Thank you for the reviews! Soooo, when do you think we'll get their first kiss?

Chapter 20

Clara woke up feeling like she had been through hell, her head was throbbing and her face felt hot and swollen after crying herself to sleep the previous night. She had gotten home late after spending the evening with her grandmother and John had already been in bed by that time, so she had simply fallen down on her bed and she had cried until her exhaustion had finally gotten the better of her. Now, apart from the nasty effects of dehydration, Clara felt a little better. Her grandmother had successfully managed to rekindle her hopes. Her marriage to John was strong, their love for each other even stronger. If they couldn't fix this, Clara doubted that any couple could.

She lifted herself up and threw her bathrobe over her nightie to go downstairs and see if John was already up, but as she stepped into the living room, Clara found it very much empty apart from an unholy mess of beer bottles, Scotch and two empty bags of crisps whose content had apparently been emptied all over the floor. It was more than obvious that Missy had spent the evening here.

When she didn't find John in the kitchen either, Clara moved on to the guest bedroom and entered after a careful knock on the door. John responded with grunting and by pulling the duvet over his face.

"Hangover?" she asked carefully, a soft smile on her face.

Another grunt.

"You should know better than to let Missy talk you into drinking Scotch," Clara remarked and stepped forward until she had reached his bed. Carefully she pulled the duvet away.

"How did you know Missy was here?" John asked, his voice husky. He looked adorable with his messy bed head.

"The Scotch only comes out when your friend is here," she explained with a shrug, "Do you want breakfast?"

John uttered a low groan. "Not just yet," he said and suddenly his face turned into a frown when he looked at her more closely, "Are you okay? You look sad."

"It's fine," Clara replied instinctively.

"Liar," he mumbled and then John started moving in bed, rolling further towards the wall to make some space for her. "Come on, tell me."

With a sigh Clara climbed into bed next to him and she wasn't sure whether John would actually expect her to lie down, but then he lifted the duvet and used a part of it to cover her body. It felt almost normal, but Clara could tell that there was still a wall between them.

"I had a. . . not so nice evening," she admitted after a moment, "It's better now."

"Because of me," John added. It was statement, not a question, and Clara didn't have the strength to deny it because he already knew the truth.

"It's okay," he said, "It's okay to admit that you're not fine. I don't think anyone would be under the circumstances."

"I want to be strong," Clara whispered and looked him straight in the eyes.

Then, to her surprise, John chuckled. "Clara, you are probably the strongest person I have ever met."

She smiled at him in reply. "Doesn't count. You've forgotten everyone you've met in the past five years," she said, giggling softly and luckily John laughed with her. It felt good to just joke about it for a change and for just a moment the heaviness of their situation lifted.

With a sigh John closed his eyes. "Five more minutes, okay? Then we can have breakfast."

"Okay," Clara breathed in reply and closed her eyes as well, enjoying the fact that he allowed her to lie next to him.

"Shit!"

John opened his eyes when he became aware of movements next to him and Clara stumbled out of bed, cursing bitterly.

"What?" he croaked, "What's wrong?"

"Overslept. Work. Gotta go," she panted as she darted towards the door.

"Clara," John mumbled and slowly lifted himself into a sitting position. His head was still pounding with a nasty hangover and right now he dearly hoped that Missy was suffering just as much, though, knowing her, she probably wasn't. He needed painkillers. He needed coffee. And he needed Clara to be a little less hectic. "Calm down."

"Can't. School. See you tonight," Clara replied and a few seconds later the door closed behind her.

John let himself sink back into the pillows and blew the air out between his teeth. The morning had started so well, apart from the hangover, and he hated the fact that it had come to such an abrupt end.

Last night Missy had coaxed him into making a decision. It had taken a few beer and an additional glass of Scotch, but finally he had agreed and his decision was still standing this morning. He would kiss Clara. The thought of it made him nervous and it frightened him, but he wanted to do it. For Clara and for himself. John would prepare a lovely dinner for them both, surprise her with it when she returned home from school, and at the end of the night he would kiss her. Unless his courage failed him. But first he had some other things to do.

He reached for his cane and slowly started to make his way to the bathroom to have a shower. He put on a clean pair of plaid trousers and his favourite holey jumper. He swallowed some painkillers with his coffee, followed by a light breakfast, and then he headed out of the house.

His practice was quiet when John entered through the front door except for the constant ringing of the phone. When he glanced at the reception he found the receptionist in his chair, feet up on his desk and a magazine on his lap. Nardole seemed very good at ignoring the ringing phone and not in the least disturbed in his reading.

"Aren't you gonna answer it?" John asked.

"No," the receptionist replied and turned to the next page without looking up, "It's Mrs Henderson asking when Dr Smith is going to be back. How do I know that? Well, maybe because she's been calling every day for the last three weeks."

"Maybe you should tell her that he'll be back next week," John suggested and finally Nardole looked up.

"Oh, it's you," he said, but there was neither surprise nor shock in his voice and he didn't even move to lift his feet off the table.

"Yes. Me. Feet off the table," John demanded and gestured towards him with his cane.

"Yes, boss," Nardole mumbled and lifted himself into a standing position. Then, after a moment, a smile spread across his face. "You're back."

John smiled at him in return. "Yes. I suppose it's time. I'm tired of sitting at home, so I might as well make myself useful again."

"Very good, sir," he beamed back at him before his face turned into a grimace, "To be honest, I was beginning to run out of interesting magazines. Boring times."

John raised his eyebrows. "Or you could, you know, do your job? Answer the phone?"

Nardole turned his head towards the ringing machine when it finally ceased and John thought that his receptionist seemed visibly relieved about the fact. Maybe Missy wasn't so wrong about him after all.

"Shame," Nardole remarked with a smile when he turned back to look at John. "They've hung up."

"Right," he replied and vowed to keep a closer eye on Nardole's work attitude in the future, "Tell my patients to expect me back on Monday."

"It's Friday. Office hours end in ten minutes."

"Yeah, well, I'll still be back on Monday," John said determinedly as he made his way towards the door. When he had almost reached it, however, a thought crossed his mind and he turned back around to face Nardole. "You don't happen to know what Clara's favourite food is, do you?"

His receptionist shrugged and granted him an apologetic smile. "Sorry."

John sighed. He would just have to improvise and hope for the best. "Alright. See you on Monday."