Thank you all for your sweet reviews :)

Chapter 19

When Clara arrived at home there were no less than seven missed calls on her phone, all from the Doctor and she decided to ignore them. She needed time. She needed to be far away from anything even remotely related to the Doctor. He had used her and insulted her and he would have to come up with one hell of an apology for Clara to even consider going back to being his muse. What she had to do right now was concentrate on her family and her job. The Doctor was not her responsibility and even if he neglected himself while she wasn't talking to him it certainly was not her fault.

The next morning Clara checked her phone again to find one more missed call and she ignored it along with the rest of them as she got ready to visit her dad in the hospital. Her grandmother was there as well and luckily so was Linda so Clara wasn't asked about the Doctor any further. Two more missed calls when she left her family to go back home. This time however Clara picked up the phone and dialled a number.

"Hey Amy," Clara sighed, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?"

"Oh," Amy uttered on the other end of the line, "Not yet. What were you thinking?"

She groaned. "I don't know. Anything. How about a nice bottle of wine at my place?"

"Did something happen with the Doctor?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Clara replied, "Let's talk about it tomorrow. I, erm, I'm still too irritated about it."

"Alright," Amy agreed happily, "Don't worry about it, whatever it is. We'll sort it out. Just text me your address and I'll be there at 7."

"Great. Thanks," Clara said sincerely, "I can't really talk to my friends from school about it. They wouldn't understand."

"I get it," she replied, "Really, I do. I'll see you tomorrow."

After hanging up Clara realized that it wasn't even 6 p.m. and she had no idea what to do with the rest of her Sunday without the Doctor. All her previous weekends had been entirely devoted to him and she couldn't really remember what she had done before she had met the Doctor. Reading? No, reading was boring. Watching telly? Same thing. With a sigh Clara opened her bag and emptied the supplies she had bought for painting class on the floor. What was good enough to distract the Doctor would surely distract her as well as he kept calling and Clara kept ignoring her buzzing phone.

OOO

On Monday morning the calls had stopped and Clara wasn't entirely sure whether she should be glad or worried. She really didn't want to talk to him but as long as he kept calling at least Clara knew that he was okay. Whenever she caught herself thinking about the Doctor Clara scolded herself internally. He would be fine, Carmen would notice if something about him was off, Missy would probably check in on him, too. And above all: it wasn't her concern and she had made that very clear to the Doctor.

"You look a bit grumpy today," Danny's voice tore her from her thoughts.

Danny. The very last thing she needed right now on top of the pile of things she already didn't need.

"Well, I am a bit grumpy," Clara replied and checked her phone again just to avoid looking at Danny. Still no further call from the Doctor.

"It's not about the art guy, is it?"

Clara raised her head and stared straight at him. "Danny," she took a deep breath, "If you value your life you do not talk to me today. I've had a bad weekend, my dad is still in the hospital, I've had a crappy, crappy night and Courtney Woods couldn't shut her mouth for a second during my class just now. I have every right to be grumpy and also to be left in peace."

"Okay," Danny raised his hands in defeat and took a couple of steps back, "Okay, I'll leave you to yourself."

"I'm sorry," Clara called after him with a sigh, "Sorry, I didn't mean to let it all out on you."

"It's okay," he nodded, "Everyone's gotta vent somewhere, especially if Courtney Woods is involved. I'll leave you in peace."

"Thanks," she muttered.

OOO

Finally the evening had arrived and Clara's doorbell rang and she quickly went to open it. Amy's sympathetic smile immediately lifted her spirits, if only a little.

"Come on in," she said with a smile, "Did you get a parking spot in front of the door? I know that's not always easy."

"Uhm, you mentioned wine so I took a taxi," Amy said as she sat down, "Besides, gotta celebrate my last days of freedom."

Clara retrieved two glasses and a bottle from the kitchen before she sank into the sofa cushions next to Amy.

"Last days of freedom? Does that mean-?"

Amy grinned at her. "Rory and I are signing the adoption papers for Melody on Thursday. She'll officially be our daughter."

"That is wonderful news!" Clara said sincerely, "Do you have a picture?"

"Of course," Amy whipped out her phone and opened the picture gallery, showing Clara a sweet portrait of her, a man who looked like he could be her husband and a girl around the age of 4 with a large head of curls.

"Oh, she is adorable. You three look so cute together," Clara commented, "Listen, if you ever need a babysitter, count me in."

Amy laughed. "Careful. We'll take you up on that offer," she replied and suddenly her features grew a little more serious, "Now, tell me what happened with the Doctor."

With a sigh Clara went to open the wine bottle and poured them both a glass before she began telling Amy everything, starting with Paris, the roof, how the Doctor had become a lot more attached to her and how he they had started cuddling at night. She told Amy about the kiss at which Clara earned a gasp and finally everything that had happened the last weekend.

"He went down on you?!" Amy exclaimed, her eyes and mouth suddenly wide open, "The Doctor?"

"Yeah," Clara breathed, "Right before he said that was exactly how he wanted to paint me."

"We're talking about the same Doctor, right? The painter? Not some physician?"

"Of course we're talking about the same Doctor," Clara replied, the annoyance now audible in her voice, "What am I to make of this? He only did it because he wanted to paint my flushed cheeks? That I somehow forced him to do it even though he didn't want to?"

"Clara, this is the Doctor," Amy reminded her, "He only does what he wants and he probably got distracted by the way you looked and forget about the rest."

"This is just so weird."

"Of course he's weird, he's the Doctor. And I'm still having trouble picturing him doing anything even remotely related to sex."

"He's slept with at least one muse before this happened," Clara confessed and took another sip from her glass, "He told me that while we're in Paris. And he said it went wrong."

"Did he go into detail?" Amy wanted to know.

Clara shook her head.

"Well, it's obvious that you're special to him. More special than I was. The only physical contact he would ever allow to be between us was a fist-bump. Sleeping all cuddled up would have been unthinkable."

She sighed. "Even though it makes me feel a little better, I still don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I've been ignoring his calls ever since and I'm not sure how this will go on. I obviously want more from him and he doesn't seem sure what wants from me or he changes his mind every five minutes or. . . I don't know. There's just so much about him I don't know and I think that if I knew I would understand him better but he blocks off every question. I don't want to spend months or years even hoping that there'll be something when it's all going to be fruitless."

"You need to talk," Amy told her.

"Yeah, but that's the thing!" Clara said angrily, "He doesn't talk, he just paints."

Amy giggled. "Unless he's busy cuddling or going down on you."

"Oh, shut up," Clara said but a moment later she was laughing as well.

"Was it good at least?"

"Amy!"

"What?" she laughed, "If we're going to do girl talk, we've got to do it properly. So spill!"

Clara smiled mischievously. "Very good."

Amy refilled her glass and sank back against the backrest of the sofa. "The Doctor a good lover," she paused, "Nope, can't picture it."

Clara followed Amy's example and leaned back before she took another sip. "I'm still mad at him. I will try to talk to him but not now. I'll call him back next weekend," she said determinedly, "Let him miss me a bit until he's really miserable."