe we could go to a show some time together.”
He looks at her, genuinely concerned. As if the thought of them doing something together is a concept he is not entirely prepared for.
“Or,” she says quickly. “Not. It’s just that if you wanted to, together. We could and, well.”
He looks at her then, a soft smile curving around his mouth so she smiles back. He reaches his hand forward, hesitates before placing them softly over her hands. He wraps his fingers around hers, gently. The moment stretches between them, long and filled with the beginning of something.
“What?” she looks up at him then, and grabs his wrist gently, prying her fingers away from his. His hand pulls back but she pauses and takes his hand in hers. He doesn’t pull away.
“What?” she asks again.
His mouth opens slowly. It closes. There is this look that she catches from him that speaks to shyness and uncertainty. He leans towards her though, and around them, the shop slows to a murmur and she’s almost wistful, waiting for what’s next.
“Hold still,” he says, and quickly, as if to catch her. He leans closer but she’s confused, watching him.
“What?” A third time.
He says nothing more. It happens so slowly, catching her off guard as he lifts a hand and presses it softly against her cheek, and his fingers start to pull themselves into her hair. He tugs once and twice, and there’s something so utterly genuine about the gesture. It gets her to sigh too. Her lips part and he leans in, ever so carefully, and closes the last gap between them. Clara scarcely has a moment to pull in a breath before his lips touches hers. A whisper of a kiss. So soft and warm and fleeting but then his mouth touches hers again and her eyelids flutters close. They could have been anywhere in the world instead of a quiet coffee shop, that was how quickly the world receded away.
The Doctor’s lips press to hers for another heartbeat and the hand against her cheek trails lightly over the skin, sending shivers up and down her spine. She reaches out to clasp at his jumper, literally clutches at him, trying to hold him to her but he pulls back slowly and blinks at her.
“We can start with dinner, if you want?”
She smiled, breathless and so hopeful; they can work through all the details later but this is all she really wants. A chance to get to know the Doctor better.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
say you love me 