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"Oh, doesn't this look cute?" Claire Smith cooed as she held up a blue onesie with a picture of the TARDIS stitched on it.
Clara beamed. "It does," she answered, examining it. "But I'm not sure how I feel about making my son wear merchandise that I licensed."
"I see nothing wrong with it."
The author pondered for a moment before putting the onesie into the shopping basket. "No harm in buying one."
Just then, her phone started ringing. It was none other than John. He was probably getting tired of waiting outside Primark with all those shopping bags.
"How much longer are you and mum going to be in there – I feel like having a drink if you're going to be in there for a while," he grumbled.
Clara supported the phone using her shoulder, showing her mother-in-law a pair of baby mittens. "These match the onesie," she whispered.
"What matches the onesie?"
"Nothing," she replied immediately. "We're almost done – just spare us another five minutes, please."
"Fine," John sighed on the other end. "I'll take the TARDIS and see you in five minutes."
She giggled before hanging up.
"I'm guessing he's tired of waiting?" Claire commented as the two headed for the cashier.
"You know how impatient he gets when it comes to shopping," Clara replied, laughing. She peered back into the shopping basket and smiled. Just a few months from now and she would have her little boy in her arms.
Five minutes later, the two women finally emerged from Primark and John immediately grabbed the shopping bags sitting on the pavement. "Finally," he sighed.
"I'm sorry you had to wait so long, but someone needs to be the driver and butler," his wife joked.
"I became just that when I married you."
Claire couldn't help but smile as she silently observed the couple. Their son would probably get sick over how affectionate his parents are very quickly.
"Where to?" the surgeon asked.
"Lunch, and then King's Cross," Claire answered.
"Do you need to stop by anywhere else?" her daughter-in-law asked.
She shook her head. "No, Gary probably misses me by now."
After having lunch at a restaurant located near the train station, the couple sent off Claire before returning home.
"Just how many clothes did you buy?" John asked as he set the large carrying bag next to the staircase.
"Loads," his wife answered, grinning. "I just couldn't help it – there were so many adorable onesies, mittens, socks-"
He suddenly captured her lips, cupping her face with both hands.
"What was that for?" Clara whispered once they pulled away, a smile playing on her lips.
Her husband merely shrugged before he bent down and planted a kiss on her belly. "Just wanted to show how much I love you and the baby," he murmured before his eyes lit up. Placing a gentle hand on her swollen stomach, he said, "You're not even born yet, and you're already spoiled rotten by your mummy."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "As if you're not going to spoil him."
"I didn't buy a whole warehouse of baby clothes," John answered, grinning.
His features then became serious. "By the way," he continued. "I thought about what you said last night."
"And?"
"You're right, I'll be performing the surgery – he's still a sick patient at the end of the day."
The smile on Clara's face grew bigger. "Now that's the John Smith I married," she murmured before kissing him.
John kissed her back, savouring the taste of her lips against his. For as long as he has his family, he can go through anything.
Dr John Basil Smith sat behind his desk, both arms resting against the armrest, using the silent morning to his advantage. It was three days until his father would undergo graft surgery and John would be informing Wilf of his decision.
He hadn't informed his father yet of the last-minute changes and he would obviously have to do it before the operation, but for now, he would have to speak to his colleague.
John was snapped out of his train of thought when a knock was heard. He cleared his throat before instructing the person to come in.
"I got your email about wanting to discuss something later today, but I thought I'd just drop by at your office now," Wilf explained, sitting on the opposite side of the desk.
"Yes, about that," John began. "Is it alright if I take over Jeremy Smith's operation?"
"I was the one who offered it to you, so yes – Bill can be your number two."
He nodded. "That's what I thought."
Wilf nodded. He had known John for a very long time and knew he would be professional, regardless of who the patient is. "I'll inform Jeremy, then."
The phone in the coat of his pocket began beeping and he immediately pulled it out, carefully reading the message.
"What do you know, he wants to have a word with me," he said.
John shrugged, thinking nothing of it. "Well, I won't keep you here much longer, then."
The two men laughed before Wilf left the office and headed straight for the ward.
"Dr Mott," Jeremy greeted in a raspy voice.
"Hello, Jeremy," the cardiologist replied. "The nurse said you wanted to talk about something?"
He nodded, sitting up a bit. "I've decided not to proceed with the surgery."
The surgeon stared at him in shock before blinking. "What do you mean?"
"I don't want to undergo the operation."
"Jeremy," Wilf began, but the old man shook his head.
"Nothing you say will change my mind, Dr Mott," he explained. "I'm already dying – I doubt the surgery will do much to improve my health - besides, I don't feel as if I'm prepared for it."
Wilf didn't expect to face such surprising news when he came into work today. He couldn't force Jeremy to do the operation. "Would it help if I told you that John has agreed to be the one to fix your heart?"
Jeremy paused for a few moments, a look of shock washed over his face. He felt touched. "No, I'm sure he has other patients to attend to."
