It had been a week since she'd told him.
She still hated herself for breaking down in front of him like that. He shouldn't have to be concerned with her silly problems, let alone help her with them.
He'd offered to let her stay on the TARDIS full time for a while if she'd like, just to get away from everything. She'd declined, however - she couldn't go to work without a bump one day and show up the next eight months pregnant.
He'd insisted upon a few days, at the least, though, and she'd accepted.
Sitting in the TARDIS library, she sipped from her tea quietly. This was her favorite room on the ship, she thought, likely because of the warm and comforting atmosphere.
The ship had been quite kind to her since she'd boarded, likely because the old girl knew. She'd run baths filled with rose petals for her, adjusted the temperature of each room to be perfect and replaced the mattress in her room with softer memory foam. Clara appreciated it - her aching back and head did too.
Looking down at the book in front of her, she let out a content sigh. She'd been so nervous and stressed recently over keeping this secret from the Doctor, and it was nice to be able to let go of that. She didn't exactly feel perfect, though - it had broken her heart to see him hiding something in his expression. She didn't know what was wrong, but she could tell he wasn't as happy for her as he claimed.
She hoped he wasn't hurt by it. The worst scenario she could think of was that he was upset with her for it, and she didn't want that.
Of course he had said congratulations and been supportive as she knew he would, but there was something about him that put a pit in her stomach. She knew he wasn't okay with it, she just didn't know why.
Closing the book, she sets it back on the shelf next to her to finish later. Her mind was racing too much to focus on the words, and she whispered a silent apology to J.K. Rowling for not being able to pay attention.
Standing, she slowly walks out of the giant room and into the familiar hallway. She followed it down to the console room where she could see the Doctor gazing back and forth between a specific control and a book.
"Doctor?" she called out, leaning against the railing. He looked up at her, seeming a tad irritated that she'd broken his focus.
"Yes? What is it, Clara, I'm trying to fix-" he mumbled the rest of it to himself, using his sonic to tinker with the set of knobs and levers in front of him.
"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to know what you're hungry for," she said, feeling her stomach rumble at the thought of food.
"Oh, uh, anything is alright. You take your pick."
"You've said that every night since I got here. You don't have to be so nice to me just because I'm..you know," she said calmly, making her way up to where he was standing. Leaning back against the console a few feet away from him, she lets her eyes wander from his focused eyes to his gentle fingers on the sonic and can't help but smile a bit.
"I'm always nice to you. I've just got a better reason to be now," he mutters, setting the book down to use both hands on his work.
"Insulting my species, saying how old I look, calling me a "pudding brain." Yes, definitely quite nice and friendly," she teases, rolling her eyes. It was nice to be able to be open with him again, to be able to speak to him without worry.
"That's nice for me and you're aware of that," he responds before taking his lip between his teeth, and she can't help but stare at the gesture. She felt a bit bad for letting her mind wander to other situations where he might do that, but she couldn't help herself.
Maybe it was the hormones, but maybe it was just because she'd always been attracted to the Doctor. She wasn't sure which.
"Well, uh, just something simple. Just have the TARDIS make pasta or something," he mumbles, not caring too much about what they'd eat. He wasn't particularly hungry, but any time he got to spend with Clara would be worth it.
"Alright. Spaghetti it is," she says in conclusion, pushing herself away from the console. She wanted to stay and stare at him all night, but she obviously couldn't do that. Couldn't risk him seeing her, and he'd never been the biggest fan of hovering.
She walked to the kitchen, galley - whatever the Doctor wanted to call it and let thoughts of the spaghetti fill her mind. She had to admit that it was quite nice to not have to cook or clean up after herself on the sentient ship. It saved her time to read and grade papers.
Once the ship was put to work, she let herself wander the halls. She'd have to wait, so she might as well let herself peek around.
