clashildr one shots

Thunderstorms

    The TARDIS cranked out sometimes. Of course, not often, her being one of the most reliable machines in the history of time and space and all that, but, occasionally, she would stall, or phase, or get stuck somewhere. This was all well and good when she got stuck in a perfect viewing spot for the Spider Nebula or something along that vein, but less so anywhere else.
    There were times this could be exploited; ever the optimists, Ashildr and Clara would try and explore every corner they ended up occasionally stranded in. One measly Thursday (at a guess), the diner decided that the ass end of nowhere was the perfect place for a mid-centaury nap, leaving the pair rather stranded. In the rain, rather naturally.
    Oh, but it doesn't rain, it pours. In this case, rather quite literally. The thunder cracked open the sky like a hammer to the ice, splitting lightning through the atmosphere, leaving a fizz through the very air. The world around them enveloped in electricity and ash and floods. Oh, the sky, how it burned.
    It was destructively poetic.
    Such events, such weather, called for exactly one course of action: thick blankets, hot tea, fluffy socks and the arms of the one you hold dear.
    The diner's library was a refuge - a haven. Clara and Ashildr would pile onto one of the big, squishy armchairs, half ontop of each other, and listen to the rain. It was well and good until Ashildr put her cold feet on Clara's leg and she screamed.
   "We are textbook pragma," Clara threw out.
    Ashildr held her tea under her nose for a second. "Well, yes, I suppose we are."
    Clara tucked her arm around Ashildr's waist, tugging her a little closer under the blanket.
     "Hello, you," Ashildr whispered, her voice thick with sleepiness.
     Clara smiled and ran her thumb over Ashildr's elbow. "Sleep, dear." She kissed her forehead.
     And, in the lashing rain, lulled by the rhythm of the heartbeat of the very world, a love that stretched millennia slumbered beneath the moon; in the light of the stars they had touched, safe in the soft embrace of the dark, time passed them by as the river does the trees. The universe smiled down at them that night, but they barely noticed - Clara was watching dreams dance behind Ashildr's eyes, and, well. Ashildr was asleep.