"Just how much do we tell them, exactly?" Clara asked as she and the Doctor made their way towards the block where her old apartment, now her gran's, was, Clara having forbid him to park the TARDIS anywhere near the place and particularly, especially threatened him with premature regeneration by slap should he do as much as consider parking inside the flat.

"What do you mean, how much?"

He frowned, stroking her hand in his, their minds reassuringly drifting into each other in gentle waves, their confines blurred or erased entirely but not as deeply bonded as when he and Clara were alone together.

"We have to tell them about the baby and about you but, uhm, we could, you know, gloss over all the lying and time-travelling and- evil schemes and-"

"Why would you skip all the good bits?" he asked, confused.

Clara sighed, her defeated-and-exasperated sigh.

"Because my Dad is- it's a lot to take in for- right. Right. Okay. We tell them everything." She turned towards him as they kept walking, biting her lower lip nervously. "Almost. No evil schemes, okay?"

"No evil schemes."

"And not one word about risking our lives for fun."

"But-"

Clara glared at him as she rang the doorbell. "Not one word."

"Clara?" asked a voice through the doorbell phone.

"Yes, it's me!" The door opened and they got inside. "And- my Dad," Clara said to the Doctor, "You have to call him Mister Oswald, okay?"

"I thought his name was Dave?" he asked as they climbed the stairs. "Can't I just call him Dave?

"His name's David, and you're most definitely not calling him Dave."

"But-"

"And let me do all the talking."

"I am the one who does the talking!"

They reached the door to Clara's grandmother's flat.

"Shhh!"

Clara shushed him just in time, because in that moment the door opened to reveal Clara's father, grandmother and stepmother.

A long minute of awkward silence followed as Clara's family took in the sight of the two of them. David Oswald was staring in the Doctor's direction with a kind of surprised expression that tended dangerously towards shocked. Linda seemed to share her husband's astonishment, to the point that the Doctor turned worriedly to look behind himself to check if there was a Silurian in a clown suit behind his back or something. There wasn't. Clara's tension cut sharp like a knife in his thoughts. He felt her exhale a heavy breath.

"So. Hello. Uhm… here he is!" she exclaimed, putting on a forced smile. "This is the Doctor." Her dad's expression became even more stunned, as though he had needed formal confirmation that this was actually the man her daughter was dating to believe it was true. "You… uhm… sort of know each other already."

Clara's grip in the Doctor's hand tightened considerably as her family's silence went on for a few more seconds.

"Well," Clara's grandmother said, interrupting the silence, grinning brightly at the Doctor, "aren't you the most handsome young man!"

That gave a nice stroke to his ego, like only Clara's rare compliments could do, and he couldn't help but grin back at the woman. He glanced at Linda and David to see if they still seemed hostile: Linda was looking disapprovingly at him and Clara alternatively while her husband was staring at his daughter, looking worried.

"Come- Come inside, Clara. I guess- it seems we have a lot to talk about."

Clara's family stepped aside to let her and the Doctor in. Clara nodded at her dad and the Doctor clutched her hand tighter in reassurance as he headed towards the kitchen, easily remembering where it was, closely followed by Linda and Clara's gran, but he was stopped in his tracks by Clara's hand leaving his.

Clara's father pulled her close by her wrist, and whispered in her ear something low enough to be inaudible for any human except Clara. The Doctor overheard it all effortlessly.

"Clara… what do you mean 'this is the Doctor'? He's a completely different man and… well, he looks like he could be twice you age! And, God, Clara. Are you…? I mean… the bump…"

"I can explain everything," Clara hissed back, a hint of panic in her voice. "I promise. And- he is… uhm… not twice my age."

Clara freed herself from her dad's gentle grip and turned to the Doctor. He beamed at her automatically: he was twice no-one's age, and he was glad they had cleared that. Clara smiled back tentatively and grabbed his hand again.

They were still holding hands when everyone awkwardly sat down on the table, the starters already served and ready to be eaten. The Doctor enthusiastically reached for a very inviting thingy that looked like it had yoghurt in it. Clara smacked his hand away.

'What are you doing?' she mouthed, shooting him a dirty look.

'Eating!' he mouthed back. He retracted his hand, massaging it with the other.

Clara shook her head, but there was a little smile on her face, which the Doctor counted as a small victory.

"Clara," her gran interrupted, "let the poor thing eat, that's what food is for. He looks like you've been keeping him on diet, he's all bones!" She took his plate and filled it with something from every starter. "Please, be my guest, Doctor."

