When Aliens & Fanboys Collide

Author's Note: this piece of crack is a collaborate effort by three writers: Onabearskinrug/iaintfraidanoghosts, Timelord1 and myself. We wrote this as a birthday gift to our very dear friend, Scifigeekgirl. KK, you are an inspiration to us all. May the force be with you.

And oh yeah, we don't own anything in the Star Wars, Star Trek or Whoniverse.

And yeah yeah oh yeah yeah. If you want to see a FANTASTIC picture of Ten in his Han Solo costume and a graphic proving that the TARDIS was indeed at the premiere, cruise on over to the banana-crackeri community page on LiveJournal.

Rose skidded into the console room, panting, her eyes dancing with merriment. "Doctor," she began. "You've got to promise not to laugh."

"What are you talking about, Rose?"

"Quick! He's almost here and you've got to promise me that you won't laugh at him!"

"I make no promises where Mickey is concerned."

"Doctor!" she whined, before peeking over her shoulder into the corridor. "Oh, God, here he comes! Don't say I didn't warn you!"

Rose practically raced across the grated floor and collapsed into the jumpseat, picking up a discarded magazine and pretending to leaf through it.

"Doctor! Didn't you know you had this in your wardrobe?"

Rose snorted, trying to hide her face in the magazine.

The Doctor looked up and couldn't help from guffawing. There was Mickey the Idiot, K-9's human counterpart, ex-boyfriend to the love of his existence, dressed in the traditional Royal Guard uniform of Raxicon IV.

Or, as most people of 21st Century Earth would know it, a Stormtrooper.

After he managed to get his laughter under control, he looked up and saw that Mickey had lifted the front part of the helmet, making his face visible. He was staring at the Doctor with such an expression of annoyance and impatience that he practically collapsed in hysterical laughter once again.

He chanced a glance at Rose, who was nearly shaking with the effort of containing her giggles. This sent him into another tailspin.

Finally, after nearly an eternity (really more like a minute and a half) the Doctor wiped away his tears of mirth and addressed the Royal Guardsman/Storm Trooper. "Oh, thanks for that, Mickey. I haven't laughed so hard in years. So, what can I do for you?"

Mickey tried to cross his arms in front of his chest in an attempt to look manly and tough, but instead they just slipped on the bulky plastic. The Doctor had to take several deep breaths to contain his laughter. "I was thinking…we should go to the premiere of Star Wars."

"Oh, now I get the costume!" Rose piped up. "You big nerd!"

Mickey sent a glare in her direction. "And I don't mean those stupid prequels that came out when we were in secondary school. I mean the real deal. Grauman's Chinese Theater, Hollywood, 1977."

The Doctor grinned, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Oh, well done, Mickey. All of time and space at your disposal and you want to go to the biggest sci-fi event in all of history. Who am I to say no?"

"What…really?" Mickey's face lit up like a kid at Christmas. "So we can go?"

"Not dressed like that," the Doctor protested, gesturing to his outfit.

"What? Why not?"

"Why not?" the Doctor spluttered, looking over at Rose, still hiding behind her magazine. "Rose, back me up here."

She peeked out and grinned. "You can't dress up for a movie no one's seen yet, Mickey. Besides," she giggled, "Aren't you a little short for a Storm Trooper?"

"Oi!" he protested while the Doctor laughed. "Come on, everyone dresses up for the premiere!"

"Not for this one, they didn't. How would we explain it?"

"We could just ditch the costume before the movie starts! Ooh! Or say we got the idea from promotional shots or something. C'mon, Doctor!"

"Yeah, Doctor, c'mon!" Rose piped up, mimicking Mickey's pleading tone.

The Doctor glared at her. She was supposed to be on his side.

"Oh, all right," he relented.

Rose finally put down her magazine and grinned brilliantly at him as Mickey did a sort of awkward victory dance in his plastic armor. She hopped off the jumpseat and sauntered towards his place at the console, running her hand lightly down his arm and leaving goosebumps in her wake.

