The Doctor Slumber Party

A re-posting of my Doctor Who fanfiction, which I wrote for my friends in the Figgies in the TARDIS Figment group.  I will explain the story of how and why all of these random people are inhabiting the TARDIS.  (For starters, it’s bigger on the inside, so why not?)

Cover designed by Zathea Grenich of Figment

Cover designed by Zathea Grenich of Figment

The Doctor Slumber Party

(by Allison Rose)


The Doctor glanced skeptically at the pretty redheaded girl who had handed him the note.  “What is this?”

“Just open it and see,” the girl, who looked to be a few years older than his granddaughter, said with a mysterious smile before walking away.

“Can’t you tell me who you are?!”  the Doctor demanded.  He looked down at the paper for a moment only to look up to see that his strange visitor had vanished.

The Doctor sighed and opened the note, which was sealed with some very fancy wax.  “Dear Time Lord,” it began.

Please come in the TARDIS to the following coordinates….  Don’t forget to bring your pajamas, your sleeping bag, some marshmallows, and your favorite stuffed bear.  Oh, and come alone.  I don’t want our companions to fight.

A Long-Predicted Party

“Did you send these to everyone?”  the Doctor asked excitedly, fumbling with a can of red sealing wax.  “I think you’re right that we should’ve just photocopied the message once.”

“I did,” Cece Ryder replied proudly.  “All eleven of them.”

“Good.”  The Doctor looked like your average nine year old, but he was really a nine centuries old Time Lord.  This incarnation of himself was only one of many.  “Am I correct that you brought the chocolate?”

Cece smacked a hand across her forehead.  Amidst all of the trips through time the Doctor had sent her on that afternoon, she had completely forgotten about buying chocolate!

“Doctor,” she whispered bashfully, “I didn’t buy any.”

The Doctor blanched.  “Cece, you can’t be serious….  I guess I’ll have to just ask River for some.”  (Their separation hadn’t been pretty, and he refrained from speaking to her as much as possible.)

“Or you could ask me,” said a voice behind them.

“Captain Slimy!!!”  Cece roared in frustration.  “You are absolutely NOT invited to the party!”

“No, it’s Captain Jack Harkness,” the uninvited guest replied smoothly.  “I figured I’d crash anyhow — it’d be nice to meet the rest of you, if you get what I mean.”

“Well,” Cece began, pushing Jack towards the TARDIS’ doors, “you figured wrong.  And we don’t want your chocolates.  I’m sure they taste like mud!”

“Actually, Ianto liked them very much,” Jack retorted,crossing his arms across his chest.  “I wouldn’t buy something that tastes like hazelnut tea for my friends.”

“Well, you can keep your stupid chocolates!”  Cece snapped.  “And stay the heck out of our slumber party!”  She marched off to call her friends, Hannah, Skye, Emory, and Grace.  They would have their own party, free of slime, pigs in spacesuits, cybermen, and (hopefully) Captain Jack.

“Hello Jack,” the Doctor said simply.  “Please try not to make her angry, as she’s had a rough day.”

The Captain shrugged.  “Sorry, I just can’t resist.  She’s beautiful when she’s angry.”  He looked around the TARDIS control room, which had been painstakingly decorated with all sorts of crazy decorations, ranging to balloons from other planets to garishly-colored pinatas.  “Why all this stuff?”

“Well,” the Doctor replied, “it’s kind of a slumber party for myself, you see.  I’m inviting myself from all of my previous incarnations to convene here in my TARDIS.”

“Doctor, won’t that cause a problem?  I mean, with multiple TARDISes?”

“They’ll all merge with mine, and then I’ll just send them on their ways when they’re done, back to their normal lives, as it were.  It’s quite simple, really.”  The Doctor proceeded to rattle off a ton of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff that even a smart, handsome guy like Jack (at least that’s what he considered himself) couldn’t get.

“Um, okay….”  Jack said confusedly.  “So why am I not invited?”

“Because this party is only for Time Lords,” the Doctor replied with unusual curtness.

“But Cece is coming!”

“Oh, and that was another reason why you’re not.  She’s just helping me get set up, and then she’ll be doing her own thing elsewhere.”

Jack looked incredibly perplexed now and stalked off towards the kitchen in search of something to snack on.

