Clara and the Doctor are back together. And they are happy. And well, aren't they cute?
Just a little thing to warm your hearts.

Many thanks to my wonderful beta misswinterseat who, among a lot of other things, stopped me from committing a capital sin while making tea.

They have been in there for a good pair of hours, a companionable silence established between them while she does her marking at the kitchen table and he reads a book, stretched on the couch.

He feels much better now, the walking stick and the terrible sling very much in his past right now, though there are still some movements he can't do without feeling a little pain. They said it is normal, considering the extensions of his wounds, but he can't stop himself from dreading the physiotherapy sessions that line ahead of him until he can consider himself fully recovered.

Of course, there is this one little thing that makes everything bearable. Clara. Having her back into his life makes everything bright and so much better. Much more than he could've expected, even when she still tends to fuss too much about him.

He hides his smile behind his book. Well, truth to be told, he can't really complain about it. It's nice to be cared about like that and he takes a secret satisfaction in it, though he will never admit it to anyone. He still needs to keep some of his dignity after all.

He casts a furtive glance at her from over his book. Clara seems to be completely lost in her work, her brow furrowed in concentration while she takes notes at the exercise books she is marking.

She hasn't exactly moved in with him, no. Not yet. Clara still has her own flat next door even if lately she spends more and more time in his. It amuses him to discover more of her things among his every day and it still surprises him how perfectly well it always seems to fit into his place. Like it belongs in there.

He suppresses a sigh. And yet...

Well, it's true that he also hasn't exactly asked her to move in. Not with so many words anyway, though he still thinks that giving her a key for his place should be enough of an admission. But he knows that it must be still too soon for her. And if Clara needs her time, he will respect it. Even when sometimes he wonders if there is something else holding her back.

He watches her biting her bottom lip, her dark eyes fixed on the sheet of paper in front of her while her small fingers play with a lock of her hair. He can't prevent the smile that forms on his lips, nor his eyes from drinking in her beauty.

He loves her and, for some kind of heaven's miracle, it seems that she loves him back, oh, lucky sod that he is. He almost laughs. What else could he want from life right now?

His lips press together forming a thin line.

Maybe Clara needs more, much more than a key and implicit admissions of what he wants for them. Maybe she needs to know the truth, needs to listen all the words coming out from his lips. But how to tell her that she is the air in his lungs, the beatings of his heart, his everything?

She shifts on her seat and he quickly hides his face back behind the book before she can catch him staring at her like that. But considering the glimpse of a small smile that curls the corners of her mouth up, he suspects that he has been too slow.

He makes a number of standing up and stretching his long limbs to disguise his own amusement and walks to the kitchen with lazy steps. Avoiding her gaze the entire time, he pretends that he doesn't know she has caught him staring at her a moment before and stops by her side.

"Tea?" He asks her with a raise of his eyebrows.

"That would be nice, yeah," she smiles. Her warm gaze lands upon him like a summer breeze and he needs to make an effort to not get lost in it. There is something about the way she always looks at him that warms his skin and makes his heart swell to almost beat outside his chest.

He can feel her gaze following his every movement while he walks around the kitchen.

He thinks her eyes hold the light of an entire constellation. As if her soft smile in that perfect mouth of her is not distracting enough. And of course, it could only end in disaster. A small one, fortunately, he thinks, cursing under his breath after he bumped into the sink and spilt a large amount of water from the kettle on the floor and over the counter.

Clara raises a questioning eyebrow at him and he feels himself blushing. His cheeks redden even more when she is unable to stifle the small laughter that he pretends not to hear. With another curse, he closes the tap and places the kettle on the stove before he starts to clean up the mess.

This is totally her fault, he thinks, she and those starry eyes of hers.

He hears her approach and relishes in the warmth of her arms encircling his waist from behind. Her hands slip under his t-shirt and entwine over his chest.

"Silly man," Clara presses a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades.

