December 20th

"You can't come with me." Clara explained slowly, backing towards the door with her hands slightly raised.

"Of course I can." The Doctor argued, keeping up with her pace and hovering above her with annoyingly raised eyebrows. "You can't expect me to just sit in here the whole time you're gone!"

"And you can't expect me to drag your whiney arse all over the shop. You're staying here, and that's that."

"Clara." He growled, brow now furrowed. "We went over this. When you're not bossing me around, I get quite bored! Surprisingly enough the control freak inside of you is quite entertaining!"

"Hmm, okay then." She nodded. "I'll boss you around now, if you like. Sit down. And stay here!" She continued backpedaling until she ran into the door, hand fumbling for the handle with here eyes still trained on the aggravated man in front of her. "Go away!"

"Fine!" The Doctor shouted, slamming his fist into the wall and stomping away.

"God, you're so dramatic." Clara muttered before slipping out the door, racing down the hallway before the Doctor could come after her again.

He waited several minutes after she'd gone, then sat back on the couch and started laughing. He cast a glance across the room, gaze fixed on a certain little squirrel sitting outside the window. "Its just you and me, Mortimer." He laughed sinisterly, lips twitching in a smirk. "Just you and me."

She'd been gone an hour.

She'd been gone one damn hour.

And this was what she came home to...

"Doctor!" Clara shouted after recovering from her initial shock in seeing such a disaster. Her hands were trembling with rage, eyes dangerous, and expression screaming run.

The place was a mess. Litter scattered the floor, accompanied by a little blotch of brown fur here and there. Her favorite lamp was broken into dozens of pieces on the carpet, the cushions on the sofa were torn, the curtains were ripped, and a long crack covered the corner of the open window.

"What did you do!?"

The Doctor stumbled in from the bedroom, little red scratches coating his face and a disoriented look in his eye. He crossed his arms and blew a little tuff of fur from the corner of his mouth, and leaned sideways on the doorway. "So what did you get me?"

Clara's eyes widened and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, bouncing slightly on her feet in failed attempt to calm her nerves. When it all failed miserably, she stormed up with frightening speed and delivered a sharp smack across his already bruised cheek.

"Ow!" He cried, fingers flying to the attack site and assessing the damage. "What was that for?!"

"Look around! What do you think!?" Her eyes widened even more when she caught sight of the fur on his cheek, and raised her hand alarmingly to brush it away with a disgusted scowl. "YOU ATE MORTIMER!?"

"Clara! What the hell are you talking about! I didn't eat the damned squirrel!"

"What's wrong with you!?"

"Nothing! I didn't eat the squirrel!" His voice lowered a notch. "Just took him in for questioning is all."

"Doctor..." She warned, pressing her palm against his chest to shove him into the wall. "What did you do?!"

"Your little friend and I had a bit of a disagreement." He scratched the side of his face.

"Did you hurt him? Doctor, did you hurt the poor thing?!" She slammed her hand against his shoulder in anger. "You're sick."

"I didn't hurt it!" He defended himself. "Turns out..."

"Turn's out, what, Doctor?" Clara hissed, still shaking with fury.

"Turns out he was just a bloody squirrel all along." A look of regret crossed his face for a brief moment, before faltering into and attempted smile as he tried to awkwardly laugh the moment away. "Who knew!"