Chapter Text
Clara cursed and dropped the oily wrench to the floor. She had her knuckle half-way to her mouth before she realized her error. Her lips curling at the black grime that coated her hands, she took up a shop rag and opted to wrap the injured digit instead. Sitting back on the floor, she blew out a frustrated breath. The TARDIS briefly dimmed the lights in sympathy.
She sat with her elbows on her knees, clad in a dark blue pair of coveralls. Steel-toed boots adorned her feet and her hair was pulled back in a clip. Gazing again at her motorbike's partly disassembled carburetor, she sighed, "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
There was the occasional down day aboard the TARDIS. The Doctor had, recently, been keeping himself busy with his guitar. Clara could hear him now in his work room, strumming chords, picking up on the odd riff that he liked or suddenly belting out a song in its entirety.
Clara could see, in her minds eye, how he would look- hair disheveled, chewing on his lower lip, his t-shirt stuck to his back as he moved, danced, and cavorted for no one but himself. She loved to see him happy like this. She'd brought her motorbike on board to provide an activity for herself but often found his playing too distracting to get any real tinkering done on her bike.
She wasn't complaining, wasn't annoyed at all, just terribly, terribly distracted. Ever since she'd first seen him in that medieval arena, the fingers of his right hand grasping a pick while the fingers of his left slid up and down the neck, caressing and coercing those lovely sounds from the instrument, she'd been distracted.
The music had called to her like a siren's song; the way that nearly everything about the Doctor called to her. He was playful and charming when he held his guitar; flirty with lots of toothy side grins and come-hither looks over the rims of his ever present sunglasses. She'd even go so far as to call him devastatingly sexy. Clara was completely in his thrall. Unable to concentrate on her own task any longer, she wiped her hands off on a shop rag and gave in.
She considered knocking on the door of his work room, just as courtesy, but knew that there was no way he'd hear her over the current screeching solo he was playing. Letting herself in, she found the Doctor just as she suspected she would. Ray-bans firmly in place, t-shirt sticking to his back, plaid trousers, and thumping around in black Doc Martins as he wailed on his guitar.
Clara felt a warm flutter in her stomach. Her jaw dropped open a bit as his arm muscles flexed while he played. Clara licked at her lips and took a deep and shuddering breath. "My god," she murmured huskily.
The Doctor stopped his playing and swiveled around smoothly, "You called?" he grinned at her.
The sudden silence in the room was a bit deafening. Clara smiled, giggling with uncertainty, as she smoothed out her hair. Her hand brushing against her cheek made her realize that she was sporting a large smear of grease.
The Doctor grinned at her, and stalking forward slowly, started a familiar riff. A punkishly distorted version of "Oh Pretty Woman" washed over Clara as he turned and circled around her. Clara felt a sweat break out on the back of her neck; imagining that she could almost feel the air disturbance from the chords that the Doctor was pounding out around her.
Coming back full circle to stand in front of her, the Doctor smiled again.
"Is that our song now?" Clara asked before blushing a bit as she realized what the question was suggesting.
The Doctor swung the guitar behind his back and lowered his glasses to watch Clara over the rims as he stepped closer, "It's an apt description of one of us," he practically purred as he gave her a wolfish grin.
Clara bit at her lower lip to keep a nervous laugh from escaping; she still wasn't accustomed to the charm. "Hardly," she countered as she swiped at the grease with the sleeve of her coveralls.
The Doctor stepped directly into Clara's space, "Pretty' may be too vague a word," he murmured, as he took off his glasses and gazed down at her.
"Is it?" Clara squeaked, very aware of the Doctor's close proximity and the heat that emanated from him.
The Doctor's hands slid around Clara's hips, pulling her to him slowly, gauging her reaction, "The phrase 'devastatingly sexy' springs to mind," he grinned before bending his head down to claim her mouth with a hard kiss.