Chapter Text
Clara was awoken gently by a stream of light hitting her eyes through the uncovered blind in her bedroom. She stayed still for a minute, breathing in the morning. Until she turned over and realised who she was lying next to. She found herself face to face with John Curled on his side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, the other resting loosely where it had fallen between them in the night. His face was relaxed in a way she didn’t often get to see the lines on his forehead softened, mouth slack with sleep, hair a complete mess. She let herself stay in that tender silence for a little longer, staying cuddled into John's side. She was thankful that as they went to bed last night she had actually put on some form of pyjamas. They didn't match in the slightest but Clara just didn't care. By this point in prior relationships she would have still been keeping up appearances. Instead she felt that she could be completely and unapologetically herself.
Clara smiled slightly to herself turning over to face him. Mornin’,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
“Hey,” she said, smiling before she even turned over. “You drooled on my pillow.”
He made a noise of protest, nuzzling into her shoulder. “Lies and slander.”
She rolled onto her back and looked at him properly. His hair was wild, flattened in places, and stuck up in others. His eyes were still half-closed. But he was smiling, a soft lopsided grin as he leaned in and kissed her forehead.
“That’s a nice way to wake up,” she murmured.
“Don’t get used to it. I’m a chronic duvet thief and I snore.”
“You do not snore.”
“You don’t know that,” he said, already sounding smug. “First sleepover.”
She grinned, stretching lazily before curling herself into him, arms looped around his neck. He didn’t hesitate just pulled her in closer, one hand on the small of her back and the other draped across her waist.
“You’re clingy in the mornings,” she said playfully, burying her face against his chest.
“Only with you,” he said, kissing her hair. “You’re very cuddly. It’s practically your fault.”
She pulled back enough to look up at him, smirking. “My fault, is it?”
“Entirely.”
She kissed him then a slow, sleepy kiss. He sighed into it, hand sliding up to hold her cheek.
They stayed like that for a while. Kissing, pausing to grin, whispering nothing sentences like “we should get up” and “five more minutes.” Her hand found his again and threaded their fingers together under the covers.
“I should make tea,” Clara said eventually, but made no move to get up.
“I should let you,” he replied, kissing her nose, “but then you’d stop cuddling me.”
She hummed, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “You’re really very good at this.”
“At what?”
“This,” she said, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Staying.”
He paused, eyes soft. “So are you.”
It was barely a conversation, really. But it felt like a little promise. A quiet acknowledgement that something good had begun.
“Alright,” she sighed dramatically, “I’ll make tea. You can stay in bed like a prince.”
John grinned. “You’re spoiling me already.”
She rolled out from under the duvet and stood, hair wild and pyjamas creased, stretching. John watched her with the same stunned little look he always seemed to give her when he forgot to hide how gone he was.
“When you finally get up” Clara yelled from the hallway “You’re making breakfast”.
John lay back in bed for a second before deciding to follow Clara, he would be mad not to soak up all the time he had with her. Padding through to the kitchen and finding her pulling mugs out of the cupboard. John came up and grabbed her gently from behind pulling her into his arms. “John!” Clara giggled, leaning into his embrace. “So breakfast” John said “What do you want?”.
“Oh I'm not fussy,” Clara said.
“Okay boss," John said, shepherding her over to the breakfast bar and pulling out a chair.
“I could get used to this” She giggled, watching as John pulled out frying pans and opened up the fridge.
“Well maybe you should” John winked back. Clara sat watching the entire time he made breakfast, she was not a natural chef by any means. Teaching herself over the years she seemed to lack that finesse and ease John seemed to have.
“I was thinking,” Clara said as she finished a mouthful of the scrambled eggs in front of her. “Thinking about what luv?” John asked.
I think we should try and see each other more. And I don't mean dinner dates on the weekend or anything fancy. I mean watching a film on a Wednesday evening just because or grabbing coffee on our lunch breaks. I love being with you and I hate saving it for the end of the week”.
”I agree” John said, leaning over to grab her plate and kissing her neck as he stepped back “what about Ellie?. Would she mind?”.
“She’s easing up to you. I think she’ll come round. She's small and shy. New people take a lot of getting used to. Especially for her”.
____________
They were tucked into the corner of the couch-her legs over his lap, a shared blanket over both of them, the leftover warmth of tea in her mug against her palms.
John shifted slightly to nuzzle closer, one arm wrapped behind her shoulders, his fingers occasionally toying with the ends of her hair. She could feel the weight of him relax against her like he was finally allowing the weekend to sink in — to just be here, without question.
Clara tilted her head to look up at him. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” she said softly.
“Hm?” His voice was low, scratchy from sleep and still wrapped in that early hush.
“This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “Letting someone this close again. Knowing all the little things.”
John breathed out a smile, his eyes on the threads of her cardigan. “Yeah. Terrifying.”
“But nice,” she added quickly.
