Longest one-shot ever, I think. Ha. And it's all about Whoufleé! This story was heavily influenced by the song You Are in Love by Taylor Swift - a few weeks ago, while I was listening to it, I couldn't help but think about the Doctor and Clara...and I was originally going to make this Whouffaldi, but after some consideration, I realized I missed Whoufleé.

So...without further ado, I give you Knew What it Was!

Knew What it Was

"I'm swearing off boys for the rest of my life," Clara Oswald declared, flopping back into her armchair as Amelia Pond-Williams tugged out a tub of ice-cream from the refrigerator. The Scot made a tsking sound in agreement and looked over her shoulder. "D'you want strawberry cream or cookie dough?" she asked. Clara narrowed her eyes at Amelia, and then, with a sigh, replied, "Better make it cookie dough. I'm going all-out." She perked up in her armchair. "Y'know what? Make it one scoop of cookie dough and one scoop of strawberry cream. I'm giving up on dieting, too."

Amelia smiled. She pulled out both tubs and dumped them on the granite island. As she started to sort through Clara's cabinets, she said, "You know, that's good for you. You don't need some rubbish man keeping you from wanting to indulge." Amelia bobbed her head to herself, pulling out two bowls. "And your body is perfect just the way it is – you never needed to diet, anyways."

"Oh, just get out the ice-cream," Clara said, rolling over and stuffing her face into a pillow. Amelia obliged, digging out a scooper from one of the drawers and setting to getting out suitable globs of ice-cream. "Whipped cream?" she asked. Clara gave a weak thumbs-up, not turning from her pillow. Amelia nodded again and yanked out a tube of the white stuff, adding satisfactory dollops of it over the creamy treats. She stuck her own spoon into one of the bowls and balancing the two bowls, made her way to Clara. Amelia gently placed them on the coffee table and sat herself down on the couch from across her friend.

Clara lifted her head from the pillow and took the ice-cream. She popped a spoonful of the stuff into her mouth, mumbling a quiet "thank you". Amelia only grinned and the two young women spent the next few minutes in silence, eating the ice-cream.

There was a reason for all this, and Amelia knew it well.

Clara Oswald had broken up with Danny Pink, who she had been in a relationship with for nearly a year. It wasn't that Danny was a jerk or anything – in fact; he had actually been rather nice. He got along well with children, went out on daily morning jogs with Clara, had mistletoe kisses…basically did every typical couple thing in the world. But Amelia supposed that wasn't all enough for Clara or Danny, because the break-up had obviously been disastrous. The Scot personally knew that it wasn't going to last long – Clara and Danny were both wonderful people, but she always figured they didn't really belong together – not the way those two had been planning on being. For one, Clara was always something of a control freak, and that never sat well with Danny…and Danny was a bit too sweet for Clara. Amelia knew as well as Clara herself that her friend liked a bit of a challenge, a bit of a puzzle to work with. Danny simply didn't fit the bill.

But still, Amelia thought that if the two were to break-up, it wouldn't be this painful or bad. Actually, when Clara told Amelia of the news, it was figured that it was no big deal – in a few days, maybe a week or two, everything would go back to normal. Clara would act like nothing happened, and Amelia was betting that she'd forget about Danny – or maybe just befriend him.

But then Clara wasn't answering any more calls, and she wouldn't respond to emails or text messages. Amelia didn't see her at the library or in the park or in the supermarket. To put it simply, it was like Clara Oswald had disappeared off the map.

And then, after three full weeks of not seeing Clara, Amelia decided to storm into the house. Clara's house had been a mess – the laundry hadn't been done, there were torn up photos of Danny and Clara together, there were groceries from delivering supermarkets scattered around the kitchen floor, and Clara looked like she hadn't slept in a few days. Amelia actually found her curled up under a pile of blankets in the bed, with crumpled tissues and chocolate wrappers thrown around the covers.

So Amelia did what any good friend would do – she packed Clara off into the bathroom to take a shower, picked the wrappers off the floor and tossed them into the bin, neatened the kitchen, and packed the torn up photos in a cardboard box. She had decided that Clara would have to do whatever she had to with those pictures.

Now, Clara was lounging in the armchair, finishing up the last of the ice-cream. Then, in a confident, defiant voice, Clara declared, "I hate men."

