"Twenty weeks?" John asked before exclaiming, "Twenty weeks already?"

Clara couldn't tell if he was proclaiming the amount of time he'd been back in her life or if he was talking about their baby and she waited on the couch for him to return from the kitchen with a glass of water and a box of crackers for her. He handed her both items and then lifted her feet to settle himself down next to her, bringing her legs comfortably onto his lap to continue rubbing her bare calves, looking back at her with an easy smile. It was her weekend and the children were happily with their grandfather.

Taking a sip of water before wedging the crackers between herself and the sofa and placing the cup down on the coffee table, Clara told him, "He's moving around all the time now."

The laugh that greeted her ears was warm and soft as he leaned over her, hand coming up to lift her long shirt and expose her stomach. He laid his palm against her and shook his head, sighing as he rested his chin over the curve of her skin, hand slipping just underneath her back.

"I can't wait to feel him," he sighed before placing a delicate kiss just beside her navel.

She smiled and nodded, feeling herself becoming overwhelmed and John sat up with concern, seeing the tears springing to her eyes. Clara slowly swung her legs around and knelt up on the couch as he stared at her in confusion. Crawling over to him, she straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him gently before he shifted back, hands coming to her cheeks, thumbs wiping at the droplets that had spilled over them as he smiled, brow knotting together.

"Clara?"

"I'm just so glad that you're here," she sighed, head tilting slightly.

At twenty weeks, with the twins, she'd still been with the Maitland's. Clara would run through a routine of duties from cleaning the house to running errands for Mr. Maitland to waiting for the children to return home from school to making sure they'd done their homework. She'd make sure dinner was ready when their father came home and then she'd climb up the stairs, exhausted, to nestle herself in her bed and cry. She'd been so fearful then, praying to the universe that he'd come back, praying that her baby would be fine, begging to fall asleep and wake up in the Tardis – from this dream.

But now she was comfortable in her own home. Clara looked after her own children, she was secure about her little job and she was looking into the eyes of a man who adored her. A man who looked down at her growing stomach and settled his hands atop it a moment, then moved them around to her sides slowly before glancing back up at her. Clara's heart was free from the fear that had weighed her down the last time; filled only with what she felt for this man and her family.

She laughed softly. Her family that included her Doctor – John Smith.

Ridiculous man.

He smiled as she watched him, then met her lips again, this time with more passion, hands coming around her to hold her to him and he sighed into her mouth as she shifted forward, the bump of her stomach pressing against his. It continually surprised him, every day just a small bit different, just a bit closer to being in his arms and he sometimes found himself at a loss for words – in any language – to describe what he felt for a being he'd never properly met.

His son.

Fragile, but strengthening daily. And they were halfway to having him in their lives.

Sliding his hands up over the long shirt she wore, John clutched her to him a moment, dropping his head down against her shoulder as he felt her rubbing soothing circles over his back. He could hear her breathing in his ear, could feel her pulse pounding against the tip of his nose and he straightened to look at her, grinning back at him seductively. His Clara, who leaned forward and nudged his awkward nose with her small one and gave a huff of amusement before sighing.

"Who do you suppose he'll take after?" She asked breathlessly.

"You, I hope," he told her honestly before giving her a sly grin.

Clara laughed when he lifted her and then cautiously laid her down onto the couch, careful about his weight on her and he winced slightly when the box of crackers crushed under his elbow, listening to her let out a shriek of giggles as he picked it up and tossed it aside.

Smiling deviously at the joyous expression now staring up at him, he reached down to tug at her knickers, glancing up with frustration before telling her, "Did you really need to put them on?"

"Force of habit," she replied with a shrug.

"Bad habit," he shook his head as he told her. Sitting up, he shifted back and stripped her of the offending slip of clothes before laying back down atop her slowly, distributing his weight around her stomach and then telling her coyly, "Humans should really invent the equivalent of boxers – with easy access portals – for the ladies."

Clara lifted up slightly and informed him, "Oh, they exist, but do you really want Henry or Olive coming across a pair and questioning why they're missing a bit of material where it might count?"

He considered it, then looked down at her questioningly, but she crushed his lips with hers, right hand grabbing for the material of his shirt to force him back onto her. Clara gasped against his teeth when he slipped inside of her in one painfully slow movement that ended with his palms pressing roughly into the couch at each side of her chest, his chin lightly grazing her forehead.

"John," she managed, hands gripping his shirt and he bent himself slightly, kissing her delicately as he began to slowly rock against her.

She'd noticed he'd become more careful with her, as though he might hurt her, since finding out she was pregnant and while she appreciated the gesture, Clara didn't need him to be gentle right now. Arching her own body, Clara lifted her heels to dig into his back, trying to drive him into her and he obliged with a quick grunt of understanding.

