A/N: This chapter's upped the rating to M. If you want to skip the sexy times, just scroll down to the next line when things heat up.

Thank you again for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews! I'm sorry I don't update terribly frequently. Balancing two fics and grad school is something I never should have attempted!

Clara awoke to the sound of the Doctor's fingers tapping wildly on the keys of his laptop. He was still in his pyjamas and was now wearing those round spectacles of his, the ones he only wore when he had to read or stare at the computer for long stretches of time. When he noticed her eyes were open, he cast a glance in her direction and grimaced apologetically.

"Sorry—Did I wake you?"

"Probably. What time is it?"

"Quarter past ten."

"What, really?" she squeaked, slowly sitting up.

The Doctor merely nodded as he continued typing, his eyes glued to his computer screen. Clara grinned. "Getting a bit of work in?"

"Mhmm. Shouldn't take too long; just got to fix a few problems with the server."

She leaned against his shoulder and peered curiously at the screen. "You can do that all remotely?"

"Mostly, yes. I've got to phone in Strax for a few things but—yes."

"Is he at work?" she asked incredulously.

"Only popping in to fix a few problems. I'm sure he doesn't mind. He's got a big family; he relishes any excuse to get away from them at Christmas."

Clara smiled tightly and shut her eyes as she stretched. She released a tiny groan as several muscles protested sorely to the movement.

A tiny smile tugged at the Doctor's lips. His eyes were still on his computer. "Sore?"

"Hmm, little bit," she replied, pressing a kiss to his neck.

He hummed softly at her touch, the sound a deep reverberation in his chest that warned that anything further would distract him from what he was doing. Clara thought back to some of the sounds he'd made the night before and bit her lip to keep from kissing his neck again. Their love-making had escalated from something gentle and soft to something heavy and primal in the blink of an eye. She would never forget the feel of him on top of her or the way he gripped the headboard with one hand and covered her mouth with the other, his own face buried in her hair as they struggled to stifle their moans.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, rising from the bed before she could succumb to the temptation to touch him again.

Rory was absent from the flat, having gone back to work early that morning, but Clara could hear Amy tapping away at her own laptop in the living room when she stepped into the hallway on her way to the bathroom.

She poked her head around the corner and smiled at Amy. "Morning."

Amy glanced up at her and Clara stared at her in surprise. She was wearing the exact same spectacles as the Doctor—in fact, if she hadn't seen him wearing them just seconds ago, she would have suspected they were the exact same pair.

"Morning!" Amy replied with a bright smile. "We've got a few muffins left over from breakfast if you want any. And I can make coffee."

She placed her laptop on the sofa and stood, joining Clara in the kitchen.

"I didn't mean to sleep in so late," Clara said bashfully, placing her bath towel on the kitchen table, her shower put on hold in her quest for food.

Amy chuckled as she pulled a yellow plate and mug from the cupboard. "Yeah, the Doctor mighthave mentioned you'd need a lie in."

"Oh, did he?" Clara replied sharply, the corners of her lips curling upward even as her eyes narrowed.

Amy laughed again. "Well, as long as everyone's Christmas was merry."

The girls chatted over muffins and coffee. They talked a lot about Amy's job and what she was working on for the paper, but also about how she really wanted to write children's books. The more they talked, the more Clara realised that she really, really liked Amy. It was a shame she and Rory lived so far away.

About half an hour later, Clara was in the middle of her shower when she heard the bathroom door open. The shower curtain was opaque, so she only panicked for a moment until she saw it was just the Doctor.

Before she could greet him or ask what he was doing, the shower curtain was thrust back and he flung something cold and wet in her face. Clara cried out as it fell onto her chest and melted away. She gasped and then glared at the Doctor with a murderous glint in her eye.

He beamed at her. "It's snowing!"

She smacked at the spray of water irritably so that it sprayed him in the face. He ducked away with a chuckle, arms raised to shield himself, but placed his hand over hers when she tried to pull the curtain back.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

He kissed her. The hot water spilled down her skin as his lips sank against hers in a languid caress, one that was highly reminiscent of the night before.