Amelia only nodded. "Uh-huh," she replied, trying to make her voice sound as convincing as possible. (She couldn't really agree – she was married to the best man in the world, so how could she?) Clara rambled on as if Amelia hadn't spoken at all, "I mean, the only thing they're good for is just making children. That's it. Nothing else." She shoveled another spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth. "You know what? I'm glad that I'm done with men, 'cause all that stuff was exhausting." Clara snorted. "So I'm done. D-O-N-E, done."

"You said it," Amelia replied, sticking up a thumb. Clara nodded frantically, placing her bowl back on the coffee table. "Who cares about Danny Pink anyways? What kind of name is that? Pink," she scoffed, and threw her legs over one of the arms of the chair. "No way. I'm an Oswald for life! I'm a woman for life! Single and loving it! Ha!" Clara poked her head up. "In fact, since I'm single, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to do crazy things. I'm going to travel the world! I'm going to club all night! I'm going to make all the women feel jealous that they're not living freely like me, and I'm going to make all men hate themselves for ever thinking that they ever broke up with women, 'cause now those singles look as happy and as perfect as fuck."

"Go, girl!" Amelia cheered.

Clara nodded. "I'm like Taylor Swift," she said. "You know? Like, I'm officially finished with getting my heart broken and I'm gonna be a queen. I'm gonna be chilling with my girls, occasionally working out and looking flawless, and all that." She lifted her spoon. "I can't believe I hadn't thought of doing this earlier!"

"Well, it sounds like a neat plan, Clara," Amelia said graciously. "You're gonna be that one woman who everyone's jealous of."

"Yeah!" Clara replied enthusiastically. She picked up her bowl of ice cream and balancing it on her stomach, murmured, "I'm the next Taylor Swift. Seriously."

xXx

"So, how's Clara?" Amelia's husband, Rory, asked when she was back in their cozy house. "She's…functioning," Amelia replied, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. Rory smiled up at the Scot and lifting his mug of coffee, asked, "What was with the pause?"

Amelia threw her coat on the couch and answered, "She's…you know, going through that stage of a break-up in which she's the caged single. Swearing off men, exclaiming that they're all pigs…that she's going to be happy as a single." Rory's eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Isn't that a good thing?" he asked. "I mean, it's better to be determined to be single than mope around all day."

"Well, yeah," Amelia admitted. She leaned against the wall and replied, "But there's a bit of danger in being the caged single, too – I mean, we all went through those stages, haven't we?" Rory grinned and rubbing his chin, said, "Oh, yeah – definitely remember that." He wrinkled his nose. "I made a ton of questionable decisions during that time…"

"You got that ridiculous haircut," Amelia said, shaking her head. "And you decided to take on motor-biking, only to land yourself in the hospital."

"Well, you got into modeling – just making pouty faces at the camera," Rory retorted, but the twinkle in his eyes told Amelia that it was nothing but a joke. "And you joined some punk girl band."

"First of all, that modeling job still goes on today and it pays most of our bills," Amelia countered, making her way to her husband. "And that punk girl band was actually rather decent. We made some nice songs!" Rory rolled his eyes as Amelia nestled herself into his lap. "Yeah, but they were all about some pretty shady topics," he said, resting his forehead on her shoulder. Amelia let out a small laugh and patting his head, replied sweetly, "Still better than getting a bad haircut and motor-biking."

"Fine, fine," Rory said. He looked over at Amelia and added, "But I mean, think about it this way – being a single isn't that bad. You got into modeling during that time – and you still love it. So there can be some good outcomes, yeah? That might work out for Clara, actually, if she was to take up some different hobby or something. Get out more."

"She mentioned traveling and clubbing," Amelia replied simply.

Rory's brow furrowed. "Traveling, yes, clubbing is a no," he said. "I mean, you know how much we love Clara – but her going to a night club and…you know what happens." He grimaced.

"Exactly," Amelia replied. "That's why I'm scared! I don't want her making stupid decisions!"

"Then what are we supposed to do? We can't exactly get her back with Danny – that'd just be awkward." Rory said, shaking his head. Amelia bobbed her head in agreement. "We're gonna do something," she murmured, standing up. "Don't know what, but just in case."

xXx

Amelia Pond-Williams was beginning to think that the entire concept of being single was having a strange effect on Clara Oswald. Every time she saw her friend, she seemed to be in the middle of something astonishingly bewildering that Amelia gave up on even asking what was going on. Once, Amelia walked in on Clara making flower wreaths and paper dolls as necklaces for dogs – and without a word, she had walked out. Clara's gone bonkers, she had thought to herself. She's gone into domestics! Domestics!

