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Dec. 19th, 2007 05:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Written for MJ's ROTM prompt thing as linked exactly one post down, posted here because I found I quite like this. :D
When the Doctor wandered into the kitchen sleepily, still in his jimjams, the last thing he expected was a proper banquet set out on the table, with all his selves gathered round. Of course, by ‘banquet’ he meant tea and scones, but there was a lot of it.
“What?” he asked loudly, because that always served him well in the past. His nearest self- his Fifth- glanced at him, halfway done buttering a piece of toast.
“Ah. Good of you to come.” Table conversation tilted to the effect of ‘Have you slept well?’, ‘Early to bed and early to rise, my boy’ and ‘Do you mind? You’re stepping on my scarf.’
“What?!” he repeated, in case they hadn’t heard him the first time, as he stared quite a bit at the woman at the table who was serenely chewing a blueberry scone.
“It’s no good staring at me,” she said. “I’m not about to leave just because I don’t happen to exist yet.”
This was mad. This was beyond mad. This was mad gone out and bought itself a tinfoil hat to keep the voices quiet. And what was worse, it was dangerous, what with the whole imminent collapse of their timelines from so many of him being here.
He took a seat. “Pass me those scones, would you?” Obligingly, his Third passed the platter. “So… what are you lot doing here?”
“I think you’ll find you’ve spilled some butter in the TARDIS,” his Second said.
“Careless!” his First interjected disapprovingly.
“Butter doesn’t suit the works,” elaborated his Seventh.
“I haven’t had butter near anything important for ages, I’m positive,” he said indignantly. “Well, mostly positive. 80, 40 percent positive. …It was the best butter.”
“Well, next time you feel hungry around the TARDIS, do us a favour and give us advance warning,” his Fifth requested.
“Am I really going to be that skinny?” his Ninth complained.
Wasn’t a bad way to have breakfast, really. All of himself to talk to, that was brilliant. Only… “Why’s there a dormouse in my tea?”
NOTE: Post now with 100% more sexy the Doctor = James Bond icon-ness.
When the Doctor wandered into the kitchen sleepily, still in his jimjams, the last thing he expected was a proper banquet set out on the table, with all his selves gathered round. Of course, by ‘banquet’ he meant tea and scones, but there was a lot of it.
“What?” he asked loudly, because that always served him well in the past. His nearest self- his Fifth- glanced at him, halfway done buttering a piece of toast.
“Ah. Good of you to come.” Table conversation tilted to the effect of ‘Have you slept well?’, ‘Early to bed and early to rise, my boy’ and ‘Do you mind? You’re stepping on my scarf.’
“What?!” he repeated, in case they hadn’t heard him the first time, as he stared quite a bit at the woman at the table who was serenely chewing a blueberry scone.
“It’s no good staring at me,” she said. “I’m not about to leave just because I don’t happen to exist yet.”
This was mad. This was beyond mad. This was mad gone out and bought itself a tinfoil hat to keep the voices quiet. And what was worse, it was dangerous, what with the whole imminent collapse of their timelines from so many of him being here.
He took a seat. “Pass me those scones, would you?” Obligingly, his Third passed the platter. “So… what are you lot doing here?”
“I think you’ll find you’ve spilled some butter in the TARDIS,” his Second said.
“Careless!” his First interjected disapprovingly.
“Butter doesn’t suit the works,” elaborated his Seventh.
“I haven’t had butter near anything important for ages, I’m positive,” he said indignantly. “Well, mostly positive. 80, 40 percent positive. …It was the best butter.”
“Well, next time you feel hungry around the TARDIS, do us a favour and give us advance warning,” his Fifth requested.
“Am I really going to be that skinny?” his Ninth complained.
Wasn’t a bad way to have breakfast, really. All of himself to talk to, that was brilliant. Only… “Why’s there a dormouse in my tea?”
NOTE: Post now with 100% more sexy the Doctor = James Bond icon-ness.