makemeasong | Open post/meme overflow 💫

It's rubbish.

[But bossy, yes, that's her Clara. It had been one of the things that she'd always liked about her, the fact that once her mind was set to something, there would be no moving her unless she chose to be moved.

She's always liked that smile though, that playful grin that made her eyes shine something wicked, that softer expression she's wearing just now that had a way of catching the Doctor's hearts into a series of tripping over themselves.]

Lots of running still, to trouble. From trouble.

[The usual really. A tilt of her head, and she reaches beneath her coat to hook into the bright yellow suspenders.] Thought you might have a comment about the braces at least.

[ Clara laughs, naturally gravitating into the Doctor's orbit, enroaching on her personal space. She feels like she's still testing it out; she's gotten quite good at making sure the Doctor sees her coming, it's habit now. ]

Your braces are about level with your bowties. And I liked those. A lot, actually. [ Every now and then, they were an excuse to step close and look up at him, fixing his bowtie when more often than not, it didn't need fixing. ]

I took one. Before you figured out your new sense of style, you hated the bowties so much, thought you might toss them into the time vortex. I knicked one, kept it at home where I could see it.

[Clara is close, but this is not something to complain about. It's distracting though, has always been a little distracting if she's being honest with herself -- not something she always chooses to be lately.

It's her turn to laugh.] I'm fond of the bowties again. Styles change.

[There is a certain brightness to her now, a renewed wonder at the world around her in general. Oh there's that deep sadness, running fast and deceptively deep and dangerous as the Bolton Strid for the way she keeps it tucked beneath easy cheer and excitement.]

I'm glad you kept it. And I'm glad you stayed. I don't remember if I ever really said that properly. Think you saved me from myself. More than once. [More than twice. More times than she really can count.]

[ Right away, Clara files that laugh away as magic, one of the best sounds she's ever heard. It makes her smile with dimples on display.

Until it dims a little. She hates thinking about that time, the very beginning. That phone call shredded her heart to pieces and then everything was taken away from her at once: reassurance, kind smiles, hugs. Even grabbing his hand wasn't allowed. It hurt and she tried, tried to hide it, tried to sink into Danny.

What a mess it all was. But now she can reach out, tactile as ever, so she does. Taking her hand, Clara keeps her eyes trained on the Doctor's. ]

That's what I do. It's what I was born to do, and it's what I want to do.

[ Clara knows that's something she doesn't like, but it's already done, echoes scattered. ]

[It was a hard time for the both of them. She'd been so lost in who she was and who she would be after the way the former her had found his end. And oh her Clara, the one stable bright spot left in a world that had been turned on end, who she'd -- he'd, then -- needed so desperately, but hadn't known the shape that should take. Could take.

This is easier, even after the heartache of losing Clara, trying to get her back before losing even the memory of her, left only with a void that was unmistakable but fillable until her memory was restored.

The Doctor's hand shifts, and for a moment it might seem like she intends on pulling it from Clara's hold. But it's just the opposite, the little movement meant to lace their fingers together, only to squeeze reflexively at those words.]

You were born for so much more than that, Clara.

Maybe I was.

[ Clara will allow that, a small victory for her Doctor. ]

But then you showed me the stars. You took me to galaxies and planets, times and places I'd never even dreamed of. The second you stood at my door in that ridiculous monk outfit—[ She allows herself to smile, then steps even closer, continuing with a softened voice ]—you changed everything about who I thought I was.

[ Clara's got no clue how loaded this conversations, but she means it. ]

Made me feel braver too, than I thought I could be.

[The words strike like blows, and Clara doesn't know. Clara can't know just how dangerous all those things were. She tries to keep it out of her expression, tries to keep the smile from faltering.

It's a little easier with Clara being here, smiling at her.]

Too brave sometimes. [She admits, trying to keep the rueful tone from her voice.]

You changed who I was too. For the better.

[ It's there and gone again, something in the Doctor's eyes that causes that same knot to twist in her stomach. But it's gone so quickly there's no time for Clara to react. Instead, she smile so hard her dimples could hold water. She's glowing at the Doctor's words. ]

I did?

[ Sometimes, it's hard for Clara to believe she could mean more to the Doctor than others who were companions before her. Who was she, but a sad girl from Blackpool when she went on her first adventure? Who was she, to change the Doctor at all? ]

I find that hard to believe. [ But she's still grinning, more than pleased. ]

Do you really?

