Dave entered their flat first with her suitcase held tightly in his hands, listening to them exchanging giggles and whispers behind him and he took a long breath, settling it down just inside the living room before turning to make his way back to the door in time to see the Doctor launching Clara off the ground and into his arms with a shared laugh. "For God's sake," he muttered. "You're gonna knock her against the coat rack!"

But the Doctor moved over the threshold and carefully carried her into the living room where he lowered her onto the couch with a long kiss that made the man beside them groan. "Sorry, dad," Clara muttered through an embarrassed chuckle and she watched him shake his head and wave a hand, tossing her an amused look to let her know he wasn't upset before he headed back to the car to retrieve the last of her belongings while the Doctor stepped back to the hall for two other bags they'd settled there.

"Home," she breathed as he set them down next to the first and the Doctor watched her lay back against the couch, feeling his heartbeats relax at the familiar sight in front of him. She used to come home from school and tell him she needed a few minutes to detox from the insanity of her students as he finished cooking their dinner and she'd splay her arms out at either side, stretching her back and closing her eyes. And there would always be that smile just before she pushed off to rush across the hall to see what he'd made.

He sat next to her and brushed a hand over her cheek, thumb drifting over her ear softly as she turned to smile up at him and he could see the relief in her eyes. The knowledge that the first portion of her recovery – the physical portion – was complete and now came the recovery of her life. The memories she hoped to bring back and the job she wanted to learn more about and their travelling. They smiled together because somewhere they'd started making a list. He supposed it was tucked into an old book they were both familiar with.

"Do you want to go lie down a while? Your father and I could work on dinner?" The Doctor offered quietly as she sighed again, watching him.

"Have I told you how wonderful you are?" Clara asked, eyes narrowed as he bent forward to peck at her lips lightly.

Standing, he pointed, "You're wonderful; I'm merely responding in kind."

She laughed easily and the sound filled him with satisfaction as he walked towards the kitchen to rummage through the fridge and then the cabinets, grinning as she shouted, "Are there fish fingers?"

Rounding the corner, hand gripped to the entranceway, he smiled eagerly and added, "It wouldn't be our home without fish fingers and custard."

Dave entered lugging Clara's collapsed wheelchair and he glanced around as he uttered, "I'm not eating fish fingers and custard – just the words are enough to turn my stomach."

"Doctor," Clara called on a laugh, "Make dad some chips."

"Fresh out," he shouted back.

"Sorry dad, just fish fingers for you," she teased

Laughing lightly, Dave settled her chair next to the couch and frowned at it, admitting, "There's really not room for you to get around in this."

The Doctor stepped back into the living room and looked from Clara to her wheelchair to Dave before he planted his hands at his waist and offered, "Suppose there's only one thing left to do then."

Dave pointed and barked, "You're not moving onto the Tardis!"

"No, Dave," the Doctor laughed, raising a hand to clap to his shoulder before nodding to Clara, "We're going to need a house; one that's more accommodating to Clara's needs."

Her lips rose instantly as she mouthed, "A house?"

The Doctor smirked as she stood and took the few small steps to him to lift her arms around his neck to hold him tightly as he kissed her temple and he could feel Dave rub a hand at his back before the man picked up one of Clara's bags to take to their bedroom. "A proper home, Clara," the Doctor whispered as she slipped back and grinned up at him.

"Had we talked about getting a house before?" She questioned.

Nodding, he scratched at his head, laughing nervously to admit, "You wanted a few bedrooms; we'd started looking, but things were fairly busy – you were preoccupied with other things."

Her smile widened and her eyes rounded the room before she gave her hips a slightly twist and nodded to tell him, "Four bedrooms, two and a half baths maybe? I'd love a large home."

"Some place between UNIT and the school," he added.

"Perfect," she breathed.

"Four bedrooms?" He questioned, with a laugh as his hands dropped to her waist and for a moment he looked her over with the cold snap of panic rolling through his body before she shrugged.

Clara watched the way his breathing had quickened as his eyes shifted away from hers and she opened her mouth to reply, but Dave stepped back into the room with a clap of his hands as he asked, "So dinner, yeah? We were gonna work on that, Doctor, while she settled in?"

Laughing, the Doctor nodded to Dave and then towards the bedroom as he looked back to Clara, "Go on, get yourself in order."

She slowly walked away, passing another curious glance back at him before she made her way down the hall and into the bedroom where she focused on opening each drawer to examine their contents. Most were bare, her father and husband having brought her clothes and undergarments for her to wear while they'd been away from this home, so she set herself to unpacking.

Clara hummed lightly as she filled each drawer and she smiled when she found a set of his jammies, placing hers beside them to admire them together; the red frilly lace and satin folded neatly next to his cartoon characters. She drifted to her closet, pulling back the wooden accordion doors and stepping inside to take a stack of hangers back to her bed to begin sorting her dresses, smoothing their fabric atop her comforter before lifting them to smile at them and then carry them back to the closet. She hadn't realized her father was standing in the doorway, watching her, and when she emerged, thinking to go check on the men who'd been too quiet in the other room, she smiled as she caught him leaned against the frame with his arms crossed, a calm smirk on his lips.

"I'm gonna miss you at home, sweetie," he told her honestly on a sigh.

She reached for him, falling into his embrace and telling him as she laid her head at his shoulder, "I promise we'll visit, dad. He told me we hadn't made a good habit of it before, but we will change that."

Clara could feel him nodding, and then he spoke quietly, "If you need anything – anything Clara – I'm one phone call away."

