She's typing furiously when she hears the TARDIS materialise on the lawn outside her flat. Clara glances at the time on her laptop and growls with frustration. She needs to get this done now or it won't get done at all—and no bow tie-wearing man child with a time machine will convince her otherwise.

He knocks before using his sonic to enter her flat. He's been letting himself in for a while now, and although she teased him at first, he knows she doesn't mind. The boundaries they had once drawn between themselves have blurred over time, some of them in more welcome ways than others.

His fingers rap against the doorframe and she casts a glance over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway, body tense with his usual manic energy. He's ready to go. "I'm not ready."

He practically deflates. "How much longer?"

"Dunno. Half an hour? Maybe more?"

"But I got us a reservation at the Hyperion Restaurant on the French colony in the Sector 12 Galaxy."

Clara's fingers freeze on the keyboard as she frowns with amusement before resuming their steady pace. "Reservations? Aren't you notoriously against those? Something about preferring spontaneity and a flexible schedule?"

He frowns lightly at her. "Yes, well… It's a special occasion."

"Is it?" she asks, still typing away with her back to him. When he doesn't respond, she tears her eyes from her computer and turns in her chair, arm draping over the back as she looks up at him.

He's trying not to pout. "It's our anniversary."

"Our what?"

"Well, not technically an anniversary. It hasn't been a year, not even for me – I don't think. It's sort of tricky to say, since the amount of time we spend apart isn't always proportionate, but…"

As he babbles, a slow smile spreads across her face. Clara notes the date. "It's the second."

He exhales softly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Yes."

"Three months since we first…"

He swallows and nods. "Yes."

She beams at him. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"Of course I remembered."

Clara lowers her gaze to the floor. "I can't believe I forgot. Hang on." She glances up at him. "We didn't celebrate our one month or two month anniversaries. What's so special about three?"

He pales for a moment. "I like threes. Three is a magical number."

Her lips curl into a grin. "You've only just now realised how long it's been, haven't you?"

"No," he says crossly, meaning the answer is definitely yes. He sighs. "Do you not want to go?"

"What? No, of course I do! I just…" She grimaces apologetically. "I need to get this done."

"Why do I always have to remind you we've got a time machine?"

"It's not a matter of time. It's being in the right mindset. If I don't finish this now, then all my focus and concentration will be lost and I won't be able to do a proper job." She smiles. "Once I finish, we can go. I don't need to remind you we've got a time machine, do I?"

She turns back to her laptop with a grin, noting how he'd said "we've got a time machine" and how she'd chosen to echo it. The Doctor walks up behind her and places his hands on the back of her chair, leaning forward so he can look at what she's doing.

"You spelled 'knowledgeable' incorrectly."

"No, I didn't. I've got spellcheck."

"There shouldn't be an e."

Clara snorts. "How many spelling bees have you won, Doctor?"

"Five. How many have you won?"

"Six," she lies with an arrogant grin, and he scoffs with annoyance. She'd only ever won three, but he didn't need to know that. "Besides, English isn't your first language. It's natural you should muck it up a bit."

He grunts with annoyance. "I'll… muck you up a bit."

Clara giggles. "I look forward to it."

He breathes a little laugh, cheeks flushing pink even as he wraps his arms around her from behind and plants a kiss on top of her head. "I adore you."

Her heart flutters in her chest. He says that a lot, I adore you, as if he's trying to avoid that other word altogether. She would be worried about why if she didn't know him as well as she did, or if she didn't notice that she has also been avoiding the word. Neither wants to be the first to say it. They both feel it.

"Down, boy," she says with a nervous laugh when he bends his head forward and kisses her neck, his hands falling to her thighs. "The sooner I get this done, the sooner we can celebrate."

"Is this distracting?" he asks in a far too innocent tone as one hand slides up her belly to cup her breast.

Clara freezes, sighing. "Doctor."

"Hmm?"

"Remove the hands."

Pouting audibly, he stands up with a muttered, "Yes, dear," that causes her to blush more than his eager hands had. She hears him pacing back and forth behind her and wonders if she should suggest a cold shower or something. He's acting like a scavenger bird, circling around in the air waiting to feed. Clara swallows hard and tries to focus back on the task at hand, which is her monthly report due to the school administration.

She's nearing the end of the penultimate paragraph when the Doctor kneels down next to her chair, one arm snaking around her waist while his other hand falls to her knee. "What are you doing?" she asks suspiciously.

"Waiting."

A shiver runs up her spine when he slides his hand up the inside of her thigh, his touch both firm and gentle as his fingers skim across her stockings. Clara squirms a little, a soft breath leaving her lips as she parts her legs. His finger traces along the seam between her legs and she whimpers, her hands falling slack at the keyboard.

"That's not waiting."

He swivels her chair to face him once he's confident he's got her attention, hands gripping her thighs beneath her pencil skirt. He presses a light kiss against her hip. "Forgive me."

She's breathing heavily now, her fingers raking through his hair as he presses another kiss to the crease where her thigh meets her hip, the pressure of his lips electric even through the layers of fabric that separate him from her skin. He slides his hands under her skirt, bunching it up at her hips, and reaches for the waistband of her stockings. He slowly tugs them down, forcing her to lift off the chair so he can slip them past her hips, down her thighs, and then down to a puddle on the floor along with her knickers.

"I just…" He kisses the inside of one knee and then the other, palms leisurely stroking up and down the outsides of her thighs as his lips move against her skin. "Want you. Now."

