Whouffaldi: One shots

Starry Eyes and Soufflés

Clara Oswald wandered about the unsurprisingly large and surprisingly blue TARDIS kitchen. A recipe in her hand and a determined mindset, she began gathering her ingredients for her soufflé. But this wasn't just a soufflé. It was her mother's recipe, and this time, she WOULD be successful. After many failed attempts, plenty burnt, unrisen, and sunken soufflés found their grave in Clara's trash bin. But she would get it right this time. She had to, because this wasn't any old night. She had plans.

Now that Clara was a full time TARDIS girl, she had been seeing and experiencing so many wonderful things, thanks to the Doctor. So naturally, the control freak felt guilty. Clara, ironically, was like the student, and the Doctor, was teaching her about the wonders of the universe. Clara felt as if she owed him, so she wanted to do something, as he would say "ridiculously human;" she was going to cook him dinner. They normally ate whatever the TARDIS cooked for them, which was always good, but Clara wanted this to be from her.

The Doctor had been so kind to her since she returned to the TARDIS, she was almost convinced he must have regenerated while she was gone. He was always patient with her when she grieved for Danny. The first few months onboard, the grief was as fresh as an open wound. Clara would sometimes cry herself to sleep, that is, until the Doctor found out. When she cried at night, the Doctor would hold her. He would willingly invite himself under her comforters, and put her head to his chest, stroking her hair until her sobs subsided and she fell asleep. But he was never there in the morning. She tried to bring it up to him during the day, but he always seemed to dodge the question, or change the subject. She didn't cry as much anymore. But she missed the Doctor's nightly visits.

The beeping of the oven preheating caught Clara's attention, and she set back to her task.

"Right Oswald. A cheese soufflé. Simple. Very simple. You've got this," and she set to work.

Around an hour later, Clara's dress was completely dirty, as well as the kitchen. The TARDIS burbled unappreciatively.

"Sorry," she whispered, wiping down a countertop with her sleeve.

"And now, we wait," Clara said, plopping down in a chair opposite the oven. She didn't have to worry about the Doctor finding her. She made a deal with the TARDIS to keep him away until she was ready. A few hours ago he came to her saying an important piece of tech had mysteriously broken, keeping him occupied for a few hours.

Clara glanced at her phone, and decided to set a timer for the soufflé.

"Thirty five minutes, and if I pray to every known religion, maybe this one will turn out right," she said, standing up from her chair, and turning to face the untidy kitchen.

"Well this won't do," Clara sighed, beginning to consolidate the many dirty dishes. She cleaned pots and pans, and wiped down counters and tables. She returned ingredients to their homes and tidied up the dining table. Checking the timer, she was pleased to see she had about 15 minutes to spare.

Clara was on her way to check the soufflé when she caught her reflection in a small mirror hanging from the wall. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes had acquired a few food friends in the process of baking. She decided a new set of clothing was in order.

"Please keep an eye on the soufflé?" Clara asked, and the TARDIS gave a gurgle and obliged.

Clara sprinted down the corridor to her room, quickly closing the door behind her. Rummaging through her wardrobe, her hands met the piece of fabric she was hunting for.

She chose a mid-length dress in navy blue with a sheer paneling around the waist. Quickly stripping off her soiled clothes, she slipped the dress on. Another glance in a mirror showed her the rat's nest her hair had become. Pulling it out of the now loose ponytail, she quickly brushed through her locks with her fingers, and pulled them back in a low bun. Sitting on her bed, Clara quickly laced up her oxfords, and took a final look in the mirror.