Sitting next to him didn't turn out to be as awkward as she thought it would be. He asked her what store she would like to go to and when Clara replied that she didn't really care as long as they had groceries the Doctor made the decision for her. He asked her how she had been, said that he had already graded her latest coursework, that it was good and she would be getting it back on Monday morning.
“I'm cooking dinner tonight for a friend and his wife who are in town. I also need to buy a cookbook cause I have no idea what I'd be doing otherwise,” he admitted.
Clara started to laugh. “What, you invite people for dinner and you can't cook?”
“Well, they sort of invited themselves. I had no choice, besides he is letting me use his summer cottage and boat at the Welsh coast next weekend.”
“Summer cottage in December?” she asked in disbelief.
“It's still nice during the winter and I want to go fishing.”
Clara said nothing, she knew better than to argue with a man over manly hobbies like fishing and they had also reached the supermarket. She was about to grab her own cart, when the Doctor stopped her.
“I don't need much, we can put it in one,” he said, “Come on.”
“What if someone from university sees us? It looks like we're shopping together.”
The Doctor shrugged. “We are.”
“But what will they think?” Clara asked. She wasn't keen on being the subject of gossip.
“Don't worry, Clara. I've been shopping here for years and I haven't seen one familiar face. Now come on.”
He was right. The supermarket was filled with lots of stressed out people who probably could think of better ways to spend their Saturday morning than with standing in line. The Doctor was first in line to pay and when the cashier had finished scanning the articles he quickly removed to barrier that separated her items from his.
“Keep going,” he told the cashier.
“Wait, what?,” Clara, who had been lost in her own thoughts, intervened, “No way. These are mine and I'm gonna pay for them.”
“Ignore her,” the Doctor turned back to the cashier, “I'm paying.”
Clara put her arms akimbo. “No way. You're not paying for my groceries.”
“Well, which one is it gonna be?” the cashier asked impatiently.
“I'll pay.”
“No, he won't.”
“We could keep this going for another hour and really piss off anyone in line behind us or you can just accept and let me pay,” the Doctor winked at her, knowing she really didn't want to anger all those people behind her. He turned back to the woman behind the register and said: “I'm paying.”
Clara started packing the groceries, still mad at the Doctor and vowed to herself to pay him back as soon as they were in the car.
“Why did you insist on paying?” she asked angrily as they headed back to the parking lot.
The Doctor shrugged. “You seemed to be having such a bad day, I thought a nice gesture would cheer you up.”
“Well, it doesn't,” Clara said, “It makes me feel like a little girl who can't pay for her own shopping.”
She caught the Doctor looking at her as if he was trying to determine if she had a problem with not being in control, which was true, but even if he had figured her out, he didn't show it.
“Well, I'm sorry if I made you feel this way. But hey, if you want to you can do something nice for me in return and we're even,” he suggested.
“I'll think about it,” she said grudgingly.