"What was that for?" She felt dizzy.

He grinned at her, eyelids heavy. "Couldn't resist with you all wet and naked and cross with me."

He pecked her on the lips and then tried to pull away, but Clara tugged on his jumper and practically yanked him into the tub with her when she crushed her lips to his. She grinned against his chin when he started taking off his coat.

"Got all your work done, then?" she asked, voice husky.

"Mhmm," he replied, tugging his jumper and t-shirt over his head.

He quickly peeled socks from his feet, his fingers now fumbling at the button on his trousers. Once he'd shed all of his clothes on the floor, he stepped into the shower between her and the hot water. His hands were still cold from the snow outside and she shivered at his touch, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh beneath his fingers. The heat between them built quickly as his mouth moved against hers, his body pressed firmly to her as his hands slid up and down her back. Clara slid her hands to the backs of his thighs, sliding them upward to palm his backside and he moaned loudly, his own hands slipping past her waist to grip her firmly.

They both laughed as they made a few awkward manoeuvres, neither confident on how to proceed in such a slippery environment when they had a rather stark height difference to make up for. She eventually found herself in a supine position in the tub with the Doctor somehow folding his long legs behind him as he moved on top of her, water splashing off his back as he panted into her mouth.

"Clara… oh, Clara…"

Her eyes slammed shut and she moaned into his shoulder. He felt good—really good—but as much as she was relishing this spontaneous shag in the shower, Clara wasn't about to let the overwhelming sensation of skin-on-skin contact put her in the same position as last spring.

"What? Clara, what is it?" he asked shrilly as she pushed at his shoulders.

She gasped as she wriggled away from him. "We can't… N-not without…"

She was having difficulty forming words. Several emotions filled her head, all of which scrambled together to where she couldn't make sense of them. She just knew that she couldn't look at him or she wouldn't be able to stop, and the possible consequences of continuing were definitely something she'd regret. Or—were they?

"But… We were…" he stammered, his voice catching in his throat.

He looked like he was going to cry. Clara couldn't help but take pity on him. He moaned roughly against her neck when she wrapped her fingers around him and started pumping up and down. He gripped her tightly by the waist and under her arm as his moans turned into muffled whining and then finally whimpers before he met his release.

Clara wrapped her arms around him and pressed lazy kisses to his neck, smiling as he cooed nonsensically in her ear. After a moment she pushed at his shoulders, indicating she wanted up.

"Wait," he panted, sliding his hand along the inside of her thigh. "Don't you want…?"

Her sharp inhalation when his fingers ghosted between her legs was all the answer he needed. He wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pressed into her body, his fingers merciless against her as he muffled her whimpers and cries with kisses that made Clara feel like she'd had too much wine. Water pooled and splashed around them as her back arched and her hips bucked against him, and then with a burst of light, she collapsed into a liquid state that made her feel indistinguishable from the water swirling down the drain.

He chuckled against her neck, muttering a series of sweet nothings in a husky tone that would normally reduce her into an even gooier state, but that panicked feeling from before crept back into her belly and crawled its way to her chest. She grew tense but smiled tightly against his lips when he kissed her again, her overwrought nerves mere background noise when faced with his love and affection. They both stood and washed off, each giggling at their awkward limbs and messy hair.

The Doctor left the bathroom first, fully dressed but hair still wet and tousled from their impromptu shower together. She heard him bump into Amy outside of the door and smiled at their muffled teasing and laughter, which travelled through the cracks in the door to where Clara stood in front of the mirror.

She stared hard at her reflection as she ran a comb through her wet hair. She tried not to think about how easily they had gotten carried away, or about how easily that could happen again. She even considered going on the pill for a moment, but she had been on it once before and had hated how it made her feel.

What scared her more than the fact that they hadn't used protection was what she'd felt in that moment when she had realised. It was something other than dread and fear, two emotions that had nearly crippled her with her pregnancy scare last spring. She placed her hand over her belly and imagined it swollen beneath her palm, their baby growing inside of her. She then imagined the Doctor standing behind her, his arms encircling her so that his hands could rest over hers as he waited to feel the baby kick for the first time. She could see that proud, satisfied smile on his face and felt one stretching at the corners of her own lips as she got carried away with the fantasy.