She swallows hard when she feels herself on the verge of wheezing. His breath is on her, but his lips remain on her thighs, kissing and nipping her delicate skin until his nose brushes against her. His hands are under her skirt, palms flush against her hips, fingertips pressing into her backside. Clara wonders how he can be so impatient to have her and still take so bloody long to—

"Oh god," she breathes when his lips envelop her, tongue whipping forward to brush against her clit. She throws one knee over his shoulder and grips his jacket with biting fingernails while her other hand threads its fingers through his hair. His hands are firm at her hips, keeping her from bucking and thrashing against him as he kisses her delicately, his touch agonisingly gentle.

Clara's head falls back as his tongue swirls around her, her hips rolling against his face as a moan swells inside her chest like a balloon. He's holding back, the pressure he exerts is confident but reserved, and she figures out why when her fingers dig sharply into his shoulder and scalp and she says, "Please."

With a strangled moan, he thrusts his tongue forward and tightens his grip on her hips as she starts bucking, her legs scissoring around his shoulders as she gasps and issues soft cries. One of his hands slides around her bum to rest at her tailbone, his touch loving and encouraging as his tongue drives her to ecstasy, his name spilling from her lips as she shudders into him.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand and smiles at her body draped across her chair, her fingers slipping from his hair and the collar of his coat as her belly rises and falls with heavy breaths.

"That was…" She swallows hard. "Completely uncalled for."

He resists the urge to chuckle. He kisses her knee and she shoots upward, leg falling from his shoulder so she could grip his face with both hands and pull him up to meet her lips for a passionate kiss. She can taste herself on his lips and marvels at how that turns her on more than it could ever disgust her. "Take off your clothes," she demands breathily.

He nods eagerly. "Yes, ma'am."

He whips off his jacket and tosses it to the floor before making quick work of his bow tie, waistcoat, and shirt. Meanwhile Clara pulls her blouse over her head and unzips her skirt, standing so she could drop it down her legs. The Doctor stands once he's removed his pants and trousers, nearly tripping as he removes his feet from the puddled clothing. Clara unhooks her bra and lets it drop to the floor.

The Doctor grins. "Happy Anniversary."

"Shut up."

She silences him with a kiss and he wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground. Clara wraps her legs about his waist and he hefts her up so that she's properly situated, the pair smiling at each other before their lips meet with more impassioned kisses that draw moans and sighs from their throats.

The Doctor turns sharply and lowers her down on top of the edge of her desk, to the right of her laptop which is still open, reminding her of what she should be doing. Clara slaps it shut and then spreads her legs wide as he pushes into her, her body slick and ready for him. There's no need to go slowly, to build up to the place where they already are. Clara clings to him as he beats into her, her thighs pressing hard into his hips and her hands clinging to his back and shoulder. He's hunched forward, one hand pressed against the wall behind her while the other grips her hip. His eyes bore into hers, gaze foggy with lust as they breathe heavily in each other's direction.

Eyes remaining on his, she clenches around him and enjoys the deep moan he responds with. "Yes," he mutters, thrusting into her. "Yes."

Even in these moments when they were caught up in a frenzy of lust, she can still see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice, feel it in his touch. Suddenly her fear is stripped from her and all she wants to do is say it as loud and as much as she possibly can.

"I love you," she says.

A funny sound escapes his throat, but his movements do not falter. Clara lays her head against his chest and hugs him tightly as he continues thrusting into her, his pace increasing. She says the words over and over again in rhythm with his movements, her thighs sliding languidly up and down his sides until he releases a strangled cry against her shoulder and sinks into her with a soft groan.

She almost wants to laugh as she wonders which of them is breathing louder. He removes his hand from the wall and strokes her hair, his other hand clutching her to him as the residual tremors in his body subside. When he pulls back to look at her, she knows what he's thinking, but oddly she's not worried. He pushes her hair from her face and kisses her, pausing to breathe twice before he pulls back and kisses her nose.

"Oh, Clara," he breathes against her forehead.

She closes her eyes. The way he speaks her name is more of a declaration of love than any three words ever could be. She doesn't expect him to repeat those words, but then again she'd never expected him to admit to having feelings for her that were more than friendly.

Then again – he's yet to verbally admit to it. His behaviour would read rather odd if she hadn't gotten the message somewhere along the line… about three months ago, in fact.

She kisses him calmly, unfettered by the deadline that had earlier been pressing in on her or the urgency of her now sated arousal. He slides a hand into her hair and she smiles against his lips, withdrawing her own momentarily before puckering a series of swift kisses against his mouth. He laughs at her playfulness.

"Oh, yeah," he says, turning his head to look at the computer not shut beside them. "I suppose you'll want to finish that before we head out…"

"I could have been finished by now," she reminds him, tapping her finger against the tip of his nose. "But someone was too impatient."

His gaze lowers, eyes on her breasts as he grins sheepishly. "You didn't seem to mind too much."

"No, I didn't."

"Should we get going, then?"

Clara bites her lip and loops her arms around his neck, her legs pulling his hips even further into hers. "What's the rush?"

"Reservation."

"Time machine."

He chuckles darkly. "Insatiable woman."

"Says the eager and willing man already growing hard inside me."

He blushes furiously. "Clara…"

She smiles with amusement, brushing his hair from his forehead as she watches his face shift from pink to crimson. "You're very silly."

"Am I?"

"Mm-hmm."

He kisses her. "So are you."

"Am I?"

"Mm-hmm."

She kisses him gently and grins against his lips when he cradles her body against his and turns them towards her bed. He slowly lowers them both onto the mattress and immediately starts moving against her, his movements relaxed and almost lazy. She rests her arms along his, palms at his shoulders as she stares into his eyes, breathing softly as she thinks of how much better her life is with him in it. How much richer and fuller and happier.

"Happy Anniversary, Doctor."

He gives a little laugh, a happy one, and reaches up to touch her face. "Happy Anniversary, Clara."