#1 What if they had kissed?
Pick a scene and write a drabble/oneshot about what if they had kissed!
A/N: Bit rushed as I realised there’s only about an hour or so left and I need to sleep within that, so sorry for the length and quality, but hope you guys enjoy anyway :)
Episode: The Name of the Doctor
Scene: After the Doctor jumps in to his timestream to save her.
"For once, just for the hell of it, let me save you!”
All she knows is that she’s running, something she’s been doing more than enough of recently. But she’s running again, in a place she doesn’t know and a time that probably doesn’t exist in a universe that’s made of nothing, she doesn’t have a clue what her surroundings are but that doesn’t matter because all she knows is that that’s her Doctor and he’s there and he can see her.
"You have to trust me, Clara, I’m real!"
And she does trust him, she’s always trusted him, even when he’s dragged her in to all these situations which involve some kind of near-death experience by metal men or burned-to-death-yet-somehow-still-alive versions of herself or Russian submarines or some other bizarre form that most people will never encounter in their lifetimes. How could she not trust him? He’d shown her the stars and so, so much more, all in a tiny blue box that was smaller on the outside.
By the time she’s reached him, she doesn’t register anything but the fact that he’s got her and she’s safe, she knows that he can get them out alive because that’s what he does, that’s what he’s always done and that’s what he’ll always do. She doesn’t care that she’s now a million copies of herself, she doesn’t care that she’s in a space that technically shouldn’t exist, she just cares that she’s with her Doctor and that somehow makes everything okay again.
Above all, she’s relieved. Because it worked. He’s still here and she’s still here and he’s clasping her tighter than she thought possible as she clutches at him, terrified that letting go means that he’ll disappear like he has so many times before. If she lets go he could lose her, he could stop seeing her and hearing her and she can’t handle that, not this time. Not when she knows she’s not a copy.
And she needs something to cement that reassurance, the sheer compulsion to know so she reaches up and practically crashes her lips over his as his hand cups the back of her head. Thoughts of once-spoken words like it’s not a snog-box vaguely emerge in her thoughts as she presses herself closer.
Their kiss isn’t sweet, it isn’t subtle. It’s needy and desperate and passionate and she forgets everything else for the sake of that moment. She pictures herself back in the TARDIS with the Doctor; her Doctor, just the two of them without the weight of the world on their shoulders, and even though they’re in somewhere unfamiliar with just a tiny chance of getting back out, it’s somehow perfect.
Because he’s her Doctor and she’s his Clara, and in that moment, that’s all they really need to know.
