A/N: Can you tell I've been looking through my Documents file on my laptop? This is another story I found that I wrote a month or two ago and completely forgot about so I decided to fix it a little bit and share!

I don't ship Whouffaldi, but 12 and Clara's friendship is pretty much one of my favorite fictional friendships ever and I love exploring the different aspects of it. So I began wondering what would happen if Clara got sick while the Doctor was around and this happened...

Enjoy! Even if you do ship Whouffaldi, I'm sure you'll like this. Review, follow, and favorite!

Clara pushed open the door to her flat, leaning her back against it to shut it behind her. It seemed so much heavier than usual. For a moment, she leaned her head back against the wood of the door. To fall asleep at the doorstep was a tempting thought, but taking a few agonizing steps to be comfortable would be worth it in the long run.

She shuffled a few feet across the carpet and collapsed onto her couch with a sigh. Her head pounded out a beat like a bass drum. Though her bag full of marking dug into her back, she didn't have the energy to move it.

Clara closed her eyes, leaning back against a pillow. Just as her mind began drifting off her nose itched, and a second later came a loud sneeze which forced her into a sitting position. She reached for a tissue on the coffee table and wiped her nose with a sniff.

"Where is it?"

Clara jumped, sighing and placing a hand over her heart as the Doctor burst out of her bedroom, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wild.

"Where's what?" She winced at the sound of her own voice, stuffy and hoarse, as she tossed the tissue onto the floor. With a sigh, she decided to heave the bag from her shoulder too, and set it gently on the ground.

The Doctor's head swiveled back and forth. "I thought I heard a Sontaran laser gun." He focused on her and took a step towards the couch. "And what happened to you? I think your makeup went a bit haywire today. There are rings under your eyes," he said, making motions around his watchful blue eyes.

She massaged the bridge of her nose and sighed. "That was me sneezing, Doctor, and I'm sick, that's why I look different."

His eyes were alight with confusion. "Sick? You?"

"Yeah, I'm human. I get sick."

It didn't seem to clarify anything for him. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his jacket and waved it over Clara. She rolled her eyes but humored him, watching as he read the readings. His forehead wrinkled so much it looked like it would give him a headache.

"But it's only the common cold." He glanced up at her like he didn't understand. "It's so simple, why can't you just fight it off?"

Clara shook her head. "There's no cure for the common cold yet, Doctor." Her eyes grew wide as she thought about what she had just said. "Don't-"

But he was already on his feet and running toward her room. "Be right back!"

The TARDIS whined and groaned, and Clara barely had time to properly settle into the couch before it made its telltale racket again. Her bedroom door swung open and the Doctor dashed to her side, holding a small pink bottle in his hands.

"Here you go," he said, holding it out to her. "Cure for the common cold."

Clara frowned at him, as his grey hair and dark jacket were speckled with dots of white. "Where did you go?"

"Never mind that." He pushed the bottle toward her.

Clara snatched it from his grasp and scrutinized the label. It seemed harmless, at the least. Might as well try it.

She raised her eyebrows at the Doctor and eased the bottle back into his hand. "Make yourself useful and put three tablespoons of this into a cup. Measuring spoons in the drawer to the left of the sink and cups in the cabinet next to the refrigerator."

He frowned. "Yes, ma'am." He made his way into her kitchen, muttering under his breath.

Clara winced as the distinct clamor of silverware hitting tile came from the kitchen. "You all right there, Doctor?"

"Yes, I'm fine. But you might want to get some new spoons; I think they've developed a fault."

She couldn't help but smile. "I'll consider it." With a yawn, she reached for the remote on the coffee table and switched on the telly. A sci-fi show was on, something the Doctor would probably scoff at because of how inaccurate it was. She flipped through the channels, but nothing caught her interest. Sighing, she turned the telly off and waited for the Doctor.

"Here." The Doctor held out a cup with a tiny bit of clear liquid at the bottom. "Drink up."

Clara slowly took the cup from his hand, surprised that he had managed the task without any help. "Wow, you actually did it. Thanks." She sniffed inside the cup, but the medicine seemed to be odorless.

"I am capable of pouring some medicine into a cup."

Clara quirked an eyebrow at him. "Doctor, I have seen you save planets, defeat monsters, and pilot the most temperamental ship in the universe, but domestics is not something you do." She finally concluded that the medicine was safe and downed it in one swallow. Tasteless, too.

The Doctor clapped his hands together. "Now that you've had your medicine, let's go. There's this planet called Lime, not like the fruit, and a giant armada is going to invade but I think if we-"

"Doctor."

He raised his eyebrows in innocent expectation, his eyes wide and excited.

"I can't go anywhere. Not today. Medicine doesn't work that fast."

His bushy eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Then what do we do?"

Clara sniffed and sat up, looking him in the eye and planting her feet on the ground. "I stay here on my couch all day and you toddle off and go save Lemon or whatever it was called."

"Lime. And I'm not going without you. You're an important part of my plan." He huffed and plunked down onto the couch next to her. "You don't want me here, then." He said it as a statement, his voice low and rumbling.

