December 16th

It wasn't a matter of weakness at this point. It wasn't a worry that she would seem susceptible, vulnerable, or mortal by being unable to prevent something so human.

It was the way the Doctor was laughing at her that burned her insides with rage.

Clara had stumbled through her bedroom door late in the morning, coughing and sniffling. Being out in the cold for so long the night before hadn't done her much good, apparently. She wasn't too sick, just feeling a bit worse for wear. But her own comfort hadn't been her problem for long.

"Shut up!" She whined miserably, crossing her arms and frowning at the sight in front of her. The Doctor was doubled over in the most intense laughter she'd ever witnessed from the man. His eyes were squeezed shut, his coffee mug was dangling weakly and loosely from his grasp, contents spilling all over the carpet and onto his shoes. "Stop!" Clara demanded again, leaning back against the wall with the roll of her eyes.

"Well-" He was interrupted by another choking sort of snicker, leading up to a whole new fit of uncontrollable laughing. He straightened himself a bit, no longer attempting to suppress the chuckles as he gestured to her bright red nose. "You sure do know how to be festive!"

"You know, you could try being a bit more sympathetic!" She cried. "Look at me."

"Oh, I'm looking at you alright!" The Doctor sat himself back on the couch, wrapping his arms around his middle in futile attempts to suppress the exaggerated laughter. "Think I'll start calling you Rudolf the Red Nosed Oswald."

"Don't you dare." Clara weakly warned him, turning her back and taking several angered stomps into the kitchen.

"Clara the Red Nosed Rudolf."

"Shut up." She called over her shoulder.

"Oswald the-"

"Doctor!"

"Fine, fine, sorry." He held up his hands slightly in mocking surrender, placing his hands on his knees to haul himself up from the couch and propel into the kitchen. "I'm good."

"Glad to hear it." She muttered, rubbing her temple with her palm while mixing her tea with her free hand. "Goodnight." The word was stated with gruff impatience poorly hidden behind it.

"Clara, it's almost noon."

"Yes, thank you. Now goodnight." She pushed past him and made for her room, but the Doctor stopped her along the way.

"You can't go back to sleep!" He insisted. "You just woke up."

"I'm also ill, so I say I have the right to a quick kip." The last word trailed off as her jaws stretched wide in a yawn, shoulders slumping in exhaustion in its wake. "Don't destroy anything while I'm asleep."

"You know I can't promise that."

Clara only slept for a mere hour due to the impossibly painful headache that dragged her out of unconsciousness. It was really the only main bit that was causing her to feel a bit under the weather. Maybe whatever she had would pass in a day. She hoped so. She still had some Christmas shopping to do, and wasn't one of those crazy shoppers who waited until the last minute.

Well, this counted as the last minute, she supposed. But she'd been busy!

She really wasn't feeling all that bad. Maybe a quick trip and some fresh air would do her some good. With a decisive sigh she rolled out of bed, keeping her movements as smooth as she could manage, and slipped on some decent clothes. When she walked out, she half expected to see the Doctor busied with a disassembled refrigerator or a dissected ham. But the last thing Clara had expected was to see him flipping through channels on the television, muttering words of disappointment with each click of the button.

"Doctor?" Clara laughed out, smiling with light amusement when he clicked off the T.V. and threw the remote across the room as casually as he could manage. She continued to work her way across the room, feeling his own slightly embarrassed stare boring down on her.

"I was bored! You can hardly blame me." He said hastily.

"I don't blame you at all." She assured, feeling a bit guilty for reasons she wasn't quite aware of. As she slipped on her shoes she called over her shoulder, "I'll be back in a little bit."

"Where are you going?" He asked, an odd sort of concern laced into his words as he jumped to his feet and made his way to her side.

Clara glanced up warily, hand drifting a bit hesitantly over the door knob. "Shopping. I won't be gone long."

"Correction. You won't be gone at all." The Doctor grabbed her wrist and gently led her away. "Can't have you traipsing about town while you're ill. The sooner you get better, the sooner you can relieve me of my boredom."

She quirked an eyebrow at that. "Down, boy." The last word trailed off as she turned her head to break into a short fit of coughing, groaning in its wake and sighing in reluctance. "Honestly, I'm not feeling that bad. Certainly not bad enough to lay around the house all day."

"Don't care. You," He started leading her in the direction of her bedroom. "Get some sleep."

"But I just-"

"Clara." He silenced her with his glare just as much as his words. "Bed."

"But-"

"-Now."

Clara threw her head back and let out a dramatic moan, but knew better than to argue any further. She leaned against the wall as she peeled off her shoes, shuddering in surprise when she felt the Doctor's steadying hand on her shoulder. "You do realize this is gonna backfire, yeah?" She teased. "If I'm actually sick, you're gonna be stuck lookin' after me." She waggled a finger in front of his face as a mocking threat before retreating into her room. "And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're an alien!"

The Doctor closed the door behind her, laughing a bit to himself as he settled down onto the sofa. "I look forward to it."