#impossibleoz

“Losing track Of time & space With you.”

(This long story has migrated from twitter, and this was the final reply.)

It had been quite a day, and they needed some time to relax together. Cuddles and sweets, she said. That was all she wanted after a hot shower and warm clothes. He could deny her nothing. Not that she needed to say a word, anyway. Their connection was enough these days. He always felt her thoughts.

Kitchen 6 was a comfort. Soft music was playing for them, in the background, helping them to relax. Of course, he noticed her eyes on him but did his best not to get distracted. She was always distracting him. Her and her wonderful otherness was such a problem.

"There you go," he mumbled, sliding a cup of tea towards her. He sipped at his own afterward, fingers finding hers. A thumb brushed along her wedding band, and he sighed softly.

"This was a good idea," he confessed, chuckling at their behavior earlier in the day. He ached in the best way. Seeing her in his clothes always brought him a rush of affection and amusement as well, the way the clothing swamped her, and his head tilted as he looked her over. "You wore me out earlier, Clara. Or I wore you out. I dunno. Hard to explain, seeing as we switched bodies. But there's no denying it."

“She drives me crazy, Like no one else. She drives me crazy And I can't help myself.”

(This story is from twitter and has migrated here. This was the final reply, and this is as far back as you can read.)

The trip to Italy would do them a world of fucking good. They needed it. Over the past few weeks, while it had been nice to be home from prison and healing with his wife, it was clear that they needed one hell of a holiday. They deserved it.

The plane ride was a mess. Malcolm was stuck next to an asthmatic younger man who listened to his music loudly and snored as he slept. He was practically vibrating with rage. Clara's hand was on his thigh, hoping to calm him and help him through the trip. Eventually, he'd donned his earbuds and listened to his own music, not his neighbor's. Christopher Cross, Gordon Lightfoot, the Eagles, etc. He eventually dozed off. His last thought was to never book a middle seat on a plane ever again.

When they landed in Italy, he woke to Clara's hand on his face.

"Oh? We're here?"

Oh, don't worry about her, she's still learning. That was all the Doctor ever said about her these days to those who stepped into the TARDIS. Didn't it matter that in some very roundabout way, they were aboard her? That she was an extension of the ship which took them to all of those marvellous places they wanted to visit?

Oh, she's just learning social cues. That was his favourite excuse for her the last time she had let a tiger into Clara's room. In reality, she knew her social cues, well enough to know that it wasn't socially acceptable to let a tiger into someone's bedroom. Still, she had continued about her day as though nothing had happened, waiting for the Doctor to leave so that she could talk to Miss Clara alone.

Finally, it was her time to shine.