The toddler in the Doctor's arms stared, just as wide-eyed, at the broken bookshelf that laid atop a pile of scattered books and knick knacks and he turned to look at his father, giving a small shake of his head and gripping the strip of grey waistcoat on the man's shoulder. The Doctor finally stopped looking, swallowing hard and glancing sideways at the child with a small humph of uncertainty.
Exhaling, he sighed, "Ossie, your mum is going to be furious with us."
Pushing back, the boy rambled, "Mum no mad me, dada," and then he dissolved into a string of mumbles that made the Doctor scratch his head and point down at the rubble.
"Don't you pin this on me, playing tag was your idea." He reminded, listening to his son giggle and shake his head, another sentence of indiscernible babble escaping just before he heard the clearing of a throat from the doorway and he turned with a sheepish grin.
"Mummy!" Ossie shouted, then pointed, "B'oke it."
"You and daddy, breaking things again?" Clara asked with a nod, hands rounding her enormous belly as she approached them with a small grin as both raised delicate eyebrows, not knowing if she was angry with them. "And to think, in a month, there'll be three of you boys running about the Tardis destroying things."
The Doctor lifted his free hand and offered, "It's not as if we meant to knock it over, Clara, really – and we'll put it back," he gave a double look to the murmur Ossie gave him before asserting, "Well, I'll put it back and Ossie will watch, understanding how terrible it was for us to run amuck in your room."
Clara glared a moment, then tilted her head and allowed, "So let me see if I understand, you're promising not to run amuck in my room. Am I to take it then, that you'll continue to run amuck around the Tardis?"
They exchanged a look and Ossie shook his head, babbling and pointing and she caught, "Playing with dada on the Tardis," but the Doctor looked nervous as he chuckled.
"So you're not promising," Clara told them.
Bending slightly, gesturing at Ossie, the Doctor shook his head and stumbled over, "No, no, no, Clara, we're promising, we're just aware that we're bad at keeping promises, especially where fun might come into play, or making a mess, or… breaking things."
Ossie rambled at him and threw his hands up.
"No, we're absolutely not," the Doctor straightened, "You can't expect me to say that with a straight face!"
The boy answered.
"I will not!" The Doctor told him sternly.
Clara sighed impatiently.
Slowly glancing at her and listening to Ossie mutter at him while slapping his shoulder gently, the Doctor nodded and then explained, "He says we won't break any more things because he knows it upsets you."
Inching closer to them, watching the worried looks on their faces, Clara laughed as she poked their son in the stomach and then gave him a small kiss, telling him, "I would appreciate the effort, you're going to be a big brother soon and big brothers keep their little brothers out of trouble," she turned, "Like fathers should keep their sons out of trouble."
"It was his idea," the Doctor pleaded.
Clara nodded, laughing as she pulled Ossie out of his arms and balanced him on her waist as his hand came down to pet her belly, telling it softy, "'Ello brudder."
"We're going to have a bath and then settle down for night-night," Clara told the boy who smiled innocently at her as she began moving out, then turned, "I expect this cleaned up when I get back."
"That's not even fair," the Doctor cried, "He made me bump into it. Knows I'm not good with sharp turns, elbows and…" he watched the look she gave him before he caught himself and then sighed, "Yes, dear."