"Good morning, Doctor," Clara scratched his skull with short hairs as she noticed the change in his breathing.
The Doctor opened his eyes a bit, his surroundings blurry, and someone was in his bed and was petting his head. Then, the memory from yesterday caught with him.
Clara smirked as he groaned into the pillow trying to shoo her away with his hand.
"You promised not to touch me. Does cocooning me for the whole night sounds for you like not touching?" He asked, the side of his mouth muffled by the pillow, and cast her unreadable look which made her smile weakly.
"Sorry, guilty. I promise to never do that again." She might have put her hand on her chest, he still didn't believe her.
"You're such a liar, miss Oswald," he clacked with his tongue and resisted the urge to hit her with a pillow to make her stop smirking again. He needn't bother, very soon she was doubled with a harsh cough. "How do you feel, anyway?"
"I feel like I'm dying. And I've got a temperature, I remember being cold and hot at night."
She didn't look like dying, though she really looked quite bad and weak. She was wrapped into several blankets that she must have taken at night. Her eyes were half-closed, and she looked so tiny and vulnerable behind the blanket. The Doctor felt guilty, he should have given his coat to her earlier.
"Ah. I see…" There won't be any adventures in a couple of days.
"I'm really sorry. Maybe you should give me a lift back home. I've got something for cold there."
The Doctor became very very still.
"I've got something for cold too," he said, making sure his voice was clear and strong.
"No, really, Doctor; I'll be fine on my own." She was getting up when he caught her hand and made her lay back.
"Don't be stupid. Of course, you won't! I'm not letting you go in a state like this."
"Are you trying to say that you will nurse me?" She almost laughed again if it wasn't for a cough.
"I don't see any reason why not. You nursed me several times."
"I'm me, but you're… well, you. You don't do nurse."
He rolled his eyes at that. "For someone who is guilty of catching a cold, you don't do much to start getting better. I'm r-really disappointed."
The Doctor got out of the bed and made the way to the door. When he heard blankets shuffled, he said,
"If you try to leave this bed I'm going to handcuff you to the bedpost."
He was mid-outside the room, just one more step, when he got the reply. "I always knew you were kinky. Now I've got a proof."
If Clara could have seen his face she would see it turning absolutely red.
"Aye, shut up!"
"Or what? You'll gag me?"
He left the room in a hurry before things got even weirder.
Clara was drifting back into a sweet embrace of dreamland. She could hear an echo of her heartbeat in the pillow, and it was like a lullaby for her ear. Things became peaceful and quiet again, just what she needed in her state.
Then the Doctor returned with a banging hospital trolley.
She cast a nervous look at him. "Oh god, you're actually doing this."
"Clara," he gave her a warning tone. He sat on the mattress, and it gave her a better look at what was in the trolley: several bottles of water, some medicine, three boxes of tissues, one box of wetnaps, two books, Rubik's cube, two magazines, one of which had shirtless Freddie Mercury on the cover, two toasts, cookies and four cups of tea.
"Danny would never believe this when I tell him," Clara muttered.
"Yeah, we've heard about that man a lot nowadays," the Doctor grumbled. He was making an order out of the chaos on the trolley, basically putting everything on the other side of it but one object per hand. She could see he was angry, but why?
"I've never thought you'd be jealous." Clara thought it must be it.
"Me? Jealous? Why? Does he have a time machine, Universe on his fingertips and a masculine body?"
He… a masculine body. Wait, wot?
"He doesn't have such an enormous ego!" She lightly hit him on the top of his head but smiled when he gave her bewildered glare. Now she knew it was about Danny.
"Right! Doctor's order. Basically, the usual. You take your medicine, you drink, you think about something nice when your nose running. You sleep. You call me only when it's something important."
"If I get bored, is that a worthy reason to call you?"
"Yes," he said but made sure he was out of the room before giving that answer. She chuckled lightly, made herself sit and looked at the trolley again. Sighed. The Doctor was such a bad nurse after all.
"Forgot the important part. What a surprise, Doctor."
What was he doing?
The Doctor banged lightly his head against the wall four metres away from Clara's room.
He can't do a nursery, Clara was right, he's awful at that, and he just doesn't do that. Any other day he would have sent his companion away and pop in their lives a week ahead when they're back on normal. And she had offered him sending her away and just do what he'd been always doing.
But that was Clara, not just a companion, his teacher, his carer and his… No, that wasn't about her. Not at all.
No.
The Doctor headed to the console room.
Then what was it if not her?
A guilt, probably. It was his fault that she'd got cold, he hadn't given her his coat.
No, that wasn't it.
Then it was a decision made in a hurry.
Nah, hogwash, it hadn't been made in any hurry. And what about a masculine body? God knows Clara had heard that loud and clear.
