A/N: Nothing new, just reposted :P Thanks to everyone who reviewed on it before though, you're all lovely :D


How the bloomin' heck does he fly this thing on his own!? It's near impossible! I mean, yeah fair enough he's got long arms to stretch around, and those bandy legs of his probably have suspension like a friggin' monster truck – but Christ! It makes me wonder about all those times we were soaring through space if he actually had any idea what he was bashing with that hammer of his. Mum told me once or twice that he'd bashed the wrong thing and once he had even managed to land the TARDIS upside down, but that's my dad for you. Bloomin' reckless.

Just like his son.

Okay, so I'm not really supposed to be flying the TARDIS at all. After that one time I'd tried to borrow it to go back a week or so to tell myself the winning lottery numbers I was subsequently banned from ever entering its dented blue doors. Mum wondered why I was so keen to do such a thing, taking that granddad was already loaded but… hell, why not? He would be fun. And like my dad always says, 'I'm only human'.

Only I'm not. Not quite anyway.

Oh bugger, I can smell something burning now. It's moments like these I wish I would just listen to the people around me. After all, they know a hell of a lot more than I do about the subject of time travel. If something is out of bounds, it's usually out of bounds for a reason right? But surely they would both know that the words 'out of bounds' is more appealing to a sixteen year old boy than Natalie Portman smeared in honey.

Well, maybe not that appealing.

Anyway, something's burning and I have no idea where the bloody fire extinguisher is. Dad just makes this look so easy! He knows where everything is! I thought it would be easy! Just something that Time People, or whatever the hell we're called, knows how to do straight away! Okay mum said it's hard… but she thinks sodding Pac-Man is hard!

I'm kind of hoping that my dad will do one of those infamous interventions of his and save my backside like the last time. The last time wasn't so much fun, and I guess you would think I would have learnt my lesson. I was this close to getting swallowed by a giant cricket thing. Wasn't really that nice. I'd only wanted to go back to 1966 and watch England win the world cup. It would have been wicked.

'Peter Irving Tyler! You are so grounded young man!'

Oh crap, and there he is. Glaring at me through that stupid screen of his. It's a recording, which means he totally expected this to happen, which makes you wonder why he doesn't lock the sodding TARDIS or anything. If he's going to leave it open, I'm going to get in aren't I?

'I bet you think you're so clever, don't you?' my dad snarls, waving an annoyed finger at the screen. 'Well that's the last straw. I've told you countless times not to take the TARDIS but you disobey me time and time again. I hope she's giving you one heck of a bad time.'

She is as well. I'm pretty sure she hates me. Oh fantastic, there's mum too.

'Peter!' God her voice is so shrill. 'I'm going to kill you when you get back! You're not going to football practice on Saturday!'

Aw man! 'But mum!'

'Don't but me!' She knows what I'm going to say. It's a bloody recording and she knows what I'm going to say. God I hate having parents who are time travellers. They know what I'm saying because I've already told them when I've got back. That's why they're so sodding angry. Well at least I know I don't die.

'Have you got the hammer?' my dad asked. 'Get the hammer and smash that keyboard-y bit.'

I do as he says, but reluctantly. I kind of don't want to go home now.

'Now go and pull that lever, and then bash that blue button with the black tape on it.'

I do that too. The TARDIS is already calming down. The burning smell is fading away a little. I can stand now, without being thrown from side to side like a rag doll. I lean against the console and check my brown hair to see if it's still right. It's all over the place. Bloody typical.

'And another thing,' my dad says angrily. 'You stop helping yourself to my hair gel. Bloomin' expensive that it.'

I roll my eyes. 'Whatever.'

'Don't whatever me, sunshine. Now get outside.'

The TARDIS has stopped now. I stand by the console for a minute, gritting my teeth. Then there's a thump on the doors.

'Peter!' my mum bellows. 'Get out here now!'

'You're in so much trouble mister!'

Oh crap, that's gran. Crazy Granny Tyler. Sod that, I'd rather risk myself in the TARDIS again. I snap back the lever, and grin as it begins to whir. My dad's face stares at me through the monitor, and instead of shouting, he grins.

'That's my boy.' He beams. 'Enjoy yourself.'

I snap back the lever again, and we're off.

A/N: I've grown quite partial to little Peter Irving Tyler, so I might do some more about him. Don't expect any Drose fluffiness though :P