A/N: Just a little fluffy AU for you to enjoy. Jealous!Clara. Hope you like, leave a review if you do! Prompts most welcome.


In which Clara Oswald does not need to be tall or leggy or blonde in order to be perfect to the Doctor.

The cold November wind attacks Clara's neck in bitter gusts, automatically making her wrap the scarf she has tied round her neck a little tighter. It really is too cold to be stood outside and she's pretty sure that her fingers have been savaged by frost-bite within her gloves; but the Rose and Crown football team played in any and all weathers and a bit of cold was not going to deter them. The Doctor had been adamant that the match against the Caliburn Arms was to go ahead even if a tornado ripped through their town and destroyed the sports field.

The Doctor took football matches very seriously- to Clara's disappointment as to be honest, she couldn't find the sport more boring. But she had no choice but to go and support him on this particular match as it was one of the only to be played at home and not away, and she wasn't busy so she didn't really have an excuse.

She did decline when he tried to make her hold a sign for him, though. She also declined his idea of a cheerleading outfit- she wasn't that easy, for God's sake. But he was her boyfriend and she was sure he's support her in something she loved is the roles were reversed, so she reluctantly accepted facing the icy cold winter weather in favour of watching him run around like a mad idiot in a pair of maroon football shorts.

The match hasn't even begun yet and her feet have already frozen in her ankle boots and she can feel her ears gradually numbing. She knew she should've brought a hat. The Doctor had. He didn't like having a bare head in the winter and he had a sort of odd obsession for hats; the house was full of them. Some awful and tacky like the sombrero he picked up at the Mexican restaurant in town or the fez he 'borrowed' from the History museum, or that Stetson which she, secretly, liked… Too many, really, but she didn't have the heart to throw them away. The hats had become part of the house.

"Mum!" Clara hears Melody, the daughter of her best friend Amy Pond, whine to her mother from next to her, "I'm bored!"

Amy rolls her eyes at Clara, who just about manages to stifle a giggle. "Look, Mel, the match will start in a minute. You can see daddy play."

Melody pouts. For five years old, she really was one of the moodiest and cheekiest human beings Clara had has the pleasure of coming across; and Clara worked with five year olds for a living. "But daddy is rubbish!" Mel turns her attentions to Clara and grins a little, toothy grin, "The Doctor is much better."

Clara laughs and ruffles Mel's hair. "You should support your dad more."

"No, no," Amy intervenes, "She's right. Rory is horrendous at football."

Clara shakes her head. Amy Pond really is the bluntest woman she's ever met- no wonder her daughter was much the same. "Fine. But do not go telling the Doctor that, Mel, as he'll grow a head as big as the sky. You'll need a hot air balloon to go and talk to him, it'll be that big."

Melody scrunches up her little face. "That's silly. And impossible. Like the Doctor. You two are made for each other," she pauses for a second. "Can I be head bridesmaid?"

Amy gasps from beside her. "Melody! Watch your tongue!" she shakes her head at Clara and her brow furrows, "It's me whose head bridesmaid, right?"

They're both as bad as each other. She has no idea how Rory copes with them. "Nobody is head bridesmaid. We aren't even engaged. Doubt we ever will be."

Amy scoffs. "Don't be stupid. It's you and the Doctor."

Clara's about to ask what exactly that means, but their conversation is interrupted as from the small changing room facility out pops the Rose and Crown football team in maroon and the Caliburn Arms in dark green. The audience, standing on the perimeter, begin clapping and cheering for their boys- Amy pulling Melody onto her shoulders so she can see Rory better and Clara peering on her tip-toes to see if she can see the Doctor. Of course, he catches her eye straight away in his maroon and yellow bobble hat (it's a Gryffindor hat but he tries to make it a football thing) and the massive grin constantly on his face. His eyes dance around the crowd, trying to pinpoint Clara, and she waves in hope that he'll spot her.

His eyes light up and he gives her a thumbs up. She returns the gesture with a grin.

"Oh. You two are so married." Amy says conclusively to Clara while still waving at Rory. "Don't even try denying it, Oswald. Everyone can see it."

Clara tries to hide the blush taking over her cheeks. She isn't one to usually get embarrassed by brash comments like that, especially not from Amy, but… She doesn't even know. She rubs her hands together in hope to get some warmth in them.

Her ears prick up when she hears the chant of 'Doctor!' from somewhere across the football field; and her eyes catch onto that of a young, blonde woman in red in the corner. She's waving wildly, shouting his name, trying to grab his attention. She eventually does, and the Doctor tips his head in her direction.

Suspicious, Clara nudges Amy. "Who's that?"