"Thank you," she breathed in his ear. "Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll wear a gold bikini for you later…"

The Doctor drew back and stared at her, open mouthed, until he realized that Mickey had stopped attempting his little victory shuffle and instead was watching them with a curious expression.

"So!" Rose broke the sudden silence. "I guess that leaves me to dress up as Leia. But who will be my escort? This handsome stormtrooper?" She grinned at Mickey, tongue caught between her teeth.

Before he could even say, "Aw, hell no!" the Doctor had buzzed to the wardrobe room and back, dressed exactly like Han Solo, complete with an exact replica of his blaster.

Thank you, impossibly fast Gallifreyian reflexes.

"Wow!" Rose told him. "You look perfect!"

He winked at her and twirled the blaster on his finger while Mickey once again eyed them quizzically. "I know."

"Admit it…you have the whole cosplay collection in the wardrobe, don't you?" Rose teased.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he retorted, heading over to the console. "So! Hollywood Boulevard, May 25th, 1977. Mickey, prepare yourself…your little fan boy heart may not be able to handle this!"

Rose went to change the second they landed, and it took all of the Doctor's legendary self-control not to snog her senseless upon her return. She looked perfect in the flowing, drapey white gown and even in the ridiculous hairstyle.

"'S a wig," she informed them both, meeting them at the door. "I wasn't even gonna try this with my own hair. So, we ready?"

The Doctor grinned and took her hand. "Oh, yes."

He swept the TARDIS door open with a flourish, and the Doctor, Rose and Mickey spilled out of the TARDIS onto the plaza of the world's most famous movie theater and joined the long, snaking queue.

"Boss, 'm so excited! I can… I can hardly stan' it!" Mickey bounced on his white plastic boot-clad toes.

"Does he always get like this over a movie?" the Doctor asked Rose in her ear Doctor with a smirk.

"Naw, just Star Wars. Been like this since we were kids. He begged his gran for months to let him see it, even though it was rated U for kids, she thought that it'd give him nightmares. Finally relented and let him rent the video. Nightmares for weeks!"

"It's not like it was Aliens, now that… THAT was scary." He shuddered as he recalled the alien's nest. "Even scared me. What in the universe gave him nightmares?" The Doctor asked, confused.


"The Jawas? Gave him nightmares?" The Doctor tugged on his ear, the accurate blaster replica pointing towards the sky. "I suppose I can see that. Glowing beady eyes…. not quite knowing what's under those long robes… Of course, real Jawas are nothing like those little fellows. Rather… unpleasant lot actually."

"Don't tell me you've met Jawas…" Rose rolled her eyes.

"You've met Jawas?" Mickey piped up, the white stormtrooper helmet muffling his question. "Tell me you've met Jawas!"

"Well… alright. I sort of promised myself I wasn't going to ruin the movie for you lot. But, since you asked… I was a consultant on the film."

"Bollocks." Rose crossed her arms and stared at him, eyebrows high.

"No really! I was. You wound me, Rose Tyler," he pouted.

Rose relented and kissed him on the cheek, just a little longer than necessary for an apology. Mickey frowned under his helmet.

"Want to hear about it or not?" asked the Doctor.

"Of course I do." Rose took his hand and swung it between them.

"So George, well, he sort of botched things up a bit. I gave him all of the details, every single detail that he would ever need to create a historically accurate account of the history."

"You know George Lucas." It wasn't a question. Mickey took off his helmet and said it again, his face enraptured. "You know George Lucas! He knows George Lucas!" Mickey pointed proudly at the Doctor who was starting to puff up a bit, chuffed at the attention he was now getting from the others in the queue.

"How do you know George Lucas?" A teenaged boy of about sixteen turned around and challenged the Doctor, dubious of his claim.

"Course I do. I'm the Doctor, who are you?" he asked the kid.

"Billy McCoy. And who's she?" he asked, looking at Rose.

"I'm Rose, Rose Tyler. Nice to meet you, Billy," she replied pleasantly, adjusting her wig, as it had slipped on her head, exposing her blonde hair.

