A/N: Got a first steps prompt and ran with it. Enjoy!

Eleven

The TARDIS library was warm and comfortable as the Doctor and Clara sat snuggled on the couch while they watched their children play. She pressed her face into his chest as he slowly stroked her back, both chuckling at the kids' interactions with each other.

"They are so beautiful, Doctor," she said, a tear coming to her eye. "I know I must say that at least ten times a day, but…"

"…you're correct: they are beautiful," he replied. He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her a bit tighter. "A wee version of us is what they are." A moment passed and he grinned against her crown. "Be sure to tell me when you're ready to make them older siblings."

"Down, boy," she smirked, jabbing a finger in his tummy. He writhed underneath her and they laughed.

"Mummy! Da! Shush!" Alison frowned from down on the rug. She and James were working on a very important cityscape constructed of plastic waffle pieces and they had been trying to concentrate.

"Don't you shush us, young lady," Clara replied, still giggling from her space-husband's tickling retaliation. "We can make noise if we want to." She watched as her daughter grabbed a stuffed Alpha Centuari and crawled over, propping herself up to stand against the couch.

"Shhhhh!" she said, handing her mother the toy. "Sweeps."

"Is Tau sleepy?" Clara wondered. Alison nodded exaggeratedly. "Does Tau want to sleep with Mummy or Daddy?"

"Mummy and Da!" the girl replied. She then pushed herself away from the couch and stumbled over to the plastic tower James was attempting to construct, falling into it.

"Oh my, Clara, did you see that?!" the Doctor gasped. "Alison took her first steps!"

"She did! This is such a big moment!" she squealed. The parents then untangled themselves from each other, the Doctor going to scoop up Alison and Clara standing a couch's length away. "Come on sweetie, walk to Mummy!" The girl babbled in confusion, unsure of what the excitement was about.

"First steps are a very important event in the life of every organism with limbs," the Doctor explained. He held his daughter upright and was crouched down, squatting so that his face could be level with hers. "Now practice walking by going to Mam. That's it." He let go and watched as she hobbled over to Clara, falling into her arms. "It's incredible."

"It really is," Clara replied, nuzzling Alison happily. She felt a tap on her leg and she looked down to find James sitting next to her, staring up with wide, watery eyes. "Can you walk too, pumpkin?" The boy then scooted over towards his father, attempting to stand up, only to land on his rear end.

"Here, let me give you a boost up," the Doctor beamed. He picked James up by the armpits and put him on his feet. "Come on now; make your da proud." The boy wobbled as he picked up a foot, coming to a face-first crash-landing instead of taking a step. His father picked him up and bounced him in an attempt to stop his sniffling. "Ach, don't worry now; your sister won this round, but you'll be first at something. I'm still proud of you."

"We're proud of both of our children, equally," Clara said, walking up to baby and beau. She kissed Alison, then James, on the forehead and grinned at them. "Practice makes perfect, and there's nothing wrong with needing more practice. Now how about if you two tidy up the waffles so we can get you two to bed?"

"Ahn-tee?" James wondered.

"No, Auntie Idris is not cleaning up after you all the time," the Doctor said. The adults placed their children back down on the floor and watched them toddle and crawl their way over to the tote to clean up. He leaned over, still watching the twins, and whispered in Clara's ear, "I had bath duty last night."

"Is that so?" she replied. "I take it you want a reprieve?"

"Please."

"Then you better be waiting for me, in-bed and ready to go and not have a third child, do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, ma'am," he said, flashing his teeth before diving in for a quick kiss and disappearing into the corridor.

The following day, James woke up cranky. His sister was in her cot on the other side of the nursery, running back and forth until she hit the ends of her containment unit, while the best he could do was stand and wobble about. It wasn't fair, since he and Alison did everything together; they played together, visited their friend Lucy together, explored their aunt's corridors together (even after Mummy scolded them not to), and now Alison was walking without him. He was officially left behind.

Soon as he noticed his sister was up and about, the boy began to cry as he flopped down in his cot. Mummy came walking into the nursery, securing a robe around her to hide the fact she wasn't wearing anything. The twins often wondered why it was that their parents never seemed to wear anything to bed, while they had to wear their footed pajamas that looked like galaxies. It didn't seem very fair, even if while James was picked up and cuddled he could see his father sleepily falling over while stepping into pants. Adults were so weird.

"Alright James, what's the problem now?" Clara asked, rubbing the boy's back. She glanced over at Alison and watched her run into the end of the bed, falling backwards onto her rear-end and giggled hysterically. "Alison, don't do that; you're going to break your cot."

"Bweak! Boom!" she shrieked. Alison rolled around as her brother was changed into a clean nappy and clothes. Soon as his tiny hoodie and boots were securely on, she began to jump about. "Me! Me! Me!"

"Shuppippy up!" James scowled, waving his arm crossly at his sister. His mother, however…

"James Clark Oswald-Smith," she scolded. "What did you just say?"

"…bad wurd," he muttered, trying to hide in her shoulder. Clara turned his head towards her and stared straight into his eyes.

"What do you say?"

"Sowwy, Allie-sun."

"Good, now go into the corner and wait there until it's time for breakfast," Clara ordered. She placed James down and he crawled over to the corner of the nursery, sitting facing the wall as he whimpered. It took a bit for his sister to cooperate long enough to get into her leggings, but once she was in and her skirt snapped on, she zoomed across the room towards him, insisting he come along to the kitchen. The pair bounced and crawled off, going through their parents' bedroom, past their father, and into the corridor.

"You know, seeing our Alison in that skirt and jumper reminds me of when my friends Jamie and Victoria decided they were going to match," the Doctor said, pulling his t-shirt on over his head. He was finally in his trousers and was just putting the finishing layers to his outfit on. "They really were adorable—do you think we should get James a kilt?"

"I think our James is beginning to get jealous of our Alison and her ability to walk," Clara mentioned. She let her robe drop to the floor and she began to go through her wardrobe trying to find something for the day. "The green-eyed little monster isn't going to take things lying down."

"Their eyes are brown, not green," he said, puzzled.

"No, you know what I mean," she insisted. Clara finished putting on her knickers and bra and let the Doctor hug her from behind, bending in half to kiss her neck. "I hope he walks soon."

"He will—he's your son, and your son is clever enough to find a way," he murmured against her skin. "I'll go make sure they don't destroy the kitchen like last time."

"I'll hold you to that," she said.

Once his fingers were done ghosting over her skin as he moved away, she continued rummaging around. Within a short while she was dressed and even ready to take the kids on an adventure. A safari park, perhaps? An aquarium? They were trying to start them off slow, after all. Clara went into the kitchen and stopped as she saw James sitting on the counter, blood all over the front of his face from a cut on his forehead, as the Doctor cleaned him up and attempted not to panic.

"…what happened…?" she questioned. The Doctor jumped, nearly dropping the tea towel he was using to mop up the blood from James's face.

"Um… erm… James can walk now…" he said nervously.

"Right into a cupboard?!" Clara shot back.

"Yes!" Alison replied, toddling up to her mother, arms up and out. "James boom! James cwy!"

"No!" James insisted, balling his fists as he concentrated on not sniffling. "No cwy!"

Clara took a deep breath and tried to center herself—this was not going to be the end of her children attempting to one-up another and getting injured in the process. At least, she hoped, a cut on the forehead would be the worst of the injuries.