Her smile melted quickly when she was reminded of reality. A lot of girls she'd gone to school with were now married with kids, some with two or three already, but Clara still didn't feel like she was ready. It wasn't that she didn't want kids or didn't want his—her little fantasy proved that wasn't true—but she didn't feel like she was prepared to be a mum, or to give up the freedom not toting kids around gave her. She wondered if it was that or the absence of a wedding ring on her finger that gave her the most pause.

She tried not to think about it for the rest of the day. After she got dressed, she joined the Doctor and Amy for a trip to the nearby park where they had a rather violent snowball fight that ended when Clara caught one in the face that left her gasping in the cold. They moved on to building a rather petite snowman (there wasn't enough snow for a proper one) and then they all laid on their backs and made snow angels.

It was a lovely afternoon. They were all smiling and laughing and telling stories about playing in the snow when they were kids, and afterwards they sought warmth in a nearby bakery/café where they nibbled on croissants and sipped coffee. Clara felt herself staring blankly into space until she met Amy's eyes across from her, and they both smiled.

Amy had never felt like the third wheel with the Doctor, not even when she'd gone out with him and River. She really liked Clara and got the feeling Clara liked having her around as well, so it wasn't an issue of exclusionary behaviour, but she still didn't know Clara that well. They didn't have the history that she, Rory, the Doctor and River had all built together. She didn't fault Clara for it, not really, but it made the afternoon feel slightly unsettling at times, like they were playing tug of war with the Doctor's attention. Amy was surprised at how easily she won some of those matches, and it wasn't until she was sitting across from them both at the café that she noticed something was wrong.

Clara smiled tightly at her when she met her eyes, and at first, Amy just assumed she was a bit knackered. She and the Doctor hadn't kept their aerobic activities as well-hidden as Amy imagined they would have liked (or perhaps as Clara would have liked—the Doctor always gave it away by practically glowing and beaming at everyone), so exhaustion was a possibility. But even though they still chatted and giggled throughout their conversations, Amy couldn't help but notice that they weren't looking each other in the eye and that the Doctor was often the one staring at the side of Clara's face in bewilderment. Something was wrong.

She didn't know Clara well enough to try to pry the information out of her, although she supposed she could try. It might even be easier than trying to get the Doctor to open up, especially since Amy often felt awkward and uncomfortable when trying to broach sensitive subjects with the man.

When Rory got off work, they all went into the city for dinner at one of their favourite restaurants, a place she and Rory rarely visited because it was a little on the pricy side. The Doctor automatically reached for the bill after dinner and Rory swatted his hand away. The two argued back and forth for a full minute before Rory signed the receipt and the Doctor sank back into his chair with a defeated sigh.

"C'mon, Clara. Let's take a trip to the ladies'."

The restaurant was the posh sort that had mints and actual cloth napkins in the bathroom. Once she and Clara were standing in front of the mirror, both of them checking their makeup and sucking on mints, Amy finally asked if anything was wrong.

"What do you mean?"

Amy felt her face flush, but she tried not to let it show. "You've just seemed a little off today. I don't mean to pry—well… much—I just wanted to make sure you two were OK."

She was an idiot. How could that possibly prompt Clara to open up to her? Clara knew, of course, that Amy was the Doctor's friend first and foremost, so if they had had some sort of argument or something, Amy would more than likely tell the Doctor and be on his side. Not that she wasn't without a sense of female solidarity or completely untrustworthy, but Clara knew that Amy was desperate to be back in the Doctor's good graces.

"Yeah, we're fine," Clara assured her with a little laugh. "Just a bit knackered, is all."

It didn't seem like a dishonest answer, but Amy still worried. After the cab ride back to their flat, they all sat around the lounge with tea and chatted idly until Clara announced she needed bed. Rory gave up shortly afterwards and headed to bed as well, which the Doctor took as his cue to turn in for the evening.