"You from England or somethin'?" the boy asked, surveying Rose's costume from north to south.

"Oi Billy! My face is up here!" Rose made a circular motion around her face with her finger, irritated.

"No!" the Doctor interrupted rudely. "I'm not from England, thank you very much."

"Uh, Doctor, I think he was talking to me," Rose replied, one eyebrow raised.

"So if you was the what'd you call it? Technician—"

"Consultant. Scientific and technical consultant, officially. Met with Georgie Boy every day for oh, two months, back in 1973. He loved my scarf, which I refused to give to him of course, even though he practically begged. He wanted it to be a part of Obi Wan's costume…" he stopped his ramble when Rose elbowed him.

"You were sayin'…?" Rose prompted him to continue, suddenly interested.

"Right. Like I said, George sort of played fast and loose with the facts. I told him all about the backstory, you know, Leia and Luke bein' fraternal twi—"

Rose elbowed him again. "Ow! What'd ya do that for?" he screeched.

She stood on tiptoe and spoke into his ear. "This is 1977 Doctor, not 1983! They don't know about the brother sister thing yet."

"Oh right! Right… Anyway, George thought a little bit of thinly-veiled sexual tension between Luke and Leia would create more sparkle to the story. I warned him that it would make people squirm later, but he would have none of it, ignored my warnings and kept that creepy bit in. But of course, no one could compare to Han Solo… Once he came onto the screen, the princess never had eyes for anyone else, now did she?" The Doctor waggled his eyebrows at Rose, and twirled his blaster, holstering it deftly.

"Got that right," Rose bit her lower lip and looked up at him coyly. "Gold bikini…" she mouthed.

Mickey furrowed his brow as he watched the Doctor and Rose in their own little world. "Hey Boss, what else? What about the stormtroopers and TIE fighters 'n stuff. Oh! And the Death Star. Was it really as impressive as he made it out to be?"

"Oh now, the Death Star was a supremely monumental architectural achievement. Really gorgeous. Quite the honeymoon destination for the really, really rich. The Lido deck was lovely! Served the nicest little nibbles at the bar during happy hour. And could that bartender make a Slavorikan Sunrise! What was her name? It'll come to me." He snapped his fingers a few times. "Guinan! That's right. Nicest woman, really. Lost her people, Rose. Very, very tragic." He sniffed in remembrance.

Rose laid a gentle hand on his arm, and squeezed.

"Anyhoo… The Death Star wasn't really… very deathly. It was more like… the Really Really Scary But Not Deadly Star. The Empire had a very powerful propaganda machine, but not much to back it up. Wasn't even blown up in the war, just changed hands from the Empire back to the Republic. Turned it into a casino eventually. Cost too much to run. But George wanted a big 'splosion, so well, there you have it. In reality, the change in power occurred rather peacefully. I oversaw the elections, made sure everything was legal and fair. The people simply didn't want to be lorded over by a clone army, and the people spoke."

"You're tellin' me that the Galactic Empire wasn't… quite so evil?" asked Rose.

"Well, they weren't very nice," he pulled a look, "but they certainly weren't evil, not Nazis, and certainly not Daleks. And the Rebel Alliance? Sort of pesky rabble-rousers to be honest. Minor players. Held candle light vigils, peaceful protests. Sit-ins and such. I spent one very interesting night around a campfire on Alderaan trading stories with Han Solo over a bottle of hyper vodka."

"Han Solo wasn't no rebel, Doctor," Mickey butt in, mildly affronted.

"Course he was. Lovely, peaceful man. Had a beautiful voice… sang many a tune around that campfire that night."

"You're crazy, ain't you?" A scrawny young man of about 22 stepped in and pointed his finger in the Doctor's chest.

"I… I wouldn't do that if I were…" Rose's voice trailed off.

"Crazy? Well, I wouldn't call me crazy. A bit reckless perhaps. Back to my story. George was so impressed with my accent that he decided to cast me in a bit role, sort of as a thank you for all of my help."

"You're in the movie?" asked Rose.

