So my friends got me into the Doctor Who fandom. And, unfortunately, they didn't warn me of the dangers. I.e. the feels! OH GOD THE FEELS!; the incredible hotness of Matt Smith; the unbearable cliffhangers and long hiatuses (JOHN FREAKING HURT!); and the irrepressible urge to write fanfiction about your otp. Mine being Whouffle!
So anyway, here is my one shot. I would love some more ideas for whouffle one shots if you can leave them in a review. Enjoy my little whovians!
"Prove you're you." Clara says, studying the Doctor's face. "Tell me something only the Doctor would know."
The Doctor sneaks a sly look up at her, one that Clara returns with a suspicious smirk.
"Clara. I-I suppose I'm the only one who knows how I... Feel about you right now."
Clara's chest tightens, she did not expect this. She never wanted it to come to this. She had hoped to completely any possibility of this situation from her mind.
It can't be true. No. Definitely not.
However much she may wish it.
"How funny you are," the Doctor, or Cyberplanner, continues. "So funny. How pretty."
The little quirk of a smile spreads across Clara's face before she can register the little tingling sensation in he stomach.
No, she scolds herself. No. Keep the emotions locked up inside, like you always do. Hide them behind the teasing flirting and easy smile. Don't get close to anyone. Because no one stays forever, especially not mad time traveling aliens that are a thousand years old. No matter how caring and devoted they seem.
Nobody stays forever. Her mother, or her lack of one, taught her that.
Besides, this can't be the Doctor. The Doctor she knew, who hid all his deepest thoughts and emotions beneath an outer shell of silly bow-ties and playful adventure, would never confess to something such as this.
"And I'm starting to like you in a way that's more than just-"
Before he can go any further, Clara brings up her hand and slaps him across the face.
"It's me!" the Doctor shouts. "That hurt! How did you know that was him?"
Clara composes herself to answer.
"Because, even if that were true, which it is...obviously, not," she narrows her eyes to study him. "I know you well enough to know that you would rather die than say it."
The Doctor appears satisfied with that answer, although Clara herself still slaps herself mentally for ever believing that it could be true.
Hide it, Clara. Do the trick.
There is the Doctor, the real Doctor. Not the Cyberplanner. Her Doctor.
"Do you think I'm pretty?"
The words blurt from her uncontrollably, voicing her troubled thoughts.
For didn't the Cybermen feel no emotions? Weren't they unable to process human feelings, like love? And didn't the Cyberplanner have access to the Doctor's thoughts, could he have taken those emotions right from his head?
"No," the Doctor replies, his eyes skittering the floor, avoiding her. "You're too short and bossy and your nose is all funny."
Clara buries her thoughts deep down and shrugs. "Good enough," she says lightly before beginning to untie his bonds.
Stupid, stupid, stupid Clara. Do the trick. Don't let it show.
"You don't have to be alone," Clara assures Porridge, or the Emperor, now. Because he doesn't, no one should be alone. Not emperors, not even god-knows-how-old time traveling aliens.
"You're right." Porridge turns and bends his knee, looking at Clara. "Clara," he says. "Will you marry me?"
A thousand thoughts rush through Clara's head at once, not the least of which noting the wide eyes expression on the Doctor's face.
"What?" is all she can manage.
"She said-" Artie starts.
"She heard what she said." remarks Angie, and Clara can hear the amusement in her voice.
"You're smart, you're beautiful, and- I've never met anyone like you before. Being emperor won't be as hard with you by my side. And you'd rule a thousand galaxies."
Before Clara can even think about responding, the Doctor pops up beside Porridge.
"This sounds like an actual marriage proposal. Tricky. Now, if you want my advice-"
"You. Not one word. This is between me and the," she nods at Porridge awkwardly, still unable to believe that an emperor just proposed to her, "emperor."
The Doctor screws up his faces and waves his arms huffily. His eyes however, are fierce and deep, with an odd expression in them. Sometimes Clara sees a little of herself in the Doctor, where he seems to be hiding his true emotions under a silly remark or expression.
"Porridge," Clara continues, pondering the politest way to run down his proposal. "I don't want to rule a thousand galaxies." she says regretfully.
Clara sees the Doctor give her a repressed little smile and a glum thumbs up, but she thinks, deep in his eyes, she sees relief.
"Oh, silly ol' me." The shame in his voice is evident.
"I'm really sorry."
"But that's stupid," Angie argues. "You could be queen of the universe. How could you say no to that? When someone asks you to be queen of the universe, you say yes."
Clara smiles. Of course Angie would say that. But Angie hasn't been traveling through time on her off days, Angie hasn't been adventuring with the Doctor. Why rule a thousand galaxies, when you can delight in billions more?
And, of course, there is the slight little chance that she may already be in love with someone else. By accident, of course. And only sometimes. When she forgets.
Angie and Artie run out the doors of the TARDIS, back the Maitland home.
"Thanks Clara's boyfriend!"
Clara smiles as she leans against the console next to the Doctor, doing an internal eyebrow raise when he doesn't even attempt to argue with Artie's description of him.
She sneaks a little glance at him out of the corner of her eye before springing to the door of the TARDIS.
"See you next Wednesday!" Clara calls back.
"Well, a Wednesday, definitely." she hears him reply as the door swings shut. "Next Wednesday, last Wednesday, one of the Wednesdays."
As the TARDIS dematerialises with its distinctive wheezing noise, Clara watches the space it occupied with an involuntary smile.
Next Wednesday. Another adventure with the Doctor.
She skips inside the house where Angie and Artie are waiting, the light feeling in her chest showing upon her face, but she can't bring herself to stop it.
Clara makes sure the kids are all set with their stories to tell their father. She double checks with Artie about every detail of the science museum they supposedly visited, down to the flavor of ice cream he had, as he is known for letting secrets slip.
She takes the stairs up to her little room, slinging her satchel over the chair and collapsing in the bed. She is still smiling.
Her eyes fall upon the bed side table, where a familiar book lies open to the inside cover. 101 Places to See. Her mother's name is written in a child's hand, the ink smudged a little down the page by the track of a tear.
Clara jerks up. No, she tells herself. Stop.
She's told herself a million times, but can feel herself failing.
Do the trick, Clara. Nobody stays forever. Especially not people like him. Not crazy Time Lords from halfway across the universe with shards of ice in their hearts and the entirety of time and space at their fingertips.
Do the trick. Don't fall in love.
Hope you liked it! Please leave a review for virtual jammy dodgers!