She leads me through her front door and into the hallway. I've been here before, many times, and I know my way to her kitchen without her having to drag me along. I can hear light, quiet chatter going on in there, but when we step through the threshold, everything goes silent. "Hello," Clara says awkwardly, clearing her throat a bit. "Um, here he is."
"Hello, the Oswalds!" I greet them cheerily. I stick out my hand for Clara's father to shake, and he does so without looking at me. "Merry Christmas! Hello, hello." I shake her mother's hand as well, and kiss whom I assume to be her grandmother on the cheeks. The old woman is the only one who looks at me directly. "Hello, handsome," I say, grinning. "Well. Anyone up for Twister?"
Clara glances at me. "So, this is the Doctor," she adds, gesturing her hands toward me. I can see them shaking. "My boyfriend. Isn't anyone going to say hello?"
"Hello," her grandmother says, putting emphasis on the second syllable. The glass she holds is empty, and I smell brandy in the air. I think for a moment, analyzing the situation, and now I understand. And I nearly want to burst out in laughter. "Excuse me a moment," I quip, placing a hand between Clara's shoulder blades and turning her away from the kitchen, into the hall. "Listen," I whisper, "I've got an idea to break the ice. Why don't I project my clothes hologram onto their visual cortexes too?"
Clara's eyes widen to twice their normal size, and she glowers at me. "So, to be clear," she breathes irritably, "no one except me can see your clothes?"
"Yes, and I'm starting to think it may be causing tension."
"Are we playing Twister now?" Clara's Gran calls from the kitchen. I stifle a laugh, because Clara doesn't look at all amused. "Get in the kitchen," she orders. "Sorry," I say, winking. The anger in her eyes washes out instantly, and her lips twitch in the slightest manner so that I know she's holding back a smile. I plant a kiss on her cheek, discreetly press a button on the sonic in my pocket, and waltz back into the tiny kitchen, where her parents glance at me and sigh in relief. "Sorry," Clara admonishes as she follows in behind me. "He's Swedish."
YOU ARE READING
The Time of Change
FanfictionThere are some people who seem destined for greatness. There are others who seem stuck on the path of failure. For most of her life, Annalise Song felt as if she was the unhappy median between the two: bound to be nothing more than mediocre and soli...