The Doctor accepted his now full plate with a grin and everyone else started picking at the food too. Clara was mostly pretending to eat, tormenting her food with the fork but hardly ever really bringing it to her mouth. Linda was alternating forkfuls of salad with long glares at them both. David ate small bites with little enthusiasm, looking at Clara in such a worried and pained fashion it seemed like he thought she had contracted some lethal illness. Only Clara's gran appeared to be entirely unaffected by the collective embarrassed silence.

"So…" David started, "uhm…how did you two meet?"

Clara and the Doctor looked at each other briefly before trying to give an acceptable answer.

"Well…"

"Actually…"

"She was dead and-"

"He knocked on my door dressed as a monk- wait, what?"

"Well, you were dead. But I found you again."

"I said don't mention the dying!"

"You said don't mention the risking your life, not the dying! And do we really have to bring up the monk thing now? Bit embarrassing, that."

"Clara," David said, confused. "Clara, what's going on? What are you talking about?"

"Dave, let the kids explain," Clara's grandmother said, smiling encouragingly at them.

"But, Mum…"

The Doctor and Clara glanced at each other again. Clara seemed to have lost the capacity to speak. The Doctor wondered if, after all the lies she had gotten used to tell, she wasn't capable of telling the whole, naked truth anymore. He placed his hand over hers on the table.

"She's my companion," he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, we've understood that much," Linda said with a scoff.

"No, we- we travel together," Clara cleared. "…we travel in Time."

"And Space," he added.

"What does that mean, Clara? What are you talking about?" David asked, only looking more confused.

"Dad, look… I know it's hard to believe but it's true. That's what we do. We've been doing it for years. We travel together and… we save people. And… have fun."

Clara smiled on the last words, glancing at the Doctor. He smiled back.

"How do you expect us to believe this?" her dad argued. "How can all of this be possible? Time travel?"

Clara sighed. "The Doctor's an alien." All of her little family gasped in surprise. "His race is much more advanced and… his spaceship, the TARDIS, it can travel though Time and Space."

"Clara, but- that's incredible!" David exclaimed. "Are you really an alien?"

"Well, you are the aliens to me. But yes, I'm from a different planet. Very far from Earth, and so much older than your Sun itself."

"Dear God," David murmured.

"Oh, Clara, look who you got!" Clara's gran said happily. "A time traveller! Much better than any of those spineless posh little boys on Linda's list!"

She giggled, and the Doctor found himself chuckling too. Clara was smiling and even her dad's lips were slightly curved.

"Enough of this nonsense!" Linda exclaimed. "Is anyone going to mention the fact that she's dating someone twice her age? And that she's obviously pregnant? You must be at least five months along! How could you think you could hide it? It's huge!"

The Doctor got up so rapidly the table creaked under his palms as he pulled himself standing. He wasn't going to allow one more word against Clara.

"How dare you-"

"Shut up, Doctor," Clara interrupted. "I can speak for myself." Only then did he realize that she was now standing too, and glowering at Linda. "How dare you, how dare you judge me, when you've married my father only out of interest, and taking advantage of his grief for my mother's death? You know nothing about me. You've never wanted to know anything about me. You've never been a mother to me, ever, you've simply sat on your bloody high horse to judge every step I took! Well, bad news, it's time to get off, Linda, and stop trying to control my bloody life!"

The Doctor's heart swelled with pride. Of course Clara didn't need him to defend her, even if he felt automatically compelled to do so. Linda's expression was priceless, mouth open and eyes wide, of utter dismay and horror, as though she had never realized before that Clara was her own person, fully able to speak for herself and decide for herself. Clara's father seemed a little distressed too, but he didn't say a word. Clara's gran had her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"And for your information," Clara continued, raising her voice even more, "the Doctor is not twice my age. He's well over two thousand years old. The child I'm carrying is his, yes, ours, and I'm not trying to hide it from anyone. I came here to tell my dad and my gran that they can be part of my new family if they want, but don't you worry Linda, you are not welcome. Stay away from me and from my child. Stay a long way away."

Clara's face was reddened and tears were rolling down her cheeks, as it always happened when she was angry, but Linda was the one truly distraught, who looked at Clara with silent rage for a moment longer before getting up abruptly.

"Linda, what are you doing?!" David asked, alarmed.

"Home, I'm going home!" she shouted dramatically as she marched towards the entrance and grabbed her coat. "And I will deal with you later, David, don't think I'll let you get away with this one!"

With that, she got out, slamming the door behind her as she went.

"But- Linda!" Clara's dad exclaimed, getting up himself.

"Sit down, Dave," his mother said, grabbing her son by the shoulder of his fleece to pull him down to sit. 'Good riddance,' she mouthed at the Doctor and Clara.

