Chapter 23

Clara staggered along the corridor, her only aim to find a toilet, when she felt her phone buzz in her purse. She stopped and leaned back against the wall to see who it was, only to realize that the screen was blurry in front of her eyes. Damn. The Scotch had been a mistake. But then she spotted Danny's name and a single word that suddenly made her stomach turn over. Sorry. Oh God, she was going to be sick.

"Clara! There you are!" Amy's voice sounded across the corridor, but Clara didn't have time to react to her.

As quickly as her feet would allow she lurched forward, straight into the nearest toilet and barely had time to sink down on her knees before she emptied the contents of her stomach into the bowl. Still spitting and coughing, Clara realized that she didn't feel any better at all. She had slept with the Doctor while her relationship with Danny seemed to be at a really strange point and even though she hadn't even read his full apology, Clara could already feel the guilt eat its way through her brain. Then suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, stroking the hair out of her face in a gentle manner.

"Better?" Amy asked kindly.

Clara sank down on the tile floor, wondering why on earth it was so cold. Where had she left her knickers? No, that wasn't good. None of this was even remotely good.

"I told you the punch was lethal," Amy reminded her and suddenly Clara felt her reach for her hands, "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

She allowed Amy to drag her back to her feet and together they started making their way out of the bathroom.

"You can crash on my couch if you want to. Rory and I live just around the corner," Amy suggested, her voice as kind as ever and Clara found herself nodding.

"That'd be nice," she slurred and allowed Amy to drag her away.

The sun was too bright for his liking and in his half sleep the Doctor cursed himself for not closing the blinds before going to bed. He turned around, desperate to hide his face from the light when suddenly there wasn't any bed left. His hands found nothing but air right before he hit the ground with a thud.

"Ow," he growled, but still he couldn't bear to actually open his eyes. His head was hammering, threatening to explode any moment. The last thing he needed was daylight.

But eventually his curiosity won and the Doctor blinked carefully, only to find what he hadn't expected. Just to be sure he opened both eyes and his suspicion was confirmed. He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't even in his house. The Doctor was lying on the floor of his office.

"Oh fuck," he muttered and slowly scrambled into a sitting position, leaning back against the sofa. Clara. The Scotch. It all started to come back to him.

He had slept with Clara had it could hardly have gone worse. How was he ever going to win her over after this drunken disaster?

Carefully the Doctor stood up, ignoring the throbbing in his temples, and looked around. Of course Clara wasn't here. Maybe he should call her and apologize? Later. Definitely later. First he needed to sober up, take a shower and swallow a whole package of painkillers.

The Doctor felt his pockets for his keys, relieved to find them where they should be, but he also found something else, something soft, and he pulled it from his pocket. He lifted up the piece of fabric and saw Clara's black lace knickers dangling between his fingers. Nope, it really couldn't have gone worse.

"Rise and shine!"

Clara gave a grunt in reply. She needed to sleep, preferably until the skull crushing headache and nausea had passed, but the smell of coffee soon made her stomach turn over inside of her, so Clara opened her eyes – only to stare into the face of a strange man.

"Who are you?" she almost shouted at him in surprise and sat up in an instant, a movement that made her head spin. Oh no, not again. Clara really hoped that she could keep down what was left in her stomach.

Then slowly Clara became aware of her surroundings. She was sitting on a couch, still in her party dress, but the living room seemed utterly unfamiliar.

"Where am I?"

The man smiled at her. "I'm Rory, Amy's husband. She brought you home with her last night," he explained quietly.

A sudden wave of relief washed over her when she realized that she hadn't done any more stupid things after sleeping with the Doctor because that was enough stupidity to last a decade or so. She was safe, at a friend's place and her friend's husband was holding up a tray with coffee and water.

"Here, have this," Rory said and handed her something that looked a lot like painkillers, "And drink lots of water. Trust me, I'm a nurse, and specialist in hangovers thanks to my wife."

"Hey, I heard that!" came Amy's voice from the next room.

"Thanks," Clara accepted the painkiller gratefully and swallowed it with the help of half a glass of water, only now realizing how thirsty she was.

When Amy emerged from the bathroom, Rory excused himself and Clara leaned back against the sofa.

"How are you feeling?"

Clara uttered a groan. "As if I was run over by a lorry," she replied and looked up at Amy, "Thanks for letting me sleep on your couch."

"Any time," Amy said and plopped down next to her. The movement she caused seemed to upset her stomach even more. "Now, enlighten me. What happened last night and where have you been while the real party took place?"

"The Doctor and I got drunk on Scotch and we had sex," Clara replied. She didn't have the energy to invent a lie or an excuse and she was sure that Amy would see straight though that anyway. Besides, she needed to get it off her chest. She wanted to talk about it.

"Okay, I did not expect that," Amy blew the air out between her lips before she suddenly leaned forward, "But what about Danny?"

Clara gave her an apologetic smile. "I don't know. He might have broken up me yesterday."

"Might have?" she raised her eyebrows.

"I don't know," Clara groaned once more, closing her eyes and leaning back against the couch, "We had a fight, a big one. He said he wasn't sure he wanted to marry me anymore."

Amy hesitated. "That doesn't sound like a breakup to me."

"I have feelings for them both," she admitted after a moment, "And I have no idea what to do."

Suddenly Clara felt Amy's arm around her shoulder and the warmth instantly made her feel a lot better. All she really wanted right now was someone who told her it was going to be alright. And maybe someone to smack her unconscious until her hangover had passed.

"That happens, Clara. Life isn't always easy and straightforward," she said gently, "But you need to make a decision and you need to make it soon. The longer you wait, the more it'll hurt."

"I know," Clara breathed in reply.

"Tell me you at least used protection," Amy chuckled as she released Clara from her embrace, but suddenly Clara felt very much alert.

Instantly she sat up straight, staring at Amy in horror.

"Clara?" her friend asked warily, but she could do nothing but stare back at Amy, "Clara, please say you used protection."

"I, uhm," she hesitated, suddenly feeling nauseous again, "I threw up my pill last night."

"Oh Clara," Amy groaned, rolling her eyes.

Clara leaned back once more and closed her eyes. This was really evolving to be the worst decision she had ever made in her entire life.