"Ah," he slowly turns around in the loop of her arms, his longer ones enveloping her in a gentle embrace. "Silly, hm?" His eyebrows furrow in a pretence annoyance that makes her let out yet another giggle.

"Just a tiny little bit," she says, mischief dancing in her brown eyes. She goes on her tiptoes and presses a gentle kiss on his mouth before she slips out of his grasp to bounce back to her place at the table. He just watches her in silent amazement, his heart fluttering when she turns around to offer him an adoring smile.

"What is this song you have been humming the entire afternoon?" She asks after a moment, tilting her head, eyes staring curiously into his.

It takes him a couple of seconds more to register her question.

Has he ever told her how beautiful she is? He thinks he has but he also thinks he should tell her more often, because, God, he could write poetry about the curve of her lips and the spark of her eyes.

She keeps looking at him, demanding an answer and he clears his throat, his face changing into a frown before he looks at her as if she is hallucinating.

"I wasn't humming," he protests.

"Oh, you absolutely were!" A short laugh escapes her lips while she lets the pen slip from her fingers onto the table. "I have this melody stuck in my head for a while now and I just noticed that it is because you have been humming it."

"I haven't!" He huffs in indignation. "It is probably you who are doing it without even noticing it."

"Oh, you are really impossible, aren't you!" Her tone is exasperated but he can see her eyes sparkling in amusement. "You've been humming it! For hours!"

"Maybe it's because I'm impossibly silly then," the smirk on his lips makes her immediately roll her eyes at him before he goes on. "But I wasn't-" He then stops mid-sentence, mouth open at the realisation that maybe, just maybe, she might be right. And if she is, he is really in trouble.

She raises her perfect eyebrows at him, a dare in her eyes.
"Oh," he bites his bottom lip, eyes quite not meeting hers. "I was, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, you certainly were," she smiles softly. When he looks back at her, she asks. "And what song is it?"

There is no easy way out of this one. Of course, he can always lie to save his skin and play safe. But he can't lie to her, not even about an innocent thing like the song that plays over and over in his head every time he thinks about her, every time they are together. Actually, all the time, since they'd met.

"It is just an old song," he tries to dismiss it and sinks back at the couch to hide behind his book. He can only hope that Clara will drop the matter. He feels her big brown eyes studying him for a moment. And of course, she doesn't. Not Clara. Not his Clara.

"'Course it is," she says and the matter-of-factly tone in her voice is a straight blow at his pride. He instantly shoots his head up, even if he knows that this is exactly the kind of reaction she was aiming for.

"Now I am old?" His eyes straighten dangerously while she pretends to be more interested in her exercise books. She takes her time to answer him, clear amusement in her tone when she speaks despite her eyes purposely avoiding his.

"Your words, not mine."

Then she looks back at him, eyebrows raised with a glint of mirth in her eyes that makes him huff and throw the book on the couch. She teases him mercilessly and he can't exactly say that he doesn't like it. But this is certainly a game for two to play.

"I can't remember you complaining about my age this morning," his eyes twinkle in mischief when he adds, "But maybe my memory is failing me since I'm so, so very old."

"Shut up," her smile is bright but doesn't disguise the pink on her cheeks. He thinks it is just adorable.

"Bowie," he finally says.

"Oh, it's always Bowie, isn't it?" Her teasing smirk instantly makes him want to kiss it off her face. "Which one?"

Maybe if he kisses her breathless she will drop the matter. But the determination he sees in her eyes tells him that she won't be tricked that easily, not right now. And he is sure that Clara can keep this going on forever, so, in the end, it's an easy decision. Even if he has this feeling that he might regret it later.

"Where are you going?" She doesn't hide her confusion when he stands up and walks away.

"I'll be back in a moment," he casts her a glance from over his shoulder before he disappears into the hallway without any other word.

A couple of minutes later he gets back to the living room. He has his guitar in hand and an old amplifier under his arm.

"What is this?" She raises her eyebrows just a little.

