Chapter 1: The Boys

AN: This is, quite literally, a companion story to my crackfic, "The Prettiest Doctor Of Them All." (Shoutouts to Ponella and Addictedtofantasy for planting the brainseed! XD) As with most companion stories, you don't have to read that one to understand this one. As with most crackfics, if you're actually trying to understand at all... well, as they say on the internet, urdoinitrong. Example: Ignore everything I just said. If you have not read "The Prettiest Doctor," just skip the first part of this chapter because it will make NO sense. =P

Unlike that one I'm going to be writing this one in order, as I post it. Just for something new. So, suggestions welcome! Also, thanks and loves to my favorite fangirls, Naomi and Loppy!

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"And, what, you want to be the master of ceremonies, I'm guessing?" the girl in twin brown plaits and a Terrifying Pertwee t-shirt--the one designated as "Fangirl B"--was saying. Jack Harkness grimaced a little.

"Don't like 'Master.' Bad memories. How about 'captain of ceremonies'?" he offered.

"What about the omnipresent announcer Voice?" asked Fangirl C, the petite young woman standing next to the first and fingering a lock of cherry-red hair by her ear. "Isn't that her job?"

"Apparently got a dream gig dubbing eighties cult family films in Welsh," answered her friend. "Go figure."

"So whaddaya say, ladies?" Jack prompted. "Do we have a green light?"

"I dunnoooo," C wavered, but her smile was piquant. "What do you think, B? Sounds like the loverboy has plans for some speed dating to me."

The other snorted. "Or an orgy." Jack looked wounded.

"Ladies, please!" he objected. "Give me some credit. These are the Doctor's girls. I promise, the whole thing will be very classy, very tasteful."

"How is it possible," B groaned, "that that actually made me feel worse about the whole proposition?"

"Aw, let him," the older one put in, as she giggled and peered up at the ex-time agent through her eyelashes. He grinned back at her and winked.

"You would, too, C," the other grumbled. "What's your vote, A?" she added. The one she addressed, the youngest fangirl of the three, with short, brown hair and glasses, had been silently circling Jack and eyeing him disconcertingly. At the question, she stopped her pacing, and regarded the captain for a moment longer.

"One condition!" she squeaked, looking very excited. She pointed to an electrical socket in the wall of the control room they were standing in. "Lick that outlet!!"

"A!" the scarlet-haired fangirl reprimanded. "No killing immortal beefcakes for your own amusement!"

B rubbed her forehead. "Never mind her. You can do it, sure. Nothing too big, right?" Jack shook his head and waved his hands reasssuringly.

"No, no. Of course not. Just a few of the best and brightest, for some low-key, good-natured competition. So will you guys be staying to judge?"

"Will Tegan be there?!" asked A.

"And Grace?" put in B.

"What about Rose?" C demanded.

"Yep!" he answered cheerfully. "All three of them!"

The three young women seemed about to speak, when three familiar voices called from outside.

"Last TARDIS bound for Poosh, departing shortly. All aboard!" the Fifth Doctor was announcing merrily. Fangirl A perked up.

"Are you about ready?" the Eighth Doctor called in pleasantly. Fangirl B smiled simperingly toward the door.

"Time to move out," came the Tenth Doctor's voice. "Allons-y!" Fangirl C unconsciously licked her lips.

The friends exchanged a nervous look. For a moment, they silently weighed the value of meeting the admired companions against the risk of letting their recently-won Doctors encounter the girls' potential rivals. The decision was apparently an easy one.

"Gotta go!"

"Can't make it either. Have fun!"

"No orgies!"

"Don't worry!" he called after them as they ran out. "Classy and tasteful! Promise!" He grinned at the empty rooom as the air was filled with the sounds of three departing TARDISes. When silence resumed, Jack turned his grin toward a closed maintenance closet door. "All clear!"

The closet opened, and Mickey Smith emerged, already peeling off his janitorial coveralls in favor of the t-shirt and jeans underneath.