Clara shook her head, looking at the carpet rather than him. "Never said that."

"But you said-"

Turning her head, Clara looked him in the eye. "Like I said, I know this isn't your thing. I'm just going to sit here and watch movies or read or sleep for the rest of the day. You'd be much happier running about saving something."

The Doctor looked down and clasped his hands together, silent for a few seconds. "Well, I could…get you a book or fetch you some food, lend you a movie from the TARDIS…"

Clara squinted up at him. "You're joking, right?"

His eyes were hard and solemn, as usual. "Why would I be joking?"

She would never admit it, but she hated being alone when she was sick. It made everything better when someone was there, not necessarily worrying over her, but just there to sit beside her. Lately Danny had filled that role, but…

"Danny!" Clara reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, fumbling with it in her hands as she searched for his contact.

"Ah, yes, how is Mr. P.E.? Shouldn't he be taking care of you?"

"He would be," she said in a rush as she called him, "but he's in Wales. His gran's in the hospital, got in a car crash."

"Hey, Clara!" Danny's voice sounded pleased and excited.

"Danny," Clara sighed. It was always refreshing to get a grip of reality from him whenever the Doctor was around.

"You sound really relieved," he said with a chuckle. "Everything okay?"

Clara cleared her throat and sniffed. "Yeah, just coming down with something. Must have picked it up from one of the kids."

His tone switched from playful to concerned. "Do you need me to come back early? Because you know I will-"

"No no, I'll be fine. Just a bit of a cold, really. You need to be there with your gran. How is she?"

He sighed. "Not too good. She's woken up twice now, but she doesn't remember anything, not even me."

"Oh, Danny…" She bit her lip and sighed, wishing she could be with him. "I'm so sorry."

"The doctors are still trying to sound hopeful, so I hope that means something."

"I hope she gets better."

"Me too." He paused, exhaling another long sigh. "I'll call you later tonight, okay?"

"Okay." She bit her lip, not wanting to leave him alone. "Love you."

"Love you too."

The line went dead and Clara slowly pulled the phone away from her ear. She wished she could be there with Danny to comfort him. She knew what it was like to watch someone you love suffer.

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to say 'I'm sorry'?"

Clara put the conversation with Danny behind her and smiled at the Doctor, grateful for his presence. "This is the part where you get me a movie from the TARDIS."

"Okay." He stood up and walked to her bedroom door. "What movie?"

"What movies do you like?"

He paused and frowned. "I'm not sure I'm the movie watching sort."

Clara shook her head. "Course you're not. Book, then? And don't even try to tell me you don't like reading."

He grinned. "I know just the thing." He left her bedroom door wide open as he barged through. The familiar creak of the TARDIS door sounded, and after a few moments he came back in the same hurried manner. He dropped himself onto the couch, the weight making Clara bounce.

The Doctor held the book out to her and Clara groaned.

"Doctor, I think I've had enough Pride and Prejudice for my lifetime."

"No," he insisted, waving his hands. "You have to look in the back."

Clara raised an eyebrow but listened to him, flipping to the very back of the book where there was a short biography on Jane Austen. It talked about when she wrote the book in 1796…

A sigh blew through her lips as she realized what he had done and why he had been so excited about the book. "Okay, Doctor, we clarified this, she started writing it in 1796 but finished it in 1797, so technically we're both right."

"But that was from the internet. You can never trust it. Now a book you can rely on." He turned to grin at her.

Clara was becoming less amused by the minute, but she realized that was probably due to the fact that her eyelids were beginning to droop and her head was starting to weigh a ton. Nevertheless, she swung the hardback book at the Doctor's shoulder, trying to look as cross as possible.

"Oooh, not good," he muttered, snatching the book from her hands.

She looked up sharply at him. "What?"

"That wasn't a Clara Oswald slap. That was…pitiful. There must be something wrong with you."

She had to giggle at that, though she tried to hide it by clearing her throat. "Maybe I should slap that pretty face of yours just to make sure."

"No, that shouldn't be necessary." He clapped his hands on his knees and rose to his feet. "Well, since you don't want me…"

Clara reached out and grabbed his hand. He paused, gazing down at the point of contact.

"Doctor." She tried to meet his eyes to no avail. "Please don't go. I'm asking you, my best friend, to stay with me."

His eyes slowly crawled upward to lock with hers. "What help could I be?" he asked with a sardonic chuckle.

"I don't need your help, I just need you here." She swallowed, knowing she would win after the next sentence. "I don't want to be alone."

The Doctor let out a long sigh through his nose, but after a moment he gently squeezed her hand and sat back down. "Only for a little bit."

Clara grinned and hugged him from the side, hearing him grumble under his breath about his hatred for hugs.

"Thank you, Doctor." She yawned, covering her hand with her mouth, and settled for leaning her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen, but it was still comfortable anyway. He would get over it.

Clara Oswald closed her eyes, and drifted off into a deep sleep.