A/N: This takes place when the twins are around ten months or so

Thirty

It was supposed to be only a couple days, the Doctor reminded himself as he plucked his children from their cots. Clara was to be back in her own spot in the time stream for only a couple days—a miniature vacation to assure her family and select friends that she was still amongst the living—and then she was coming back. This all meant that it was up to him for those few hours, those couple of days, which was something that he was completely capable of accomplishing.

At least, so he thought.

A baby under each arm, the Doctor carried the wee ones to the console room where he needed to do work. In the underneath-level, where he had access to the wiring and tubing normally hidden from view, he plopped James and Alison in a playpen that had materialized there for their use. Once the twins were both sitting up of their own accord, he took the bottles from his inner jacket pocket and gave them each one.

"Now have your juice and let me work, alright?" he commanded. He saw them both stare up at him with their brown eyes and curious faces. "No, we aren't getting Mam now—she still has some things to do. I also have things to do before we get her, hence the pen."

Ignoring the Twins' curious coos, the Doctor went straight to work. First he shed most of his top layers, putting his jacket, hoodie, and jumper on nearby pegs, and donned some goggles. His t-shirt was already one that was a bit stained from work, so he didn't care when he realized that he was likely going to get rather disgusting while tuning up the ship. A couple adjustments of some wires and he was on his way.

The Doctor was just about to unhook a coolant tube when he heard the clack of hollow plastic against the metal floor. He glanced over and saw Alison's bottle on the outside of the playpen, with the girl staring at him with an innocent look.

"Don't test me, young lady," he frowned. He went and gave her the bottle, raising a brow in warning. "You know what'll happen if you misbehave."

Alison knew—as she was no fool—that there was little punishment when it came to Daddy, so she smiled nicely and let her father return to his work. She waited until he was back in the harness that kept him aloft and took her brother's bottle, tossing it over the side of the pen. James gave her a baffled look and she put her hand on his mouth.

Shhhhh… no telling Daddy!

"James, not you too," the Doctor sighed. He lowered himself to the floor and returned the second bottle. "Do you need more toys to keep you occupied? Let me get you some more toys."

It only took a few minutes and the Doctor returned with an armful of things from the nursery; a couple blankets, some favorite stuffed animals, a few soft blocks, and a few things that made obnoxious noises that he seemed to be able to tune out, yet Clara couldn't. He tossed them on the children, making sure to aim the harder things for the mattress, nearly burying them.

"There," he scowled, putting his hands on his hips, "are you happy now?" Alison giggled and hugged her Alpha Centuari toy. "I thought so. Now behave."

Things went smoothly for the most part after that. The Doctor heard a couple things hit the TARDIS floor now and then, but mostly he knew it was the couplings and pipes and whatnot that he put there. He was nearly at the root of the problem (a squeaky landing gear, which wasn't getting the proper fluids thanks to this line and that) when another issue arose. He glanced over towards the playpen and saw that all the toys and things that he had brought for the children were scattered around their containment unit, with James sitting in the corner while his sister stood against the wall, smacking the padded top.

"Now what did I say?" the Doctor scolded. He stormed over to the playpen, avoiding the minefield of baby things, and picked up his daughter, holding her at arms' length. "Alison Joan, what do you have to say for yourself?"

He watched in momentary confusion as she stretched out her own arms, opening and closing her tiny fists. Clarity hit him and he brought her to his chest, allowing her to cuddle in close.

"…oh," he murmured. He kissed the top of her head and bounced her gently. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" She sputtered in affirmation; of course it was.

Before long, James was whimpering in the playpen, which led to the Doctor picking him up as well. With his children virtually glued to him at this point, he wondered what he could possibly do that would not only satiate them, but allow him to continue working—he needed to get the maintenance done or else he couldn't pick up Clara and he would be stuck drifting listlessly throughout space and time until he crashed somewhen, somewhere.

The TARDIS hummed and the lights flickered for a moment; the ship had a solution. Turning around, the Doctor found two baby-sized harnesses hanging from the underside of the console deck, with just enough clearance for them to stomp about, yet close enough so that he could pull one closer to him if need be.

"Nanny of the Year, you are," he chuckled. He put Alison down on the ground and secured James first, then caught the escaping child to stuff her in the other harness. The children were able to stand on their own with the harness' help, which caused them to gasp and squeal in delight. They could pick up their discarded toys and wobble about, even leaning forward until they were horizontal in the air. Their father nodded in approval and returned his attention to the console once more.

That was, until, a toy mobile smacked him in the head.