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[attackbrows]

	You've reached Dr. Funkenstein. Expert on all things funkadelic. Please, by all means, save us both the hassle and don't leave a message.
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[spoilers]

[ New Year's Eve, much too late for it to be called a Christmas gift, the Doctor will find a drawing of a house in his makeshift lab. Most of the surrounding touches are in black and white, but the house itself is shaded a familiar TARDIS blue. It looks like it's been carefully torn from a journal, the outer edges curled and just starting to brown with age. If he turns it over, the back will only read, 'spoilers.'

But it's accompanied by a note. ]

Sweetie, I know I told you we were done with diaries. But you'll see me again. The sunrise on Darillium is beautiful.

I know I've been angry, Doctor, but you made me happy.

sandwich action

[bossily]

[In the days after Christmas, Clara's withdrawn. She spends a great deal of time in the simulation room having one reckless adventure after another. She doesn't sleep, because any time she lays in bed she just cries and cries until she passes out. She starts to look like a hot mess, with dark circles under her eyes, unkempt hair, clothes that are worn day in and day out, and that light that usually shines so bright within her nearly burnt out completely.

But eventually, about a week or so after Christmas, she finally starts to feel like maybe she needs to have some alone time in her room to have a good cry. Processing grief isn't something she really has the space to do here, but she can always have a good lonely cry.

Only when she makes her way back to her room at about three or four in the morning, she's surprised to walk in and see the Doctors laying in bed. The room is dark except for a light that's shining from beneath the blanket that's currently strewn over their bodies. Like two children staying up late they're laughing and being ridiculous, and Clara stares in total disbelief for a moment.

She's not going to waste this opportunity though. No matter how sad and sorry for herself she's feeling. She kicks off her boots and creeps toward the bed in a tiptoe, slipping up under the blanket at the foot of the bed to peek in at them.]

You two aren't waiting here for me, are you?

[They don't usually sleep, and she's never really found them in here before. A part of her wonders if they're here because they know she's hurting, because they always seem to just know when she needs them the most.

Or maybe they're just here to have a weird slumber party and she's interrupting. She never can be sure when these two get together.]

Christmas Delivery!

[groupiedrifter]

[There's a gift left on your bed, Doctor!

It's not wrapped, but it does have a nice red bow on top, and a little handwritten note in an envelope with a goofy, poorly skeleton wielding a guitar drawn on top. It says as follows:

From one unlovable to another. Proof I think you're OK! - N

Behold, a tiny piano, just big enough to play a melody on; no more, no less.]

[attackbrows]

[Underneath the covers, this version of the Doctor is the least audible of the two despite his (poor) attempts at holding back a laugh. He lays there on his side with a hand propping up his head. On the other free hand, he is holding some device brought out from the lab. His mouth was stuffed with a lolly with the stick hanging out from the side. He is as comfy as a grumpy owl can look (not) cuddling up under the covers with his other incarnation.

The two had been reminiscing about some old adventures in their earlier days; of outwitting Cybermen and travelling to planets where they accidentally wed Emperors and Empresses. To inventing feta pasta on accident in a humble little suite in the 1920s.

Now, the Doctor is no stranger to having multiple conversations with himself but this— this may be a new level of having a chat with oneself. Looking at each other with childlike glee.

Then he hears Clara’s voice.

He pushes the duvet away from his head, craning his neck to get a better look at her.]

There you are!

[He was really hoping she’d pop in at some point.]

Have you tried this sleepover thing? It’s incredible! You just go under the covers and pretend to be sleeping, but you’re doing something completely different. Such a simple form of deception! I should have thought of this centuries ago.

[peasant]

1: what makes a human a "proper" human

[ is she ever going to stop having more questions, every time the doctor lets his thoughts rush out of his head? not likely. ]

2: please tell me someone has already explained that beds are not designed for your storage needs

text; about 5 minutes after group 3 makes it into town

[bossily]

have you managed to invent some sort of horseless anti gravity stagecoach yet?

[attackbrows]

Inside the farm attic. I had an entire route mapped out until River intervened. Something about the neighbours giving us looks and asking too many questions.

[bossily]

What, you actually listened? And here I was worried how you'd manage without me for an entire month.