"Classy and tasteful," he smirked. "Right. So that means we're goin' to move the mud wrestling to the second stage, instead of the first?"

"Mickey!" Jack was the very picture of offended dignity. "Didn't you hear me? These are the Doctor's girls. Have some respect!"

"By which you mean you're not looking to get punched in that pretty mouth of yours by ten different Doctors."

"Pretty, huh? Always knew you'd come around," Jack teased. Mickey snorted.

"Not likely, mate. You get the key to the transporter beam thing?"

"Transmat," Jack corrected.

"Magical crossover machine is what I call it. You got the key or not?" Jack lifted up a Dalek keyring and jingled the prize attatched.

"Fangirl C slipped it to me halfway through."

"In-credible," Mickey marveled, rolling his eyes. "You really do have all the luck."

"That's not luck," Jack retorted, and tossed him the key. "That's a gift."

Mickey caught it and sat down at a control panel with a good-natured "Whatever." He stuck the key into a keyhole on the panel, and turned it; the console and some of the walls came to life with lights and hummed softly. It was quite an impressive sight, and made the Captain raise his eyebrows a little.

"And you know how to use this?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, cos I'm going to say I do and put us through all this trouble just so I can say I was lying," Mickey answered sarcastically. "I got the Doctors for the last one--if you got the numbers, you just punch them in, press the button, boom. Instant multi-era crackfic."

"That's awfully fourth wall of you."

"Yeah well, I'm staff. I get to do that. So we got 'captain' of ceremonies, that's you, and head judge, that's me." Mickey typed something in with a keypad, and the control panel bleeped. "Who else?"

"What better experts on the Doctor's girls than the Doctor's boys?" Jack twinkled. He whipped out a manila folder from an unknown place, and flipped it open. "First up: transmat code 12176662169--Jamie McCrimmon!"

Mickey's fingers flew over the keypad. There were some bloops and bleeps from the console, and a black glass door near where Jack stood, previously hard to notice amid the walls of screens and dials, lit up blue. Captain Harkness opened it up for a young man in a kilt to stumble out.

"Doctor? Where am I? Ach, what's happenin'?" Jack steadied him with a left hand on his shoulder while he shook Jamie's hand with his right.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Welcome aboard, Jamie! How do you feel about 'bonny lasses'?"

"I... I like 'em right well, sir?" replied the disoriented Scotsman.

"Excellent! You'll do fine." He almost let Jamie go, but then had a second thought. "How about bonny lads?"

Jamie's ears turned red and he fumed. "What're you implyin'? This is a kilt, y'know, not a skirt!" Jack held up his hands in surrender.

"Nothing, just wishful thinking." Jamie started to storm away, but his retreat quickly lost steam as he realized there was nowhere in the control room to storm away to. He stood near Mickey, unsteadily angry but still acting vague. Jack flipped to the next sheet in the folder.

"Code 122874121375--Harry Sullivan!" Mickey punched the code in, and the door glowed blue again. Jack opened it, and Harry appeared, blinking hard and glancing about in bewilderment. He also got a welcoming handshake.

"Captain Jack Harkness. Harry, how would you like to see Sarah Jane Smith in a two-piece?"

Harry's eyebrows went up immediately, but he coughed and looked around, although he didn't seem to be able to see much. "Uh, while I'm sure she'd be... very attractive, but I would, um, never agree to, er, objectifying a colleague in such a--"

"She's not here hiding behind anything," said Jack. Harry blinked rapidly a few more times and his eyes focused. He brightened.

"Oh. Well, jolly good, then!"

He directed Harry over to Mickey and Jamie, where he was received with friendliness by the former and cloudy suspicion by the latter. Jack turned to a new page.

"Code 102580311682-- Adric!"

"Just Adric?" asked Mickey curiously.

"Yeah," Jack shrugged. "None of the off-Earthers the Doctor traveled with ever seemed to have last names." Mickey shrugged back and entered the code. Jack looked up from the dossier sheet in his hand as the black glass door glowed. He opened it up and had to virtually catch the yellow-tuniced boy who all but fell out.

