Making the perfect whoufflé: one shots

i know you don't like dancing [whouffaldi]

A/N: this is super angsty and it could possibly be triggering for some people because of mentions of drinking and anger issues and nightmares. please read at your own risk. enjoy!

Clara smiled at him, taking a rough hand gently in her own soft hand. "I know you don't like dancing," she spoke softly, glancing down at their now joined hands. "But wou--"

The Doctor shook his head, attempting to undo his hands from hers-- but failing of course. "No, no buts! I don't dance, Miss Oswald." The Doctor looked down at her, looking into those big, sad eyes. Oh, he could never say no to those eyes. Those brown eyes he loved so infinitely.

"Oh, c'mon, Doctor!" She pouted innocently, eyes begging him to join her. "For me? Just this once?" Clara rubbed her thumb over his hand soothingly, knowing how he loved it-- even if he wouldn't dare admit it.

The Doctor sighed, giving in. "Just this once!" Clara grinned up at him then, excitement coursing through her.

Clara guided his hand to her waist before putting her hand on his shoulder. Their joined hands were raised a bit to the side of them and the TARDIS began playing music for the two of them.

The Doctor smiled fately, enjoying the oddly satisfying closeness. Clara's stomach was inches from his. He swore he could smell her perfume.

They danced like that for a moment, spinning slowly. But Clara was moving closer to him by the second. Her stomach was now pressed against his and he predicted that she wanted to put her head on his chest. And of course he was right. Clara rested her head on his chest, listening to the calming rhythm of his breathing. Part of her wanted to stay like this forever, but she knew that couldn't happen.

The Doctor rested his cheek on the top of her head for a moment but then she looked up at him, smiling a sad smile. "You know, I've always loved you. Always have, just never said it out loud."

The Doctor smiled at her. "I know.. I've always known. And I love you, too."

Clara smiled at him, but something wasn't right. Something was off. Something completely wrong. But he took her face in his hands anyway, wanting to press his lips to hers. But smoke drifted it's way into his face and sudden confusion took him over.

Her fingers were smoking, cigarette smoke grey. Clara was blowing away.

Her arms floated away in a puff of smoke, her head now turning into smoke as well. Clara looked at him with a smile for a moment until drifting away in a cloud of ashy dark smoke...

**

The Doctor woke up with a start, his body covered in sweat. Tears stained his wrinkled cheeks, eyes still wet. He broke down and sobbed, the dream too much for him to bare.

Bottles of vodka sat at his bedside table. He knew he shouldn't drink, but his Gallifreyan liver could withstand it. The nightmares wouldn't go away, he couldn't stand it. Drinking was the only way he felt alive anymore, that and putting himself in danger.

The Doctor was haunted, haunted by the memory of his beloved Clara. The impossible girl who blew away like smoke, just like Ashlihr said she would. He simply couldn't get her face out of his head anymore. Everything reminded him of Clara. From the console room, to the moon.

God, he should've just told her! She said she knew but did she really? Just to get it off his chest, just to make sure Clara knew he loved her. That would always haunt him.

Most days he now drank, writing sad songs and doing whatever he could to numb the endless pain.

But tonight he had drank himself to sleep, then waking up after a nightmare. The Doctor jumped out of bed with angry tears running down his face, and began throwing the empty vodka bottles into the walls. Glass shattering on the walls like his heart shattered when Clara died. "WHY CAN'T IT JUST TURN OUT IN MY FAVOR FOR ONCE? JUST ONCE!" He screamed before collapsing back into his bed and sobbing.

And he drifted off to sleep, just like smoke...