Clara Oswald is going the long way round (alwaysbeenthere) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2019-11-13 21:53:00 |
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By this point, Laurence was well used to the sort of mayhem that overcame the county on a semi-regular basis. But this, well, this was the worst thing that had happened to him since he’d moved here. He could handle everything else, but he could hardly control the dark desires that had risen in him and not being In Control was something that Laurence just couldn’t bear.
He wasn’t sure if having Clara come over was the best of ideas, but she had insisted, and it was true that the throbbing of one’s pulse in their neck was one of the things that had nearly pushed Laurence over the edge. Perhaps one who was lacking that might be safer around him . It was hardly something he had wanted to test out, but he couldn’t see any alternative. At this rate, he might not have been able to keep himself locked away in his apartment.
When he finally did hear the knock at his door, it was met with a mixture of relief and trepidation. He went to open the door, trying to keep at least some of his dignity despite the fact that his blond curls were matted to his forehead with sweat. “Clara,” he said, the relief evident in his voice. He stepped aside. “Please, come in.”
Control was a funny thing like that. Clara had always been, let’s just say a bit neurotic, when it came to maintaining control on everything that happened. Something that undoubtedly could be attributed to all the losses she’d experienced in her life and the desperate need to feel like she had a say in it. Orange County hadn’t been a good fit in that regard, but she had learned she could adjust.
And right now? It seemed that her current state of being frozen between one heart beat and the last, with no need to breathe and always going back to the state she had been on that early Christmas morning almost four years ago now was going to be of use. Not in a way it usually was either. But if she could help a friend? Well, Clara wasn’t going to stay away no matter how dangerous it might be.
So it was gathering raw steak for Laurence (thank goodness for the TARDIS where it wasn’t actually that difficult to do at all) and headed to his flat and knocked.
As he opened the door, Clara just smiled (and decidedly didn’t mention the matted with sweat blond curls).
“I bring gifts.” Stepping in, she looked around “Anywhere I should put it?”
Laurence didn’t mean to be rude, he truly didn’t. But he snatched the bag of steaks from Clara before he quite realized what he was doing, and only came to his senses as he was preparing to tear into the bag right there on his doorstop.
He swallowed heavily, the veins on his neck pronounced as he forced himself to stop, the act nearly painful. “Allow me,” he said belatedly, his voice taut as he closed the door behind her. “Would you like any coffee or tea?”
No comment, but just a quirked brow. Clara certainly wasn’t about to hold this whole thing against Laurence. He was having to adjust to a whole new set of rules for existing. And while it was temporary, it was still happening and no pretending it didn’t exist was going to change that.
Instead she just nodded some at the question.
“Tea is always accepted, I don’t mind making it though.” Let him have the steak and hopefully curb some of the tension and take the edge off.
There was a part of Laurence that was aghast at the idea of his guest being forced to make her own tea, but stronger than that was his desire to tear into these steaks, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he would be able to so much as boil the water in his condition.
“If you wouldn’t mind,” he said, a slight hesitation and a subtle apology in his voice. He backed away from the door, leading Clara into an open living room, sparsely but tastefully decorated. At the far end of the living room was a dining table, and around the corner was his kitchen. “I have the kettle above the stove,” he told her as he made his way to the kitchen table.
Laurence could deal with his feelings of being aghast once he had more control. Clara certainly wasn’t about to hold it against him. Then again, she tended to be fairly easy going in matters like this. Between Orange County and dreams of travelling with the Doctor? You sort of had to be.
“I don’t mind at all. Would you like your usual while I’m at it?”
Because it was only polite. And given she usually made him coffee if he stopped by the diner, she knew what to do if he wanted it.
Laurence hesitated before answering. For someone else to come into his home and prepare something for him was almost worse than preparing it themselves. He could not have her making him coffee as well as her own tea, but he supposed that making two cups of tea was hardly more work than making only one. “Just tea will be sufficient,” Laurence said.
And then he was at the table, and he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He forced himself to remove the bag and the plastic like a civilized person, his hands shaking at the restraint, but then when the smell of the meat hit him he couldn’t any longer. His mouth opened wide, wider than it should have, nearly as large as his face itself, with a row of sharp teeth lining his top and lower gums, and then he bit into the steak, separating the mouthful effortlessly, and swallowed it down.
Interesting, but Clara wouldn’t push it. If Laurence preferred tea to his usual order she wouldn’t protest. Not like she would have found it any more strenuous to do both but she knew he had his morals and beliefs of proper etiquette which all of this? Threw etiquette right out the door.
“I can do that.”
And with that, Clara turned to make the tea and give Laurence the privacy to devour the raw steaks without an audience. Poor thing was already on edge and embarrassed no need to make it worse. Luckily the time it would take for the tea should be enough to let him eat in privacy.
Laurence appreciated that she didn’t watch, though he did steal furtive glances in her direction every now and then, sure that he would see a look of abject horror on her face instead of just her back.
