Day 2 Approx. Eighteen Hours Since Infection

The following morning he didn't expect to see Clara at all. By now she would be in the throes of the Fungus' powers, in a state of near constant arousal, her whole physiology geared to… acts of reproduction.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

He put down his coffee cup and wiped his forehead. He really was beginning to wonder if he'd been close enough to have some of the spores affect him. Perhaps they'd transferred from Clara as they'd walked back to the TARDIS. Maybe the shower room hadn't decontaminated properly after she'd used it?

Clara in the shower. Wet. Wet and aroused probably.

Stop it.

He had to be infected. It was the only thing it could be. He wouldn't usually feel so out of control and he certainly wouldn't be having so many inappropriate thoughts about his pretty human companion.

Would he?

He passed his hand over his face. He was in denial. There was no way he could have been infected. It was just that seeing her like this, worse, hearing her, was tapping into things he'd known about for ages but tried to ignore. He was absolutely besotted with her. He adored her, dare he say it he even loved her. From her huge brown eyes to her control freak personality he worshipped Clara Oswald.

And he desired her too.

But she would never, ever desire him so he had buried that part of things deep and focused instead on her just being there. On her company and their friendship and all the wholesome elements of that he could still enjoy even if he did look older and acted grumpier and she no longer found him remotely attractive. And that was fine when she was acting normally, when there was no hint in her behaviour of any desire for him.

Her voice rang in his ears from memory, her low moan and his name dripping from her lips. That had really brought it home to him. Just how good it would be to hear her do that lying beneath him, or straddling his lap, or pressed up against the wall while he held her in his arms and …

'No!' he said aloud.

'No?' Clara entered the kitchen cautiously, her dressing gown wrapped tight around her. She looked tired, nervous but strangely… alert. 'No what?'

He swallowed and drew his cup to him, fiddled with it, avoided her gaze. He didn't know who was more embarrassed her or him. She shifted her weight to her other foot and looked about her uncertainly before pouring a cup for herself.

'No nothing…' he said at last.

'OK,' she sat down on the opposite side of the breakfast bar and toyed with her coffee. An awkward silence lingered. A strand of hair fell across her face and she puffed it out of the way with her breath. The Doctor stared at her lips for a moment too long. She glanced up and caught him and immediately blushed, a stunningly pink glow right across her face that made her seemed altogether unnaturally heated and desirous. He caught her gaze and her pupils blew, doubling in size as he watched. Clara swallowed nervously and then hid her face in her cup. He looked away.

'Sleep well?' he asked. It seemed a normal thing to ask. He asked her every morning, more or less. It's what humans did, ask repetitive questions out of courtesy. She'd been trying to teach him about courtesy and manners, he was making an effort to please her.

'Mm,' she squeaked in reply, 'Slept great. Slept solidly from the moment I went to bed until about five minutes ago. Fast asleep. No trouble getting off….'

He looked at her quickly.

'I mean dropping off, no trouble dropping off,' she corrected and her face burned. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink.

Oh Gods she'd been doing it all night. All night. Thinking about him. This was very possibly more than he could bear. More than any man could bear, even one as advanced as him. Even Time Lords had limits.

Clara gulped her coffee down. 'So what's the plan today?' she asked.

'I thought we'd take a day off from planets,' he said.

'What? Why?'

'Thought you might appreciate… a rest,' he said carefully. 'Spend a few days doing whatever you need to do to… recuperate… from all the um… well planet visiting…'

She looked at him and then down at the breakfast bar.

Just go with it Clara, just say thank you Doctor I am a bit tired, I'd like a few days off, and go back to your room and wait out the Fungus Spores.

But Clara being Clara couldn't accept this gift.

'You know don't you,' she said, face still burning and eyes averted. 'You know I'm… I'm…. having some difficulties.'

'I…' he started about to keep up his façade and try to ease her shame, but she looked up at him with such a look of desperation in her eyes that he closed his mouth and then started again. 'Yes,' he said, 'I'm sorry. I wasn't going to make anything of it, I didn't want you to be embarrassed.'

'Was it that blue mushroom, its… goop?' she asked.

'Yes, it's a Frengalian Fungus. That 'goop' is one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs known to the universe.'

Clara slumped onto the breakfast bar, her head in her hands, 'Oh God what am I going to do? How long does it last? I've been awake all night! I can't… I can't stop…. I can't get…'

'I know,' he said rapidly before she described her predicament in any more graphic terms, 'It will pass, I promise… I was infected once…'

'You?' she looked up at him strangely hopeful.

'Yes me.'

Her eyes widened. 'Really?'

'Yes.'

'What did you do?' she asked.

'What do you think I did,' he said a bit defensively and blushed. He hated blushing.

'Does it affect Time Lords the same way?'

'Yes.'

'Oh…' her thoughts drifted a little, 'You mean you had to… just like I have had to… gosh that's quite the image….'

The Doctor cleared his throat.

'Sorry,' she said. She wriggled on her stool and pressed her lips together. They looked redder than normal, fuller, he struggled to take his eyes from them. But he had to do the right thing here, he loved her, he had to protect her from herself. She was clearly thinking things she shouldn't, imagining things she had no usual predilection to imagine. Things involving him. She pulled her lower lip through her teeth and then passed her tongue over it. She should stop that. Immediately.

'Clara?' he said a little sharply.

'Hmm,' she said her eyes roaming over his face, he noticed them dip to his jumper, and to the tiny little holes through which his skin showed. That thing with her tongue again.

Concentrate!

