Thanks for the review :) Gosh, I can't stop writing. Somebody help me!
Chapter 4
The Doctor had to lean on Clara when they walked from the cab to their door. Clara regretted declining the driver's offer to help her get her husband inside the house. But who would have thought such a lean man could be so heavy? Well, at least her plan had worked. She opened the door and shuffled the drunk Doctor inside where he leaned against the sideboard.
"Nice evening," he said, swaying slightly.
"Yes. Now come on, let's get you to bed," Clara replied and offered her arm.
"Good idea," he staggered towards her, trying to place a kiss on her lips but Clara managed to dodge him. She knew it wouldn't always be this easy to escape his affections unless she kept him under the influence the whole time. But she had realized on the way from the car that that would be too exhausting by far.
It took them a while to reach the upstairs bedroom with Clara having to almost carry the Doctor's dead weight to the bed by herself. She let go off him and the Doctor fell onto the mattress, his head hitting the wooden headboard.
"Ouch," he called out and held the back of his head.
"Ups, sorry," Clara apologized, approaching him to take a look, "Does it hurt?"
"No, it's fine," he slurred slightly and then he began tapping on the empty side of the bed, indicating she should join him.
Clara ignored it and started taking his shoes off very slowly, hoping he would just fall asleep before she was done. But she had no such luck. When she looked up to him she saw that he was almost done unbuttoning his shirt though he was rather clumsy at it.
"What are you doing?" she asked, mortified.
"Undressing. Why? You wanna do it?"
"No," she half screamed. And her mask had fallen off. It took her a moment to regain her posture. "I mean, you must be tired. You should sleep."
The Doctor struggled into a sitting position. He grabbed her hand before Clara could react and pulled her closer.
"I don't want to. I want you," he said sincerely and suddenly didn't seem so drunk anymore. "I love you, Clara."
All of a sudden Clara felt incredibly guilty. And also incredibly alone. The Doctor depended on her. He had asked her if she was absolutely sure she could do this and she had said yes. But he had been right. She hadn't known what she was getting into, but she had promised him to keep them safe. And this man, John Smith, loved her and had no idea what was wrong. It wasn't real, Clara told herself, but it didn't change that right now she had two options: betraying the Doctor or breaking John Smith's heart.
"What is it, Clara?" the Doctor asked, "Did I do something wrong? You haven't been yourself all day. If it's something that I did. . ."
"It's not," she just said.
"Then what is it? Is it me?"
"It's not you. It's me. I'm having an odd day," she explained.
"An odd day?" the Doctor asked loudly, still slurring a little, "Clara, I tried so hard to give you a nice anniversary. An anniversary that, by the way, you forgot. Was that not enough?"
"No, it was perfect. Everything was perfect," she said.
The Doctor pulled her even closer now, resting his head on her chest. Clara let him but her body went stiff. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her entire life. She forced herself to touch his head and stroke his hair but when she felt the Doctor's hands feeling up her bottom, she unwillingly pushed away from him.
The Doctor must have noticed her rejection because he struggled to get out of bed, still a little unsteady on his feet.
"Where are you going?" Clara asked.
"Guest bedroom. Have an odd evening!" he wished her and staggered off.
It took Clara a few seconds after the door closed but eventually she let herself fall onto the floor and started sobbing uncontrollably.