He slept as he always had; hair sticking out from under the blanket and nothing more.
He wanted so badly to go back into the TARDIS and sleep in there, but Clara told him very firmly that he was to sleep on the couch. At least in the TARDIS he had his own bed. And he knew were the noises where coming from and they brought comfort to him.
The was a creak in the general direction of the kitchen and his hearts quickened very slightly. He kept under the blanket, his muscles locking up in paralysing fear.
He took a small breath, the smallest and quietest that he could bare to take, and released it, trying to defuse the tension in his body. He felt slightly better, but not enough to even try and get back to sleep.
Another creak. A squeak. Banging from the pipes. Water dripping. Footsteps.
He made a revolution in his mind that he would get up and make a run to the TARDIS, no matter what Clara would say. After all, he could just fly off and leave her, not that he would, and maybe go off to some adventure to get his mind off of things.
But then the footsteps came closer and the Doctor shrunk deeper under the blanket, curling in on himself as slowly as possible, both trying to make himself invisible and mute. His breathing slowed until he switched on his respiratory bypass, staying as still as possible, eyes squeezed shut and listening to his surroundings.
The footsteps stopped, a mere few feet from him and he could hear breathing, not his own obviously because at the moment he wasn't, but there was someone, something, breathing, just an arm's length away.
It sighed and his eyes snapped open. He couldn't see anything, because the blanket was covering his eyes, but he knew it was there. It was there... Right in front of him...
"Oh, Doctor..." It whispered in a soft voice... Clara's voice. "You're still afraid of the dark. It's okay." A hand was placed on his head, stroking his grey hairs.
He quickly fell asleep after that.