makemeasong | Open post/meme overflow 💫

[ As soon as she feels him let go, Clara tenses for a single heartbeat, then one more, before she's with him. One hand grips his hair, buried in it while the other clings to his shoulder while they move together. She doesn't want to lose this feeling of him inside of her, not ready for the ache it leaves behind, the coldness and feeling like there's too much space between them.

Four and a half billion years, death, near misses - she's earned the right to be needy, to cling, she thinks. They both have. Shaking in his arms, she chases his lips, unable to truly kiss him as her pleasure ebbs; lingering pulses move through her to him, and it's enough to make her whimper softly.

Once her skin begins to cool, she feels her hearts sync to the beat of the Doctor's, and she presses kisses all along his jaw. Finally, she speaks softly, one word pressed against his mouth while a smile curves her lips. ]

Husband.

Wife. My wife.

[Their completion is like a crescendo, a grand end to a song that is purely theirs. He presses kisses to her forehead, not minding the sweat that mingles with her taste before meeting her lips.

As they're lying there in the afterglow, it dawns on the Doctor that for the first time in a long while there's a sense of calmness in his body. Is that what letting himself be loved feel like? The thought lingers in his mind and transfers to Clara's.]

[ His thought quietly breaks her hearts and she nods, pressing her forehead to his. ]

It should have been like this, always. You never should've forgotten this feeling.

[ She's always had a suspicion that he was starved for love but didn't know how to express it, and that was before she knew he was her husband. ]

It was easier to forget. [To some degree he knows that he kept himself away like this for that very reason. Loneliness might as well have been a companion in and of itself.] It made the loss easier.

Never again.

[ Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. But the words are fierce, and there's complete conviction. She won't ever be parted from him again, she doesn't care what it takes. ]

You can have this again, every day, always. [ Her lips press to his chest, right in between his hearts as she closes her eyes. ]

Never again.

[He takes her hand, the one now wearing the ring, and presses adoring kisses to it all the while thinking he's so lucky that Clara thinks he's deserving enough for her. They remain there cuddling and murmuring to one another before eventually dozing off.

The Doctor isn't certain when he falls asleep, but when he wakes several hours later he shifts to feel for Clara at his side.]

[ Clara's only been awake around twenty minutes. But it's long enough that she's wearing his clothes again from after her shower. Her plan was to do some exploring, just a little, on her way to the kitchen. Then she'd opened a random door in a random corridor and felt her breath catch.

When the Doctor finds her, she's sitting on the floor of a room that has things she's instantly recognized: old toys, favorite blankets, their granddaughter's books. She has a photo album in her lap, quietly looking at each of their children's faces, softly touching the pictures with her fingertips like she can stroke their cheeks again.

She doesn't hear her husband, too lost in memories. ]

[The Doctor's own hearts drop when he finds her. He doesn't come to this room often, if ever. It's too much for him to remember on his own and it's often too much for him to put on the shoulder of his companions. So there it sits, taken care of by the TARDIS ever dutifully.

Of course Clara finds it.

He lingers in the doorway before wandering over to her and sitting down beside her clad in a t-shirt and some black joggers.]

I haven't seen those in a while.

[A while is an understatement.]

[ When he's sitting beside her, she spreads the photo album across both of their laps. Their kids are small, their youngest not even walking yet and they're all sitting in red grass. Clara's caught mid-laugh during a picnic, with the baby in her lap and the other kids sitting around her as they eat. ]

Do you remember this? She asks with a soft smile. I didn't want to go on a picnic that day but you convinced me, and it turned out to be the best day.

I thought that the fresh air would help with the nausea and it turns out I was right.

[Time Lord biology was different from humans, but it seemed that child birth still brought about similar symptoms.]

I had a hell of a time trying to wrangle all the children and get food ready for the picnic.

[ Clara can't help but laugh softly even though her hearts feel like they're breaking. ]

Calliope was barely walking when I was pregnant here. You were so good with them. You were perfect with them.

