The little boy with the bright eyes and the dusting of dark hair shook his head vigorously as he gripped the edges of his crib, pointing a finger and babbling at the man who paced the room in front of him, frustrated look on his face as he turned to stare at the infant. And Clara smiled for a moment as she came to a slow stop near the doorway, knowing that this was some sort of ultimatum situation between father and son she probably shouldn't interfere.
"No," the Doctor told him, then swiped his hand, "Absolutely not – you've had enough time."
The baby growled and Clara listened to the string of syllables he strung together, the only words she understood were 'mama' and 'beddie' and she pushed a knuckle to her upper lip to keep from laughing because she knew without asking what they were now arguing about.
"Your mum would agree with me, it's time for you to go to bed."
"No!" The boy shouted.
The Doctor's mouth fell open as his brow came down roughly over his eyes and he stepped towards the crib, trying to be menacing, but Clara could hear their son's giggle just before the Doctor pleaded, "Come on, Ossie, you know how your mum is – you've told me about that look she gets and I know you don't want to see it – I can't walk out there and tell her you're not listening to me." He bent slightly, "You're my son, you have to learn to listen to me."
"No!" He repeated loudly, hand slapping the crib before he began to cry and Clara stepped in as the Doctor lifted the boy up and into his arms, trying to shush him and turning to catch her stare as she placed her hands at her hips.
"He's going to bed, I swear," the Doctor nodded.
"No beddie," the baby replied.
"Ossie?" Clara questioned before meeting their son's gaze, "You know your name."
He giggled and rambled a moment and the Doctor grinned, explaining, "He says his name is nice, but he like the Oswald better than the Harry and I've got to say I agree."
"Ah," she nodded, "Can't agree on a bed time, but you can agree that the name we agreed on isn't really what you liked."
The baby smiled up at him and mocked him, or at least Clara assumed he mocked him by the shocked look on his face and the way he lifted a finger to point at him before telling Clara, "I agreed that as the one carrying him and giving birth to him, your choice takes precedence over mine."
"Billius," she remembered.
"Bill," the Doctor nodded. "Bill's a nice name. Sort of like Bob. Or Bo. Or Yes. Lots of strong blokes named Bill out in the universe; have I not introduced you to strong blokes named Bill in the universe?"
The baby squealed.
"Oi, you," the Doctor warned.
Clara reached forward and her son fell towards her, tucking his head into her shoulder and closing his eyes as she rocked, mumbling something against her skin as the Doctor pressed his lips tightly together. "Ossie," she said quietly into his ear, "We'll call you Ossie if that's what you like."
"He says it's better than Billius," the Doctor muttered.
Taking a step away from him and nodding, Clara gently rubbed the baby's back and laughed, "I quite agree."