I've had the weirdest day at school ever. And possibly the scariest...today, there was a gas leak at my school...and then less than an hour later, a bomb threat was delivered to our school. We had to evacuate the building and walk to the nearest elementary school and camp outdoors and wait for the police officers (with their dogs) to sniff out the possible bomb. While we waited, I started to think about a situation in which the Doctor might appear in his TARDIS and begin talking about how aliens were going to take over the school and etc.

But instead, I came up with this story. Enjoy!

First Time – because he didn't want to look fake.

Clara Oswald was standing in line to get chips. Her arms (still clad in the black velvet of her cardigan) were crossed over her white blouse, her teeth biting down ever-so-slightly on her lower lip, her entire body pushing only lightly forward on the tips of her toes. Clara's eyes were intent on scanning the menu on the black chalkboard of the shop, a wide smile crossing her lips when she found a price to her liking. "Looks like chips are a go, after all," she said happily over her shoulder.

The Doctor only nodded. Towering behind Clara Oswald's small figure, the Doctor figured the two must have looked like an odd pair – he was aware of the stares that were casually thrown over to them every few minutes. However, the Doctor was never bothered by being inconspicuous, and he was fairly sure that this version of himself didn't mind, either. He paused and ran over his mind – no, he didn't care. He could carry on.

As the line moved up, Clara occasionally looked over her shoulder, almost as though to see if the Doctor was still behind her. Each time she did see him, another small smile would twitch over her lips. And each time she did that, the Doctor wondered if he should say something – was there something wrong? What's so funny? Why was she looking at him like that?

"Look at you, with that intense look," Clara finally commented. She didn't look bewildered or worried as she had been before, though, so the Doctor took that as a good sign to reply, "Do I, really?" He gestured around the shop. "Suppose I could only have that reaction after showing up in…Glasgow."

"Certainly fits," Clara murmured, shaking her head.

The Doctor blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hm? It wasn't supposed to mean anything – it's just – Glasgow. You know, Scotland and all that," Clara replied. She pointed at the Doctor with a finger. "And you've got a new accent and all that. Scottish." The Doctor blinked again. He frowned and asked, "Are you getting that only now?"

At those words, Clara's hand fell limply to her side. She opened her mouth to respond, and then closing her eyes, quickly turned back around. The Doctor's pulse quickened in…was that panic? (How curious – the Doctor was feeling something new in this body…) He stared at Clara's back and asked, "Did I say something? What's with the shunting?"

"It's nothing," Clara replied, her voice soft. She took a few steps forward the line and added, "It's – I forgot about something."

The flat notes to Clara's voice didn't sound so convincing to the Doctor. He scowled at Clara's back and turned back around to face a curious looking girl. She looked a bit younger than Clara – so she must be what, thirty-five years old? The girl had wavy, red hair and startling set of blue-green eyes. Her arms were folded over her chest, and judging by the look on her face, the Doctor had the feeling that she had been a witness of the little exchange that happened.

"She's mad at you," the girl commented, twisting at her hair. She made an odd tsking sound and with a shake of her head, added, "You should make it up to her."

"Don't you have to do something else besides commenting about other people's lives?" the Doctor retorted. The girl flashed a strangely mischievous smile. With another twist of her hair, she replied, "Don't have much to do – but just some advice."

"Can we go now, please?" a boy – who appeared to be around the same age as the girl – asked from behind, his voice whining. The girl rolled her eyes and answered, "Fine – I'm up for some ice cream, anyways." As she ducked out of the waiting line, the girl said over her shoulder, "Just do something to make it up to your girlfriend! It'll help!"

"She's not my – who are you, anyways?" the Doctor asked her indignantly.

"Amelia," the girl replied. Winking, she turned to the boy. "C'mon, Rory – the line at the ice cream shop might not be as bad!" Pushing the door, the girl added, "Good luck, mister!"

The Doctor stared with wide eyes as the pair quickly walked out of the shop. He felt his hearts sinking and rising in an uneven, unpredictable pattern until suddenly, an angry voice shouted, "Are you going to move up or what?" Quickly turning, the Doctor strode back up to Clara, who didn't appear to have caught any of the conversation that the Doctor just had.

Just do something to make it up to your girlfriend! It'll help!

The Doctor stared down at Clara's brown head. All at once, he felt his hands slowly moving to her shoulders – not the hugging type, not the hugging type, not the hugging type – but…do something to make it up to Clara, yes? And she was a…hugging type, right?

Just do something to make it up to your girlfriend.

I'm not her boyfriend, the Doctor thought automatically. I told her that. It wouldn't be fair for me to just – hug – or…kiss. For a fleeting second, the Doctor wondered if Clara was a kissing type of person. Or if he was. Probably not. But what would it feel like? Would Clara want to kiss him?

Would kissing Clara make things up between them?

The Doctor's hands remained hovering over Clara's shoulder. He could feel his breath coming out in short, uneasy breaths, and then slowly, his hands fell down to his sides.

No.

If the Doctor kissed Clara, it would make things look too…forced. Fake. Something that the Doctor didn't want to be. Not now. Maybe later…maybe when the timing wasn't as imperfect…maybe Clara could actually see the Doctor. He knew that Clara had said she could finally see him - and he knew that she probably meant it, but there were some things that people could say but never truly understand.

The Doctor had the sickening feeling that though Clara thought she was far away from his eleventh (or twelfth, whatever,) incarnation of himself, she couldn't properly see him for who he was. The signs were everywhere – the way she went quiet after the Doctor said something as simple as "are you only getting that now?" or temporarily leaving her back at the restaurant…but the Doctor was going to come back for Clara.

But was that what his eleventh incarnation would do? Leave? Probably not, the Doctor thought bitterly. And would my eleventh incarnation say…different words? Probably.

No, if the Doctor made any gesture towards Clara – a hug, a kiss – it would appear desperate and…incorrect. This was not the time to make any gestures or…making up.

Closing his eyes, the Doctor quickly ducked out of the line and silently headed out of the shop.

Obviously, I'll be uploading the next five chapters at one point. (Later. Hopefully, the next chapter will be up in less than five days...or maybe it'll be uploaded tomorrow, if it's a good day to write. :))

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