[attackbrows]

Of course I listened. We're married. I wasn't about to make this a one-way communication conduit where it's through one ear and out the other. Then we'd have to seek out a marriage counsellor and it'll get only messier. And I don't do messy.

I'm a simple man who invents things for a living.

[bossily]

Go on, then. Tell me what else you've invented.

[attackbrows]

Water Diagnoser Matrix. Reinforced Storage Refiner Mechanism. Synthetic Clay Assembler Widget. Precise Blackout Transferator Kit. Precise Road Monitron.

Just to name a few.

[bossily]

All very impressive. Even if I don't know what any of them are supposed to mean. What does the blackout transferator do, exactly?

[attackbrows]

Exactly what you think it does with the word "blackout" in it: Turns off the lights with a blink of an eye.

Gone are the days of clapping the lights off. In this town, we are moving on to a more subtle, passive way of handling appliances.

[bossily]

Have you actually tested it to see if it works? Because that actually sounds useful, you clever cog.

[attackbrows]

Of course I tested it. You remember when I made that invisibility watch? That took several attempts and a concerned policeman before I brought it to Coal Hill.

[bossily]

So do I need to use the blackout thing as an excuse to see you? Or are you ever gonna tell me where you are?

[attackbrows]

What if I told you you didn't have to go running around in that dress of yours?

It's a small town. Easy to spot a familiar face.

[bossily]

are you watching me?

[excuse her while she looks all around trying to spot him]

and are you telling me to take off my dress right now? what else would I go running around in? you didn't bring holographic clothes with you this time around, did you?

[attackbrows]

As we speak.

And don't start ripping off your clothes. You're supposed to blend in, not strutting non-existent catwalks in your support garments.

[bossily]

found you

[And now she's staring right at him, smiling and not doing something ridiculously obvious like waving. he looks...scruffier than the last time she saw him. how cute]

action;

[attackbrows]

[Scruffy might be an understatement to describe how unkempt the Doctor appears. His grey curly locks have grown an inch or two too long, giving him more of a Beethoven-esque style. And while not exactly a beard, his facial hairs allude to one growing if he doesn’t keep it in check.

He looks over her way and returns the hand wave, signalling her to come out and do the hugging thing.]

[bossily]

[Her fingers curl against her mouth as she lowers her hand, laughing to herself. He's certainly ruggedly handsome and charming like this, signaling for her to approach him. Which she does, hurrying her way on over to him.

He's practically tackled in a hug as she leaps forward to embrace him in a tight hug. He's safe and sound, and looking good. What more could she ask for, after having him be here on his own for so long?]

Miss me?

[She's asks when she pulls back, tipping her head to smile up at him.]

[attackbrows]

[Within the grand scheme of things, a month is not a long time. A month to get a better lay of the land and begin the search for the orb’s location. River was a tremendous help in keeping the Doctor in check. She was probably one of the very few people in his inner circle who understood his different eccentricities and needs.

But he thought about Clara more than he will ever admit in front of her.

Her smile. Her wit. Her everything. It never really is the same with the Doctor running around without Clara to turn to. And so when she goes to hug him, he smiles and leans in to wrap his arms around her. It was as if they never left each other for an entire month.

The Doctor pulls away the same time she does, raising an eyebrow at such a question.]

When do I not miss you?

[bossily]

[That answer is one that puts a wide smile on her face. And she loses track of herself as she looks up at him, admiring his newfound scruffiness. Eventually she does realize she's staring though, and tries to play it cool from that point on.

It's hard to do with the way she's smiling.]

Dunno. Thought you might, what with spending an entire month alone with your wife.

[She teases, reaching up to press her hand atop his incredibly fluffy hair. Her touch drops down to his cheek, palm pressing warm against him. Her smile never fades, not even when her touch drops away completely.]

Tell me everything you've discovered so far.

[attackbrows]

What? River?

[He notices the way Clara threads through his fluffy hair. It’s the sort of hair that doesn’t require a hat (unless you want the Doctor looking like some deranged Scottie dog). And he’ll be damned if he succumbs to the temptations of his past self.

Either way, when Clara drops her hand down, he starts leading the way back to her room.]

Time’s have changed, Clara. Not in this economy. I’m just a simple stay at home husband, making things are tidy and bandit-free.

[A beat.]

Now—I’ll tell you what I’ve found after you’ve gone to bed.