Triumphs of a Lesser God

Doctor Who/Supernatural Crossover – dedicated to ratherastory's brilliant line: facets of the truth

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 5 OF SUPERNATURAL, IF YOU SQUINT.

Of course I don't own them. Damn it.

Chapter one

"Oh. Oh! Goodness me. Jack, if you travel much farther south, I think you might hit California!"

Naked except for a few patches of smooth white flour, the Doctor held his heavy belly while Jack explored, his psychic senses feeling every kiss the man so lovingly planted on the soft, almost downy landscape of his growing stomach.

Jack looked up from his work for a moment, caught that pretty green gaze and then promptly chuckled against the Time Lord's girth, smushing handsome face into a hard bulge of thick belly. Then he sighed and tried to speak from his…unique position.

"Hey Love Sandwich! About California… were you referring to Baja or Los Angeles?"

"Los Angeles, obviously. They have all the cute baby clothes. And David Bromstadt. I seem to recall you fancied him…"

"And fish tacos, my verdant love," Jack choked as the Time Lord reached down and pinched a rock hard nipple. "…please, sit down on the bed. I don't want you passing out because you locked your knees."

The Doctor shivered, suddenly remembering the pie in the oven. "You know, I probably should check the pie. It could be overdone."

Jack released his lover's swollen girth, then stepped back, grabbing a chicken & egg theme hot pad from the cream granite counter. "Just don't overdo it, you."

"Hen."

"Oh? I'm not the one who's about to give birth any minute. Have you seen yourself?"

Theta Sigma, Time Lord, Snarky Bastard, Grandfather and French Cook Extraordinaire, did nothing. He only stared, the image in the oven door catching his sudden and complete attention. There seemed to be a strange image in the shiny stove door, refracted from a soap bubble floating above the sink… what? No, it couldn't be…

Concern flashed across Jack's brain, and he rose to go to him, to take the Doctor's shoulders in his hands, but he didn't reach him in time.

Two perfect shadows rose over the room then, set in the middle by a figure rapidly plummeting as from some great height.

The Doctor's body flew into surprised motion, his naked feet sliding backward until his spine thudded hard against a suddenly padded wall. He slid to the ground in a heap, dizzy and dazed, and then everything along the front wall, those chicken curtains, the big cream cabinets, even that lovely oversized porcelain kitchen sink, instantly sped away from them both, zipping into the background faster than a rack of guns in a Matrix movie. And the sink was growing…

Jack cried out to him, but got no answer. He scrambled to his feet, tripped and fell over bits of still-hot stove and crisping, blackened pie, trying to get to Him. Finally after blindly running forward with his hands out, avoiding the growth of the now swimming pool sized kitchen sink, he reached, only looking down when he felt the Time Lord weakly clutch his shaking, sweaty fingers in a cold hand.

"I think we'll soon have ourselves a guest, Jack," the alien slurred, still dizzy from the rapid renovation, "…but I don't remember ordering a pool." Then he slumped over, temporarily senseless.

Then a great and strange shadow broke over them, heavier now, grander and grander, until the newly grown ceramic –pool- erupted in a splash of waves, covering everything with wet.

After a few moments, the sound of quiet strokes -if a bit awkward and course- could be heard, and soon a hand emerged from the water. That hand was attached to an arm in a black suit. The black suit, which covered a crisp white shirt perfectly accented by a classic white tie, was worn by a man, a thin, pale human with black scruffy hair and blue eyes and this… look… of utter calm, dotted with the butter of too much knowledge, the cinnamon-spice of angst.

Jack turned to kneel beside the water's edge, grabbing the pretty man by the collar and hauling him halfway out. The drenched man nodded his gratitude, causing his nose to bleed dark drops that soon became a disturbing little stream. But those blue eyes never closed, never wavered as he looked to the Doctor then raised an elbow to prop himself on the side of the pool wall, freeing his other hand, which, surprisingly, held a kitchen utensil.

"Melon baller."

The man coughed quizzically, as if surprised he'd shown up when he did.

Then he heaved a pint of blood onto Jack's knees, and collapsed forward, just as senseless as the pregnant Time Lord against the opposite wall.