Another time, Amelia saw Clara arguing with a poor cashier in the pharmacy about Kit-Kats being incredibly unrealistic for customers. "Why do Kit-Kats have to come in twos?" Clara was shouting, waving around her plastic bags. "I mean, why? Why do they have to be dependent on each other? One Kit-Kat can go completely solo!"

The cashier was trembling and cowering and mumbling agreements – and Amelia had simply shook her head and marched home as fast as she could.

A week later, Amelia found Clara pushing in bag after bag of heavy textbooks. Deciding that the scene looked safe enough, Amelia called, "What're you doing, Clara?" The young woman whirled around, a bright – maybe too bright – smile lighting up her face. "Oh! Amy!" she said enthusiastically. "Haven't seen you around! I'm just…getting some stuff together for an essay I want to write! I'm thinking of handing it in to a magazine or something!"

Amelia lifted an eyebrow. "And that magazine is…?" she asked, her voice drifting as Clara shoved in another heavy-looking bag. Clara's smile broadened and clearing her throat, announced, "The Everlasting Independence of Women – a Study in How Women Are Superior in All Relationships."

"Um…?" Amelia pressed her lips together. "Listen, Clara, I love the feminist view here – I mean, it sounds great."

"Thank you!" Clara chirped.

"But don't you think you should uh…take it easy there? I mean, you don't wanna be accused of man-hating," Amelia said slowly. "Again, loving the entire women-are-equal-to-men outlook…but superior?" she laughed nervously. "I mean, don't you think there's going to be at least one man in the magazine-thing?"

Clara shrugged her shoulders. "Well, then I'll just prove how wrong he is when it comes to thinking that he can think he's better than women," she replied. Amelia shook her head. "How do you even know if he thinks he's better than women?" she asked tiredly.

"Isn't it obvious? Most men think that," Clara replied with a huff. Then, turning around, she dragged the rest of the heavy textbooks into the house.

xXx

"We need to get Clara a boyfriend," Amelia declared the minute Rory came through the door. Rory slowly lowered his bags. "Good afternoon to you, too," he said lightly. Amelia ignored the abruptness and bounced to her feet, repeating, "We need to get Clara a boyfriend. She's going insane, Rory!"

"For example?" Rory asked, closing the door behind himself.

"Let's see – she spent a phase going absolutely domestic on me by making little flower and paper chains," Amelia scowled. "She had a debate with a cashier about the way Kit-Kats are made because apparently, Kit-Kats shouldn't need to be together to make other people happy. Oh, and just earlier today, she seemed intent on making an essay about how women will always and forever be better than everything else. And God knows what other crazy thinks she might be thinking of doing!"

"Amy," Rory said patiently, eyes gentle. "It's fine for Clara to want to do new things and have stronger opinions. She'll get out of it – you just need to trust her." Amelia groaned into her hands. "I do trust her!" she protested. "I do! But I mean, you didn't see her! She looked absolutely set on making sure that nothing ever stays the same when it comes to men and women. Just watch, Rory – she's gonna turn into one of those crazy fanatics about problems that aren't even there – like – like – like that woman on Tumblr! You know, the woman who thought that that energy drink was some Satan juice?"

Rory rolled his eyes. "Clara Oswald is a reasonable woman; she is not that woman with the Satan juice." He replied. "It's a phase, Amy – just see!"

At that very moment, the house phone rang. Rory gave Amelia a pointed look and reached over to it, already saying, "Hello?" There was a pause. Rory grinned and leaning against the wall, said, "Oh, hey, Clara! Amy's here, if you wanted to talk to – oh, no? What?" He looked over at Amelia, a frown slowly spreading across his face. He startled, then, staring at the phone, asked, "Sorry – can you repeat that?"

Amelia sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm gonna go upstairs – if Clara wants to talk to me, just give me a shout," she said loftily. However, just as she was about to head up the stairs, Rory said loudly, "What? No, Clara, we don't have a chainsaw – why?" There was another pause. Amelia turned around to see Rory's eyes round over in surprise. "You…need to punish Barbie dolls?" he asked weakly. He looked up to meet Amelia's eyes. The Scot groaned again and made a violent motion with her hand.

"Yeah, Clara, sorry – no chainsaw here – um, no, I don't know any place that actually sells chainsaws. Hey, Amy told me that you were writing an essay about uh – women, right? Why don't you get back to that?" Rory asked hurriedly, flapping a hand at Amelia. "Uh-huh, yeah! That sounds awesome! Of course, we'd be happy to proofread it! Yup! Yeah, no problem! Take care now!"

