Doctor Who Fanfiction (11 and 12)

I Know You

Clara was travelling home from the school. It was cold and brisk outside, and the sharp air stung at her lips and nose. She was bundled in a warm scarf and hat and she walked up  the drive to her house. She stopped halfway up, tilting her head and looked st the side yard.
There was a big blue box on her lawn.
She felt herself smile. "Oh, you old fool," She ran to the Tardis, knocked, then walked in without waiting for an answer. "Doctor?"
There was no reply. She stood there for a moment, listening.
"Usually he waits for me in here," she wondered to herself. She turned quickly and ran up to her front door; he must have gotten inside somehow.
"Oh, Doctor?" She called out in a singsong voice while swinging open the door.
"ACH!" The door hit something and swung back at her and she shrieked.
She gasped, closing the door as she cautiously stepped in.
"Doctor! What are you doing down there?!" She demanded of him. He was crouching behind the door holding a card in an envelope and a small box wrapped in light pink and silver paper, holding his face, which was twisted with a look of pain on it.
"I was going to surprise you," He rubbed his face.
"Sorry," She shrugged. He glared up at her, trying to be annoyed.
He stood up and put the gifts down on the sofa.
"Clara Oswald," He said in a low, angry-sounding voice. She widened her eyes and backed up.
"..yes?" She stared at him blankly.
"Why didn't you tell me your birthday was two days ago?" He softened. "We were in space and meanwhile you got old? That's how it is?"
Clara giggled, then laughed and ran forward to hug him.
"Ep, I wouldn-- i'm--" He tensed up and got rigid as she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, smiling. He noticed her red cheeks, cold from the mid fall air, and he noticed the way her hair fell over her shoulders and the way she breathed before she went in for a hug...
No, stop, stop noticing, he told himself.
He coughed uncomfortably and she pulled away, smiling up at his face and going on her tip toes to meet his eyes.
He looked down at her, unmoving. "How old are you? Should I have bought you a cane?"
"No, silly. You know I'm still perfectly young," She poked his chest and moved to pick up her gifts from the sofa.
"But why didn't you tell me it was your birthday?" He turned to face her as she walked.
She turned and looked at him.
"You seemed occupied?" She picked up the box and envelope, keeping her eyes on him.
"Well.. Yes, but I would have taken you somewhere special or done something to celebrate the fact that you're.. That you're just slowly getting closer and closer to death by old age! Why do you celebrate death? Humans," He sighed and followed the giggling Clara.
"Being in time and space is enough of a present for me, you know," She smiled up at him.
They sat on the couch. He had apparently started a fire in the fireplace before she got home. It was cozy, and she leaned against him, making him cringe.
She messily opened the envelope that was signed, 'Clara.' She pulled out the card. It had an old fashioned vintage-y picture of an old Police Telephone Box. She looked up at the doctor who smiled a closed-lips smile and raised an eyebrow. She opened the card.
"Happy Birthday, Clara. Here's your card. Silly humans sending each other creases in paper with pictures. So strange." She nudged him in the side.
"Ow!"
"It's been great traveling with you, and for your birthday I bought you a special little gift. -The Doctor," Clara read aloud and her eyebrows rose in suspicion. She picked up the little box and undid the sparkling purple and blue ribbon on top. She slid the top off and inside was a necklace. It was a locket made to look like a stopwatch.
"Aww! A Tiny Timey Wimey Wibbly Wobbly Clock, is it?" She glanced up at him quickly, smiling, then back down at it. He put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her to him.
"If you say so, Miss Oswald," he winked at her and she put it around her neck.
"Look inside of it, Clara," He tapped her shoulder.
She popped it open and stared in shock. On one side was a picture of Danny smiling. On the other was a picture of The Doctor before his regeneration. Of the eleventh doctor.
"What's wrong...?" The Doctor pulled his hand away, and stared at her. She looked up at him from the picture of his younger-looking self, then back to the picture. She was breathing quickly.
"No, Doctor, no, I want a picture of you," She looked up at him and said this rather anxiously.
He looked confused. "You don't want a picture of Danny?"
"No, I love that bit, I just want a picture of you you."
"I thought you would rather have a picture of me before I regenerated," he stated, disappointed, in his heavy Scottish accent.
"NO!" She yelled. He looked shocked.
"Doctor!" She pleaded with him with her eyes. "Doctor! You know I know you're you, right?"
He stuttered, unable to think of what to say.
She picked up one of his grey, wrinked hands and held it in hers, which silenced him. She was pressing her thumb into his palm. He stared down at the action.
"Because I'd rather have a picture of who you are. Not who you were," She looked up at him, shaking her head a little.
He looked down and she guided his gaze back up to her by lifting his chin with just her left middle and index fingertips.
"I can see you," she nodded at him.
"You do not," he stared at her.
"Yes!" She was starting to shake, knowing he was half right.
"NO!" He bellowed in his thick Scottish accent and stood up. She stood up, too.
"Doctor--"
"Clara, I KNOW you can't see me. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" He squinted at her.
That shut her up.
She stuttered, mouth half open, and her eyes were starting to water.
"I... I..."
Twelve's glare softened and he sighed, closing his eyes and turning around.
"Oh, don't cry, Clara," He turned back to face her and he looked guilty. "I'm sorry I yelled.. I didn't mean to make you..."
She wiped her eyes with her scarf, sniffling.
"I need a tissue. Wait here,"
She shakily walked down the hall.
Twelve followed her with his gaze.
I can never do anything right. I just made my lovely Clara cry. I just yelled at her...
She came back with a tissue box and stopped when she saw Twelve looking at her with his arms out awkwardly, as if going to hug her.
"You don't like hugs," She gazed up at his tall form. His face looked pained, not only because he was uncomfortable knowing that a hug was about to happen but also because he was sorry.
"I'll hug you, though," The corners of his mouth turned up a little in a tiny smile. Clara, a tear moving down her cheek, ran to him and hugged him, making him cringe. He forced himself to hold her, and he did, even though it was an awkward hold. Clara stuffed her face into his chest.
"I'm sorry," He sighed as she hugged him back.
"Me, too," She looked up at him with reddish eyes.
"For what?" Twelve looked down at her. Her eyes were searching his face again. Always doing that.
"For lying," Her voice cracked on 'lying' and another tear ran down her cheek. The doctor wiped it away.
"I'll get a picture of me for your locket," He sighed and pulled away from the hug. Clara reached and held his hand.
"Yes, please," She smiled up at him.
He smiled back and squeezed her hand.