Nine Months, Twelve Days (Whouffle fanfic)

Reunions

A week had passed since Clara even spoke more than one word responses to him. It had been a week since their neighbors had even left their house (save Hank). And it had been one of the worst weeks of the Doctor's life.

He hated seeing Clara like this. She had been crying and reading all the time anymore. This was so unlike the Clara that he knew; it was like she had become an alien right before his very eyes.

Eventually he had decided that enough was enough. He needed to talk to her, even if it was for his own sanity. He creeped up the stairs up to her door and knocked softly.

"Clara?"

"What?"

"Can I come in? Please? I can't take the silence anymore. This isn't healthy for either of us. You know that. Look...I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable or crossed a boundary or something. I was just doing what felt right to me at the time," the Doctor said softly into the door. He heard a soft click and the door swung open reveal a very tired looking Clara.

"I'm sorry. God I've been so stupid. It's like I honestly thought there for a while I could avoid you for months. Truth is, this past week's been miserable for me. I wanted to run away, but I also wanted to run up to you and just hug you until I thought I might fall over," Clara said, pulling him into a hug. The Doctor hugged her back, blinking in disbelief at what she had just said. It was just so unlike her. He was beginning to think maybe she was the alien, not him.

They stood there in her doorway for a while, neither speaking; just breathing. And it was absolutely wonderful for both of them. The past week of silence and distance suddenly closed when they embraced. It was forgiven and forgotten, fully and completely.

"What do you say I make some tea, and we can talk about what it is we want to do?" Clara asked. She dreaded this conversation, but it had to happen eventually...and she had decided that it was better now than later. She saw the Doctor nod his conformation and she set off towards the kitchen.

++++++++++

"Doctor. We both know I am going to die eventually. So I mean...if we're going to do this, I don't want it to be a game or for fun. I want it to be real, but in order for it to be real you have to be okay with me dying," Clara said after 45 minutes of saying the same things to the Doctor over and over. He didn't seem to get it, and it was starting to annoy her.

"I'm never going to be okay with you dying. But I want to try this...so...I guess I'll have to deal with it. Just please, give me this. Please."

Clara stared at him, before slowly nodding. She was sure this wasn't going to work out. The Doctor was going to leave her as soon as she found a grey hair. But for now, this is what she yearned for, so she was going to take it while the opportunity was still there. The Doctor leaned down and kissed her cheek, then her forehead. As much as she loved the mouth to mouth kissing, the forehead kisses were by far her favorite. They carried more value than anything he could ever say to her. She got up from the couch to shower, smiling like a monkey on crack as she would later describe it.

+++++++++++

Okay. That's it. I know this story isn't very exciting at all...but I've got to build up. There's a lot of stuff that's going to happen eventually, and right now the development of their relationship with themselves and their neighbors is more important that mindless adventure (at least I think). As always, please vote, comment, and follow. Thanks for reading! And I promise: it does pick up!