AUTHOR'S NOTE: Whatever, Doctor Who, not mine. Yeah.

CHAPTER 7

"Marriage Anniversary?!" Clara gasped.

"Oh, I must've woken up in the wrong year, dear me," the Doctor smiled, jumping off the bed and kneeling with Clara's hands in his.

"Dearest Clara, since I forgot to say spoiler alert, and it's gonna happen anyway, by God, will you marry me?"

Clara flung herself into the Doctor's arms and kissed him repeatedly before choking out a "yes."

The Doctor had made reservations actually several months before, for who would reject his marriage proposal? Certainly not Queen Elizabeth. They traveled to a church on the planet Zorwick that they were to be married in. The Doctor was about to step from the TARDIS when Clara grabbed his arm.

"Fancy getting married in a purple tweed jacket and striped grey bowtie, do we?" she asked with a cocked brow. "Let's see what the TARDIS has for us."

Clara and the Doctor hurried to seperate rooms to get dressed. He finished before her. The TARDIS had supplied him with a black suit, very fitting, very sleek, and a red, shiny satin bowtie. But when Clara stepped out of that room, he thought he was going to collapse and die.

Her dress what white, of course. It clenched her upper body and waist, and at her hips, branched out into a long, flowy skirt that reached the silver heels on her feet. Her hair was done up like on might see in an Audrey Hepburn film, sprinkled with little ornaments the color of pearls that glittered and dangled against her silky auburn waves.

"Careful, you'll catch a fly in your math hanging it open like that," Clara giggle, chewing on her lip.

"Shall we, dearest?"

Clara took his arm. The alien planet's marriage ritual resembled Earth's immensly, but not perfectly. Clara was mesmerized by the beautiful language that the priest whispered. The TARDIS could translate, but she chose for it not to.

"GarĂ¼tee, amies ne ga."

-"You may kiss the bride."-

The Doctor leaned towards her and their lips met.

Two hours later, as they sat in the TARDIS, Clara finished pulling her tanktop and sweatpants on as the doctor changed into his jammys that were basically a softer, more limp version of a suit jacket and bowtie.

He walked over to Clara, who was fiddling with her tank top. He sat next to her and kissed her neck. She closed her eyes and tilted her head in enjoyment.

"Love," he murmered into her skin. "Need help with your hair?"

She nodded and he set to work, gently undoing the tight clasps that belonged to the beautiful little pearls. After he had cleared them all away, Clara fell against the bed and tugged for the Doctor to follow. He hovered about a foot over her and took the bobypins out of her hair, letting it fall loosely to the side of her head like a halo. He ran his fingers through it, then pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Down, boy," she whispered, stroking his back. He worked his way up to her colar bone, her jaw, and finally, her lips.

"Clara," he said between kisses as she tugged his jacket and tie off and nibbled on his bottom lip. "Just- realised. I left my- ring in- the console room."

"Clothes now, rings later!" she demmanded.

Thirty minutes later, they laid under the sheets, holding onto each other for dear life.

"That was REALLY fun," Clara giggled.

"Yes. Yes it was," the Doctor agreed.

Clara climbed on top of the Doctor so she could look at him properly. He tried not to be distracted by the fact that she was naked.

"Doctor, I want you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

She leant down and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

"Do that again," she whispered into his ear.

A few weeks later, as the Doctor was working on the console room, he heard a shriek from somewhere in the TARDIS. He gasped and ran in the direction of the sound, finding himself in a bathroom with Clara, half her shirt pulled up. She was crying, but she had this great, big grin on her face.

"I'm pregnant."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: We all saw it coming.