He was moaning in his sleep and Clara woke in confusion, feeling his hands search her out and tug her closer, pressing her back into his chest and nuzzling his chin into her shoulder and she whispered his name softly, turning slightly to feel the wetness of tears against her cheek. It was rare that she caught him sleeping at all, but having a nightmare seemed almost impossible and she shifted in his tight grasp, frowning when she watched his face contort in pain and he murmured lightly, "No."
"Doctor," she groaned, fighting against the arms that were stronger than her own, keeping her securely against him and then he opened his eyes with a gasp, staring down into her shocked stare as she asked, "Are you alright?"
The laugh he coughed hurt to hear and she could see he was avoiding her stare, the nightmare he'd been experiencing still fresh on his mind, not yet dissolved away with the reality of consciousness. With a small nod, he admitted, "I dreamt I saw your crash," and he kept his gaze trained on her chest because he imagined if she'd been able to see his eyes, she'd understand that he had seen her crash.
He'd tried to stop it.
The Tardis had landed herself four blocks away and he'd had to run through alleyways, cursing her for not simply taking him where he needed to be and he'd rounded a corner just in time to see the small 'o' of shock Clara's mouth had made as a vehicle shot into her lane. She'd barely had time to swerve slightly and brace herself before it clipped her back tire and sent her to the ground. The Doctor reached for her, lying in the bed in front of him, and he hugged her because he could still see the length of road she'd slid across and the mangled cry she'd released just before hitting the concrete barrier of a construction site with the deafening pop of her helmet cracking.
He knew he couldn't be at her side then; knew if anyone spotted her husband there, they'd assume he was somehow culpable, and after a moment, he'd had to turn away, leaving a trail of knocked over garbage bins and shattered pallets in his wake as he made his way back to the Tardis to collapse just inside. That moment was all it took for him to see the woman who'd hit her had crashed her own car into a mailbox and she'd stumbled out in a blind panic to reach Clara in a fit of sobs knowing, as soon as she fell at her side, what she'd caused.
That moment was all it took to watch the construction workers lift the bike off Clara as everything on that road came to a shocked stop. Just those few seconds to see her lying in a splattering of her own blood, right arm twisted behind her, left curled protectively around the small bump of her belly. Nineteen weeks of a life, beginning her end before his eyes as he stood powerless to stop it. The last thing the Doctor heard before he'd turned away were people shouting for help and the ear piercing screams that woman had released as she remained, hunched over Clara in a mess of apologies.
"It's alright," Clara purred into his chest, her left hand rounding his side and moving in small soothing circles at his back as he gripped her firmly. "I'm still here," Clara assured before nestling her head into his chest to listen to his hearts hammering away. "My stars, Doctor, are you alright?"
He shook his head over hers and he could feel her kissing his chest lightly, body struggling against his hold to lift herself on her elbow. Clara ran a hand over his face as he finally met her concerned eyes and he swallowed roughly, telling her, "I don't know what I'd have done if I lost you."
Her knuckle came up to stop a new tear from rolling over his nose and she inched closer to him again, lying down on her back and taking his hand, bringing it up to her chest. Clara inhaled deeply and she released the breath slowly with a small grin and a nod, telling him, "I'm right here."
Lifting his hand, he ghosted it over her breasts to land it atop her stomach, shifting it to settle just at her waist, and he sighed, "Are you ready for the move?"
She giggled quietly and it made the corners of his mouth lift as she told him coyly, "There's that beautiful smile of yours," because she hated to see him frown and the notion that she was saving him from his inner monster by making him grin foolishly down at her eased his hearts. She was alive; she was thriving; she would be ok.
Clara shifted onto her side facing him and she pushed her left knee into his hip, turning his body and then climbing atop him to rest her head at his chest, waiting until his hands came up to massage gently at her back as he nodded, "You always know how to make me smile."
"Not too shabby yourself," she teased before nodding, "And yes, I'm ready for the move." Clara picked her head up, palms curling over his shoulders as she grinned down at him, "Are you ready for the move?"
The Doctor smiled up at her because he understood her words were about more than the house and he nodded, hands increasing the pressure with which they rubbed at her lower back, bringing her night shirt up until he was caressing her flesh and he slipped his fingers into her knickers, giving her backside a squeeze as she laughed before lowering herself to kiss him. He groaned when she shifted against him, a balanced dance atop him that drove his fingers down over her skin, urging her on and he sighed into the small laugh that escaped her as her lips found his jaw and then his neck.
"Clara," he groaned, mouth opening as his eyes shut when her lips clamped at a sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder and she let her tongue lap over him, sending his hips up into her roughly.
His mind argued with his body that they should be resting. She'd started teaching again that week, they'd be moving that weekend, and they should be ready for those events. The Doctor's hands moved up to grasp at her waist on either side, wanting to stop her and tease her about her growing libido, but instead, he felt the surge of warmth underneath her grinding hips and he reached to slip himself from the folds of his boxers, finger deftly pushing aside her knickers to melt into her.
She chuckled against the strained moan he released and then she began to swing her body, lifting up slightly to watch his face as it broke out in a sheen of sweat and she planted herself, reaching for the edges of her nightgown to strip herself of it. Clara took several long breaths as she turned her attention to his now open eyes and the way they roamed over her body. It was always the same, as though he were seeing her for the first time, and when she began to slip down, he rose to meet her, lips hungrily latching onto her right breast as she cried out.