Rory slammed down the phone and slowly turned back to Amelia.

"We need to find her a boyfriend," the two said in unison.

xXx

Boyfriend-finding wasn't a very easy thing to do.

Amelia and Rory went through possible suitors – people from work, attractive-looking waiters in restaurants, and the occasional pizza delivery boy. But each time they got in touch with them or connected to them through Facebook or Twitter, they were quick to back out.

"Hair-gel Man has an unhealthy obsession with American football," Rory was mumbling listlessly from the computer as Amelia flicked through profiles on her phone. "That wouldn't sit well with Clara, no siree," Amelia muttered from her seat. "She hates sports." Rory gave a grunt of agreement and then, a second later, he added, "And Pizza Boy is gay…Baseball-cap Waiter is more interested in his little brother and robotics than actually dating…Green-sweatshirt – ew, Amy, he's posting porn and BDSM GIFs on his Tumblr."

Amelia cringed. "Definitely not," she said. "To be honest, as big of a control freak she is, I doubt Clara wants to be tied up and whipped."

Rory nodded. He scrolled down the computer and then, sighing, pushed himself away from his desk. "I'm gonna take a coffee break," he said. "I need it, or else my eyes are going to burn from the amount of time I've been watching a bright screen." Amelia smirked up at him. "Weak," she said lightly, poking his arm as he walked by. Rory chuckled softly and started up the coffee machine. Amelia curled her legs underneath herself and let out a small breath, holding her phone screen a few inches away from herself.

"There's got to be a decent man for Clara somewhere out there," she mumbled sadly to herself, flicking her fingers across the screen.

"I'm sure there is," Rory said, leaning against the counter. "We just haven't found him yet."

Amelia groaned. "It's just so annoying – for all we know, Clara's perfect match could be right under our noses and we probably wouldn't even notice! I'm scared of that happening!" she said, exasperated. Rory smiled comically. He lifted his coffee mug from the machine and taking a sip from it, said, "Or maybe he can come knocking at our door any minute – don't be so pessimistic, Amy."

"Can you blame me? Our friend is going to turn into a Barbie-murdering psychopath," Amelia replied glumly.

However, just as those words escaped her lips, the doorbell rang. Amelia instantly sat up, looking over at Rory. "D'you think that's Clara?" she asked tiredly. Rory placed the mug back down on the counter and with pressed lips, answered, "There's only one way to find out."

Amelia sighed and swung herself off the couch. "I'll get it," she said, and headed for the door. Wrapping her hand around the doorknob, she called, "Just wait a moment, please!" With that, Amelia opened it up, already saying, "Sorry that I – huh."

She stopped short, already taking in the figure standing at her doorstep.

And the amount of boxes he was holding of – were those fish sticks?

"Hello," Amelia finally said, jutting out a hand, only to have it flop uselessly at her side because…who would offer a hand to shake when a person is so obviously occupied with carrying an abundance of objects? The man who stood in front of her, however, didn't seem to care.

"Hello!" he said cheerfully, and carefully transferring the rest of the boxes onto one arm (much to Amelia's amazement), he picked up the Scot's hand and shook it strenuously. "Ehm – I'm John Smith – but you can call me Doctor, since I mean, who wants a name like John Smith? I happened to move in next door, you see – the people who last lived there were such lovely people, too – would you like some fish sticks? I know that most neighbors would give other things when moving in, but since I like fish sticks, I figured that this is nice enough."

Amelia simply blinked. She never knew how possible it was to get in so many words under one breath, especially from this skinny, green-brown eyed, big-chinned, floppy-brown-haired, bowtie-wearing (yes, he was wearing an honest-to-God bowtie) young man.

Now she knew.

"Er…fish sticks. Yeah," Amelia managed to say, and with a beam, the man – John Smith or the Doctor – handed one of the boxes over. Amelia gave him a halfhearted smile and then asked, "Is your name really –"

"The Doctor," the man replied. "You may only call me that, in case you were wondering." He shook his head and with a sad tsk sound, added, "I never knew what my mother was thinking when she was naming me. John Smith – how unoriginal. Can you imagine having such a ridiculously boring name? Ah! That brings me to…" He gave a dramatic pause and then, flashing a brighter (if possible) smile, asked, "What's your name?"

"Amelia Pond-Williams," Amelia replied slowly. "But most people just call me Amy."

"Now that's a good name," the Doctor nodded approvingly. "Got to tip my hat to whoever came up with that."