Sure enough, by the time the tea was brewed, he had finished them. They had sated his cravings somewhat, but not nearly enough, and once again he was glad that Clara didn’t have a heartbeat that he could hear, taunting him over the whistle of the tea kettle. He took a handkerchief to wipe the blood from his hands and fingers, and while he was near certain he hadn’t gotten it all, he supposed that that would have to do.
With the tea done, Clara poured two cups and then finally returned to the main room and handed Laurence his own cup of tea. If there were any blood left, she said nothing and instead took a drink of her own tea.
“So besides the sudden change that Orange County likes to bring about, how are you?”
There was a calming effect to tea that coffee didn’t quite possess, and for a moment, Laurence just sat there, cradling the tea cup under his nose, letting the smell of tea fill his nostrils, breathing it in. It smelled of England and happier times, and helped drown out, at least a little bit, the smell of blood.
“I don’t know if I can answer that,” Laurence said after a moment. “It’s hard to think of much else, other than the sudden change. Why don’t you tell me more of your fiance?” he asked. It seemed a pleasant enough topic, one that he could focus on instead of debating how Clara’s flesh would taste even if she were lacking a heartbeat.
Nothing a proper cuppa couldn’t fix, that was certain. At least, that was how Clara viewed it. When everything else went wrong, she at least still had tea and could let that be a grounding mechanism. Not as necessary these days, but that didn’t change the fact that sometimes? Well sometimes she’d wake up from a Dream repeat where she was still alive and have to readjust to the fact that things sounded off because she didn’t have that sound of her heartbeat in the background that she had grown used to just as everyone had to the point they didn’t even notice it.
“Fair enough.” It wasn’t like Clara spoke much about her own change and that had been years ago now. It could be overwhelming and drown out anything else that might be talked about. But okay. Talking about Bucky? She could do that. So she just smiled into her cup of tea, “Well, he’s doing well.” Somethings were harder than others with the Dream related issues and Hydra but…. “Building things and the like. I know he plans to go to the Bahamas to help rebuild once the chance arises.”
“I take it his dreams are not easy then,” Laurence said. It really was hard to fathom just how many people had such terrible dreams on the Network. His were about what one could expect while being a soldier in an active war, even if said war took place over 200 years ago. In fact, there were large swaths of his dreams that he would even consider quite pleasant, but nothing that could be considered unexpectedly atrocious. Even now, it helped a little to think of Temeraire.
“That is quite noble of him,” he said warmly. “Does he do much volunteering?”
“They’re presently over, but we’re both waiting for that to change.” It did seem that for the most part though, the Dreams most people had were difficult to deal with. Between Hydra and being brainwashed and losing his arm and then being turned to dust and then brought back… well, it definitely wasn’t easy for Bucky but he had come through it and when it got to be too much, she was there.
“He does. And since building is something he’s good at, I think it combines the two. Creating something and helping others.”
There was much about the dreams that Laurence didn’t quite understand, like the idea of them ending and then restarting once again. It seemed to be a common enough occurrence, but it seemed awfully inconvenient for all who were involved.
He licked his lips, and sipped his tea, noticing as he brought the teacup up to his lips that he still had some blood from the steak on his fingernails. Without even thinking about them, he popped the tips of his fingers into his mouth to suck it off. “When he does go, do you think he will be gone for long?” he asked.
Clara wasn’t quite sure how it worked either, but Bucky had gone through the stop and go enough that they knew to expect it. Plus others who had gone through it as well. Or worse, a whole new set of Dreams to contend with. That happened as well even if it hadn’t happened to her. Just death and repeats.
Laurence’s actions didn’t get a response out of Clara, and she instead focused on the question.
“Hard to say. It probably depends on what is needed and the like.” Besides, she had a TARDIS. So it wasn’t like she couldn’t go see him or anything like that.
“Yes, I suppose it would,” Laurence said, a little absently. It was hard to concentrate on that, or much of anything else. Clara was far less tempting than any of his sailors back on the base, there was no heartbeat beating out it’s siren tune, but he could still smell her, and it was enough to make his mouth water. He wondered, briefly, if he could risk a taste - Clara had said that she would heal, after all. He pulled himself forcibly from that train of thought, blinking hard and sitting up a little straighter as he did so.
“And yourself?” he asked. “Have you been on many more adventures in your TARDIS? I believe last we spoke of it you had just gone to the Exposition Universelle?”
That was always the question, what was needed, how long it would take. But Clara would support Bucky in any of his endeavors to help those in need - whatever that meant. The TARDIS certainly made it easier, but even without it, she would do the same.
“No, nothing too exciting lately though I probably should rectify that.”
If there was one thing she had picked up from her travels, it was the restless feeling and need to travel. Bucky grounded her so it wasn’t as bad, but it still existed beneath the surface.
Right now though? Clara was going to focus on Laurence's wellbeing. Exciting trips could wait.