The Doctor examined intently the screen in front of him. He tried working on the buttons and frowned when one of them came off. He stared at it in his open palm, before showing it to Clara. The girl was standing behind him, chewing nervously her fingernails. She offered him a tentative smile.

"What's the verdict, Doctor?"

He raised an eyebrow and and staggered to his feet. "What do you want me to do, Clara?", he lifted his hands in exasperation, "I'm not a miracle worker. I can't bring back the dead".

"It's not dead, it's just broken", she lamented, "Can't you fix it? Use your sonic screwdriver. I once saw you use it to explode an archery target just because you were a bit annoyed. I bet fixing my television set shouldn't be too hard".

He frowned again and gave her the special look he reserved for the "pudding brains". "Oh yes, good idea. I'd forgotten that it is also a magic wand", he swiftly extracted his screwdriver from his pocket and started swooshing it through the air, "I'll just cast a magic spell. I'm sure this will fix your television and also turn it into a chicken which lays golden eggs. Expelliarmus!"

"You should go and revise your Harry Potter. I believe the right spell is Reparo".

He glared at her, but Clara laughed and pushed him playfully. He jumped back and pointed the screwdriver towards her, in a defense position. She smiled at his reaction. She sometimes missed all the affection his last incarnation used to show her, but she had learn to love and enjoy how awkwardly he reacted to any form of physical contact. Also, Clara thought, that made each time he touched her a special moment. A moment in which she knew he cared and trusted her.

"Are you going to jinx me?", she teased him.

"Enough with the Harry Potter jokes, lets move to the part in which we trash your broken television and move on to explore new worlds".

"If you're not willing to collaborate, I'd better go find some one else who will", she stuck her nose in the air, pretending to be angry and offended with him. She wouldn't give up so easily, also because she knew perfectly well that he wouldn't leave without her, and she would definitely not step on the TARDIS until he'd helped her.

"You need to let it go", he's accent heavy in his words, "It's over. There's nothing that can be done. It's too... ancient".

"Says the two thousand years old alien", she whispered to herself.

"What did you say?", he raised his voice as he moved a step closer to her.

"Nothing", she answered hurriedly, "It isn't ancient".

"Honestly, I've seen televisions in the fifties that were more modern that yours", he retorted to her complaint. She looked at him doubtfully. She had grown attached to that television set. She was a bit sentimental when it came to her personal possessions, so she didn't feel ready to replace it with a new one to whom she would have to learn to grow use to. All the same, she needed one and her refusal to admitting that repairing her old television was a lost cause was plain out silly and nothing more. She sighed and finally admitted: "I guess you're right"

"Of course I'm right", he sounded hurt, "I'm always right".

"Learn to accept victory with humility, would you?"

"Never", he spoke the word slowly as to emphasize it for her. She responded with a wide smile and he grinned back. They both stared at each other for a few seconds, before Clara broke the silence: "I'll have to buy a new one, then".

"You sure will", he nodded.

"Good. Let's go", she said while already moving to prepare herself and put on her jacket. The Doctor, utterly pleased and satisfied at how things had turned out, put his hands in the pocket of his coat, before making his way to the TARDIS.

"Where are you going? I don't think using the TARDIS to get there is a good idea. Let's take the bus".

He looked at her with wide eyes and a confused expression. "It's hardly likely that the bus could ever be better than the TARDIS to travel. Do you even know where we're going?"

"Of course. We're going to the shop to get me a new TV set", she said matter-of-factly, "Come on, now".

The Doctor just stared at her. It took him a few seconds to assimilate what she had said and even longer for him to fully grasp the implications of her words. He burst in a joyless and cold laughter. "You can do it later. Get P.E. to go with you. The skies of Arithmades are awaiting".

"I want to get this over and done with. It won't take long", she pleaded.

"I wouldn't think so! I'm not your shopping assistant, Clara", he protested, "You've got P.E. for that".

Twenty minutes later they were entering the technology department of the mini-mall four bus stops away from where Clara lived. As he followed her to the area which sold televisions sets, he wondered how she'd managed to drag him with her. He wasn't entirely sure, but she had to have been pretty convincing, since that had meant taking the bus. He scowled at the fresh memory of their short trip with the public transport. He shook his head. Try to control a control freak, he thought.

"What are you going to buy?", he had decided to resign and just go with it. It was too late to back down, anyway.

"A television set", she replied, without looking at him but glancing around at the merchandise, "Try to keep up".

He sighed, exasperated. "I know that. I mean, have you something specific in mind?".

Clara didn't speak right away. She was looking intently at the price tag of a medium sized television. When she straightened herself up, he saw her making a face and moving on. "Oh, I have a very specific kind in mind".

"Such as?", he observed the televisions with a bored expression.