"Everyone keep eating," Clara half-ordered, wiping her tears with her sleeve as she sat back down.

She refilled her plate with most of what was left of the starters, keeping her head down, avoiding everyone's gaze. The Doctor tentatively stretched out his head to touch her shoulder, but she slapped his hand away. He grandmother got up and leaned forward towards her to lift her chin.

"Clara, sweetheart, why don't you come in the kitchen with me and help me with the roast, hmm?" She smiled reassuringly at her granddaughter.

Clara remained silent for a long moment, then she gave a rapid glance at the Doctor.

"I'll be back in a moment," she told him, releasing a shuddering breath.

He didn't want to be left alone with her boring, pudding-brained father, and she probably knew it.

"I know."

Her hand touched his and squeezed it tight.

'Behave with Dad, okay?'

'Why wouldn't I?'

Clara shook her head, smiling a little.

'Behave.'

She got up from her chair and followed her grandmother into the kitchen.

The Doctor switched his empty plate with Clara's full one and started to empty that too.

"So." David Oswald started. "Are you really two thousand years old?"

He seemed genuinely curious. The Doctor smiled.

"I think I've lost count a couple of times. Clara says I must be at least twenty-three centuries old, but I'm sure I can't be over twenty-five."

"Jesus. That's… a lot to take in." He made a pause. "What are you doing with my daughter, a man of your age?"

The Doctor frowned, confused. "What does my age have to do with Clara?"

"What does- well, people will talk!"

The Doctor only grew more puzzled. "Well, yes, humans tend to do it all the time."

"I mean- I mean about the fact Clara's dating someone twi- a lot of times her age."

"Oooh. Right." Now he understood the problem. Clara had explained him at least once that she thought he looked older than her to humans, and that their relationship might seem inappropriate to some people. "I assure you, Mister Oswald, my age does not affect my love for your daughter."

David pursed his lips. "You love her, then? 'Cause if you're giving her a child then I want you to have serious intentions and-"

The Doctor smiled. Clara's father was an idiot, but a well-meaning one at least.

"I'm in love with your daughter," he interrupted. "I love Clara more than even she can comprehend."

~oOo~

Clara followed her gran into the kitchen, in slight apprehension at the idea of leaving the Doctor alone with her dad. Her gran checked on the roast in the oven for a moment.

"Needs ten more minutes." She then turned to face Clara, smiling knowingly. "What are you waiting for, sweetheart? Lift that dress and let me see my future grand-grandchild!"

Clara smiled somewhat hesitantly, and lifted her dress as requested.

"How did it happen?" her gran asked. "Didn't know you were planning on having a little one around just yet."

"Uhm… it happened."

Clara didn't know what else to say. After Doctor Zhabehasetrul had told her how long she had been pregnant, Clara had done a lot of thinking and she had gone back to that afternoon, that day in January. She remembered the morning spent in London between this and that and then… nothing much. Thinking of Danny. Coming home. Feeling too hot. The Doctor's lips on hers and his body against hers. Waking up in his arms, on the sofa, God knows how many hours later, late at night.

"Do you want this baby? Does the Doctor want it?" her gran asked as she sat on a chair to be on level with Clara's bump.

"Yeah, yeah. We talked about it and-"

"Good, good. That's the only thing that matters, you know?"

"Do you think it's really that huge?" Clara asked anxiously as her gran's warm fingers touched her bump, Linda's harsh words still ringing in her ears.

"Don't be absurd, my child. Of course it's not. Don't listen to that old cow. Five months! Ha! No one's ever even let her close to a baby or a pregnant woman for fear she might turn them into toads! How many weeks along are you?"

Her gran caressed her belly delicately, studying the shape it had taken.

"Fifteen."

"Pfft! Your mum was way bigger at this point, and she was taller than you are."

"Too small, then? Should I be worried?"

"Of course not, Clara," her grandmother said gently. "Did you see a doctor?" She looked up at her granddaughter and Clara nodded. "What did the doctor say?"

Clara sighed. "That I've got nothing to worry about."

"See? The doctor knows best, for sure." She let Clara let go of her dress and got up from the chair. She touched her nose eloquently. "It's going to be a girl," she sentenced.

"What? How can you tell?"

"The shape of the bump, obviously! What do they even teach you at school these days, hmm? She's a girl, trust me, sweetheart."

Clara smiled condescendingly. Her gran was the smartest person she knew, except probably the Doctor, but she was a bit bonkers at times.

"The doctor said she couldn't tell yet, Gran."

"Oh, these young doctors! All technology and computers and no eyes! We'll see, my child. I bet you a tenner that it's a girl."

"Gran, I'm not making a bet with you. You don't have the money and you always win somehow."