He places the amplifier on the floor and sits on the couch, guitar resting on his tight, tilting his head just a bit.

"What does it look like?"

Her little laugh makes it right into his heart and she looks at him with big bright eyes.

"Wait," she walks slowly towards him while he switches the amplifier on. "You won't tell me what song it is but... you'll play it to me?"

His fingers slide across the strings, testing the instrument, adjusting the amplifier volume and testing it again, while his mind swirls trying to remember the reason why he thought this would be a good idea.

"If you want me to," his eyes search for hers and he can't avoid feeling a little anxious. It shouldn't be so hard, he knows, especially because he has already told her how he feels about her.

Once, it's true, but with all the words to not leave any doubt about it. And he thinks that he might have done it other times in different ways. So this will be just one more way to tell her, to let her know what lays inside his heart.

And yet, he feels like he is about to bare himself even more to her, mind and heart and soul. But there is no harm in to open up so completely to someone who he so absolutely loves. He can sing his heart out to her. Even if he thinks that he might be about to make a fool of himself in front of her.

"I'd love it," she says softly.

He tries the strings again, playing a couple of chords, the familiar feeling of the music sounding from under his fingertips soothing him, giving him the last nudge he needs to go on. He concentrates on the song, on the chords and the words from the lyrics he knows by heart. Literally. When his voice sounds, it's soft and hoarse and speaks about all the things that go in his heart. For her. Only for her.

She is still standing in front of him, eyes watching him with wonder and something else he recognises instantly. It's the same incandescent feeling that dances in his chest and make his heart beat hard and loud.

"I've nothing much to offer

There's nothing much to take

I'm an absolute beginner

And I'm absolutely sane

As long as we're together

The rest can go to hell

I absolutely love you

But we're absolute beginners

With eyes completely open

But nervous all the same"

He feels the shift on the couch when she sits next to him, her knee brushes his and he smiles, lifting his eyes to look at her before he continues.

"If our love song

Could fly over mountains

Could laugh at the ocean

Just like the films

There's no reason

To feel all the hard times

To lay down the hard lines

It's absolutely true"

And though his voice falters when the emotions take over him, he keeps playing, eyes carefully scanning hers. There is a soft smile on her lips and her eyes spark like they are made of stars.

"Do we have a love song now?" She asks him quietly.

"Well," his lips curl into a crooked smile. "I absolutely love you, so I think this one fits quite well. Don't you?"

Her smile beams at him.

"Absolutely," she gives his cheek a tender kiss before she adjusts herself beside him to rest her head on his shoulder. He places the guitar carefully next to him and puts one arm around her, pulling her closer.

"You need to teach me how to sing it then," she says after some time.

He moves away from her just enough to look her in the eyes.

"But you don't really need it."

"I don't?" A little frown forms on her forehead, but her eyes never leave his.

He shakes his head slowly, his fingers pulling a strand of hair back behind her ear. "As long as you want to dance with me."

"Of course," her smile mirrors his now. "Always with you," she places a tender kiss on his lips.

"Absolutely."

#

Clara is about to leave the staff room when her phone rings. His name flashing on the screen places a smile on her lips.

"Hey," she says, giving a gentle nod to the teacher who has just held the door open for her.

"Hey, you. Hope I'm not interrupting anything," his voice has that quiet and gravely tone that never fails in making her knees weak.

"You're not," she smiles at the group of year 10 that greets her in the main hall.

"I'm just leaving."

"Good. Any plans for tonight?"

He can't be serious. She laughs.

"What do you mean? Have you forgotten?"

There is a hesitant silence on the other end of the line. Oh, please, he must be teasing her.

"Forgotten about what?"

Is there a smile in his tone?

"You are supposed to take me to dinner at that fancy restaurant you've been talking about the entire week," she can't help but laugh once more. He has to be kidding. Please, let him be kidding.

"Huh... Are you sure it is... today?"