Finally he approached the console, entered some coordinates, set the slow speed and pulled the space-time lever. With a take-off growl, the TARDIS set its course to a distant planet. Or maybe not a planet. He really didn't know what he had just entered.
By a mere accident, his eyes ran to the second floor to the place where Clara, talking to her PE, had stood once in a golden short dress, short enough to show enough and let imagination draw next curves. She seemed so happy then, dancing down the steps towards him, all shiny and energised when her idiot boyfriend blessed her with the permission to continue their adventures through time and space. Her smile… had she ever smiled like that day? Had she ever smiled like that when he showed her wonders? Nah, PE had won that round again. And when she'd been just inches away from him he remembered 'I love you' reverberating in his chest and it was all lost again.
Why would his eyes run even there? It's very stupid of them.
Clara's not in love with him, he should stop that, it was very wrong, she had a boyfriend, she–
"What are you doing?"
He jumped in a startle, Clara crawled to him really quietly.
"Why're you looking at me like I'm a ghost?" She asked, turning her inspection mode on him.
The Doctor awkwardly scratched the bridge of his nose. "I've just recalled how you almost crashed my TARDIS." Well, it wasn't a lie, technically he had recalled just that.
"Ah. That was a month ago, strictly after Orient Express. Why, is there a malfunction?"
A one you'd never believe.
"No. Just don't touch anything on emotions ever again. Why are you here?" He examined her quickly, she looked normal apart from being ill.
"To say that you didn't tell me what medicine I should take. The TARDIS showed me, though. And said that you need me."
The Doctor nervously glanced back at the column. What game she thought she was playing doing that?! "I don't need anything."
"Are you sure?" Clara got closer as if she wanted to peer into every wrinkle on his face.
"Of course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know." She gave him a light shrug. "It's just you didn't sound sure. By the way, you know that one of the pills you gave me is a sleeping pill?"
"Yeah?"
"I think it starts to kicking in." She sneezed in a tissue.
"Oh."
"I know what you'll say."
"What?"
"I so told you not to leave the bed."
Her eyes were half-closed when the Doctor grabbed her shoulders and shook violently. "Hey! Don't you dare! You need to go to your bedroom, now!"
"Can't you help me? You're supposed to nurse me."
"I won't carry you!" He almost squeaked. "You're too heavy, and you didn't carry me last time I broke my toe!"
"I don't think you have much of a choice, sorry." She was falling into his chest, and for a second, just a second, the Doctor considered moving from her way and letting her fall. But he didn't and caught Clara in his embrace.
It was like an awkward hug, a hug that no one had wanted but still, there they were, and the Doctor didn't move lest Clara slipped down to the floor.
Her hair smelled like a watermelon shampoo.
Great.
"I hate you," he told no one in particular.
"I hate you," he made sure that no one heard him again.
Damn her, she wasn't pretending. That was quite a good sedative.
"Hope it's as good as the rest of the pills I gave you." The Doctor shifted her on his shoulder but thought it was a bad idea when, after taking two steps, he'd nearly dropped her.
"I'm not a young dashing boy anymore, Clara. You can't just knock out on me." He tried to carry her bride-style but his back gave him a firm no in reply. He ignored it, thankfully he had a great experience in ignoring many things, till he made it back to her bedroom.
It was the longest way back to her bedroom.
His back hurt as hell. He had probably strained several muscles while carrying her. He was lying on the other side of her bed in search of the best position for him. He didn't give a damn it was her bed. Gone was a shy tired man, now there was a man with a hurt back. And Clara really would not like this version of him, 'cause he had found handcuffs special for her.
He tried to lay on his side and moaned in pain. Any position hurt him.
"Doctor?" He heard Clara calling for him. It was almost indistinguishable but thanks to his sensitive ears he heard her.
"Don't you ever dare not listening to me," he hissed through clenched teeth.
But she didn't say anything.
When he found a bravery to roll over, he found her eyes were closed. Oh? Oh! She was calling him in her sleep! She wasn't even aware of it!
"Hey… don't," her mouth puffed those two words, making his hearts sink.
It sounded like a nightmare a bit. He didn't like it.
Then she called for him again, and, by her intonation, he knew for sure it was a nightmare.
He rolled back to his side, closed his eyes and tried to ignore it.
He could stop it, just one zip through the tip of his finger right into her subconscious and she'd have a nice dream about ponies or whatever she would want. She was having a cold, she was already suffering, he didn't want her to be upset even more. But it also meant he might accidentally see something private.
His eyes darted open.
But he was the Doctor! He didn't have an idea of privacy, Clara had told him that so many times! It would be a peek for good.
With that thought, before he could change his mind again, he touched her right temple with his middle-finger.