[There's genuine surprise in her voice now. Fact is, everyone she's known and loved have changed her, handprints on her hearts that shape the way they beat. Some have struck deeper, and if the way that everything in her wants to leans closer in the wake of that beautiful smile is any indication, Clara Oswald has pierced straight to the core of her.]

[ It's still an odd feeling to be able to look right into the Doctor's eyes without standing on tiptoes, but Clara finds that she likes it, and she studies her intently. There's so much hanging at the end of that question, an opening that Clara should have enough bravery to lean into.

Even now, though, she's afraid of losing her best friend because she's said something that's too much. The happiness at hearing the words doesn't falter on her face, but her words do. ]

I—I dunno, I figured I was just as or equally important as anyone else you asked to travel with you. I think you have a type.

[ It's a gentle tease while confirming she doesn't know quite how her role in the Doctor's life changed it, other than that time she jumped into the time stream. But she's told herself anyone would, any person that's wanted to be with the Doctor would've done the same.

But there's a tiny part of her that always hoped the Doctor would've seen it for what it was: the grandest gesture of love she could think of without actually saying the words.

Yes, parts of the universe were blinking out of existence, and that mattered, but she can't pretend it wasn't selfish. ]

[Clara is not wrong about her having a type. And it's such a tragic type really, too brave and too kind, a combination that so often is the reason she loses them. Clara is no exception to that. If anything, she's the pinnacle of it.]

Maybe there's just a certain type who's mad enough to come along with a mad man... woman... with a box.

[It's a gentle teasing right back. The Doctor is the one to reach out this time, her free hand seeking out Clara's, feeling a bit at drift and hoping that the additional touch would be grounding. She lives in the whirl of every timeline at her fingertips, flung in and out of time by her own choice and the TARDIS' whims, and somehow in this moment, looking into those beautiful eyes, she can't tell which was is forward.

Sometimes truths are hard, especially the personal ones. Clara deserves better though.]

You're special, Clara. If I never made that clear, then that's my fault. I should have.

[ The Doctor said it, never in words. She knows there was pride, she knows there was affection. On some level, yes, she knew she was special. When the Doctor takes her hand, Clara reaches with her free hand to press her palm against her cheek. ]

You made me feel special. Always have done.

[ Studying her eyes, Clara lets herself sink into them, feeling the pull of words she should've said, words she's still trying to figure out how to say in her own timeline. If she isn't with the Doctor in her timeline now, maybe she never has the chance to say it. Maybe she should be clear, right now, here. Another chance. ]

Did you—do you know how I feel about you?

[Thats reassurance there. The Doctor knows she's complicated, difficult in so many ways. Through all her various regenerations that's always been true. She loves, oh she loves, but she struggles to ever let her walls fall completely even when by all rights someone deserves it. Pain and its memory are funny sentries in that, guarding so fiercely places already broken and scarred. But at least Clara knows she's special to her; that's something.

The hand at her cheek is warm, soft, and she turns every so slightly towards it, the near imperceptible shift of a flower angling towards the sun.

She considers the next question, and it feels like a dangerous one somehow.]

Fond? Exasperated? On my best days, both at once.

[It's a light answer, the usual dodge. But there is something in those ancient eyes as they meet Clara's gaze that desperately wants to hear the real answer.]

[ Clara's soft laugh comes with a fond stroke of her thumb over the Doctor's cheek. ]

Yup. Exactly, that's it.

[ That could be that, this is her chance to be too frightened to say the words again. But instead, Clara pushes forward, fueled by her fear of never saying it at all. Why is it so hard? Why won't the words just come? They won't, so she pushes her body into action and after another beat of her heart, leans in and lets her lips graze the Doctor's.

Even if this is all, at least she knows how Clara really feels, how she's felt since two faces back. ]

Thought so.

[Smug at being right and ready for that to be the escape route from any truer answer, the Doctor isn't expecting Clara to lean closer.

She isn't expecting those lips on hers, soft as starlight. She can feel her breath catch, feel her hearts skip. She should let it be no more than this. It would be safer, for the both of them that way, but it's Clara -- her Clara -- and instead she finds herself leaning after those lips, chasing that kiss that feels like it has been so long in coming.]

[ A part of her heart was prepared for the Doctor to pull away, to tell her no, she's a human and she can't. When that doesn't happen, when the Doctor presses into the kiss, a wall crumbles and she closes what minute space there was between them.

The hand on her cheek pushes gently into that short, blonde hair, and she lets the kiss become firmer, surer. This is how she feels, this is where her heart is, and when she pulls back just enough to speak, her breath falls across the Doctor's lips. It isn't so hard to say after a kiss. Her voice is soft and quiet, not wanting to break the tenderness of the moment. ]

I love you, you know.