“Terrifying and nice.” He leaned in and kissed the top of her head. “You realise I know more about you now than some people you’ve known for a decade?”
She gave a small laugh. “Like what, then? Go on, impress me.”
John feigned thought, lips pursed. “Well. For one thing, your nails. They are always painted. Immaculately. No chips. No smudges. I’ve seen you half-asleep and still with perfect nails. That’s witchcraft.”
She smiled and leaned back further into him. “Not hard to keep up, just a habit. Every Friday since I was fourteen”
“Exactly. And you carry everything in that bag of yours. Umbrella, paracetamol, plasters, a sewing kit, bobbles, stickers, possibly a small animal”
“I’m a mother,” she said through a grin.
“You’re a magician,” he corrected. “And only Diet Coke. Not regular, not Pepsi. Diet Coke. Even when we went to that pub and they had nothing but lemonade, you nearly walked out.”
“I’m loyal.”
“You’re a snob.”
She nudged his ribs with her elbow and he laughed, catching her hand and lacing their fingers together.
“Also,” he added, quieter now, “you’re terrified of needles. Not just a bit squeamish, actually terrified. You get quiet and pale and pretend you’re not panicking. But you are. And you don’t like people seeing that.”
Clara went still at that one, her expression softening.
“You remembered, wow”
“Of course I did," he said gently. “It was hard not to when you told me the story of every single time you’ve ever had one.”
A long pause stretched, full of something tender and unspoken. Then she squeezed his hand.
“Alright, my turn,” she said, shifting to look at him better.
He raised a brow. “I’m braced.”
She gave him a look. “You try to act grumpy but you hum when you’re happy. Especially when you’re cooking.”
He smiled sheepishly.
“You hate the taste of tea but drink it anyway to be polite.”
“Tragic but true.”
“You fold your jumpers properly, even at mine. You say you’re not organised but your car is always clean and you file things like an accountant.”
“That’s… that’s a low blow.”
Clara tilted her head. “You talk to yourself when you think no one’s around. Especially if you’re fixing something. Full conversations.”
“Ah. You’ve heard that.”
“And you always touch my back when you pass me. Even if it’s barely a brush. You probably don’t even know you do it.”
He looked at her for a moment and she saw the slight parting of his lips, the almost frown of disbelief at how known he suddenly felt.
“I love that you do that,” Clara said softly. “I love that you make me feel steady. Even when everything’s chaotic.”
John leaned forward and kissed her then a slow, quiet kiss. No rush. Just the warmth of Saturday morning and too much affection to hold back.
When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. “I didn’t think I’d get to have this again.”
“You do,” she whispered. “We do.”
“Mad, isn’t it?”
“The best kind.”
_____________
”I know we're early but she wouldn't stop asking” Amy shouted waltzing into the flat with a rucksack and Ellie trailing behind her feet “Oh my god I need to learn how to knock” She said as her gaze fell on Clara and John still curled up on the couch in their pyjamas no less. Clara got up and gave Amy a hug before crouching down to speak to Ellie. John waved to Amy from the couch and she gave one in return as well as a knowing wink.
“I’m setting up my mum and dads new tv today” Amy said “Exciting I know”. Clara hugged her and promised to phone later. “Hi” Ellie said quietly as she approached John. Clara could see his face completely light up. “Hi Ellie” He replied. Ellie sat criss cross on the rug as Clara flicked the tv on for her. Taking a seat again next to John. “I should probably get going” He said “I don't want to impose on your morning”.
”Please” Clara said “Stay for a little, don't just run away. Just a nice chill morning”. John didn’t answer he just wrapped his arms tighter around her.
About an hour and many cups of tea later Clara decided that she should probably shower. As she left and saw John and Ellie sitting together her heart felt light and her fears were extinguished.
“Can you read this please?” Ellie said, handing John’s the book she had hid behind her back.
“I’d love to” John said. He opened the book and then Ellie did something completely unexpected. She sat up next to him on the couch and peered over his shoulder to see the pictures. Once John had read one story Ellie ran for another and another until John was sure they had conquered her entire bookshelf. While on story number seven Clara walked back through, hair slightly damp with comfy clothes on. She smiled bigger than John had ever seen and ran for her phone. Crouching and posing she took about a million photos.
“Im hungry” Ellie said. Walking up to Clara.
“Lunch is on sweetheart, five minutes okay?”. Ellie nodded and then sat back on the couch. "Where's John gone?” She asked.
“We needed butter, he’s at the shop”. Clara said. And almost as though right on cue the door swung open and John walked in bag in hand. He started to unpack it onto the counter. “Thanks for that” Clara said as she put the shopping into the fridge. She turned back around and found John standing with a bunch of flowers in one hand. “Aw they’re gorgeous” She said, placing them on the counter and pulling john in for a kiss. They were interrupted by a loud “EWW” Ellie was standing at their legs. Waiting impatiently for her lunch. Clara laughed and scooped her into her arms giving her a massive hug.