Clara is spectacularly drunk. The Doctor can't help but notice this as she comes stumbling into the TARDIS.
"Alright there, Clara?" he asks, a small smile playing on his lips as she grips tightly to the rail. "Where've you been?"
Clara giggles, "Never better, Doc! 'Twas my mate, Laura's hen night. she's getting married! Doc, she's getting a..a…what do you call them?"
The Doctor wrinkles his nose at the shortened version of his name, and supplies the word Clara's looking for, "Husband. They're called husbands." He hurries over to Clara's side, grasping her arms to make sure she doesn't fall.
"Why don't we get you to bed?" The Doctor says, gently leading Clara back to where her room is.
"Oooh, cheeky!" Clara grins saucily, "My bed or yours?" She offers up an unsteady wink and bursts into hysterical giggles.
The Doctor, awkward on the best of days, practically drops his companion to the floor. "What? NO…i mean, no…I meant…you….alone…not with me." he splutters, giving Clara another reason to laugh.
"Oh, but Doctor, you're rather adorable and I just want to be with you." Clara mumbles, her eyes drooping, her alcohol high fading fast.
The Doctor looks at Clara, a gentle affection in his eyes. But, just as quickly, he shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts.
"Yes, yes. Well, I think you'll feel a bit differently in the morning. You need to sleep this off. Come along, Clara." He tightened his grip on her elbow and gently led her through the doorway.
Clara flopped to the bed, rather ungracefully. The Doctor sat her up and peeled off her leather jacket and pulled off her ankle boots, setting them down on the floor.
"Doctor?"
"Mhmm," The Doctor was deep in thought as he pulled back the covers to Clara's bed.
"I don't suppose you feel the same way I do, do you?"
"What? What way? I haven't a clue as to what you're talking about." The Doctor busied himself with tucking the covers around his drowsy companion, but at the same time, he couldn't help notice the slight flush Clara's cheeks held, or the way her hair had curled around her forehead.
"No, I suppose you don't." Clara murmured, her eyes shutting and her breathing evening out.
The Doctor looked down at Clara's sleeping face, the covers rising and falling.
"I suppose I don't."
A/N: Hi guys! I wrote this a few days ago and posted it on Tumblr. Someone wanted me to continue this, and if I get favorable response over here, I'll definitely continue. Enjoy! =)