"All right?" the Doctor asked, one arm wrapped around Clara's waist to hold her steady on her feet.
She nodded. "Artie!" she yelled, disregarding the fact that she was more or less yelling right in the Doctor's ear.
The Doctor turned his attention to the contents of the jar in his hand. "Oh, lovely!"
"Not in my kitchen cupboard it isn't," Clara ground out. "Artie! In here right now!"
"Looks like a species of Cicindela."
"I don't care what it is, it doesn't belong in my…Artie!" Clara yelled again, even as the culprit slunk into the kitchen.
"Oops. I guess I forgot that one."
"Artie -" Clara began.
"Let me," the Doctor murmured. He crouched down to Artie's eye level. "Artie, are you very sure that this is the last one?"
The child nodded earnestly.
The Doctor leaned forward and laid a friendly hand on Artie's shoulder. "I know how fascinating these are, but they really don't belong in Clara's kitchen, do they?"
Artie shook his head.
"You're very lucky to have someone as special as Clara to look after you. I think you should apologize for upsetting her, don't you?"
Artie nodded, then stepped over to Clara. "I'm sorry," he said contritely.
"All right," Clara said, pulling him into a hug. "Just don't do it again, OK?" She bent down to kiss the top of his head. "Now take those out to the garden shed. All of them, this time."
"Oh, a garden shed! Perfect place for an insect laboratory!" the Doctor enthused. "Off you pop, Artie. I'll be along in a moment to see what you've got."
"Really?" Artie asked gleefully.
"Really really." That fellow he used to be, with the big ears and leather jacket, would have been thoroughly disgusted by such a display of domesticity, but then again, he was the one who insisted that 'right here, right now,' was all that mattered, and right here, right now, that soft, grateful smile on Clara's face was all that mattered to him.
"You're very good with him."
"He's a great little chap. Little boys like bugs, and they like pranks. And Artie likes you. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm."
"I know. It's just that sometimes, the two of them can be quite a handful."
He touched her cheek fondly. "And you manage splendidly."
"Except for when I find jars of bugs in my kitchen cupboards."
"Quite understandable. Now, judging from the lack on dinner on the table and car in the driveway, I'm guessing that you're not quite ready to go yet."
"Not quite," Clara apologized.
"I'll tell you what…I'll go and help Artie with his bugs, you finish what you're doing here, and as soon as Mr. Maitland gets home, we're on our way. How's that sound?"
"Perfect. Just perfect."