Pulling back, she laughed, seeing his reddened eyes and she lifted a knuckle to swipe at his cheeks as his tears rolled over them and she nodded, "I know, dad. You're always a call away."

With a firm nod, he stated, "Always."

An hour later Clara was closing the door behind her father, turning back to find the Doctor settling himself into the couch with a sigh and a rub of his palm over his face. For a moment she watched him, arms crossing as she leaned into the wall, taking the weight off her right leg and then he opened his eyes and smiled up at her, beckoning her over with a small nod of his head. Clara went to him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck and they laughed together quietly because they were finally home.

The thought still made her stomach tingle anxiously because while she held deep unexplainable feelings for the man holding her steady, she only had a few months worth of memories with him. "Would you rather I slept on the couch for a while," he asked her, voice barely audible, exhausted from the day's packing and moving – because he insisted on taking care of it all for her.

The Doctor had washed her clothes and folded them up and packed them away. He'd searched out everything he'd brought to her father's place from theirs and now he knew he'd have to enter that room to find where she'd decided it would all go and hope she'd put it all back the same… or he'd have a helluva time finding his pants. He looked over her face, the calm smile settled there as she shook her head and leaned forward to kiss him lightly, fingers of her right hand smoothing the skin at the back of his neck as her left arm clung to his back.

"I want you next to me," she whispered into him.

He nodded against her forehead and sighed, "It's alright, if you want to move slowly back into…"

But Clara interrupted, "I want you next to me."

He chuckled, but it was cut short, her lips meeting his delicately until she shifted into him, taking a breath and smiling against him before backing away and he breathed, "I suppose you want me next to you right now."

"The thought had crossed my mind," she teased and she watched his eyebrows rise along with the corners of his mouth and before she could say another word, he stood with her in his arms, rushing through the hall and dropping her onto the bed to pounce atop her while she laughed. Clara raised a finger, removing the prosthetic to settle safely on the nightstand before she fell back against the bed with a giggle.

Pressing his knuckles into the comforter at her sides, he dove for her, sighing as she clutched at his shirt, tugging him to lay on her and he stretched his arms, hands drifting over her sides and tucking themselves under her shoulders and into her hair. She opened herself to him and moaned while he thrust himself against her and the Doctor felt his head spinning as they worked each other out of their clothes, Clara encouraging him past the doubts in his mind – the small voice that told him to stop – with desperate grasps at his skin, little calls of his name, tender rubs of the heel of her left foot over his backside.

He nibbled her earlobe and sucked his way over her neck and then laid his forehead against her shoulder as they rocked together until they were both spent, curled up in each other's arms. He considered just how different it had been from the night in her bedroom just a few days before, how much more comfortable she seemed – how much more natural it felt – and he knew it was their home. At her father's place, he had the reminder, fresh in his mind, that she was twenty one in her head; she still had memories to find. At her father's place she had the same notion constantly picking away at her; that she was incomplete… flawed.

Here they were at home and they could easily forget.

Here she was just Clara and they were just making love as they often did after a long day, or if she woke too early in the morning, or in the middle of an afternoon for no reason at all. Here, he thought as he stroked a hand over her hair and felt her shift against him, bringing her knees over his thigh to rest them there as she'd always done before; here she was free in a way he knew she could never feel in her father's home. And as she reached up for his face, bringing it down to kiss casually as he curled his body around hers, ready to make love to her a second time just as they laid, he understood that what she wanted – what she'd been wanting from the start – was going headlong into her life as it was and she'd finally gotten her wish.

The Doctor slowly slid into her and he inched back to watch her eyes close as she released a small moan of pleasure and when she finally took a breath and opened her eyes, it was with a smirk of appreciation, shifting her body and slipping her right knee over his hip. She trusted the memories they'd made; Clara trusted him completely off just their new memories and as he curled a hand over her stomach to hold her steady while he carefully began to work himself into her, kissing her against the groans he was eliciting, he couldn't help but feel he was betraying her.

Still keeping one delicate secret from her.

He abruptly pulled away as he came and she let out a surprised shout, pushing herself to sit up carefully and look down at the mess he'd left on the comforter before looking up at him as he muttered, "I'm sorry."

"What was that about?" Clara shouted in confusion.

"I'll wash the sheets," he told her with a shake of his head, standing and gesturing at her to get up before beginning to tug the comforter off the bed.

Clara reached out for her crutch, moving to stand, but she asked forcefully, "Doctor, what was that about? What happened?"

He stood at the edge of the bed with his head bowed and the sheets bunched in both hands and he admitted, "I don't want you to get pregnant, not straight off – I was hoping you'd have your memories before we started trying to have a family again."

She released a huff, fingers of her left hand grazing over her belly before she pointed out, "It's not like a sport; you can't pull out on the third go." Then she shrugged and told him, "Besides, I got put on birth control at the hospital – the odds of pregn…"

"I'm sorry," he interrupted, reaching up to scratch at his bangs and then he moved with the comforter into the hallway before coming back in, "I need pants, trousers," Clara opened a drawer at her left and she tugged out a set of jammies and tossed them at his waiting hands. "Clara, I'm sorry," he muttered for a third time before disappearing and Clara heard the front door open and close a moment later.

She touched her stomach and bit her lip, looking to the bed sadly, realizing being at her father's had brought with it a set of complexities, but being here might be no different. Dropping back onto the bed, she threw her crutch against the closet doors and watched it clatter to the ground before she wrapped her arms around herself and then turned and fell into the sheets, rolling herself up in them and settling herself into his pillow to sleep.