A/N: I dedicate this to the folks over at the Clara's Diner Discord who need them some Twelve with his Dad Skills; I brushed off the Time Twins for this, which did make me very happy, and that's not exactly something I've had in abundance as of late (bittersweet, maybe, but not a lot of happy-happy).

764 words; takes place when the Time Twins are about a month old or so; kinda short and sweet, but also just because I need to write something inconsequential and fluffy between attempting to write/edit my more serious things (because trust me: my work-brain is so fried right now despite DEADLINES and it's driving me insane, so hopefully this unplugs some stuff for me); no, really, just an excuse to have Twelve with babies

Clara woke from a dead sleep, sitting straight up in her bed. The room was silent save for the constant hum of the TARDIS and the Doctor's soft snores. She glanced down at him and played idly with his hair as she exhaled in relief—nothing was the matter. All she could remember from her dream was an intense feeling of dread… it was only her mind playing tricks.

As she relished in the quiet moment, Clara heard one of the children begin to make noise. Ah-ha—it was her anticipating the need instead of realization—and she decided to investigate. She pulled on her robe and padded across the bedroom as she made her way to the door that connected it to the nursery. Walking up to her daughter's cot, she picked the babe up and bounced her gently in her arms.

"Ssshhh… Mummy's here," she whispered. Alison continued to make croaking noises, refusing to calm down. She beat her tiny fists against Clara's chest, causing her mother to frown. "Hey now… what's the matter? You hungry?"

"She just wants to be held." Clara glanced over towards her room and saw the Doctor sleepily shuffle in. Still in his pants and t-shirt, he looked incredibly rumpled and nearly unnaturally-sexy as he plucked the infant from her arms so she could rest in his. "Control your hormones, Clara; I've got her."

"…and how do you know our daughter just wants to be held?" she replied. "Why do I feel a feeding coming on?"

"…because that'll be James in three, two, one…" The Doctor pointed at the other cot and, sure enough, their son woke and began to let the adults know he was once again conscious. Clara picked him up and began to feed him, giving the Doctor a bit of a glare from across the nursery. "What…?"

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" she teased. "You think you have it all down."

"Well… this admittedly isn't my first stab at this," he reminded her. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Alison's head as he bounced her in an effort to soothe her fussiness. "Ah, yes, Da's right here, darling."

Clara watched the father of her children dote on their daughter and a pang shot through her as she realized something. "You don't talk about them."

"…about who…?"

"Your family… your first family… what came between you being a child and you running away with your granddaughter. A few things had to happen for the one to morph into the other." She watched as his expression darkened in sadness—of course not all the memories would be good ones. "Doctor…?"

"I've done a lot of things the wrong way, Clara," he replied. "There are reasons as to why Susan and I were the only ones who left, and those are not my stories to tell."

"Will I ever meet them? Will our children ever meet them?"

"Possibly, one day, when and if the time is right." He took James after he was burped and passed over Alison, all the activity having made her hungry as well. "As of right now, I'm glad they don't know."

"Who? The twins, or…?"

"Yes."

They continued in silence for a while, with the Doctor being attentive over the child in his arms whilst Clara made certain the other child's hunger was being satiated. With tummies full and heads sleepy, the twins both went back to sleep easily. Nestled in their cots, their parents watched over them as they laid there, exhausted as only newborns could achieve.

"It's usually considered wise to not tell many stories about what you could consider an ex, and the subsequent family that ensued," the Doctor murmured, slipping an arm around Clara's waist. "You know about Susan, and some of what was involved there, but what came between the barn and Susan… that's a long, long story, and I don't know if you've got a lifespan suitable for it."

"Trying to run away… I see." She tossed him a playful smirk; she was intentionally attempting to rile him up. "Does this mean that you're going to go off and brood in some mood lighting?" He picked her up instead, the other arm hooking under her knees and her own arms draping around his shoulders.

"No running away; not this face; not from you." He kissed her as he carried her back to bed, placing her down in the covers and snuggling up into her side. "I could never—not until we're good and ready."

"I loathe to see the day."