Arcturus might as well have been. They were kicking in your stomach. [He hates that he can hear her hearts softly crying, and his hand captures the hand on the photo album.]

So were you. All of them were lucky to have you.

[ Lacing their fingers together, she presses herself to his side and keeps looking through the photos with him. These are their babies and though they'd long been adults when they died, it hurts badly to know how it ended. ]

I understand now why you haven't come here in so long. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about them since I remembered everything. I just wanted to see their faces again.

[ Her voice cracks and she lets her head rest on his shoulder, taking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. ]

You loved them so much. With every ounce of yourself.

[He uses his other arm to pull her close and rests his own head on hers. His own voice is hoarse as he speaks, memories of all their children rushing back. They'd had ten all together, three of their own and then seven that they had adopted. Whether they were biological or adopted though made no difference to them. They had loved them all fiercely and dearly.

His voice is remorseful when he speaks next. Sorrowful even.]

I'm sorry.

So am I.

[ She whispers the words and sniffles. She'd lost track of Susan at the end, her hand slipping right out of her granddaughter's grasp. It's the last thing Clara can remember about that life, and she can't even bring herself to tell the Doctor, she hasn't forgiven herself for it. ]

We can remember them today. But they wouldn't want us to be sitting here in puddles, either.

You're right they'd make fun of us because most of them took after our sense of humour.

[He tries to bring up her mood slightly even if he feels like his own hearts tightening. It was an absolute nightmare living in a household full of people that constantly roasted each other and by nightmare, the Doctor definitely meant a joy.]

[ She laughs softly and wipes at her eyes with her free hand. ]

We made a damn good team. Still do. We weren't supposed to want any of this, we were supposed to be above this sort of life. But we were always the different ones.

Why do you think I stole you away from the President? [He asks with a bit of a cheeky smirk.] There was no way anyone that knew the real you thought you two were a proper match.

[ She wrinkles her nose a little. ] I can't imagine still being married to him. You stole me away and I never looked back. Never wanted to, you were far too handsome to walk away from.

And dashing. And confident enough to do it. Don't forget that. [He hums slightly though thinking back to their early days of their relationship and eventually leading up to that time.] Although it was definitely a bit of a gamble. I still wasn't sure if you wanted to slap me sometimes.

[ Somehow he always makes her laugh, he's good at that, and she laughs now. ]

Oh, jury's still out. Still could happen. Sleep with one eye open, dear.

[He gasps in mock terror before dissolving into his own laughter, pulling her close to kiss her lightly.]

One of these days you're going to slap me so hard that I regenerate.

[It had happened before to an old classmate of theirs and they had never let him live it down.]

[ That makes her laugh louder, right against his mouth, sadness forgotten for the moment. ]

Do you remember- [ She barely gets it out before she's laughing again, knowing he does and pressing her forehead to his shoulder as shakes with it. It's better than crying and she hasn't remembered this in centuries. ]

The sound of that slap. It echoed.

[Remembering the sad times is so easy and more of a vortex that is hard for him to crawl out of. It's why he doesn't want to remember most of the time. It's why he runs.

But the person he wants to run to is here beside him, so there's nothing left to do but reminisce about the good times they'd had too. And if he's being honest Clara laughing is better than her tears. Soon enough his laugh is mingling with hers.]

Honestly he deserved it. He was being such a bampot, thinking he could get away with teasing her like that.

[ Her forehead comes to rest against his temple for a brief moment before she moves the album off of her lap and stands, reaching out for his hands to help him up, though it's more symbolic than anything. She'd topple over trying to actually lift his weight.

But she takes his hand once they're standing and walks out of the room with him, closing the door gently. She wants to do something with all of their memories, but for now, it's time to do what they always do. ]

Let's go. Anywhere. Tell the TARDIS to take us anywhere there's a distress beacon. It's what we do.

[ Clara smiles, the words last spoken to him on a Russian submarine. ]

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