Clara laughed and her gran giggled. The timer of the oven rang.

"All the more reasons why I should bet, my child! Now, let's feed this roast to our boys, shall we?"

Clara nodded with a smile, and they took the roast out of the oven. Somehow, talking to her gran had always had the power to calm her, even more than the thing the Doctor was able to do with his mind. She wondered why she had waited so long to search her gran's advice.

The rest of the lunch didn't go too bad. Surely much better than the first half of it.

She and the Doctor quickly exchanged memories of the minutes spent apart before everyone started to take their portion of the roast.

'A girl, then?'

'So Gran says. More than I can comprehend, huh?'

Her dad enjoyed explaining all his alien conspiracy theories to the Doctor, who would be delighted to listen and even more delighted to dismantle each theory sentence by sentence, explain why and how they were absolutely wrong, much to her father's disappointment. Her gran started to tell jokes then, and sort of saved her dad's morale. Clara and her dad had already heard most of the jokes, but the Doctor hadn't and he kept asking for more and laughing wholeheartedly, that laughter Clara loved, showing his all of his teeth, throwing his head back, nearly falling off his chair. Her dad was just so much better when Linda wasn't around, he was his own person and not what the woman dictated him to be, to do and to say.

"So, Doctor," her dad asked as he eventually accompanied them to the door, after the meal. "I hope to hear you will marry Clara soon. Make an honest woman of her."

If the Doctor had needed to breathe like a human, he would have choked on his breath on the spot. Fortunately, he didn't, even though he still pretended to be suffocating in a fit of cough.

"We don't need that, Dad," she said, chuckling at the Doctor's scene.

"But- what will you be to each other? Think of the baby-"

"We're best friends," she interrupted. "And partners."

"I'm her carer." "I'm his carer."

The Doctor and Clara exchanged a grin when they realized they had spoken in unison.

"We are what we are, Dad. There's no need to label it. I don't want to label it."

What she and the Doctor had was special. Different, unique. Clara felt that trying to frame it with labels wouldn't make sense, wouldn't be right. They had something so huge and important, such a depth of feel for each other that it could not -and should not- be caged, because it would mean belittling it.

"I'm sorry, Clara. It's just that I want the very best for you."

"I am the very best!" the Doctor exclaimed, offended. Clara laughed. "What? Aren't I?"

"Of course you are," she said, still smiling and laughing, and kissed the tip of his nose.

She loved the little confused look that appeared on his face when she did that, his eyes widening and his eyebrows coming together in a quite adorable frown, and the way he kept staring at her for minutes afterwards, as though she were the most incomprehensible and irresistible thing in the universe.

"Clara, I-" her father started, "I'm sorry about Linda's behaviour, I- I do want to be a part of this." He gestured vaguely at her and the Doctor. "Of your life. Of your child's life."

Clara gave him a half smile, a bit surprised, a bit happy, mostly unsure of what to say. "I- Thank you."

"There are so many other thing I should probably apologize for-"

"Dad-"

"Let the kids go home, Dave," her gran interrupted. "Clara's got a child inside her and a man to take care of. She has much better things to do than listen to your belated apologies. I'm sure that everything you want to say, she already knows."

Clara nodded, suddenly wondering both how she could have doubted that her father really cared about her and when he had become so straightforward about it. He had never been a man of clear words and quick decisions.

The Doctor and Clara said their goodbyes and in a minute they were out of the flat and out of the building.

Clara stood on her tiptoes and pulled him down for a long kiss, feeling his surprise in her mind and the sweet taste of food still in his mouth as he kissed her back, his arms wrapping around her loosely for fear of holding her too close and squishing her bump too much.

"What was that for?" he asked, the beginning of a blush blooming on his cheeks. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Because you've been amazing. You're amazing. I don't know what you did to my dad, if you sonicked him smart or-" She shook her head, smiling. "Thank you."

"Not discussing that I am amazing, but I think you did it all on your own, Clara."

He smiled sweetly at her and Clara grinned back at him. "I did, didn't I?"

"Yes. I think you're pretty amazing too, Clara Oswald."

He smiled charmingly and Clara tousled his hair in response, feeling him lean into her touch.

"I should be thanking myself, then."

"Yeah, you should do that," he said lightly with a grin. "But there's still something you might want to thank me for."

"And what would that be?"

He opened the TARDIS doors with a snap of his fingers and winked at her. He knew so well how she loved it when he was such a show-off. "It's a surprise."