Amy frowns, pulling Mel off her shoulders. She doesn't notice that Mel has run off onto the pitch with the sole attention of embarrassing her dad in the most humiliating way possible. Clara's issues are way more important than whether or not Melody was going to pull her father's shorts down. "Who's who?"

Clara tips her head in the direction of the over-enthusiastic blonde woman, in hope to not make it so obvious that they're looking at her. "Her. That woman over there. The blonde one."

Amy smiles with recognition, before easing her lips into a frown. "Never seen her around before. Looks like the Doctor has his own personal cheerleader, though. Maybe he hired her after you refused to hold that sign."

"She isn't even holding a sign." Clara grumbles, "She's just cheering for him."

Amy lets out a laugh. She elbows Clara lightly and playfully, making her scowl deepen. "Are you jealous? Are you jealous of the mysterious blonde woman who seems to support your boyfriend more than you do?"

"No!" Clara replies, maybe a little too fast; making Amy laugh even more. "No! She's just… A friend. That's all. A friend that I don't know…"

"God, Clara, you're so paranoid." Amy taunts- too busy evaluating the woman to realise that Melody has latched herself onto Rory's leg and won't let go. "Anyone but her knows the Doctor is absolutely smitten with you. I wouldn't worry about any funny business between him and another woman."

"I'm not worrying." Clara smiles, even though there's the teeniest, tiniest part of her that knows that the Mysterious Blonde is taller, bustier, blonder and prettier than she is…

"Good." Amy smiles back, but is distracted when a demented call of her name emerges from the pitch where both teams are warming up.


Amy gives Clara a quick eye roll before running onto the pitch herself, gripping her daughter by the waist and pulling her away from her father. "What did I say, Melody? Only do that when we are in the house!"

The Doctor, sensing some distraction, jogs away from the warm-up and down to where Clara is standing with a grin on his face. "That girl is a terror."

Clara snorts, folding her arms. "Terror is Melody Pond's middle name."

"I wasn't talking about Melody," the Doctor's head looks back to where Rory is struggling to fight off both Melody and Amy, "She's a hoot. I was talking about Amy."

"Of course," Clara nods. She shivers, the cold hitting again. "When are you going to start? I'm freezing."

The Doctor instantly looks concerned. He hates to see Clara in any sort of discomfort at any point: he feels it his duty to protect her in any way possible. His hands reach for his head, where his Gryffindor hat is placed over his effortlessly perfect quiff. He pulls it off from the bobble and places it on Clara's head, pulling it over her ears.

"Not long now," his tongue pokes out with concentration as he adjusts the hat so it's perfectly over her ears and her brown hair is sitting on her shoulders. "Then the guys want to go for a drink after. The guys? The gang. The comrades. Whatever. Could possibly be celebratory seeing as I've calculated the odds of us winning to be seventy-six to twenty-four, but you never know. You want to come?"

"Any excuse to show me off, eh?" she smiles coyly, tucking her hand beneath his elbow. She loves the way he tries to hide his blush. "Of course I'll come."

"Good!" he grins, "Then, afterwards, I suggest we go home, take a bath, and go straight to bed…"

She giggles, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know, there is such a thing as too keen."

"There is never such a thing as too keen, Clara Oswald," he then frowns, "Unless the other party isn't as keen as you are. Then there is definitely such a thing as too keen. Very, very bad. I do not condone that sort of behaviour, of course- but, that doesn't apply to us, because you are very much as keen as I am Clara, you just try to hide it. For some reason."

She smiles at him, because he's caught her out. His hand cups the back of her cold neck, and he's about to lean in and kiss her when-


To Clara's disappointment, his head jerks backwards and of course, it's that bloody blonde woman who Clara had pretty much forgotten about until right now. The Doctor waves over at her and Blonde waves back- and it's only now that Clara's realised that she has a hint of a French accent in her voice.

Oh. So she was French, too.

He cups Clara's cheek briefly. "I'll just be a minute. Got to go and talk to someone and I'll be right back, if the whistle hasn't gone."

She grabs on his elbow, pulls him back. The woman is waiting eagerly. "Who is that?"

"A friend from work. She's new to the area. I've just been helping her out a bit, and I told her I played football here and she was interested. I should really go and speak to her, Clara."

He's been helping her out? "How come you never told me about her?"

He shrugs. "Didn't seem important. Still isn't. I'll literally be a second."

