WHOUFFLE WEEK 2020

DAY THREE: Misunderstanding / Bad Timing

Notes:

Day 3 of the #WhouffleWeek2020! Today's prompts were:
MISUNDERSTANDING / BAD TIMING.
Set sometime in season 9 (like all my Whouffaldi fics!).
This one is pretty silly and trivial. I was feeling pretty miserable and uninspired, and that's where this story comes from. I just wanted to write about the Doctor giving some good ol' comfort to Clara.
ENJOY!

"Clara!" he exclaimed whooshing out of the TARDIS, his jacket willowing with his movements and revealing the red lining of the inside. He couldn't wait to show her the planet they were going to visit, he had a feeling Clara would love the exotic marketplace that...

"Go away" automatically came a whiny voice from the bed that stopped his thoughts.

Huh. Not what the Doctor was expecting. His eyes scanned the room and he deduced that the pile on the bed was not discarded clothes as he'd initially thought, but blankets and pillows thrown around, and that Clara was somehow underneath all of that. He briefly wondered how she was able to breathe under all that weight, and was tempted to ask about it, but decided otherwise.

"Clara?" he asked instead, this time more tentatively.

"It's Tuesday, not Wednesday, you got your date wrong again. And I'm not up for running off anywhere today, Doctor. So just go away" the same voice said. It sounded a bit tense and with an edge of uncontrolled anger, which made the Doctor frown. He hadn't done anything to make Clara mad, had he?

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" alarm bells started to go off in his mind, and he took one more step towards the bed, his hand already reaching for his sonic screwdriver.

"Yeah, you could say that" she snorted, her voice sounded strained. He waited for her to continue but she didn't, so he looked at her bedside table. There was a half-full glass of water and what seemed to be some pills next to it. So, definitely ill. He waved the sonic screwdriver in his hand and pointed it at Clara, or rather, at the bundle beneath the covers and blankets that was supposed to be Clara.

"The sonic screwdriver isn't picking up anything, except for a slight imbalance in your hormones" the Doctor murmured, frowning at the device as if it were able to give him some answers if he frowned at it long enough.

"For god's sakes, I'll have to spell it out" Clara sighed as she slowly emerged from underneath the covers.

The Doctor looked at her and was surprised at how pale she looked. Her hair was in disarray, deep shadows under her eyes and she was frowning, her eyes glistening with something akin to pain. He immediately walked to her side, his hand automatically going to her forehead to check the temperature. No fever, that was good.

"Doctor, it's nothing to worry about," she said as she slowly batted his hand away. He noticed she was wearing a thick jumper and the temperature of her apartment seemed to be a bit higher than usual, but she didn't seem to be hot "I'm just... at that time of the month. And it's kicking my ass. So, no travels for me today, sorry. Come back next Wednesday"

Clara seemed to be ready to go back under the covers, but the Doctor finally reacted to her words. He was a man and a Time Lord at that, but that didn't mean he was completely insensitive or ignorant of the issue. After all, he'd had his fair share of human women accompanying him in his travels and he knew what Clara was talking about. But he'd never seen her being affected by pain and cramps before, and he couldn't deny he was a bit agitated.

He slowly sat down on the bed next to her, and wriggling his fingers to make sure they were warm, he put one hand under the covers and placed it on top of her lower stomach, giving it the smallest amount of pressure. Her jumper had rolled up with her movement in bed and while he was mostly touching her over the fabric, the fingertips were touching the warm and bloated skin.