"Are you sure about this?" Wilf asked. "The medication can only do so much - the surgery will help with-"
"I'm already in bad condition," the old man laughed. "I don't want to have surgery."
The cardiologist didn't have much of a choice, so he nodded in resignation.
John unlocked the door to the front house, balancing the two heavy paper bags with one hand as he pushed the door open before setting the food on the small desk in the hallway and locking the door.
The house was quiet and the lights in the kitchen were off. Clara wasn't in her study either so that meant she was upstairs, probably sleeping.
Silently, he placed dinner on the counter in the kitchen before taking the stairs.
As gently as he could, he opened the door and stuck his head inside.
Clara lay on the bed, the duvet covering half her torso as she slept quietly. John couldn't help but smile, tiptoeing into the bedroom and slowly sinking down on the bed. He loosened the top two buttons of his shirt and took off the black socks.
He glanced back and saw that her phone was in her palm, so he carefully slid it out. 'Top 100 Boy Names' was displayed on the screen. Looks like she's been a bit busy.
"When did you get back?" Clara asked sleepily, startling him.
"Just five minutes ago," he answered, placing the electronic device on the nightstand.
She inhaled deeply. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep," she murmured, eyes still closed.
John smiled as he kissed her head. "It's alright, you need to rest, anyway," he whispered. "I got us take away if you feel like eating right now."
"Mhhmm," she groaned, snuggling him. "Maybe in a few minutes."
He chuckled, draping an arm around her. "Take all the time you need."
"Where did my phone go?" Clara asked, lifting her head.
Her husband handed her the smartphone. "Looking at baby names?"
"I was – found a few that I like."
"Which are?"
She grinned. "Peter is one."
He couldn't disagree with her and he likes the name, so he let her continue.
"Matthew…"
"As in Matt Smith?" John inquired.
She nodded, resting her cheek against his shoulder. "I don't think you'd agree with 'John'."
"No, it's too common."
Clara looked up. "So are 'Peter' and 'Matt'."
"You know what I mean," he grumbled.
She giggled. "Ok, so," she continued. "There's Christopher, William and Michael."
John wrinkled his nose. "I like the first two names better, but I still think we should keep on looking," he said, caressing her arm.
"Do you have any names in mind?"
"No, not at the moment," he murmured.
John didn't have much time to think about anything else since he went to work. His mind was currently preoccupied over why his father had suddenly refused to undergo surgery. It was strange.
His wife snapped him out of his thoughts. "How's work – you're doing that thinking face again when you're trying to figure something out."
The surgeon glanced at her, slightly surprised at how well she knew him. God, he loves this woman. "Fine, it's just that um… Wilf told me that dad doesn't want to go ahead with the operation."
"What?"
"He had made up his mind before Wilf told him I'd be taking over," John added.
Clara knitted her eyebrows. "So what happens now?"
"Nothing – the doctors can't force him to do it."
"Did you at least talk to him?"
This time, John remained silent and his wife knew the answer immediately.
"You should have – talk to him as his son and maybe he'll change his mind."
He had no intention of talking to his father since John knew him well. Once his father has made up his mind, it's final.
Clara had a good guess of what her husband was thinking. She didn't want to start another fight after only recently making up. No, she had a completely different idea since she didn't have much of a choice. It was funny that John doesn't realise that he is just as stubborn as his father. Must be a Smith trait.
The author decided to change the subject. "I feel like having dinner right now," she said, climbing out of bed.
"Do you want me to bring the food upstairs instead?" her husband asked.
She pondered for a moment. "That sounds nice, actually - my feet always get a bit sore when trying to get downstairs."
"Do you want me to carry you, next time?" he asked, grinning.
Clara laughed. "I'm sure you'll break that delicate back of yours."
"You didn't have to be so mean," he replied, giving her a mocking pout before leaving the bedroom.
Clara Smith had come up with a good yet daring plan. If her hubby doesn't want to speak to his own father and convince him to undergo surgery, then she would meet Jeremy Smith herself. Granted, she wasn't there to force him to do something he doesn't want to, but it wouldn't hurt to also get to know him a bit better, understand the man from her own perspective instead of just John's.
Two hours after John left for work, she immediately called a taxi and instructed the driver to take her to the hospital. She was careful to put on a pair of sunglasses and a large hat so that most of the hospital staff wouldn't recognise her easily as she didn't want to have her cover blown until she met Jeremy.
Now, the soon-to-be mother stood in front of her father-in-law's ward. Asking about where he was located had been a bit tricky, but she ended up telling the receptionist behind the desk that she was just a family member visiting.
She took a deep breath before raising her hand and knocking on the door twice, pausing a moment before entering.
"Yes?" a raspy voice said.
Clara walked past the curtains and immediately locked eyes with Jeremy, who was lying in bed. She saw the recognition in his weary eyes before they lowered to her swollen belly and then back up again.
"Hello," she greeted, fiddling with the hat she held to hide her shaking hands.