"Yep. I was the poor sod that was strangled in the conference room. General Ca—"

"Cassio Tagge!" Mickey interrupted, geeking out. "You were General Cassio Tagge! But you don't look nuffin' like 'im."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "It wasn't this face, Ricky!" he whispered. "Oh, and I used a sssshimmer," he replied with a wink. "It's a holographic projected disguise. But the thing is, after we did the script read-thru of that scene, Lucas decided they should all sound British, so he re-cast the lot of 'em. Peter Cushing replaced Jackie Gleason as Tarkin. I cringe every time I hear them talking in the conference room."

Mickey was staring at the Doctor in awe. "Boss, you're the best!" He gave the Doctor a crushing hug and then released him, and simply stared, bro-love struck.

"But the grossest deviation from history was Darth Vader himself. There was no Darth Vader."

"What?" Rose gasped.

"Nope. The Vader character was loosely based upon a mid-management bureaucrat within the Empire by the name of Mark Trader. He had delusions of grandeur, tried to incite a coup, failed miserably at it, too. But oh, could that man carry off a cape! I do love a good cape. Cuts such a dashing figure when one is walking briskly."

"No capes," Rose wagged her finger at him.

"But the real question is, who are you?" The Doctor turned to the man to the left who had been slowly inching closer and closer to the Doctor for the past five minutes. He pulled out his sonic, and aimed at the man's head. The light distorted around the man, and suddenly, before them stood a seven-foot tall insectoid creature.

"Haven't seen one of you buggers for a while," the Doctor said.

"Doctor," Rose grabbed his arm and held on tightly. "What is he?"

"He is a she and she is a Zimbok. And this premiere just got a whole lot more interesting." He turned back to the Zimbok, eyes glittering with the threat of the Oncoming Storm. "Explain yourself."

"Mek-ra-hothra," the Zimbok said. Mickey raised his blaster.

The Doctor gave him a look. "Why are you holding that gun as if it were a real gun? And why can't I have a cape, Rose?"

"Not now," she sighed.

They looked around at the crowd assembled outside the theater. He was not the only Han Solo in line, nor was Rose the only Leia. The number of droids and stormtroopers waiting in line was staggering. "Come to think of it," the Doctor said, "there are far too many people dressed up for a movie they haven't seen yet for my comfort. This should be all polyester and bell-bottomed trousers out here."

Mickey nodded. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"What do you think we should—" Rose began.

The Doctor snatched Mickey's blaster out of his hands and went at it with the sonic. A moment later the replica weapon began to hum and he tossed it back to Mickey, who caught it with a dreamy, awestruck grin. After a thought, he pointed his finger in Mickey's face.

"Don't shoot it unless you absolutely have to. Ask me first." The Doctor hesitated again, took the blaster away from Mickey and handed it to Rose. He drew his own blaster, flipped the safety switch on the side and his gun came to life.

"Doctor, look out!" Rose shouted, pointing at something behind him. Before he could turn, he felt the cold metal of a real blaster pressing into his neck.

"Koona t'chuta Doctor?" a voice gurgled in his ear.

The Doctor looked backwards and saw that a male Zimbok was holding the blaster to his head. He set his gun on the ground and raised his hands.

"N'kochta eya thre'ktar," the Doctor responded. He held his hands up higher in the air as if to emphasize whatever he was saying. The humans in the crowd began to disperse, backing away enough to be somewhat safe while still not losing their spots in line.

Rose swooned a little and leaned against Mickey. "I love it when he does that."

Mickey looked down at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Keel-ee caleya ku kah," the creature said, digging the barrel of the blaster further into the Doctor's neck.

"You're going to need a whole lot more troops than this to take this planet," the Doctor said with an arrogant chuckle. "You won't even be able to get past me."

"Sbassta!" the Zimbok shouted.

"Not a chance!" the Doctor spat back. He dove forward, snatched his blaster in an impressive dive-and-roll maneuver, finishing on his knees so that he was pointing his blaster at the insectoid's head. He sighed. "I don't like guns! I hate 'em, honestly, but I can promise you I'm a far better shot that you could ever hope to be. Now, how about we both agree to put our guns down and discuss things like civilized creatures?"