She's about to call out for him again, but he's already jogged halfway across the pitch to the woman (whom she still does not know the name of). He says it's not important, but the way the blonde looks up into his eyes makes her heart hurt a little. It's like the way she looks into his eyes. She admits, the Doctor is very handsome. He's funny, he's hilarious, he's perfect in every way for her- and she doesn't mind that he has a female friend, not at all. But the way Blonde's hand just keeps 'accidentally' brushing against the Doctor's and the effortless giggle which makes her look even more beautiful than she already is…

Why would the Doctor still want her, when a beautiful French blonde woman was giving him the signals and he wasn't pushing them away? He could just be being oblivious, but… She can't stop the lump in the back of her throat forming.

She's never felt 'not good enough' before.


"Dad! You're pathetic!" Melody taunts from the sidelines, "Get off the floor! What are you doing on the floor? Get off the floor!"

"Yeah, Rory! Listen to your daughter!" Amy yells, backing up Mel. Poor Rory scrambles up from the mud with the biggest scowl on his face, the rest of the team laughing and clapping him on the back. He scowls at his family but smiles at Clara, who tries her best to smile back.

There's about three minutes left of the game. Rose and Crown are winning three points to one, and it looks as if they're going to win overall. The Doctor scored two of the three goals, each time running over to Clara and picking her up, swinging her round- but he always gave a sneaky smile to Blonde too.

The Doctor had never made Clara feel so insecure about herself before. It was as if the as the game went on, she began listing the things that Blonde had and she hadn't. How he would be so much better off with Blonde than with herself. Part of her knew this was paranoia- but who wouldn't choose a tall, leggy blonde over a tiny brunette?

The game ends and Rose and Crown win. The whole team is ecstatic, including Amy and Mel, who run onto the pitch and hug Rory even though they were heckling him moments before. The Doctor is the man of the moment and of course, he runs off the pitch to celebrate the victory with the only one that matters- Clara.

He pulls her into an endorphin-induced hug, kissing her head messily. She smiles back, but he can see the sadness in it.

"What's wrong?" he asks sceptically. "Are you alright?"

She wriggles out of his grip. "Maybe you should go over to your Blonde, now."

"Reinette?" his brow furrows, "Why?"

"She's waiting for you." Clara admits and surely, she is. She's grinning wildly and clapping her hands. "You know what? I think I'll just go home. Take Reinette out for a drink. I'm sure she'll enjoy your company."

The Doctor looks back at Reinette then back at Clara, who is just about walking away. "Why would I rather go out with Reinette than you, Clara? I'm pretty sure you're the girl I as of present call my girlfriend. And the one who I asked earlier whether she wanted to go out for drinks."

Clara shakes her head. "That's not the point and you know it isn't. Just look at her, Doctor. She's beautiful and tall and blonde and…"

"Hey, hey…" he frowns, tipping his finger under her chin so she's forced to look into his eyes. "Is that what you think? That you're inadequate?"

"It's obvious, isn't it? I can never compare to someone like her. I'll always be a few inches too small or have a face that doesn't fit the golden ratio. Whereas she… She's perfect!"

"No, Clara," he says, "You're perfect! You are the only girl in the whole universe I've ever thought that of. You're perfect in every way for me. Reinette- she's lovely, but she's my friend, Clara. Nothing more. You're the one I love. And don't you dare think otherwise."

And, right on the edge of the football pitch in the freezing cold, the Doctor leans down and presses his lips passionately against hers. Their mouths collide lustfully, but there's a love that's deeper than either of them imagined behind the contact. It makes Clara's heart skip ever so slightly and she kisses him with her whole body and her hands skim through his hair and the cold doesn't even bother them. If anything, the heat on their lips is making them feel that it's not so chilly outside and the warmth of their embrace confirms that.

They let go and it looks like the whole football team has been watching. There's a round of applause and while the Doctor blushes, Clara laughs. He has his arm wrapped tightly round her shoulders and when she notices, from the other side of the pitch, that Reinette is clapping and laughing too- she realises she couldn't have been more wrong.

How could she ever have thought that the Doctor would choose anyone over her? He'd made her apprehend when they'd first met that he didn't want to spend time with anyone but her- no beautiful supermodels, no super-intelligent scientists, no hilarious comediennes.

Just Clara.

From the middle of the pitch, Amy sighs, linking her arm through her husbands. "I will be seriously disappointed if I don't see a proposal by this time next year. It's hard to believe we used to be like that, Rory. So hopelessly in love."

Rory's brow furrows. "We're still 'hopelessly in love', right?"

Amy ponders this for a minute. Her eyes settle on Mel, who is hassling the team's manager, Wilfred Mott, with a number of questions he's probably not sure how a five year old could come up with them. "Nah. I think we're just hopeless."

Rory's about to protest, but actually, Amy's right. She's always right. "Fair enough."