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At first the Doctor assumes that he can fix this issue the same way he fixes every issue related to Clara, give her a cup of strong coffee and agree not to wear his fez for the day, but this time, when he walked to her bed onboard to place the coffee on her bedside table, she tugs his arm and gestured for him to get under the covers. Once under she presses her forehead to him and he kisses it, she smiles and then he realises she looks ill. He remembers what Amy had done when he was ill after catching something on one of his trips, other than saying he should have been careful, it had been lots and lots of teas and soups and making sure that Rory checked his temperature. He had got up and brought back a tea, tipping the coffee he had made her down the drain.
That night she curled into his arms and fell asleep faster then he thought he’d ever seen a human falling asleep, he stroked down stray bits of hair and pulled her closer when she made a sound that confirmed she was properly asleep. “Clara?” Even in her sleep she responded to her name, tucking herself into his chest as close as she could, she looked smaller when she slept and it made the Doctor very curious, he smiled and kept looking over her, before deciding to do something, he knew from something Rory told him that most humans despised being ill, so he pressed his hand to her head and transferred just enough energy that she wouldn’t feel ill when she woke up.
The Doctor and Clara were ill, curled up in her bed in her flat because she knew if they were in the Tardis he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to drive. She ran her fingers through his hair. She feels him in her mind and she hears the word tired on repeat, he leans forward and sleepily kisses her forehead. “Doctor?” She feels that presence in her mind telling her that he’s cold and wants sleep, now that shocks her, the Doctor wanting to sleep but she lets him. She sees his eyelids flutter closed and then hears his breathing slow, to her it was quite calming, seeing him like this, she curls next to him and slowly closing her eyes.
They wake the next morning and he slowly blinks awake, Clara’s still asleep, tiredly he wakes her, shaking her shoulder as gently as he could, kissing her head when he saw the glare she woke with, her features soften at that. They get up together, Clara taking a jacket and burying herself in the fabric, by the size it was one of his and he looked over her, then he saw her eyes do the thing that he’d only ever seen Clara’s eyes do, and gave up any hope of getting it back.