"Thanks…?" Amelia responded, but before she could come up with anything better to say, Rory called from the other side of the house, "Amy? What's going on? What's taking so long?"

"Oh! Somewhere else in there, too?" the Doctor asked cheerfully. Amelia nodded, answering, "My husband." She tossed her head back and shouted, "A new bloke moved in next door! Name is uh – the Doctor! D'you wanna meet him?" There was a clatter of a mug hitting the counter, and then a, "Really?"

Within the next few seconds, Rory was at Amelia's side. He looked over at the Doctor, who re-energized his smile. "Hello," the new neighbor greeted. He extended his arm. "Fish sticks? Already gave your wife one, but what the hell, yeah? Never such thing as too much."

Rory glanced over at Amelia; she could see obvious question marks just popping out of his head, but her husband still nodded. "Yeah, um – thank you." He politely took a box and asked, "Sorry – what did Amelia say your name was…?"

"Doctor," the Doctor responded. "Otherwise known as John Smith, but –"

"He doesn't like to be called that," Amelia finished. The Doctor let out a laugh. "Glad you've already caught on!" he said proudly. He took a small step back and then, taking a quick look around the rest of the neighborhood, said in a staged whisper, "Now, can you point me to the nice neighbors? Just yesterday, I tried offering one of 'em a box of fish sticks, but I only got a whack in the head with a frying pan and a snap from a rather rude dog."

Amelia, despite herself, couldn't help but to grin. "You probably bumped into Old Lady Marge – she never was the same after visiting her brother's family a few summers ago." She said comfortably. Rory, too, chuckled lightly under his breath at that and pointed to the house across the street. "You might want to go to the houses over there first," he explained. "We haven't visited all the neighbors down there, but most of them are rather nice."

"Thank you!" the Doctor exclaimed, and giving Amelia and Rory a nod, added, "You know, if I avoid being smacked by any other rude neighbors, you must remind me to call you all up for tea – and fish sticks. With custard. It's all rather good." With that, he turned on his heel – and promptly slid down the porch.

Both Amelia and Rory cried out in surprise as they heard the Doctor hit the concrete. "Are you alright?" Rory asked, heading out of the front door. Amelia was close behind – and the two were ready to asses any damage that was done when suddenly, the front gate swung open.

"I'm done with my essay!" a familiar voice called out. "I'm pretty sure it just needs a few run-throughs before – oh."

Clara Oswald stopped, dropping her papers and stared at Amelia and Rory, who were standing at the middle of the porch. Her eyes slowly scanned down to the Doctor, who, Amelia saw with relief, didn't look as bad as she had originally thought. "I'm fine!" the new neighbor was saying, flapping a hand at Rory and Amelia. "Thi sort of stuff happens to me all the time!"

He popped to his feet, and as if he was a magician revealing a trick, lifted his arms and announced, "See? No blood, no scrapes! Probably just one hell of a bruise tomorrow morning." After receiving a faint nod from Rory, the Doctor spun around – and almost crashed down again, only this time, it was because Clara was standing in the way.

"Whoa! Sorry!" Clara shrieked automatically, grabbing onto the Doctor's arm before he could land himself back on the ground. She steadied him before her, adding, "I should have gotten in the way first, really – I just didn't think you were…" Her voice drifted as she caught sight of the fish stick boxes on the ground. Lifting an eyebrow, the young woman looked back up at the Doctor, asking, "Er…what exactly are you here for?"

Without waiting for a proper response, Clara shouted at Amelia, "Are you taking deliveries from the market now?"

Amelia puffed out a sigh. Carefully stepping down the porch, she replied, "No, Clara – this is just someone who's moved in recently." Gesturing to the Doctor, she introduced, "Clara, meet the Doctor – Doctor, meet Clara. She's one of my friends, and if you ever happen to stop by one of these days, don't be surprised to see her. She comes round here sometimes."

The Doctor grinned. "Well, that sounds just fine," he nodded, and turned to Clara. He stuck out a hand. "Good afternoon!"

"Afternoon," Clara replied, taking the hand and shaking it gently. Amelia watched carefully as the two held that stance for a few moments (maybe a moment too long?) and then, the Doctor's eyes flitted down to the dropped papers around Clara's feet. "What's this?" he asked, sinking to his knees to gather them.

Amelia's heart fell – if the Doctor was to take even a single glimpse at what the papers would say –

"The Everlasting Independence of Women – a Study in How Women Are Superior in All Relationships," the Doctor read aloud. Amelia resisted the urge to slap a hand across her forehead – this was certainly a way to introduce people to one another, wasn't it? However, what came next was a bit…unexpected.