[Those are the things that the Doctor should say. That she's already taken too much of Clara from her, that she can't be so selfish as that. That Clara is human and deserves someone who won't drag her into danger, who will protect her and her heart better than the Doctor could.

But she's missed Clara so much, regrets so much that has gone unsaid. How many times has she kept those words in her hearts and can she live through the regret of letting them strangle in silence again when there's this stolen moment of a second chance? So she settles her hand at the side of Clara's neck, thumb tracing the delicate line of that jaw, lingering in the kiss until Clara speaks.

The Doctor nods, barely a movement at all. She knows.]

You shouldn't. [Her voice is just as soft, like she's speaking secrets too delicate for more.] I love you too.

[ Clara's face brightens like the sun, though there's a hint of defiance that flashes in her eyes first. ]

I don't think you get to make that call. I get to love whoever I like, and it's you.

[ It feels like a relief to finally say the words now that she's said them once, now that she knows the Doctor feels the same way. ]

All that's missing now is being able to run away with you. Because I would again. No matter what happened, if you found me, I would go with you, I know I would.

[Oh she'd missed this, the stubborn set of that chin when Clara chose defiance. No, useless to pretend that she didn't love this infuriating, loyal, brave, beautiful woman.]

There never was any arguing with you.

[Well there was arguing, certainly, but no real winning of it.

Oh those words ached though. And she would sweep Clara back into her life, off with her to the stars and beyond and keep her safe this time. But Clara is here, and so was she, in this place where neither of them should be. Is this a second chance? Or a temptation she's supposed to some resist. How is she supposed to resist?]

Then run away with me, Clara Oswald.

[ This time, she isn't going to ask her to come back and ask again. The answer is immediate on her face and she assumes it's alright to pull the Doctor into another kiss. She feels like she could do anything, like no matter where she winds up in the universe, she's loved by the only person that matters.

This time when she pulls back, it's because a smile breaks out across her lips a laugh bubbles out of her that she can't quite explain. ]

You did find me then, didn't you? Knew you would. Of course, I thought you'd be taller, greyer, and sound like a Scot, but this'll do.

[More than all right. The Doctor is beyond out of practice in any of these things, so she's happy -- for the moment -- to let Clara take the lead. Given that they're kissing once more, it really is working out.]

I did.

[Found or was found, difficult to say. She will take this chance, even if she isn't entirely sure how they're going to figure it out. But that's comforting too, in its way, since she seldom approaches anything without being in that exact sort of situation.]

Yes, well. Shorter legs. Cuter hair. There are always tradeoffs.

[A momentary pause before she adds.] I've missed your laugh.

[ Reaching up, Clara pushes her fingers through the Doctor's hair and beams again at her words. ]

Your hair is ridiculously cute. Although, I did sort of like when it was floppy. I always wanted to brush it away from your forehead, but I do like a good ear tuck.

[ She's being silly, she knows, but her happiness is spilling out of her. Once she's tucked her hair satisfactorily, Clara realizes she needs to hear one more thing and takes both of the Doctor's hands in hers, interlocking their fingers. ]

We can really leave here?

[Those fingers through her hair are honestly an unfair tactic that should be banned by multiple interstellar treaties for how easily the make her legs feel weak and untrustworthy beneath her.

A laugh at the words, but she grows serious as her hands are taken.]

Yes. Or we will be able to. Something's got the TARDIS stuck, but if we got here, we can get out of here.

[And it will break so much time and they'll figure it out somehow.]

[ Knowing they're safe inside, and knowing trying to leave together could have consequences once they do, Clara decides to keep this bubble around them a little longer. Eventually, they'll leave, they can't stay in this spot forever—at least the Doctor can't—and she isn't ready yet. If could lose everything all over again, she wants to be in control of when.

That's why she uses what she hopes is another unfair tactic, and tugs the Doctor's hand up, pressing her lips to the inside of her wrist and holding her gaze. ]

Right away?

[Entirely unfair as well, worse than the fingers in her hair if the way her breath catches is any indication at all. Out of practice in these things is an understatement, but she thinks she's starting to remember, bit by bit.

When she catches up with the fact that Clara asked a question, she shakes her head.]

No, no rush. All we have is time. [And for once that's true. This place is strange but it's outside of time, a perfectly preserved little bubble of its own reality, and there's no reason they can't make the best of that.

It's her turn to turn her hand, fingertips brushing along one cheek, down and gently, almost reverently over her bottom lip.]

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