"Midrocth-na ga'ka cheeda," the Zimbok said. He holstered his blaster and the Doctor did the same. They circled one another and the creature went back to its fellows while the Doctor went back to Mickey and Rose.

"Why isn't the TARDIS translatin' what they're saying?" Rose asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "It's not a language. They're resonant telepaths – the thought waves are carried by sound waves, so they make a bunch of nonsense noises to transmit whatever they want to say. Over the centuries it's evolved into what sounds like a language. Tricky part is saying one thing while you're thinking another. Anyway, you've got to be ready with that blaster, in case I die in the duel."

"What duel?" Mickey asked.

The Doctor nodded his head in the direction of the insectoids. "The one they're about to challenge me to. For the planet. Business as usual. I really thought we could just pop in, see the movie, satisfy your fanboy lust and be on our way. Why do things like this always have to happen?" He rolled his eyes and sighed melodramatically in Mickey's direction. "I blame you."

The Zimbok that had held the gun to the Doctor stepped away from his fellows, arms spread wide. "Ha'gla meso-ka-la! Chim bo kralmakthas gin!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and walked out to meet the creature. "Tinky-winky, bla bla bla something something doesn't matter what words I say." He turned back to Rose and Mickey. "He's challenging me to a duel for the planet, as expected, and I have accepted as Earth's defender. The usual falderal."

"All in a day's work," Rose called back with a wink.

"Vrodok mik-chogha," the Zimbok said.

"He wants me to choose our weapon of combat, and I'm deferring," the Doctor said, bowing his head to the creature. The fake stormtroopers and droids began chuckling and nudging one another.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Mickey said.

"You already said that once," Rose whispered, elbowing him in the side.

The Zimbok held out his hand to his comrades and one of them threw him a thick black cylinder. Mickey's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"It can't be," he said.

"What?" Rose asked.

The Zimbok pushed a button on the side and a slender beam of red light extended from the cylinder with a very familiar-sounding hum.

The Doctor's shoulders sagged. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Xa-gi-na'oto," the Zimbok said, grinning. The other Zimboks in the crowd laughed heartily. The Doctor curled his upper lip in a snarl and whipped his head around, searching the crowd.

"What's the matter?" Mickey shouted.

The Doctor shrugged. "Well, they're not going to give me one to fight with. I have sixty rels to find one, or I get to face him with my bare hands."

"How long is a rel?" Rose asked.

"Less than a second!" the Doctor cried. He looked around the crowd some more and finally spied a small child clutching a plastic lightsaber toy. He ran up to the child and went to his knees.

"Hello, there," he said as sweetly as he could. "Could I borrow your lightsaber please, little girl?"

"No!" she cried, and hit him over the head with the plastic tube.

"Don't use that!" Mickey shouted. "That's just a flashlight with a bit of plastic tubing at the end of it!" he turned to Rose. "I had one of those when I was a kid. Loved it, but it never really worked like a lightsaber."

Rose glared at him. "I remember. You used to hit me over the head with it all the time."

"I'm begging you," the Doctor said to the little girl. "The fate of the planet is hanging in the balance."

"No! No! No!" she squealed, bashing him over the head every time she said 'No.'

"I'll take you for a ride on a real spaceship," he cooed, wincing at every blow. "Wouldn't that be nice?"

"I hate you!" the girl cried, smacking him again.

"I'm no fan of yours, either," the Doctor muttered.

An older man stepped out of the crowd and knelt beside the little girl. "Now, Donna, don't be stroppy. Let the nice man play with your toy. He'll give it right back. Won't you, mister?"

The Doctor was surprised by the man's accent. "You're from London!"

The man extended his hand and the Doctor shook it. "Wilfred Mott's the name. This is my granddaughter Donna. We're here visiting family and thought we'd take in a picture. Seems we got more than we bargained for."

"Don't worry," the Doctor said, snatching the lightsaber out of young Donna's hands. "I'll have this straightened out in no time."