"A woman activist!" the Doctor said, handing the papers over to Clara. The brunette slowly took it, replying, "Yup. That's me." The Doctor smiled warmly. "Well," he replied, "I just have to applaud you for that, Clara. Not enough feminists in this world, if you wanted my honest opinion." Lifting a fist, he shouted enthusiastically, "Go, women!"

Amelia was pleased – and somewhat surprised – to find Clara laughing at those words. "Thank you," she said. She bent down and collecting the boxes of fish sticks, handed them over to the Doctor. "And I wish you luck on your – fish-stick distribution."

"Thanks," the Doctor replied. He gave a small bob of the head to Clara – then to Amelia and Rory – and with a wave of his hand, added, "Nice meeting you all!"

And then he was stepping through the gate and going back to visiting the other neighbors.

"Well," Clara only said as she walked into the house, "he was certainly nice."

"You think so?" Amelia asked, looking curiously over at Clara. "I thought you were swearing that all men were pigs."

Rolling her eyes, Clara turned around to face Amelia. "But apparently, he's alright," she said simply. With a grin, she added, "Plus, he seemed to have a positive outlook on my stand in the entire controversy between male and female positions. That's got to count for something." Humming, Clara stepped into the living room – and taking a few moments to herself, Amelia gazed in wonder after her friend.

Then, Amelia turned around to look at Rory, who had been hearing the entire conversation, as she knew he would.

The two were thinking the exact same thing, too –

It looks like they found a decent match for Clara.

xXx

It was actually a challenge to get Clara to even consider going out on a date with the Doctor, because she was already firmly grounded into her no men rule.

"Why don't you two just get some coffee together?" Amelia suggested one day as the two were searching for books on feminism in the library. Clara snapped her head at Amelia, and with narrowed eyes, asked suspiciously, "Why?" Amelia shrugged her shoulders in what she hoped would be the most nonchalant manner ever. "Dunno," she replied. "It's just…he seems nice and everything. Besides, you've already said it yourself – he's a nice person."

Clara uttered a small, disbelieved sound. "He's just a friend," she replied airily, picking out one of the thick volumes on the bookcase. Amelia fought down the urge to groan in frustration. Just a friend – why was that excuse so common to avoid dating someone? She never understood it.

"It doesn't have to be coffee!" Amelia said as Clara walked over to one of the other bookcases. "You two can go ice-skating together! That's fun, yeah? Or maybe go to one of those book-signings you love so much." Tapping her fingers against the wall, she added, "Oh – oh! Or you two can go to a theater or cinema of a sort! That'd be a cool experience!"

Clara gave Amelia a side-long glance, saying, "Listen, Amy – I appreciate what you're doing for me right now, but if I've said it a million times." Leaning over, the friend said in a low, annoyed voice, "No men. I am and always will be going solo, and nothing, not even this Doctor man – is going to stop that. Alright?" She lifted her head, adding, "Besides, I think his chin is a bit too big, don't you?"

xXx

Amelia found that it was equally hard to try to get the Doctor to go out with Clara as well.

"No siree," the Doctor said, shaking his head when the idea was brought up. "She's a good person and a good friend – I wouldn't want to pull something dramatic on her like asking her out for…coffee and scones." He grimaced. "Besides, I've had my fair share of failed relationships – and let me tell you one thing, Pond – it always ends in disaster."

Amelia, who had already grown accustomed to being called by her maiden name – and become quite close with the Doctor, sighed. "But she won't mind! If one date goes wrong, she won't hate you forever – she'll probably be just fine with it and then the two of you can go back to being friends for the rest of your lives."

"And say we were going out for…I dunno, let's say a year – and then we suddenly break up?" the Doctor countered. He shook his head. "No, no, no – I won't have any of that. It'd not only wreck Clara, but it'd wreck me as well. Oh, and then there's the fact that you're friends with both Clara and me, so just imagine the awkwardness between us after that." He shuddered. "That would be just plain awful. I'd rather stay a single man, thank you very much."

You know, in that way alone, you two are just perfect for each other, Amelia thought stubbornly to herself, but bit those words back. Instead, she pasted on a fake smile and held up a packet of Jammy Dodgers. "Fine," she said lightly. "I'll let go of it for now." She ripped the packet open and taking a cookie, pushed them towards the Doctor. "Want one?"

xXx

"I don't understand Clara! Or the Doctor!" Amelia said indignantly, face-planting into the bed she shared with Rory. She heard her husband let out a soft moan in agreement and felt the mattress sink as he, too, settled in. "It's exhausting," he mumbled into the sheets. "I've tried literally everything." After a pause, he said, "Well, no. Haven't tried everything – the only other thing I haven't tried is sending one another emails pretending to be the other."

