A/N: Here's some more baby-related fluff. Enjoy!

Six

"Okay, kids: it's Dad Time," the Doctor announced, scooping his children up from their highchairs and toting them out of the kitchen. He carried them like one would small barrels, which made Clara call out from behind him in exasperation.

"Be careful with them," she reminded him. "They may have Time Lord in them, but they're not invincible."

"I'm always careful," he frowned. He turned and began to walk backwards, nudging the babies in his arms and making them giggle. "They're in the safest place when they're in the TARDIS and with me. Don't worry about us and go have your bath."

Without giving her an opportunity to retort, the Doctor spun back around and scooted off down the hall, running down towards the nursery. It had recently become its own room, not a suite attached to his and Clara's, and he delighted in playing with their children in there as often as he could. Sometimes he needed to go take something apart or read a book that wasn't about cute and furry animals that could talk, but there was always plenty of time to do that when they weren't looking.

"Alright, here we are," he said, bending down to place the kids on the rug. They then zoomed off, crawling away at mach speeds towards their toys. Their father chuckled and busied himself with picking up after them, for the nursery was the one room where only trash vanished and clean clothes and nappies appeared—keeping the place tidy was for the parents so that the children could learn by example.

Before long though, everything was cleaned and it was just the twins and the soft blocks they were stacking and knocking down. The Doctor sat down with them, cross-legged and looking very curious.

"What is it you've got here?" he asked. Alison climbed into his lap and braced herself with his chest as she stood, poking at the holes in his jumper.

"Da!" she said as she touched the t-shirt underneath each hole. "Da! Da! Da! Da!"

"Yes, this is Dad's favorite jumper," he replied. He twirled a tiny bit of her hair around his finger, such fluffy, bouncy hair that reminded him of his own. "Aly."

"Ah! Lee!"

"Jim," the Doctor said, pointing at James.

"Im!" she repeated. Her father knew that she was only attempting to mimic him and that actual words were likely still a few months away. The rate at which his son and daughter were growing and developing amazed him, making him unsure if it was the Gallifreyan in them or the Human.

"Eee," James scowled, scooting over to his father and sister. He too climbed into the Doctor's lap and plopped down on one of his bent knees. The Doctor winced at the sudden pressure, though made not a sound, and let the kids continue on.

"Im!" Alison replied happily.

"Eee," her brother said firmly. He then went off on a string of babbling syllables, scolding his sister for abandoning the building project. It was supposed to be a grand venture between the two of them and she was slacking. The little girl rolled out of their father's lap and crawled back over to the block pile, headbutting it so that it fell down in an unceremonious pile.

James glanced up at the Doctor, his eyes wide in horror. "No, son; it can be fixed," he assured him. He then put his son down and leaned forward so that he laid on his stomach, propped up by his elbows, and began piecing the tower back together. Alison and James both began to help him, and before long the tower sat completed.

"Now, would you look at that?" the Doctor said. "See? We put it back together… and now…" He pulled a block from the bottom of the pile and the whole thing came crashing down. The twins began protesting, crawling on their father's back and bouncing up and down.

Rolling over, the Time Lord tickled his children until they shrieked in laughter, wiggling away from him before crawling off. He tried to chase them, but they were too crafty, and as soon as he nearly had the one they would slip away and he'd need to head after another. In the overall scheme of things, it was a highly mundane thing, but he wouldn't trade that moment for the entire universe.

Clara had just finished her bath and stepped out into the TARDIS corridors, wondering where her family had gotten up to in the meantime. One time she had found all three of them in the control room, the Doctor trying to teach the babies how to fly the ship. That had led to an interesting argument which ended in a ban on letting the kids fly their aunt/home/mothership until they were at least sixteen. This time the lit path led her straight to the nursery, where a precious sight was the one that awaited her.

It was her space-husband, buried alive under a mound of stuffed toys. Alison and James were curled up in the pile, all three of them taking a well-deserved nap. Clara smiled, knowing she still had at least half an hour more of peace, and decided to use it wisely. She walked into the nursery and sat down next to the toy pile, leaning against it and closing her eyes. Almost immediately she felt a shift in the plush cushion and a large, knobby hand took one of her own. She squeezed back and continued resting, just as glad for the moment as the Doctor.