a little more than twice / eleven + clara fic
He picked up Clara Oswald the next Wednesday after their last adventure as he always did, and every time he welcomed her back in she always seemed to be wearing a new dress which he tried ever so hard not to stare at her thighs in or a new hairstyle which she’d managed to twist her brunette tresses in. Although, he didn’t exactly care what she looked like (although the pretty dresses were a bonus), it was just the fact that she was there with him like she always was. The impossible girl.
They’d decided on not going on an adventure straightaway today, instead pottering around the TARDIS doing everything and nothing at all. Clara had wanted just to relax with him for a bit; they never really got any time alone together anymore because every single time they went out anywhere they ended up almost always in trouble and running for their lives. Sometimes accompanied by a lizard woman and her wife with their psychotic pet potato. So, the TARDIS it was then.
They both sat on the long sofa in one of the TARDIS’ many living rooms, the Doctor sitting on the end while Clara lay down next to him; her head resting on his lap and her waves cascading over his knees. She had a Rubik’s cube in her grip, her face scrunching with confusion as she tried out the endless impossibilities in her hands in order to get the right combination of colours. He just smiled as he stared down at her absolute absorption with this object; all the while resisting the urge to say if you just slotted that red cube round, you can solve the whole thing…
For some reason, she got really annoyed when he said stuff like that. But that was partially because they were playing Twister the other day (“Twister! How splendid! Getting tangled and knotted with someone until you fall over is such good fun!”) and he told her that the easiest way to put her left hand on yellow was to, uh, wrap it round his left leg… Then promptly realised about a second later that that wasn’t such a good idea after all.
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