Clara stops at the main gates. He sounds almost convincingly forgotten. But she knows him better.

People think her darling Doctor is more than socially awkward, sometimes aloof, sometimes a madman. But the thing is that many don't understand how his avid and quick mind makes him ramble when he is too excited about something, many don't see the shyness he tries so hard to hide when he needs to deal with feelings, especially his own. He is a man capable of breaking his own rules for the ones he loves, but he never ever breaks a promise. Not to her.

"John," there is a soft warning in her tone that she expects him to pick.

"Clara," he mimics her tone and then she is sure he is just winding her up.

"Oh, you are just being mean," she complains, but can't refrain a smile.

"Ah, I'm mean this time, not silly anymore."

"Well, you can't possibly be everything, darling."

"Right. And we'll be unforgivably late if you'll keep standing at the school's gate forever."

At that, she straightens her back and lifts her eyes to search her surroundings.

"Doctor, are you hidden, spying on me?" The corners of her mouth twist in a bare hint of a smile.

"Ah. No. And, yes, maybe."

She can hear the amusement in his tone. He is having a blast, the cheeky bastard.

"Sorry?"

"I'm not spying, Clara. That would be ridiculous! Okay, maybe just a little," this time his chuckle sounds clear and she can't help but smile.

She should be at least a little mad at him for playing with her like that, but she can't find it in her.

"Where are you?" She turns around trying to locate him without any luck and furrows her eyebrows in frustration. Why is he kidding her like that? "Are you really here? Or are you just playing a wicked game with me?"

The Doctor laughs. A crystal clear laughter that finds its way straight to her chest. It's a sound so rare, but so, so precious and beautiful that pulls all the strings of her heart. And she feels it flutter. If he only knew what that sound did to her.

"Oh, John, please!" She laughs too. "Turn around again."

This time she can hear him, not on the phone, but the deep and low tones of his voice come exactly from behind her. Turning around, she finally sees him, his phone still pressed against his ear, a big grin on his lips.

"Oh, you silly man," she says with a smile that matches his own.

"See," he pockets his phone and slowly places his hands on her forearms, his eyes landing on her softly. "I always can be many things. Especially mad," and he adds before she has a chance to say anything, "about you."

He pulls her into his arms to kiss her softly and smiles when he feels her humming against his lips.

"That's good," she says when their lips part.

"Is it?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't be so smug," she gives him a soft slap on his chest that makes him chuckle and pull her back into him so he can place a soft kiss at the top of her head.

Her smile beams at him when she steps away from his embrace, sliding her arm in the crook of his before they start to walk.

"Shall we go?"

"As you wish, my lady."

#

Donna watches him from the corner of her eye while she arranges the plates and cutlery over the table. The Doctor leans against the backrest of an old brown armchair, hands in the pockets of his trousers and his long legs crossed at his ankles, while he observes Clara and the girls playing in the garden.

There is this look of happiness about him, a twinkle in his eyes that makes him look younger and Donna can't remember seeing him like this, so obviously in love with someone. Not even with River, who she knows for sure, he had loved deeply. But then, River and the Doctor's relationship had always been unconventional, both too independent and committed to their own careers to keep their own hearts on their sleeves.

But he has changed, of that she is sure. Even if he still struggles with his own feelings, even if he still needs to exorcise old demons, he is ready to open his heart in a way he has never done before. And it is all there, in plain sight, written in the way he looks at Clara like she is his sun.

She can only hope that this time, he can finally find the happiness he deserves.

Walking closer, she catches a glimpse of the sequence of emojis he has just typed on his phone and is forced to bite back a laugh. She knows how hopeless the Doctor is with this, he never understood emojis and usually just sends randomly chosen ones, but she can't blame him for not trying.

At the garden, Clara stops and pulls her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, her face opening in a large grin that they both can see when she turns around to look back at John.

"Oh, you're such a cute boyfriend," Donna tells him with an amused smile.