He rose from the sofa and Amy practically shot up after him. "Doctor."

He turned to her curiously. He did look remarkably tired.

"What's the matter?"

She expected him to laugh it off like Clara had, or lie like he usually did and say that everything was fine. Instead a dark cloud fell over his features and he lowered his gaze to the carpet. Amy took a step towards him and he tensed up.

"I don't think she wants to marry me."

Amy barely had time to react before the Doctor turned and disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Of all the things she could have guessed, she hadn't expected that.

Clara was already in bed when the Doctor entered the bedroom. She was curled up on her side with her back to him, so she pretended like she was asleep so she didn't have to turn around and chat. She wouldn't have minded chatting with him usually, but she was too tired to muster up the energy.

He shuffled about, shedding his evening clothes and slipping into his pyjamas, and she grew strangely anxious as she waited for him to fill the empty space in the bed next to her. When he did, she was disappointed that he didn't curl up behind her, although she supposed she couldn't expect him to be all over her 24/7.

He fidgeted a bit before settling onto his back, and after a while he'd gone very still, his breathing slow and steady. Clara slowly turned around and watched him curiously, her heart heavy with emotion as she examined his profile. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling as the wheels turned in his head. Clara didn't know what he was thinking, but like always, the arm closest to her was raised over his head, his silent invitation for her to curl up against him.

She took it. Scooting under the covers, she laid her head against his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest, his heartbeat thudding beneath her palm as he slowly wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

Neither of them said a word.

Clara shifted her head against his shoulder, nuzzling his neck with her forehead as she felt something like tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She felt like they'd travelled back in time to that night in the Savoy after he'd gotten the call that his cousin had died. She hadn't known what was wrong, but he'd kissed her neck and told her to go back to sleep.

He'd never held onto her as tightly as he had that night—until now.

"Rory."

He didn't know if it was Amy's voice or the sharp snore that escaped his nose that awoke him. He glanced up from his pillow to see her propped up on her side, elbow pressing into her pillow as she stared down at him. "Hmm?"

"Do you think you could talk to Clara?"

It took a moment for those words to make sense—they might as well have been in a different language for how well he'd comprehended them on the first go. "Talk to Clara?" He yawned loudly. "About what?"

"About the Doctor."

He turned to his wife with a frown. "I'm having terrifying flashbacks to Year 11."

Amy huffed impatiently and leaned in close, whispering. "I'm worried. The Doctor told me he doesn't think she wants to marry him."

Rory sat up with a sigh. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be getting much sleep tonight. "But he's going to propose."

"Exactly. I don't know what's got him thinking that… especially since I caught them shagging in the shower right before lunch."

"What?" he replied, eyes bulging.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Focus, Rory. Something's happened and… I don't know, you and Clara get on. You should talk to her… See what she thinks about their future together."

He scowled in reply. "But—why can't you talk to her? Isn't there some sort of girl code you could follow?"

She frowned. "I've never been good at following the girl code. Besides, she knows the Doctor and I are old mates; she'd probably be more comfortable talking to you about this sort of thing."

Rory stammered helplessly. "But—the Doctor and I are old mates too."

Amy shook her head. "Not in the same way."

"I just—but—what am I supposed to say? 'So, Clara—Fancy marrying the Doctor?' I mean—seriously, Amy." He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned.

"Rory," she said plaintively, laying a delicate hand on his arm. "I haven't seen the Doctor this happy since—" Even now, she couldn't say it. "He's been so happy since he got here… but you should have seen him. The look in his eyes… and his voice. We have to fix this."

"Do you really think we ought to be meddling?"

"Yes."

He sighed and met Amy's eyes, smiling at the determination he saw there. He ran a finger along her cheek and she smiled, and he felt his smile broaden in response. "You're an incredibly stubborn woman, Amy Williams."

"Yeah, yeah—what's new?"

She leaned forward and kissed him, and as he wrapped his arms around her, Rory decidedly gave up on getting any sleep that night.