~oOo~

Clara couldn't believe her eyes when the Doctor invited her to step out of the TARDIS first. They had landed in her house, her living room, but nothing was how she had left it. Dozens of blue and red balloons floated around the room. Colourful decorations were scattered on the furniture, golden bows and little silver paper stars catching the light of the ceiling lamp that had somehow become multi-coloured like a disco ball light. A huge cake with chocolate topping was on the table. On the biggest window, together with bright Christmas lights, was hung a huge banner written in the Doctor's handwriting that read: "HAPPY 28th BIRTHDAY CLARA OSWALD". Clara forgot how to breathe.

The Doctor exited the TARDIS and embraced her from behind.

"Don't tell me you're speechless? 'Cause I've never thought I'd achieve that," he said with a chuckle as he rested his chin on top of her head.

"What- How-" Clara stammered, still trying to remembered how to form words. "When did you do all this? Why?"

"Well, because I'd missed your birthday. And, this morning, while you were in the bathroom."

His I'm-so-clever-and-I-know-it smirk was practically audible in his words.

"You mean-"

"We're in the past, yes." The Doctor spun her around slowly, carefully, so she could face him. "Now," he continued, "we have about 45 minutes before past me starts to clean this whole thing up and past you gets out of the shower, so I propose we start eating that cake, what do you say?"

His eyes and smile were brighter than the stars themselves, the anguish that always seemed to constantly envelope him these days gone for the moment, drowned in that special bond they had of something greater than love. Never defeated, perhaps, only pushed back to a corner of his mind, but Clara still counted it as a triumph.

"I can't. Pregnant, remember?"

"Of course I remember, Clara. I am eating the cake," he said. "But you can blow the candles," he added, as though convinced that that was the biggest honour and the best part of eating a cake.

Clara laughed.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" she asked, not without tears starting to roll down her cheeks, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Mmh." As he very rarely did, reliant as he was on her for everything feelings-related, he took the initiative and pressed a chaste but lingering kiss to her lips, gentler than the caresses he reserved for her and sweeter than his improbable coffees. Then, he took out of his pocket a present that wouldn't have fit even in a pocket four times the size of his. "Happy birthday, Clara Oswald."

Clara ran her hands over the red-velvet wrapping, feeling the shape of what was underneath. A book. Definitely a book. Big and squared rather than rectangular, much like her mother's old book '101 places to see' had been, but much heavier. She unwrapped it with one quick move.

"1.001 places to see," the title read.

Clara smiled without even realizing it. The book was beautiful. Perfect. So very clearly hand-made by the Doctor, night blue and TARDIS blue and green and red, his and her favourite colours, written in his handwriting with indelible ink.

'You like it?' he asked, as though surprised that she did.

'Understatement.'

"Since you had filled up the other," the Doctor explained.

It had happened way before their separation after Danny's death. She had started writing their adventures on pieces of paper and post-its since then. She wrote everything down, because she never ever wanted to forget one line of it.

"Only 1.001?" she teased. "I will fill this quickly too."

'Oh, Clara.' He pressed her face against his chest and kissed the top of her head, holding her closer, with a new need. "I'll give you another." 'And another. And ten more. And one hundred more for our child. And nothing will separate us ever again.'

"Doctor…" she started gently.

Even though she hated reminding him of their inevitable separation, he would be much readier when the day eventually would come if he stopped denying it ever would. She didn't know if it would hurt less, but perhaps it would be at least easier to accept then if he started to accept it now.

'Don't.'

He needed this, she realized. Needed the illusion that everything would be okay, because even though he tried to hide it from her she knew how the thought of something happening to her or their baby haunted him and tormented him and hardly ever relented its grip on his very soul.

"Help me blow the candles," she proposed.

A little bit of his smile returned, and he nodded.

The Doctor took a chair and Clara sat on his lap, taking his arms and placing them around her, leaning back against his chest and encouraging him to rest his chin on her shoulder. They almost set on fire the flower she kept on the table as they blew her twenty-eight candles together. There was so much smoke in the room that the fire alarm beeped somewhat menacingly and for several long moments neither of them dared to breathe as they waited to see if they were going to get showered by the thingies on the ceiling.

They didn't. After a minute of silently exchanged looks, they started giggling like two middle-schoolers and only managed to stop because the Doctor knew he had little time left to eat the cake and he wasn't going to waste it. The sadness of the moments before blew away with the smoke. Clara alternated laughing at the hurry with which he tried to make the cake disappear in his mouth with licking the chocolate topping of his fingers, which only caused him to giggle again because it apparently made him ticklish -which he categorically denied was possible- and had little pieces of cake land everywhere. They exchanged sloppy kisses that plastered chocolate and cake all over their faces, laughing against each other's lips, and Clara wondered how could there have been a time when they hadn't allowed themselves to have this.