"Captain Jack Harkness." He held up the teetery Adric with one arm and shook with his other. He grinned. "Boy math genius, huh? Managed an equation for the physics behind how fine Tegan looks in her stewardess uniform?"

"I couldn't find a satisfactory constant for x and y," he answered automatically, though he was still having difficulty standing up.

"I know what you mean, kid," Jack chuckled.

"Yeah," smirked Mickey, "only he never got past T and A."

"Just checking that he wasn't all boy," Jack replied. "Here, Harry, make sure our prodigy doesn't hit his head." The UNIT medic obliged, leading Adric over to a chair, while Jack flipped through the sheets. "That oughta do us for judges. Mick, set the transmat to manifest in the theatre, okay?"

"Hold on," said Mickey. "If we're gonna do this, let's do it right. Fandom Headquarters has got Satellite Five running again--why not televise it?" Jack beamed.

"That's the kind of thinking I like to hear!" he crowed. "All right then, we'll need a crew. Hmm..." He flipped through the dossier sheets. "Try 020183020184 and... 110268121375."

"Could you read those any faster, maybe?" Mickey grumbled, but tapped them in. A scowling ginger came out first, trying to focus his vision and looking ready to blacken the eye of the first person who touched him. Jack clasped his hand anyway.

"Vislor Turlough! Just the man I needed for this job," he said importantly. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness. Can you handle a shoulder-mounted television camera?"

"Y-yeah," Turlough stammered in reply, still confused but apparently mollified by being perceived as important. "I can manage it, why not?"

"Excellent!" said Jack, and clapped him on the back. "I knew I could count on you."

He ushered Turlough on and turned back toward the door just in time to let in a military man with uniform and bristly moustache. Jack pulled his heels together, jerked back his shoulders, and lifted his chin in one quick movement. He snapped the new arrival a respectful salute, his face a mask of stern martial solemnity.

"Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, Captain Jack Harkness. It's an honor, sir." The Brigadier seemed unafffected by the transmat process except for a little swaying on his feet. He sized Jack up with a severe expression.

"I expect an explanation to be forthcoming," he said tensely, weapon hand twitching just a little. "UNIT will not--"

"Brigadier!" Harry exclaimed, looking up from testing Adric's reflexes. "Good to have you!"

"Aye, sir!" greeted Jaimie.

"Harry, Jaimie," said a slightly astounded Brig. "What's going on here?"

"Haven't the slightest," Harry replied cheerfully.

"Seems t'involve bonny lasses," Jaimie offered.

"Very shortly, this building will be host to a scene of chaos and temporal instability very nearly unparalleled in the multiverse." Jack informed him.

"And I suppose you need someone with my field experience to complete your unlikely crack team and restore the natural order," replied the Brig, a little wearily.

"Nnnnope," said Jack, still at attention. "Afraid all we need is a stage manager. Think you can keep us in line?"

The Brigadier looked bewildered at that. "A what? Now... see here, this is--"

"--going to happen whether you're here to supervise or not," Jack finished for him. "We can put you right back if you want us to, though."

Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart regarded the young men around him with uncertainty and irritation. "I still haven't a deuced idea what youre on about. But I suppose I'm personally obligated to stay now, aren't I?"

Jack's grin returned. "That's the idea. All right, fellas," he added, directing his attention to the room at large. "Mickey, manifestation point on the fourth level soundstage." He tossed the folder at Mickey. "Here are the numbers to enter. Everyone else, that's where we have to be. Follow me and we can get this party started!"

"Don't even know what the party is," grumbled Turlough as they trailed Jack out of the room and down a corridor. Jack's smile was mischievous. "Our mutual friend, the Doctor, has had quite a number of lovely lady companions through the centuries. We're just making their acquaintance."

They reached a lift and he ushered them all inside. When he'd gotten in himself and pressed the button, he turned around to face them, and grinned broadly.

"Boys... let's meet the contestants!"