A/N: You guys keep telling me I don't give you enough true fluff, so... here it is! A quaint little (or no-so-little, not sure as I haven't written it yet as I write this) one-shot entailing the reset of Eleven to his original body at the end of The Time of The Doctor; and the Whoufflé we never saw. Remixed some of the original dialogue towards the end – I hope you guys like this one. Please review and tell me what you think!

"I – what do you think you're doing, mister?" Clara shrieked. The Doctor had appeared in the console room, face glowing with the youth she hadn't seen since she was last on Trenzalore, his eyes shining with mirth.

"You... bastard!" she continued vehemently, smacking his shoulder as hard as she could. He squeaked like a mouse as she added, "Of all times to – nope, I just can't deal with today. With any of this."

He only laughed, and pulled her close. Her breathing slowed as she felt a little drop of water hit her shoulder. A tear.

"I'll be off soon," he said sadly, stroking her hair. Clara frowned. "'Til then, don't you dare flirt with the new science teacher."

She let out a watery scoff before smiling back at him. "Of course not," his little companion assured him.

"Or stay back after school with that Jeff lad from Social Studies. You know he's been coming onto you since you moved your office."

Clara shook her head, still smiling. This guy, she thought to herself, he never changes. And he always looks out for me, even when I don't necessarily need it. The Doctor is forever.

"That's sweet," he continued, "always wanted someone to doubt my mortality."

He heard my thoughts. Of course.

"Not all of them. I'm not that hard-out for knowing what you're thinking. Oh, and keep making your mum's soufflé, yeah? You're getting closer every with every attempt. Save some for me the next time we meet."

Suddenly Clara found herself weeping like a child. Emotional pain had already begun to swirl violently in her chest like a forgotten item in a washing machine.

"But we won't meet again," she sighed sombrely. "Not like this. It won't be you."

"Of course it'll be me, Clara. It's always me. The Doctor and his... companion."

"Except – that's it isn't it? Just the Doctor's companion?"

He frowned slightly through the haze of tears, and pulled her even closer so their foreheads were touching.

"My Clara. You were never just my companion."

His intense gaze became uncomfortable for Clara, and she looked away.

"Yeah, I know. Impossible Girl, Soufflé Girl, heard it all before. Enigma this, not-just-my-companion that. It doesn't matter anyway-"

"Of course it matters. You never knew, did you? Never really knew what I... felt?"

She could only watch his tears fall faster as she pulled their hands together.

"Are you sure you're not a Cyber Planner? Because I have a twenty-four carat gold ring on right now and-"

"It's definitely me," he laughed. "But you never figured it out? After all this time?"

"Of course not," Clara replied quietly, "you were never one to talk about any feelings of – that sort."

"But I did," replied the Doctor, "so very, very many times. Hundreds, perhaps. Maybe thousands of times."

"Really? Because I certainly don't recall you ever saying anything about reciprocating my love. You always just stood there and let me-"

"Say that you love me?"

"Yes. That's how it's always been. And will be, given that none of your regenerations so far has given me a second thought."

"Because you're always the first thought."

Clara looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Yet you told me nothing. Nothing to even indicate that I wasn't a silly little girl in love with a man that would never know she existed? Until this face, you couldn't even remember my name."

"Well, in my defense, you did have rather a lot of - ahem, anyway, that's not what I was going to say. Do you know I can stop time, Clara?"

She cocked her head to the left in confusion. "How is that relevant to what you were saying?"

"Because I can stop time, my dear. It's mighty difficult, and the TARDIS never likes me afterwards, but I can. And I have. So many times; have you never wondered why you snap out of a trance and feel like you've missed the last few minutes?"

"Of course I have," she told him curtly. "Everyone daydreams."

"No, I mean really come out of a trance where you're not quite sure you recall being anything other than lucid."

Clara lifted her chin indignantly. "Yes. After the Emperor proposed on his ship in front of the amusement park world, and the Maitlands were there. And when you came to get me out of your time stream. And... well, a few others. Are you saying I felt that way because of you stopping time?"

He nodded and stepped back from their embrace, carefully holding her shoulders like the handle of a precious china teapot.

"I paused everything and confessed my love for you, all those times. I shouted at you for even considering someone else's proposal - and I even saved your muffins from burning on Angie's birthday. Standing in front of you, inside my own time stream, defying the danger of the act itself so I could tell you how much you mean to me. Surely you would know afterwards, I reasoned. You'd have at least an instinct, an old gut feeling, that I always loved you."

She didn't know how to respond, so he continued.

"Look, I'd love to say something deep and poetic like ' "I did it because I feared that if I confessed during the regular flow of our time, it would fade just as quickly," ' but it was because you scare me, Clara. The amount of power over me you hold in these beautiful, soft hands," he whispered, taking hold of them again, "is insurmountable. What your rejection would do to me cannot be fathomed."

"But I would always think I was just being a silly girl giving in to the wishes of her heart. Which I did. So I never believed a second of it."

"You do now. And speaking of now, I think my work in this body is finally done."

Clara flung her arms around his waist fiercely and stated, "You're not going anywhere."

He pried her hands from himself and stepped away from her.

"It all just disappears, doesn't it? Everything you are, gone in a moment, like... breath, on a mirror. Any moment now, he's coming."
"Who's coming?" she cried, voice shaking with pain.
"The Doctor."
"But you - you are the Doctor," she breathed as tears began to fall once more.
"Yep..." he sighed, "and I always will be."
His hands started to glow like the aging sun through a dusty attic window.
"But times change," the Doctor began again, "and so must I."

She shook her head in refusal. "Please don't change."

"We all change, when you think about it. We're all different people; all through our lives. And that's okay, that's good - you've got to keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be. I will not forget one line of this. Not one day, I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me."

Clara's POV

Now, you're all probably wondering what happened after that. Did he die? Did he regenerate? Was it just really awkward? I'll tell you what happened.

We changed... together. Although he got a new face, and a new body, I changed too. Everything I knew about the world, about him – was wiped clean away with the words off my whiteboard as I teach now. My students are chatting away, laughing amongst themselves, each soul open and giving in a comfortable environment. What I would give to see him again in such an environment, where all are free to be and to learn from one another. He'd love it.

This used to be just a job I'd taken up because I liked the idea of showing kids the world through text. Now, I see so much more. I see myself, I see them, and I see the universe. A universe without my Doctor, but nonetheless, there is a Doctor.

So long as we are who we really are, even if we exist separately - that's more than enough.