Clara had told him by handing him the test and waiting. Somehow she imagined it would have gone easier than just blurting it out, but as she'd stood in front of him he'd simply stared at the stick in his hands and then smiled up at her, not quite understanding for a moment. And then it hit him and he let the object clatter onto the Tardis floor with a look of disgust, hands wiping at his waistcoat as he'd stammered, "Urine, you handed me a stick of ur… pregnant."
She'd laughed when he'd dropped back to his knees and picked the stick back up to stare at the pink lines before he'd crossed the small space between them to crush her in a hug. "One problem," Clara had mumbled into his chest.
"Don't worry," he'd told her quietly, "Human and Gallifreyan genetics aren't all that…"
"We have to tell my dad," she'd interrupted and as he'd slowly backed away to look at her, she'd explained, "He barely knows you – doesn't know I'm gallivanting across space with an alien and participating in certain extracurricular activities." Her cheeks had gone red as she'd looked up at him to find he'd gone a pale shade of grey. "Doctor?"
He'd swallowed hard and nodded, then he'd winced and asked, "Can we start with the Maitlands?"
They were now seated in the kitchen, awkwardly across the table from Angie and Artie as Mr. Maitland poured them tea and Clara warmed her hands with her mug, smiling shyly at the man and then at the children, who both smirked and whispered between them. He placed a blue and white mug in front of the Doctor, who took a small sip and pressed his lips together tightly, eyes focused on the cup.
You can handle a space alien, but you can't handle an uncle?
Clara straightened and she looked from the children to the man now settling himself into the seat at her right and she told them plainly, "The reason we wanted to meet like this, is… we have, well, I have good news and I have bad news."
"You're getting married," Artie spat excitedly.
Watching Angie gasp and back hand him in the chest, Clara glanced nervously at Mr. Maitland as the girl sniggered, "How would that be bad news, idiot."
"Ang," her father warned.
"We're not…" Clara started, passing a glance at the Doctor, who smirked as he raised his eyes to meet hers, "I'm going to have to be leaving you soon," she turned to tell the children before meeting Mr. Maitland's curious eyes, "I wanted to make sure you had notice, I know finding a suitable nanny is a hard chore, but…"
"Oh God, you're pregnant, aren't you!" Angie shouted and the expression on her face shifted from delight to disgust and back to delight as she eyed her and the Doctor.
Clara nodded slowly, reaching out for the Doctor's hand and finding it easily, but when she looked up at the man to her right, his face had gone dark and just before she could assure him everything was fine, he asked bluntly, "What is it that you do, young man?"
The Doctor straightened, eyes going wide as he shook the hair off his brow and admitted, "A bit of this; a bit of that – travelling, mostly."
"You plan to support a child on a bit of bits and whimsies?" Mr. Maitland barked.
Shrinking, he pointed, "I've been able to support myself for a few hund… long times, I'm certain I could properly support Clara and the child."
Mr. Maitland shifted in his chair, turning away to exhale before looking back at them and Clara could see on the faces of the duo across from her that this was not a good sign. Maybe, she thought, it would have been better if she'd just packed her bags and left… "Mr. Maitland, he's a good man."
"Good man," he repeated, "Have you told your father?"
Head tilting, Clara squeaked, "We were… we're going to."
"A good man would have gone to your father a long time ago," he argued, "Before your employer."
She felt ashamed and, when she looked to the Doctor, she understood he did as well. They hung their heads as Mr. Maitland stood and pointed a finger between them, "I know your game son – come in and sweep her off her feet, impressionable young girl…"
"I'm twenty five!" Clara argued as the Doctor nodded, gesturing at her.
"…And now you've got her knocked up, be gone as soon as it gets rough." He brushed a hand over his head as he paced and Clara. "She's gonna need caring for and she's gonna need support and she's gonna need…"
"Me," the Doctor challenged, standing. "That's all she's going to need and I can assure you, she'll have me. I've no time to be lectured about the responsibilities of parenthood…" Clara yanked his arm before he could divulge that he'd been a parent before. A grandparent.
Mr. Maitland's hands rubbed over his face and then he pointed, "I so much as hear that you've upset her and I'll be after you to string you up by that ridiculous bow tie of yours!" The man smiled down at Clara and nodded, waiting for her to stand and then he enveloped her in a tight hug, whispering more threats against the Doctor into her ear before congratulating her.
"It's going to have his alien head," Angie muttered.
"But it's going to have all of time and space," Artie countered, looking excited.
"What are you two going on about?" Mr. Maitland asked, still holding Clara tightly at his side while throwing glares at the Doctor, who remained at a distance.
Angie and Artie only shared a knowing grin and moved around the table to give their own congratulations, shaking the Doctor's hand and then lunging at their nanny, begging for assurance that she'd still come around. A half hour later, they stood in the Tardis, both leaned against the console, arms crossed at their chests, staring blankly at the door.
The Doctor released a long sigh and turned, "So… your dad."
Clara half-grinned, eyes going wider, as she explained, "Should be cake."