Clara only clung to him though. She did nothing to appease his worry. Not a word made it out of her mouth, nor did she even move.
"Clara, I know you're upset, but.." The Doctor paused, searching for the right words. "But I'm becoming really extremely and superbly worried about you and I would hate to get grumpy because you do know when you're sad I get kind of sort of maybe a bit grumpy?" The Doctor blurted rapid-fire. He may be really horrid at sharing his feelings, but he seemed to be getting better. With a little help from Clara.
A muffled giggle sounded from the slender form he held in his arms, and Clara leaned her head back, her usual impish grin only half-smiled. "You're absolutely daft, you know." She laughed, her voice somewhat shaky and coarse.
"Hey! I'm quite clever, thank you very much!" The Doctor laughed half-heartedly. He smiled back at her thinly, still worried. "But you didn't answer my question."
Clara's smile was still pained, not forced, but not normal. "Yes, well.." She murmured as her smile fell, curling closer to The Doctor's chest as she tucked her feet up. "That's because I'm.. I'm not entirely sure what to say..." She paused, sniffing, and The Doctor took the chance to tuck a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Choosing a respectful silence rather than a repeat of his question.
Clara smiled again, the same broken expression alighting on her face. "I'm not sad though, like you said I was in your little rant. I'm honestly not. Just… Dazed? Confused? Having ambivalent attitudes? Oh, I don't know.." Clara rubbed her eyes with one of her hands, looking very lost.
She was so beautiful to him. Clara. His Clara. And as he looked into her eyes, emerald meeting chocolate, worry meeting fear, confusion, and utter helplessness, he couldn't help himself. He traced his finger down her jaw-line gently, then cupped her face in both his hands softly. "Clara Oswald." He whispered. "I love you." Then he pressed his lips against hers in a tender, soft, and passionate move, and she kissed him back with just as much emotion.
They broke apart a few seconds later, Clara with eyes closed, a slight smile gracing her face. But The Doctor's eyes were open. He was taking in every bit of this scenario, of Clara. Trying to puzzle it out. But he was left just as clueless as he always is when it comes to situations like these. Finally, when he thought he might burst, he blurted out his question again. "Clara really, what's the matter?"
Clara peeked one eye open. "Now wouldn't you like to know?" She teased, but then a panicked look came upon her face, and she turned a pale shade of green. In one quick bound, she stumbled off the chair and dashed to the bathroom clumsily, slamming the door behind her.
The Doctor had been right behind her, ready to help her in however she needed it. Even if that meant holding her hair back while she wretched, which he honestly didn't mind too badly. (That's just part of what a good boyfriend does, isn't it?) But when she slammed the door, he was left helpless.
No. He thought. Not helpless. Just helping in a different way. Maybe she wants to be alone. Maybe I can do something for her out here… The Doctor glanced around, eager to find something funny to cheer Clara up. When as he was looking, he noticed a bizarrely shaped white object sitting on the floor a few feet away from Clara's chair. Oh, she was holding that when I came in. He recalled, walking towards it. It's probably rather important, I'll just…. As he picked it up, and examined it, his mind went blank. Utterly and completely blank of any (intelligent) thoughts at all.
He might act like an overgrown eleven year-old sometimes. (Okay a lot of the times..) But he knew what this was. He was really a very wise old man, and he knew that this little piece of plastic was exactly why Clara had been so emotionally distraught. The two little blue lines seemed to stare up at him, and he made his way hollowly to the bathroom door.
"C-clara," He called in, his voice breaking. "Are you pregnant?"