Donna stepped forward and kicked him in the shin as hard as she could. He snarled at her, and then went to work on the toy with the sonic. After fussing with a few different settings, he finally found one to hyper-charge the flashlight batteries, refract the excess energy through the lens and the plastic tubing melted away as a beam of bright blue light shot out of the end of the flashlight, humming away. Donna looked up at him in awe.

"You did it!" Rose cried.

The Doctor cocked an eyebrow at her. "You doubted me?"

She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck, giving him a little kiss on the lips.

"For luck," she said.

Mickey pointed at the two of them. "I knew it! All this time I suspicioned you two were…a thing."

"Han Solo and Princess Leia?" someone in the crowd cried. "No way. That's ridiculous."

The Doctor gave Rose a look and stepped forward to meet the Zimbok. They bowed to one another and began dueling. It was clear almost from the start that the Doctor was a far superior swordsman, and he stretched the combat out far longer than it had to be just so he could taunt the Zimbok.

"Your powers are weak, old man," he said in a perfect impression of Darth Vader's voice as he spun around, parrying the Zimbok's awkward thrusts with one hand. The Zimbok was panting, throwing everything he had into the attack as his fellow aliens cheered him on.

"You can't win," the Doctor continued, now doing his best Obi Wan Kenobi. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

Rose cleared her throat. "You're kind of spoiling the movie for everyone who hasn't seen it yet."

The Doctor sighed. "Oh, all right. Just one more." He pulled his free hand into his sleeve and waved it around. "I'll never join you!"

"Stop it!" Rose cried.

"That's not even from this movie," Mickey said. "They're not gonna know that he's doing Luke, or that Darth Vader's his father." Several people standing nearby gasped.

"Mickey!" Rose shouted, smacking his armor.

The Doctor deflected one final blow and, with a swoop of his arm, disarmed the Zimbok and brought the creature to his knees with a kick to the midsection. The Doctor stood over him, his lightsaber sparking and buzzing as he brought it to the Zimbok's throat.

"You lose. Take your friends and go find another planet to terrorize."

"Gu'kwa ne ba ooomsa," the Zimbok said. He looked back to his comrades and raised his hand into the air. An instant later the whole group of them vanished in a streak of blue light. After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd of humans erupted in cheers and surrounded the Doctor, Rose and Mickey.

Little Donna pushed her way through the crowd of congratulators and kicked the Doctor in the shin again.

"Gimme back my lightsaber, you jive turkey!" she shouted, stomping her foot.

"Sorry," Wilf said as he made his way through the crowd to stand behind Donna. "She heard that on the bus this morning and she's been calling everybody jive turkey ever since. Her mother's gonna kill me."

"You certainly have your hands full," the Doctor said. He looked at the still-glowing lightsaber and back to Donna. "Listen, I sort of broke this thing, and I can't give it back to you. But, I can give you this instead." He handed Rose the lightsaber and took the blaster out of her hands, turning it back into a non-working replica with a quick zap from the sonic and handed it to Donna, who accepted it with wide-eyed astonishment.

"Thank you, jive turkey," she said, and let Wilf lead her away to the theater. The doors opened and the people, having mistaken the near-catastrophic duel to save the planet for nothing more than a pre-movie stunt show, were filing inside. The Doctor shut the lightsaber off and tossed it to Mickey.

"You hit Rose over the head with that one, and you're going to have to deal with me," he warned.

"Yeah," Mickey breathed, staring at the flashlight as he turned it over in his hands. "You got it."

They went in to the movie and found three seats at the back. The Doctor and Mickey sunk down in their seats like a couple of schoolboys and whispered the lines of the film back and forth to one another while Rose flashed apologetic smiles to the people sitting immediately around them. When they got back to the TARDIS Mickey went to the dojo to practice his lightsaber skills, while Rose and the Doctor changed outfits to re-create the Jabba's palace scenes from 'Return of the Jedi,' golden bikini and all.

And they made out. A lot.

I will send any reviews along to my homies.