Chapter 20

The Doctor followed Clara outside to the kitchen and doubted for a moment that he was actually awake. While she acted as if nothing had ever happened his own body was still tingling with the afterglow of his orgasm that left his legs just a little weaker than they had been before and his mind oddly clouded and blank. He sank down into one of the chairs and Amy pushed a plate in his direction.

"I hope you've been practising Christmas songs because want to hear those in a few days," she grinned at him.

"I'll just wash my hands. Be right back," Clara called out to them before she disappeared on the corridor again. The Doctor's gaze wandered from her back to their dinner. Yes, he supposed that he was hungry.

"Doctor?"

He looked up to see straight into Amy's face and she smiled.

"Yeah, right," he replied absent-mindedly, "Christmas songs. I can do that."

"Everything alright?" she asked him kindly. Amy had no idea what had happened between him and Clara even though she probably suspected that something was going on. "Your leg giving you trouble?"

"No, it's alright," the Doctor forced himself to smile at her, "Everything's fine. I'm just a little tired."

He remained quiet during dinner while Amy and Rory talked about the upcoming holidays practically non-stop and Clara agreed with what they said from time to time, telling everyone how much she was looking forward to spending Christmas with all of them before granting him a smile. The Doctor had no idea how to react. He was still too confused by their sudden act of intimacy even though he had known for a few days that it would end like that. Or start. Or whatever. He still wasn't sure.

Once Rory had retreated to his study to deal with some paperwork and Clara had left the kitchen to take a shower the Doctor decided that he could at least do a little something to repay their kindness and help Amy dry the dishes.

"I want to bake Christmas biscuits tomorrow," Amy said as she handed him a couple of plates to dry, "Do you and Clara want to help?"

The Doctor reached for the tea towel and started wiping the first plate. "I'll ask her about it," he said even though he couldn't imagine Clara not wanting to help. She wasn't much of a cook but she loved baking.

"I want to make this Christmas nice for her," she continued, "It can't be easy for her, having lost her father and being away from her grandma. We're basically strangers to her but I hope we can have a nice couple of days. For her sake."

"Clara likes you. Both of you," the Doctor told her truthfully.

Suddenly Amy turned around and stared straight at him, leaving the dishcloth lying on the counter. "What about her mother?"

He took a deep breath, only now remembering that there was one more thing he had to tell her somehow. One more thing he had skipped while he had told her everything about her father and the organisation because the Doctor had thought that Clara was in enough pain already and that there was no need to add more.

"She died when Clara was a teenager," he replied gravely, avoiding Amy's gaze. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw her cross her arms in front of her chest. He knew Amy wanted the whole story and she wouldn't give up until she knew.

"Clara's father told her that her mother died in a car accident," he paused.

"And how did she really die?" Amy cocked an eyebrow.

"In a car. Only it wasn't so very accidental," the Doctor looked up to glare at Amy. He hated bringing up these memories. Ellie Oswald had been an absolutely nice woman, a good wife to Dave and a loving mother to Clara. To this day he didn't know why she had to die and who was to blame for it.

"You should tell Clara," Amy told him, "Not now, obviously, but at some point. She has a right to know."

"Clara already wants revenge for her father," the Doctor argued, "What do you think would happen if I told her that her mother was murdered, too?"

"Doesn't matter. She would want to know the truth," she said brusquely and reached for the dishcloth again, continuing with her task, "Also, your relationship shouldn't be based on secrets."

The Doctor's head shot up immediately. "There is no relationship," he blurted out right as the bathroom door opened again and he could hear Clara step onto the corridor.

Amy raised her eyebrows at him, that mischievous smile on her lips that told him she didn't believe a single word he told her. And maybe she was right.

"What are you both staring at each other for?" Clara giggled once she entered the kitchen and Amy's smirk only deepened.

"Uhm, nothing," the Doctor replied hastily, "Amy just asked whether we wanted to help her make Christmas biscuits tomorrow."

"Of course," Clara smiled, "Of course we'll do that."

When it was time for bed the Doctor wasn't entirely sure whether he wanted to go straight to sleep or talk about what had happened earlier – he just didn't know exactly how to bring it up and Clara seemed to have no intention to do it either as she snuggled up against his chest like she always did. Gently he laid his arm around her and listened to her breathing and the ticking of the nearby clock but eventually it grew to be too much to bear.

"Clara," he began carefully.

He heard her giggle softly. "Aren't you tired?"

"I am, as a matter of fact, but," he paused, not knowing how to say it, "But earlier-"

"I enjoyed it," she replied, interrupting him. Then she sat back up in bed to look him in the eyes. "The rest can wait until your leg has healed."

Still the Doctor didn't know what to say. As he looked at her he thought that maybe he had imagined it all, that maybe he was dreaming. He just couldn't believe that this lovely woman was lying in his arms and that she wanted him. It seemed surreal to just think about it.

"Or are you having second thoughts?" Clara asked him after his hesitation.

The Doctor reached out and cupped her face in his hands, pulling her on top of him while their lips met in a kiss. He opened his mouth and allowed her tongue to trail over his own while her hips dug into his crotch. His body responded instantly, filling him with a desire he had smothered for so long and as they sank back into the pillows, their lips never parting, he thought that maybe it was time he accepted that Clara truly was a grown woman and that her father had no say in her life any longer. Whatever he would have thought about them – it didn't matter now.

Clara giggled when they broke the kiss and her breath felt hot on his lips. He smiled back.

"You just wait until I'm recovered," he teased her before crushing their mouths together once more.