A late Christmas (or early New Year) gift for my readers: some silly cuteness that popped into my head. Only the Eighth Doctor is more squishable than Five, in my opinion, but I haven't seen enough of Eight yet to write him well. And I adore Five's dynamic with Ainley!Master.
P.S. If someone were willing to illustrate this fic, I would be willing to marry them / have their babies / give up my firstborn child / write a fic of their choosing / any of the other traditional fangirl rewards.
Takes place after "The Darkness Still Has Work to Do"
THEY THINK SO SMALL
The last thing Amelia could remember before this was finding some odd object in some store of other odd objects (an attic?), and trying to find out what it did. She was always getting into trouble for things like that.
Now, though, she was lying on a floor with clothes too big for her on, though the short skirt seemed out of proportion to the rest of the items. She picked herself up, wrapping the oversize jumper around her as best she could, as if it were a nightie, and looked around for clues. It was a big room with lots of clothes, a lot of them funny clothes too, like from a museum. The carpet was dark red and the lights were a soft, pleasant yellow. The air hummed like they were inside a ship.
"Hello? Is someone there?" she called.
"Amelia?" a boy's voice replied. After a brief sound of running, Rory Williams from two streets over appeared. For an icky boy he was pretty nice. He used to try to boss her around because he was ten and she was seven, but she'd dealt with that quickly. His clothes were too big too. "I'm not sure what's going on."
"What do you remember?" Amelia asked.
He scratched his oversized bird-nose. "I dunno. I was brushing my teeth. I think. Then I fell over."
They heard two grown-up and grumpy voices coming closer. One sounded nicer and softer than the other. "I'm sorry if this isn't actually one of your plots, Master, but you will understand why I suspect you, since the TARDIS tells me she's several hundred years older, and you are inexplicably aboard."
"Yes," replied a deeper one, "more specifically in your bed."
"I don't see how that precludes it being your idea. You've drugged me before. Now I've tracked the anomalous signal to the center of the wardrobe room, whatever it is."
"Like I would be caught dead in these wretched garments."
"I'm dressed oddly too. Has the Rani been up to tricks again?"
Rory hugged Amelia for comfort, and though she wasn't scared at all, Amelia hugged back - just to be nice.
Parting his way through racks of clothing came a young-looking blond man in a bowtie and tweed jacket that hung askew, as if tailored for someone else. His blue eyes opened wide upon seeing them. "Who are you?"
A black-haired and bearded man in a black hoodie and jeans that were too tight appeared next to him. He raised his eyebrows. "Really, Doctor, it's not just your regenerations that keep getting younger and younger."
"I've never seen those children in my life!"
"Wait," Amelia said, stepping forth boldly, "are you a Doctor too?"
"What do you mean, little girl?"
"A few months ago a blue box fell in my garden and a man came out and he said he was the Doctor. I had a crack in my wall but the Doctor fixed it but there was a giant eyeball. And his box was a time machine and he said it needed to go away five minutes and he said he'd be back in five minutes but he's been gone for months." She found herself choking back a sob on the last word."
"You've been crossing your timeline again. Tsk tsk." The black-wearing man sounded smug.
"Oh. I…young lady –"
"My name's Amelia."
"Amelia. I am the Doctor, but you met me in my personal future when I look different. You mustn't tell me any more about that. It could make history break."
"You look different?"
Rory spoke up. "Is it sort of like Pokemon evolving, but with aliens in blue boxes instead of pets in little balls?"
"I resent being compared to a magical animated rodent, boy," the other man grumbled.
"The name's Rory."
"How do you even know what a Pokemon is, Master? I thought you considered humans beneath you, much less their cultural minutiae."
The Master opened and closed his mouth a few times. "They have excellent children's television."
"See, I didn't imagine it," Amy crowed, punching him on the shoulder.
"Okay, you were right," Rory said, rubbing the spot.
The Doctor pulled something out of his pocket and frowned at it. "This isn't my Screwdriver. It's got settings I've never had. Also, I believe mine broke fairly recently. It's all a bit incoherent, I'm afraid."
"Never mind that, what does it say?"
The Doctor pressed some buttons and the thing made a whirring noise. "Aha! There's a de-aging device from Zukor-Epsilon somewhere in this room. They give off very characteristic wavelengths."
"You're saying that your pets managed to regress themselves into children…"
"Funny enough, this is the second time it's happened…"
"…And us into Rassilon-knows how many regenerations back. Tell me it's temporary."
"It's temporary. Twenty-four hours at the most. And it isn't gradual, either. We'll be like this for twenty-three or so hours and then rapidly revert to our true selves."
Peering quizzically at them, Amy asked, "Are you two boyfriends?"
"Don't be rude, Amelia," Rory said, "They might be married."
"Two men down the street are married. They're nice. They have five cats. They had us over for tea but Aunt Sharon made faces behind their back."
"We're archenemies, child," the Master growled.
"My name is Rory."
The Doctor looked down his shirt. "I believe I have three hickeys and two bite marks, Master."
At first the Master looked about to retort, but then his face softened. "Oh. Well. Not the worst outcome in the world."
The Doctor clapped his hands. "How about we set up you two with some biscuits and a nice room to play, all right?"
"Did you kidnap us?" Rory asked, saying those words with the least concern they had perhaps ever been spoken.
"What happened is we went on purpose but I hit the wrong button and we forgot. But we're going to be grownups in a while and we'll remember." Amelia tugged on his hand. "Let's go explore. They want grownup time."
"Aliens have grownup time too?"
"Sometimes," the Master murmured once they were gone, undoing the Doctor's ridiculous bow tie with a satisfied flourish.