The moment Clara returned home, which unfortunately had to be next to the Doctor's, she collapsed on the sofa, energy completely drained after a tiring and busy day.
She wanted nothing more than to shut her eyes and sleep for the next three days. That would be lovely, but reality isn't going to allow her such luxury, not when she agreed to the stupid bet.
What on earth possessed her to immediately say yes to the challenge, aside from the possibility of humiliating the Doctor and driving his vintage car of course. No, the bigger question would be why she even agreed, despite knowing that his prize increases the risk.
Clara would have to give him a kiss. A bloody kiss. A kiss on the cheek, but a kiss, nonetheless. The very thought of performing such an act made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. She's not kissing the Scottish bastard, so winning the bet is the only option.
The lecturer shut her eyes briefly before she felt a weight on her left leg. Mr Darcy, her pet cat, was sitting on top of her and she immediately smiled. "Did you miss me?"
Mr Darcy meowed before jumping off the sofa, headbutting his head against her palm. She scratched the orange tabby's head and he purred in approval.
"Do you have any idea how I can win the bet?" the mathematician asked her pet. The Doctor is clearly more experienced than her and he's already working with two PhD students.
Then again, she has plenty of time. There is always the option to request the department to reduce her teaching workload, but she loves giving lectures more than publishing papers.
The smartphone in the pocket of her trousers suddenly rang and tore her out of her thoughts. It was her nan.
"Hello, nan," she greeted happily but failed to mask her exhaustion.
"Clara, dear, you sound tired, should I call some other time?"
"No, no," she insisted, getting into a sitting position. "Sorry, just tired and had a bad day at work today."
Her nan chuckled. "Does it have something to do with that chap you're smitten with?"
"I am not smitten with the Doctor!" she countered. "I have a boyfriend, nan."
"Whom you have yet to introduce me to," nan replied.
At this point, she wasn't even sure if Danny will ever be introduced to her family, judging by how things are going with her life. "I promise you I will as soon as I get some free time – my schedule has been hectic thanks to my rude neighbour and colleague."
"What happened this time?"
"He nearly ran me over with his car, again, insulted me, had the audacity to call me an elf, called me a she-devil and worst of all, I have to work with him on open day next week, on a Saturday, of all days."
Her nan was silent for a second. "Are you sure you don't fancy him just a tiny bit?"
"Not at all," Clara denied.
"Does he fancy you?"
She laughed. Yeah, as if someone like the Doctor is capable of such an emotion. "If you ever met him, you'd know what he's like."
"Sounds like he has a crush on you," nan explained. "The insults are a dead giveaway – he's trying to get your attention."
Her nan is getting it all wrong. The Doctor doesn't have a crush on her and she certainly doesn't fancy him. "I very much doubt that nan," she sighed. "Let's just change the subject – when are you going to visit me?"
"I will, I will."
"You haven't seen the new house yet, and I'm sure Mr Darcy misses you."
Her grandmother laughed. "I miss him, too, but who knows, I might pop in unannounced."
"I'd welcome that since there's barely anything exciting here."
"Well, I don't want to keep you occupied for too long," nan said. "Be sure to get some well-deserved rest and don't stress yourself over the Doctor."
Clara huffed. "I think the latter is almost impossible."
"Bye, Clara, I love you, darling," nan murmured, trying not to laugh.
"Love you, too, nan," she replied before hanging up and placing the phone on the coffee table.
It was nice to hear from her grandmother after a long day. Clara certainly felt a bit better after venting out her frustration with the Doctor. If their fight keeps up, she might end up having grey hair before 35.
Once more, the mathematician was snapped out of her thoughts when her phone rang. She picked up the electronic device and saw that Danny was calling her.
"Hey," she answered, cheerfully.
"Hello, beautiful – I miss you," Danny said. "Tried calling you a few minutes ago."
Clara chuckled. "Sorry, about that – was on the phone with my nan."
"You alright?" he asked. "You did get my message this morning, yeah?"
He sounded hopeful which meant that her boyfriend really wanted to spend the whole weekend with her.
"Yeah, I did."
She rose to her feet and headed for the kitchen.
"Sorry, been busy the whole day," she explained, filling Mr Darcy's bowl with cat food.
Danny waited for a second to continue to before he decided to push further. "So, are you free this weekend?" he asked, feeling hopeful, yet unhopeful at the same time.
Clara blew air between her lips. "I'm sorry, Danny, but I'm super busy this weekend – I've got tests to mark, a paper to write and Mr Darcy needs to go to the vet since he keeps scratching his ear."
"What about next week?"
"I can't either – there's an open day," she sighed, covering her face with a hand. "How about the week after?"
"Camping trip with the students."
"I-"
Clara didn't get the chance to continue as loud music was heard coming from the other side of the wall. It sounded more like a guitar riff.
"Not again," she growled in frustration.
Every single time she was on a phone call with someone, her stupid, inconsiderate neighbour just had to choose the worst timing to play his guitar. Every single time. The whole town could probably hear how terrible he is. How old, or rather, young, does he think he is? 12?
"What?!" she yelled at the phone, having a hard time hearing what Danny was saying.
"I said, maybe you should just quit and move back to London."