Amelia propped herself up on her elbows and glanced over at Rory. "Maybe we should try that," she said.

Rory perked up, shaking his head. "No," he replied flatly. "Just imagine how horrified and angry they'd be if they found out it was us. Clara and the Doctor wouldn't speak to us for weeks."

Amelia sighed, thumping back against the bed. "It's already been a few months since the Doctor and Clara have met, Rory!" she whined. "And the way how they keep – acting – so – casual – with – one another – makes – me – want – to – puke!" She punctuated each word with a bump of the forehead against the pillows. Rory nodded glumly. "Maybe they're secretly dating and this is all just a joke," he offered halfheartedly.

"Secretly dating, pssh," Amelia replied, shaking her head. "No way. If they were, we would have found out a long time ago."

xXx

"Look who's finally here!" Amelia heard Clara say cheerfully as the door opened. Frowning, Amelia stood to her feet and headed to the hallway, silently watching her friend usher the Doctor into the house. The Doctor was wet with the rain from outside – and the wind had whipped his usually neat hair into a wild, tangled mess, giving him the impression of a swept up puppy.

There was a loud bang of thunder from outside, causing both Clara and the Doctor to jump. There was a pause between them, and then, with a laugh, Clara said, "Never pinned you down to be afraid of storms." The Doctor grinned, confessing, "I'm terrified of 'em." He eyed Clara and went on, "But you – I would think you liked storms."

"Not really, no," Clara replied, sticking out her tongue. "Hated them since I was a kid, if you want the truth."

"Well, that's just another thing we have in common," the Doctor said, his voice lowering. Amelia couldn't help but to smile at the two. Clara tilted her head upwards, a questioning – yet gentle – look on her face and then, biting down on her lip, she exclaimed loudly, "Oh! You still have your coat on – and it's soaking! Really, Doctor, you're going to get sick if you keep that sort of behavior up."

As Clara quickly removed the Doctor's coat, he responded with a laugh, "I wouldn't worry – you'd be the first one at my door to help, anyways."

Clara blew a mocking kiss in the Doctor's direction. "Always ready," she remarked, hanging the coat on the rack.

The Doctor beamed after Clara, and though the brunette couldn't see it, Amelia certainly did. She had to try to smother the leaping sensation in her stomach when she saw that. Oh, you idiot, Amelia thought fondly to herself. You're in love with her and she's probably in love with him and you two don't even really know it yet.

"Shall we head to the living room? I'm sure Amelia and Rory are wondering what's taking us so long," the Doctor said – and at that, Amelia quickly took her leave, retreating to the kitchen, where Rory was loading a bowl of popcorn on the counter.

"It's happening," she whispered excitedly to her husband. Rory jumped and turned around. "Amy," he said crossly, folding his arms over his chest. "Don't surprise me like that!"

"Sorry," Amelia replied, giving Rory a quick peck on the cheek. "But you're going to love this." Not bothering to wait for Rory's response, she gave a small squeal and whispered, "The Doctor and Clara just had a moment!" Rory lifted an eyebrow. "What kind of moment?" he asked slowly.

"Clara took his coat and the Doctor – oh, you had to see it for yourself!" Amelia swatted Rory's arm playfully as his expression grew more and more skeptical. "The Doctor had this goofy expression on his face and it's just – it's just adorable!" She shook her head. "And the fact that they're not making any moves on each other is just killing me!"

Rory chuckled softly under his breath, shaking his head. "Well," he said patiently, "kill you or not, we'll just have to wait for more moments between them, yeah?" He nodded towards the bowl of popcorn and flashing a smile at Amelia, added, "Besides, love experts say that a good movie sometimes helps along the relationship."

Amelia snorted as he picked up the popcorn. "Love experts? What love experts?" she asked teasingly. Rory pretended to wiggle his eyebrows – but really, it only looked like he was trying to get the attention of an animal – and replied, "Every romance author in the world, obviously."

"Dear God," Amelia sighed, pretending to sound exasperated, but she still couldn't hide her giggles as the two walked out of the kitchen.

They found the Doctor and Clara already seated on the couch (and next to each other, Amelia noted), talking and laughing over something clearly quite hilarious.