The Doctor held her tightly as he lifted up and then bent his legs to press his knees into the bedding, falling free of her and chuckling deviously as she bounced back into the bed underneath him and he stopped, looking down at the way her eyes disappeared behind her quiet laughter. He waited for it to taper off, for her to grin up at him lovingly, and then he settled himself back inside of her gently, molding his body to hers with his elbows at her sides as his mouth trailed slowly over her skin. He took a breath when her fingers dove into his hair and then he began to move against her, driving himself deeply into her as she exhaled in surprise.
He smiled at the thought of breaking in their new home. Of settling all of their belongings on shelves and into corners, hanging on walls and pushed into closets, while making plans about the spare bedrooms and just how they'd like to fill them. He could see the gleam in her eye whenever she thought on it and he knew what she was thinking – he allowed himself to think about it now. It wasn't something he'd been able to do before, but now he caught her sifting through magazines at the market or websites on her tablet and he watched the small grin that flickered over her lips.
"Can you feel it yet, Clara?" He'd asked her on a morning not long before their last scans.
With a sad shrug, she'd replied, "Dunno, there was a flutter this morning, but… could've been a muscle twitch, or gas – I've been having an issue with that lately."
The Doctor had smiled and kissed her forehead before touching the swollen flesh at her abdomen, "You'll feel them soon enough and before you know it, we'll be holding them in our arms."
He shouted out when he felt her shudder over him as she exhaled his name into his hair and the Doctor felt himself reaching his climax, pushing into her rapidly as she clung to his shoulders. Clara kissed his temple lightly as he came and he leaned into her lips before dragging his own over her cheek to find hers, rounding her tongue with his desperately. She gasped into him, feeling his pelvis grind into hers and then he fell onto his side, arms swooping around her to pluck her up to roll with him as he moved onto his back, still settled warmly within her, knees coming up to settle his feet into the pillows as his thighs cradled her backside.
"Made a right mess of your knickers," he whimpered.
She nodded, cheek shifting against his chest as she replied, "I can get new knickers."
They laughed softly together and she lifted up, hands pressed into the bed at his sides. Clara took a long breath as she examined his features, slightly reddened by their actions and she bent to kiss his cheeks softly as his hands came up to grip her thighs. She straightened to glance down at their bodies, still joined, and then she touched her stomach lightly, imagining that not long from now they would be working towards a family.
Clara took a small breath before meeting his eyes again and she found a curious sadness there. A sadness that reinforced a thought that had settled itself into the back of her mind. A thought she continually tried to ignore; a thought she hadn't realized she'd been ignoring for months. Clara shook it away and she let her fingers drop to his stomach and she glanced behind her, nudging his legs with her backside until he laughed and dropped them, feet flattening themselves against the headboard.
"I think, Doctor," she began with a flirtatious smile, "We should destroy these knickers."
His fingers gave her legs a squeeze and his head lifted slightly as he reminded, "You have work in a few hours; we should clean up, get changed, and go to sleep."
Clara's head tilted as she pouted playfully and her hips gave a quick set of undulations against him while smiled, feeling him jerk underneath her, twitching slightly within her. She shook her head and sighed, "I think I need to be tired out, husband."
Laughing, he crossed his legs behind her and inched up on his elbows, then pressed himself up on his palms, relaxing as she dropped her hands to his shoulders to hold herself steady atop him. Clara watched him lazily hang his head back and she sighed as he smirked. "Tire my wife out," he slowly responded with a bit of a nod before bringing his head up to meet the kiss she was leaning in for, and then he uttered, "I believe I am quite suited for the task."
Clinging to him, Clara inhaled sharply as his mouth met hers again, this time devouring her and his hands came up to snake around her, holding tight to her backside as his hips began a slow and steady movement into her. She squeaked against a hard thrust and then dropped her head into his shoulder, feeling his lips shifting to her neck, tugging on her earlobe. He lay back down and Clara tucked her head just underneath his chin, her hands holding to his upper arms as his shifted to her waist as he continued a slow curve of his body into hers.
It was a slow build, her hips arching slightly to give him leverage, and she kissed her way across his chest and over his neck, pecking at his chin, and finally settling into his lips. It was lazy, fingers splayed out over any bits of exposed skin, pushed into hair, and kneading at each other as they moaned quietly. It was solemn in a way Clara hadn't expected, as if their hearts were finally working together to mourn a loss she hadn't realized she was experiencing.
And as she gasped into his mouth what felt like an eternity later, she did so with an unexpected pang of guilt she couldn't quite explain, because while she made love to him knowing she'd been lying to him for weeks – she'd stopped taking her birth control – it wasn't guilt over that. It was guilt over feeling she was trying to replace something she didn't know she'd had and as her mind worked over every funny detail that felt out of place since she'd woken – from the awkward examination at the hospital when she questioned her heavy menstruation, to her father and the Doctor's whispered conversations, to the missing little pieces all over their home – Clara understood she was.
Somehow she imagined she'd known all along and the notion was slowly pressing itself to the front of her mind, refusing to be ignored anymore. She laid her forehead into his chest, heaving as she understood – even without her memories – that she had been pregnant when she crashed.