The Doctor casts her an annoyed glance, but his cheeks are tinted in pink and his lips still hold a hint of the smile he has just shared with Clara.

"I'm too old to be someone's boyfriend," John grumbles and finally dignifies himself to leave his place to help her with the table.

"Hmm, 'man friend' then?" Donna teases him and a small laugh escapes her lips when he casts her a dark look. "Daft old buddy?" She ventures further.

"Don't push your luck," he throws the kitchen towel at her and misses it for a large distance, but almost hits his brother-in-law's face when Robert distractedly crosses the kitchen's door into the dining room, a large bowl of salad in his hands. He barely has time to dodge it.

"Sorry, mate," John tells him, collecting the kitchen towel from the floor to point an accusatory finger at his sister. "And you're not that much younger than me. You berk."

Donna makes a number of showing him her tongue, but the clear amusement that sparks out of her eyes makes John shake his head before he walks back to the table to pour a glass of water to himself.

The day is clear and warm outside and by the sounds coming from the garden, Clara is making a great job playing with the girls while the rest of them busy themselves making the arrangements for lunch.

"So, I can assume that you will pop the question at her really soon then?" Donna asks him with a plainness that almost makes him choke with the water.

"What? Oh, don't be silly, Donna!"

"Silly?" She looks at him as if he has grown a pair of horns. "You're the one being silly in here if you're not thinking about it!"

"Please. Don't even begin with this. Besides, I'm not exactly husband material, you know."

Donna dries her hands with the kitchen towel, shaking her head.

"You are really daft, aren't you? Are you even serious about her?"

"Of course I am serious!" He hisses. "I'm not the kind of a man that plays with people feelings, you should know."

"So, I really don't understand. She absolutely adores you. And you, her."

He casts a glance through the window, just to check that Clara is not at a hearing distance before he speaks again.

"I've been there before, Donna," he runs an impatient hand through his curls. "Twice! It didn't exactly work well for me!" He sighs, silently lamenting not having joined Clara and the girls in the garden earlier. "Besides, I'm not sure Clara is the marrying type," he adds, shoving his hands defensively inside his trousers' pockets. "We're good with the way things are right now."

Donna's intent eyes scan his face for a moment long enough to make him uncomfortable. "Have you even discussed it with her?"

"Not really. But I don't think she is exactly anxious for such a change in her life," he rubs his eyes, suddenly tired of this. Donna can be just a pain in the arse sometimes. "The thing is she is with me. She knows me, she knows about my past and yet, she is with me. Why should I risk everything with something so selfish as trying to make her mine?"

He looks at Robert searching for help, but the other man just shrugs and walks back into the kitchen, knowing too well that this is not his fight.

It takes a moment longer for Donna to talk again, but when she does, the softer tone of her voice doesn't go unnoticed on him.

"We both know that marriage is not about making someone yours. It's quite the other way around really. And much more than that, but I can understand your point."

"Oh, thank you."

"But the thing is, you're missing something in here, John."

"Am I?"

"Despite her being young, I'm sure she has her own expectations about your future together. Maybe it doesn't involve marriage and kids and maybe it is too soon for this kind of conversation, but I feel that both of you are very serious about what you have. So it will do you good to know."

He nods slowly.

"Perhaps you're right," he sighs deeply, his eyes searching for Clara outside. "Actually, I've been thinking about asking her to move in with me," he finally adds, looking back at Donna to see her smiling at him.

"There you go," she gives his arm a gentle pat.

"I'm not that dense, you know," he places his hand over hers. "But it's not that easy. I'm not sure if she is prepared for this right now. Maybe it is just too soon."

"Maybe it is. But you'll never know if you don't ask her."

"Well, I already gave her the keys to my place," he says with a rise of one of his eyebrows.

"It's a start," she smiles fondly at him. "And you're right, maybe it's not the right time for her yet. But the truth is that you love each other, everyone sees that. So you just have to be honest with her and I'm sure she will let you know when she is ready."