Releasing a loud moan that made her head spin, she jerked up into him and he growled slightly as his lips left hers and trailed up her jaw line and towards her neck, nibbling deliciously as she began to gasp on each stroke, knowing she was too close to climaxing. Clara shook her head against it once before resting her forehead against his temple, feeling the sheen of sweat off both of their bodies as he slid his brow to meet hers and by his breathing, she could tell he was nearing his own end –she just had to hold hers, but she couldn't.

Clara opened her mouth to shout out, grateful for the opportunity to, but a key slipped into the front door and she pushed John up roughly as her body spiraled out of her control while he scrambled down the hallway. She leaned back into the couch as the hallway bathroom door slammed shut and the front door pulled open. Clara pulled her shirt down over her knees as Henry and Olive shouted out for her, innocent to what had happened, but she knew, by the way they hadn't reached her, that her father had held them back and the embarrassment of him knowing kept her eyes shut a moment longer than she needed them to be.

Her cheeks burned when she finally turned to look at him, to register the awkward shock on his face as she clutched her knickers between two toes and brought them closer to her to pick up and try to slip back into as her father ushered the two children down the hall as they complained. Standing slowly, Clara let a hand fall comfortably on her belly as she moved towards her bedroom, passing her father along the way with a simple, "Clothes," and a gesture to her room and when she stepped inside, she laughed quietly.

Closing her door, Clara removed her shirt and crossed the room to her closet, quickly dropping a longer maternity dress over her head and finding a pair of slacks to take back out to the hallway, giving the bathroom door a gentle knock. "Am I in trouble?" he asked in a hiss.

With a laugh, Clara responded, "No, just open the door so I can give you pants."

"Why's dad not wearing pants?" Olive asked bluntly.

"He's in boxers," Henry offered with a shrug before adding, "Was he running to the bathroom so he wouldn't wet himself? I have that problem sometimes."

Clara bit her lip to keep from laughing as the door inched open and a hand shot out, retrieving the slacks before it shut quickly and she turned to look at her father. "It's Saturday," she pointed out.

His race reddened, "Somehow it never occurred to me you might be… doing things."

"On my day?" She asked, glancing down when Henry and Olive both placed their hands at her belly and began whispering their secrets to the baby. "Dad, you should have called."

With a hand to his face, he nodded and allowed, "Sorry, I honestly don't know whether to be angry or embarrassed right now."

"Well, he's my husband so I suppose embarrassed is more appropriate," Clara teased, then added under her breath, "I know I'm properly embarrassed."

"Husband?" Dave questioned, "Was I not invited to the wedding?"

She shook her head and smiled, "No, not in that… we haven't had a proper," she glanced down at the children now staring up at her. "We have paperwork, technically… Dad, technically we've been married for seven years."

"Seven years," he repeated. "Seven years… you're Clara Smith?"

Door opening, John emerged looking odd in slacks and a t-shirt as he nodded slowly, "She chose not to change her name, or at least I imagined she wouldn't want to change her name considering Smith isn't technically my last name really, so technically… technically I took her name as it seemed more appropriate anyways, belonging to her in a sense… so technically, I'm John Oswald."

The other man laughed at the duo and nodded slowly, "You're married to my daughter, on paper, but you took her last name and…" he gestured down.

"Paperwork," Clara repeated, "He's their father on all of their documentation, UNIT provided new birth certificates and immunization forms, and in all of the digital records he's there – though the school had to be sorted out – dad, I agreed to it all."

Pressing his hands into his sides, Dave stared at her.

"We wanted him to be our daddy," Olive supplied calmly.

Henry nodded, "He belongs to us, grandpa. All of us, Oswalds."

John smiled sheepishly, stepping on tip-toe a second before dropping back and smiling, "I belong to them; I rather like that."

Clara inched back into his side and he dropped an arm around her, cheeks going red as he looked to Dave, and she nodded, "We'll get married properly, after the baby. Small ceremony, just some friends and family."

He managed a smile and a tilt of his head before sighing, "Everything you do is strange, John. It's strange and backwards and… just right for them." He nodded, "Anyways, reason I came by early, I forgot I agreed to help Marcus and Melanie move into their new place from the old house so I should be popping off." He nodded and walked past them, turning when he felt the children tugging on his jacket for hugs. Straightening, Dave looked to John and laughed, "You – an Oswald. Ellie would have loved this."

John stepped forward, bending slightly to feign a tickle attack on the two who rushed past him in a fit of giggles to latch onto Clara's legs as she brushed her hands over their heads, testing the length on Henry's before he muttered that he didn't want another haircut.

He stood before her father and told him quietly, "I hope I haven't offended."

Dave grabbed hold of him and hugged him tightly, clapping a hand to his back three times before shifting back and shaking his head with a laugh, "No, honestly, John – Doctor. Doctor, Ellie would have loved you." He nodded to Clara and the children, now moving towards Olive's room. "She would have hated you for leaving, would have put a fist in your face for hurting Clara, but you. She would have loved you."

"I'm certain the feeling would have been mutual," he replied quietly.