'As the spores progress you will find it harder and harder to think rationally,' he said, deciding he would play his usual role of Knowledge Bearer, 'You won't be in total control of your thoughts or desires. You might think you want things you don't, you might act quite out of character. I want you to know that… that…'

'That?' she breathed. Clara leaned forward on the breakfast bar and her robe fell open slightly. She was wearing nothing beneath it. The Doctor dragged his eyes back to her face, her warm breath hitting his cheeks.

'That you can trust me,' he said and received a purr back from her.

'I know I can trust you,' she said softly, 'You're my Doctor,' she paused to reach up and place her index finger on his nose briefly, 'Do you trust me…?' she asked.

She was so close he could catch her scent warm and musky with arousal, rising from within her robe, from her skin. He closed his eyes and inhaled, leaning forward in his seat mesmerised. 'Yes,' he said, his voice a low growl that surprised even him, 'I mean…. Wait…'

Clara raised her eyebrows. 'You don't trust me?' she said playfully.

'I trust you I just don't trust the Fungus. You have to be careful Clara, it will have you acting peculiarly.'

She giggled at him, 'I'm not out of my mind yet Doctor I'm just a bit… a bit… well… very… '

'Aroused?' he asked unable to help himself.

'Aroused,' she confirmed. Clara gave him a look that conveyed a very particular need and he felt butterflies erupt in his guts. Then to his mixed horror and excitement she winked at him. He blinked back owlishly.

'Clara is there something wrong with your eye?' he asked.

'No, silly,' and she started crawling over the breakfast bar. Actually hoisting herself onto the surface and pushing the coffee cups out of the way. They clattered to the floor and spilt their contents as she reached for his shoulders.

'Clara!' he sprang up from the stool and she slung her arms around his neck, kneeling now on the bar and looking into his eyes.

'Yes…' she replied, her robe slipping further open so that he could clearly see the edges of her breasts and a smooth expanse of pale skin trailing down to her… Gods she really had nothing on under there.

'Clara stop!'

She grinned and leaned in towards him, her lips parting and her eyes fixed on his mouth. He felt the heat of her abdomen radiate through his clothing, the scent of her really intoxicating now and her face so close to him.

'Kiss me,' she said.

'Clara you're not yourself!'

'I'm your Clara…'

He leaned away from her but worried she'd topple off the bar so ended up braced at a rather painful angle and wedged between the stool and the table she knelt on. He almost lost his balance and automatically grabbed her hips to steady himself. The robe pulled apart.

'Mmm that's it,' she praised him.

'Clara, stop this now!'

'But you're my friend…' she said innocently, 'My best and closest friend. And I've got this problem… and you always help with my problems…. So I need you to help me with this one.' She reached down and took one of his hands, sliding it firmly across her hip and under the fallen edge of her robe. He yelped.

'Touch me,' she said confidently, leaning in so she could instruct him further. Her breath tickled his ear and he shut his eyes against her. She guided his hand onto her belly, pushed his fingers down to touch the soft hair at the top of her mound. His knees felt wobbly. 'Please…' she half panted.

And he felt her tongue trail around his earlobe.

Oh no. He was caving…

He pushed back a little too hard, let go of her body and half toppled over the stool. Clara caught herself on the bar and knelt there on all fours glaring at him. She looked absolutely feral.

He wanted her.

But he wouldn't do it.

'You are useless!' she erupted suddenly, her eyes flashing at him dangerously. Oh no, he'd forgotten this could happen. The Fungus Spores were powerful things, if the desire they caused wasn't satisfied they played hell with the emotions. 'Would it really be so difficult?' she blasted, 'Is it such a bloody chore? You haven't had sex for about a thousand years! What's the matter with you? I thought you'd be leaping on me by now. What is it? Am I not good enough for your superior Time Lord libido? Am I not enough? Would I never keep up?'

'Clara please….'

'Or are you worried you wouldn't keep up?' she yelled, 'Too old and grey for it now are you? Doesn't it work anymore now you're two thousand? Are you past it?'

The words stung like a slap. If he hadn't fallen over the stool and away from her she looked like she would slap him.

'Clara, you're infected, I'd be taking advantage…' it sounded weak even to him.

'Oh that's just pathetic! Taking advantage? You are so patronising! I can decide for myself who to have sex with Fungus or no Fungus!'

'Clara….'

She leapt down from the breakfast bar and dramatically closed her robe with a flourish. 'Well have it your way. How long does this fungus thing last anyway… ?'

He fidgeted awkwardly with the buttons on his jacket.

'How long?' she yelled.

Hesitantly he pulled the sonic from his coat and aimed it at her. It glowed and buzzed and then produced a reading.

'Um…. Another three days give or take… that's good news Clara,' he said quickly when she glared at him again, 'I mean you must only have ingested a little of it… often it lasts much longer…'

'Three days?!'

He took an involuntary step backwards.

'Three days and you… my best friend… the one man I trust… won't help me… Great! Marvellous!' she threw her arms up.

'Clara it's not that I don't want to help,' he confessed softly, 'Our friendship… I just don't think it would be…'

'You're scared,' she snapped over him, 'You're scared and pathetic and you don't deserve to call yourself a man. Well I don't care anymore. I can get through this without you. So you just go and tinker with your machinery, or play with your screwdriver or something and I'll sort this out alone… trust a man to let you down. If a girl wants something doing she just has to get on with it herself.'

And she stormed out of the kitchen.

The atmosphere seemed to take a few minutes to settle and then the Doctor heard a door further down the corridor slam shut. He winced. He was only trying to do the right thing. He would hate her to recover from the Fungus only to be filled with regret for her behaviour and horror that her closest friend had taken advantage of her predicament. She'd see that when she was well again, she had too. She would see that, wouldn't she?

He chewed on a fingernail. In the meantime Clara was right about something. He did feel pathetic.