She'd done lots of exploring in the last week. Their adventures were usual on the outside of the gigantic place, not within the halls, and there was much of it she hadn't seen. Swimming pools, ball pits, jungle gyms. She was certain that the Doctor was actually a child at times.
Approaching the nearest door on her left, she opens it and is a bit surprised to see a bedroom. She knows it must be the Doctors since the rooms of past companions are tucked deep inside the ship, and the contents seemed to be very like him.
She contemplated if she should go inside or not. To snoop or not to snoop. It wasn't as if he hadn't gone through her room before, but she couldn't deny the nagging feeling in the back of her head that it would be an invasion of privacy.
"Hmm," she thought, looking over her shoulders. There wasn't any sign of him, so he likely wouldn't even find out. Maybe just a quick peek...
And she was inside, softly closing the door behind her.
The room itself was large, and she wasn't too surprised that the master bedroom wouldn't be tiny. It was a bit bigger than hers and much more full, filled with towering bookshelf along the walls and a large canopy bed against the back wall. A desk near the door captured her attention, covered in pieces of paper and open books with highlighted lines. Looking closer, she could see that they were all on various subjects, ranging from French cuisine to advanced robotics.
Venturing a bit further into the room, she wanders into his closet and turns on the light. Dress shirts and jackets, black pants and shoes that she knew all too well. Toward the back she could see an older jacket and selection of bowties, and she let herself smile at the memory of the Doctor with the chin and hair.
He was surprisingly well organized for his messy, rambling personality. She considered herself to be a bit impressed at the clean floor as she walked back into the room, seeing that the mess was all contained on tabletops.
Walking to his bed, she plops down on the side she can see is more worn in than the other. She'd never seen him sleep before, but she knew he must at times. Gliding her hand across the gentle dark blue comforter, she couldn't help but notice how heavily the room smelled of him. Cool and fresh and inviting, like evergreen.
Her aching back thanks her for the soft surface beneath it, but her moment of comfort is interrupted by the beeping of the oven. She frowns a bit at the thought of leaving a place that's so...him...but smiles when she realizes she gets to spend time with him.
He might hate her for being pregnant with Danny's baby, but she can't help but smile each time she sees him.
After the meal is finished and small talk had broken the tenseness between them for the night, he walks her back to her room, hands in his pockets. She dreads the moment she'll have to leave him - he's the only good thing in her life at the moment.
Leaning back against her door, she looks up at him. He smiles down at her kindly, reassuringly, and she does what she can to convince herself that there isn't pain hidden behind it.
"Doctor?"
"Hmm?" he hums, letting his focus adjust to her eyes.
"I just...well I wanted to say...thank you. For the support. And the help. It, uh, it's hasn't been easy.."
"It's no problem," he responds immediately, pulling a hand from his pocket to place it on her shoulder. "My responsibility. Duty of care, and all."
"You never have to take care of me, Doctor. You don't really have duty of care," she says, feeling shivers move down her spine at his touch.
"Yes I do, Clara. You're my best friend," and I love you, he wants to say. "It's my job."
She sighs softly, leaning her head back against the wood of the door. "Alright. Well, I still appreciate it."
He nods in response, and he feels nerves flutter through his hearts when he notices how close they truly are. His hand on her, her soft breaths against his chest, her eyelashes moving gently..
"Well, uh, yes. Of course. You're welcome," he utters to break the silence. He feels the urge to press his lips to hers, to break the tension and just show her everything.
She looks back up at him with her chocolate brown eyes, her lips parting slightly and she can't help but feel the same urge. She hopes he can't hear her heart hammering in her chest or see her hands shaking with anticipation and the want to tangle themselves in his hair.
He clears his throat, letting his bright eyes wander from the hair falling down her shoulders in gentle waves to her perfect, parted lips.
She tries her best to convince herself that it's friendship in his expression, not the love and want that's likely veiling over her face. He can't possibly want her as much as she wants him, she's just a human and he's so much more-
And then his lips are pressed against hers, and she feels her eyes flutter shut.