"An affordable one".

He stop in his tracks and just stared at her. Sometimes he forgot she had these kind of issues. He forgot she had taxes to pay, and bills, and he forgot that her teaching was, in fact, a job, and not just an hobby. In moments like those, it struck him how she could go through such... mundane, everyday problems. He thought that his clever, resourceful, Clara shouldn't be worrying about things like being able to afford a decent TV set. All the monsters and perils he put her through were probably enough. He would never tell this out loud, of course, so he simply said: "Don't be silly. I can buy you one".

She finally turned to look at him and chuckled. "What, seriously?".

"Yeah", he shrugged, trying to appear casual so she wouldn't think it was a big deal, "I have no problems getting money and you know that".

She smiled at him without saying a word. Then she turned her back at him to return to her research. "You're very kind, Doctor, but I can take care of myself".

He snorted, but he was aware of his mistake when she looked back to glare at him so he tried in vain to cover it with a fake cough.

"I can!", she argued.

"Yes m'am". She marched straight back at him and punched his arm.

"Oi", he bellowed, rubbing his painful arm.

"I've got a job. I pay for my own apartment, for my own bills and taxes and so I can very well pay for my own television, thank you very much", she said with a serious expression, so he couldn't do anything but raise his hands, defeated.

"Whatever you say, boss", he smiled at her. He could see her softened to it. They hadn't noticed how closed they had become to one another, as he stared down at her and she stared up at him, in perfect silence.

"Anyway, I said it mostly because I'm not intending to settle on a television set that is so small you can hardly distinguish one person from the other, this time", he continued, "I wouldn't do it only for you, you know".

"Oh right", she stretched the last word and laughed, "It's all clearer, now. I forgot how much you liked watching Six Feet Under with me. Sorry if I thought you were being kind".

"I am being kind", he acted offended, "But I'm interested in my benefits, too. And the one who likes Six Feet Under is you."

She put on a guilty smile. "Yeah, it's true", she admitted, "But don't pretend you're not enjoying it, too. Which was the one you liked?"

His cheeks went a little bit pink and he looked around as if checking that no one was listening in, before leaning forward to whisper so she would be the only one able to hear him. "It's Friends", and then added, "You know perfectly well, you're just trying to make fun of me".

Clara giggled and didn't pretend otherwise. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, it's a good TV show. I just think it's funny you like it because I can't really imaging you understanding half the jokes".

"Just let me buy you this stupid television", he snapped, "Stop being so stubborn".

Clara looked at him thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Fine", she surrendered.

"There you go. It wasn't that hard, was it?", he told her angrily, but he was only pretending, because he felt victorious -which didn't happen as often as he would have liked- and her smile was quite satisfying.

"But it's only because I know it isn't a problem for you and because you're doing it mostly for yourself", she said, "It's not because I couldn't manage it on my own. So, don't get used to it".

He shook his head, in exasperation. She always manage to get the last word.

The Doctor installed the television set fairly quickly, so Clara decided she had made the right decision by letting him do the work instead of calling the technician. When he finished she looked at him stand up and looking at the result of his work with a satisfied smirk stamped on his face. The television wasn't too fancy for her apartment, because she didn't want to make anyone suspicious, but it was definitely a good television. And it was much bigger than her old one.

"So...", Clara started, hesitantly,"I've got a few recorded episodes, if you like".

He rolled his eyes. "I knew giving you My Sky for Christmas was a mistake", but he smiled and they both knew he didn't mean it one bit, "Fine. It's too late to go and explore planets, anyway".

Clara knew that when he said "too late" he was thinking only about her, because she was sure it could never be too late to explore planets for him. A warm sensation spread through her body as she looked at him in affection. "It is late", she looked at the time signaled by her wristwatch, "And I'm starving. Fancy some takeaway pizza?"

He grinned. "Should I even bother answering?".

She laughed and was about to go and fetch her phone, when she stopped and approached him. She halted very close to him. She looked at him intently and he raised her gaze, not without any effort. "Thank you, Doctor".

He stared at her, confused. "What for?"

She reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. She smiled sweetly at him and gave him one of her "You really don't know?" looks. "For everything", she spoke quietly and he could feel she really meant it, "For buying me the Television, for understanding that I'm too tired to travel right now and for sticking around anyway".

He remained speechless and he muttered a "Don't mention it" only because he wanted to appear cool and not as if his heart had started pumping furiously in his chest and his face had started burning in the spot where she had kissed him.

Her smiled became even wider and then she strolled happily out of the living room, telling him loudly and without looking back at him so he couldn't protest: "Pizza is on me".

He felt free to grin stupidly only once she was out of his sight. He put his hand in his pockets and let himself fall on the sofa, in peace and utterly content.