Clara quickly trod upstairs to her bedroom where it was a bit quieter. Granted, she could still hear the music, but it wasn't as bad as in the kitchen. "Danny, you know I can't do that."
It was difficult enough finding a job after she obtained her PhD, working from one university to the next on a contract, rather than getting a permanent position, so when the university offered her a job, she couldn't say no. Moving away from London had been a difficult decision, but she couldn't continue living with uncertainty.
"Then just move away from him at least."
That was also something she couldn't do. Clara had discovered just how difficult it was to get a house that would allow pets, be affordable and not located too far away from her workplace.
Danny then sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to put it like that," he said softly. "It's just that I miss you and we haven't seen each other for months now."
"I miss you, too," she replied. "But I'm swamped with work – can you believe that I have to work with the Doctor on open day?"
"It's bad enough he nearly ran me over this morning and then tried to block me from getting into the lift," she continued rambling.
"As I said, if you hate it so much, just quit."
Clara lost her patience, coupled with the fact that she could still hear the Doctor playing his guitar. "You think it's easy, don't you – I struggled to pay the bills before I got this job and you're asking me to leave it all just like that."
Her boyfriend knew he had screwed up, but it was unfair for him to take the full blame. "What I'm trying to-"
"No," she snapped. "I think this conversation is over."
She then hung up, tossing the mobile phone on the mattress and it bounced twice before landing on a pillow.
Clara was cross with Danny and she can deal with him later. Right now, her head was throbbing thanks to the loud music and she was going to do something about it. Why, just why did she have to live in a semi-detached house?
Marching out of the bedroom and down the stairs, she unlocked the front door before making her way to the Doctor's house, next to hers.
She lifted her hand and knocked as hard as she could, pretending it was his face she was hitting. When that didn't work, she kept pushing the button mounted on the wall until the music finally stopped.
No more than two seconds later, the front door swung open and she was greeted by the sight of the Scotsman in a pair of shades with a guitar hanging off his shoulder.
"Can I help you?" he asked, annoyed that someone had interrupted his jam session.
"Yes, you can kick yourself all the way to the moon."
"That's physically impossible," he answered gruffly, leaning against the frame and crossing his arms. "Honestly, I expected a bit of logic from a fellow mathematician."
Clara copied his move and crossed her arms too. "You know exactly why I'm here – your loud music could have woken the dead."
"In that case, you should be thanking me," the Doctor answered, nodding to her.
"At least I don't look half-dead like you!" she hissed. "How long has it been since you last slept – 2000 years ago, grandpa?"
John pursed his lips. "Maybe you're half-dead, too, but you're just hiding it underneath all that make-up."
"How dare you!"
While the two mathematicians were bickering, their neighbour, Mrs Taylor who lives across the street, had just returned home after buying some groceries and picking her daughter up from football practice.
"Look at that, Liz," she said quietly to her daughter. "Those two are arguing with each other again."
Liz Taylor, who was now used to seeing Clara and the Doctor arguing, merely shrugged. "Maybe they like each other."
"Oh, no doubt about it," her mother said, still observing them while her daughter went inside. "Maybe they just have a weird fetish," she guessed silently.
"The whole town can hear you!" Clara growled. "I bet aliens from outer space can hear you!"
"It wasn't that loud," John said defensively.
Their argument was suddenly interrupted when a meow was heard coming from the ground.
"Yes, Idris?" he asked with a softer tone.
Clara stared at the feline for a moment, mouth agape. "That's your cat?"
"Yes," he answered, brows furrowed.
"She's been eating Mr Darcy's food!"
John chuckled at her pet's name. "You call your cat Mr Darcy – are you 15?"
"Are you 12?" she countered. Her eyes then spotted what the inside of his home looked like. It was a mess with none of the furniture being in the right place, his coat laid out carelessly on the sofa, and his boots not even placed properly next to the staircase. "Well, I can see why your cat prefers eating with my cat – your house is a pig-sty!"
He glanced back. "Would you like to play house-maid and clean my living room?" he asked sarcastically. "And it's not that bad… your eyes are just pretentious!"
"So much for logic from a fellow mathematician," she retorted. "I wouldn't clean your house even if it makes you go away – not worth my time and energy."
"An experienced fellow mathematician," he corrected.
"I hate you," she hissed. "And guess what, old man, I'm going to be driving your car by the end of the academic year, but before that, I'm going to get it washed and cleaned."
John rolled his eyes. "That is, if you win – a big if."
Clara started moving backwards. "That's right, inflate that massive ego of yours."
That was just what she needed. If the Doctor lets his guard down, he might be susceptible to making a mistake that would cost him dearly.
He glowered at her, aware of the game she was playing. "Do I look like an idiot to you?"
"Yes," she answered. "Especially with the way you played the guitar and how you look right now."
"I was experimenting!" he argued before an idea struck him and he adjusted his guitar.
The Doctor then played Pretty Woman as Clara strode to her house.
"See!" he yelled. "I can play!"
She wasn't impressed with his skills at all, if anything, she was annoyed that he did that. What would the neighbours think? Oh, who cares. She was sure they were already thinking how weird she and the Doctor are anyway.
"What a daft man," she muttered, cheeks turning red as she entered her house. She will win the bet, by hook or by crook.