"And then I said to her, well – takes one to know one!" Clara practically shrieked, shaking her head. The Doctor responded by doubling over, clutching at his sides and face red. "Stop!" he roared. "Clara, stop it!"

Amelia only looked over at Rory, giving him a knowing smile. He winked back, and clearing his throat, said, "I hate to interrupt, but…are you two ready?"

Clara and the Doctor quickly sobered, only letting out a few giggles every few seconds – and then, in unison, replied, "We're ready!"

The movie was inserted into the DVD player and after turning off the lights, everyone was focused on watching the television screen.

Well, almost everyone.

Sometimes, Amelia or Rory would take a quick glimpse at the Doctor and Clara – and find with equal satisfaction that Clara or the Doctor would occasionally bump their knees together, or sometimes smile to the other when s/he wasn't looking. It was the strangest thing, too – Amelia used to think she wouldn't ever be so fond of romantic gestures – in fact, this entire thing had started off just to get Clara to stop being a Barbie-murdering, over-sensitive, angry woman…but as Amelia watched the Doctor stare so caringly at Clara and Clara look so happily at the Doctor, the Scot could do nothing but feel both proud and joy for her friends.

xXx

The miracle arrived at Amelia's doorstep a week later, all bundled up inside Clara Oswald.

As the two settled into armchairs with mugs of tea, Amelia stirred up enough curiosity inside her to ask, "What happened to that essay you were going to have Rory and me read? We thought you were finished with it and going to publish it somewhere."

Clara blinked up at Amelia. "What?" she asked, bewildered.

Amelia lifted an eyebrow. "Er…the essay? The one about women being superior in anything and everything?"

Clara stared and then, after a few seconds ticked by, she let out an amused giggle. "Oh, that essay." She shook her head and replied, "I got rid of it. You know, I read over the thing a few weeks ago, I think – and you know what?" She leaned forward, adding, "I sounded furious. Absolutely bonkers. Just going on and on and on about how women were the best and all that." She paused and said, "Not that women aren't the best, of course. I mean, there's no way I'm ever going to let men think they're the dominant race, but there's no way women should think they're the dominant race, either."

"So…you've given up the angry feminist act?" Amelia asked hesitantly.

Clara let out a laugh. "Not the angry part – but I am keeping feminism." At that, Amelia gave a genuine smile to her friend. Lifting her cup, the Scot said, "Cheers, Clara."

xXx

"Aiii!" Amelia heard the Doctor shouting from inside the kitchen at his house. "Clara, can you get that? I think I'm burning the toast – this is just wonderful…" The door swung open, revealing a rumpled – yet bright-eyed – Clara. Amelia blinked – her friend was wearing a too-large, too-long, obviously male shirt that clearly belonged to…was it the Doctor's?

"Oh," both women said when they saw each other.

"Since when were you staying in John's house?" Amelia asked, giving Clara an up-down with her eyes. There was something a bit off about Clara…and after a few glances, the Scot could fully see the signs of sleep. Clara shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, mumbling, "I don't." She glimpsed up at Amelia, saying, "I just…decided to stay here for the night 'cause we got…uh…caught up in something."

"Caught up in what, might I ask?" Amelia asked, crossing her arms. But she wasn't really mad – if anything, this new discovery was somewhat thrilling. Oh, her Clara and her Doctor were getting on just fine.

Clara, still not catching on, only mumbled, "Um…"

"Amy! Hello! Nice to see you come 'round!" the Doctor burst into the foyer, carrying a pair of gloves and a towel. He was swatting blindly at the air, saying, "As you can see, we were…ah…" His voice drifted and after another moment, said, "We had coffee! Drove around! And now we're having toast! And it's…it's…" He frowned. Then, uttering a small yelp, cried, "It's burning! Probably still burning!" He ran out of the foyer.

At that, Amelia lifted an eyebrow at Clara. "Coffee and a drive?" she asked. A faint pink rose to Clara's cheeks, and giving an odd, bashful smile, the brunette replied, "Er…maybe?" Amelia's face split into a grin. "Alright, you," she said, looping her arm through Clara's, "you cannot convince me that you don't like him anymore."

Clara tossed her head back, laughing. "Fair enough," she replied simply. "Extremely fair enough."

A/N - Obviously, I'm exaggerating about single people after giving an ugly break-up. And feminists aren't man-haters. Just putting that out there, in case any of you lot were wondering if I had something against singles/feminists.

Reviews are always welcome! Constructive criticism is alright, but flames are not!

Oh, and one more thing...Merry Christmas Eve!