The kitchen’s multiple counters were packed with all sorts of foods, each dish labeled.  Celery Soda Punch — 5th Doctor, one said.  Banana Bread — 9th Doctor.  Pear Salad — keep away from 10!  Apple juice — keep away from 11!  Fish fingers and custard — share some but not all with 11.  Nitro-Nine Nuggets — serve to 7 to see how he reacts! 😉

  “I’m sure he won’t mind if I take one of those,” Jack said to himself, eyeing the crunchy-looking chicken nuggets hungrily.  He grabbed a whole handful and stuffed them in his mouth.  That was a huge mistake.

“…And he’ll be totally soaked!”  Cece cackled into the phone receiver.  She had barricaded herself in the library with a cordless phone, conspiring on a conference call with her good friends, Hannah, Grace, Emory, and Skye about how they would defend their private sleepover from the Torchwood agency, when–

“Did someone just scream on your end?”  Skye asked uncertainly.

Cece tilted her head in the direction of the sound.  “I think so,” she replied.  “I”ll call you back after I go check, alright?”  Without waiting for a response, she hung up and hurried out of the room.

She found her quarry in the kitchen, clutching his throat and hopping around the room like a mad man in  a box, although he was nowhere as mad as the mad man in a box, who, as Irene Adler was the woman to Sherlock Holmes, was the Doctor.

“Captain Jack Boris Harkness!”  she exclaimed.  “What are you doing in my kitchen?!”

Jack couldn’t respond; he was in too much pain.

It took exactly thirty seconds of agonizing pain before Cece figured out what had happened.  “You ate one of those chicken nuggets, didn’t you?”

Jack nodded eagerly.

“Here, drink this.”  Cece handed him a yogurt smoothie.  “This should relieve the burning.”

Jack gratefully accepted it, even though he hated strawberries.  (Not that he’d ever admit that to Cece, unless he wanted to find a whole shipment of fresh strawberries at the entrance to the Cardiff base when he went back there next.)  “What the heck did you put in that?!”  he demanded when he could talk again.

Cece smirked sardonically.  “Oh, only five cups of hot pepper sauce plus paprika and garlic.”

Captain Jack gagged on his drink.  “But why?!”

Cece shrugged.  “It’s a joke between the Doctor and … well, the Doctor.  And you weren’t even supposed to be in here,” she added smugly, “so you can’t blame me for this!”

Jack scowled.  He’d been bamboozled big time.

“Hey you two!”  the Doctor called from the control room.  “I’m beginning the countdown to everyone’s arrival!”

The Guests Arrive

Cece and Jack elbowed their way past each other as they each tried to get to the control room first.

“T-minus ten seconds,” the Doctor whispered intently.  The time was 7:59 PM, exactly fifty seconds into the minute.  From a loudspeaker, the trumpet piece of Europe’s “Final Countdown” played in the background, adding to the atmosphere of anticipation.

All at once, eleven Time Lords materialized in the TARDIS, looking extremely confused.

“Susan!  Turn down that wretched noise!”  the First Doctor exclaimed.  When he got no response, he realized that he stood among a crowd of ten other people and clammed up.

“What?!”  the Tenth Doctor exclaimed in unison with the Fourth and Fifth Doctors.  The three looked at each other in surprise.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”  the Fifth Doctor asked incredulously.

“Oh yes….”  the Tenth Doctor muttered absently.

“So why don’t I feel old now?”  Five demanded.

“Someone must have reversed the polarity of the neutron flow,” Three replied, gazing around the room in amazement.

“Wait a minute,” the Seventh Doctor said skeptically.  “Who are all of you?”  He noticed the Sixth Doctor and his eyes instantly widened in surprise.  “Oh no, not you!  I hated being you, all those colors….”  He shuddered.

“What do you mean, not me?”  Six retorted indignantly.  “This is my TARDIS!”

“No!  It’s mine!”  the Doctors all shouted at once.  They proceeded to argue disruptively among themselves.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?”  Cece asked the Doctor as he looked helplessly at the throng of irate Time Lords.

“I remember every second of it now,” the current Doctor muttered.  “I seem to have forgotten about it until now….  But what did I do next to make them all shut up?”

“More importantly, who will listen to a kid?”  Jack quipped, his voice still a little raspy from the Nitro Nine nuggets.

“But I’m not a kid!”  the Doctor retorted insistently.  “I’m nine hundred and–”

“We know already,” Cece interrupted.  “Look at the old man.  He doesn’t like ‘Final Countdown’ very much.”  She flipped a switch and the loud music turned off.

One sighed, satisfied with the peace and quiet.  “Thank you, young lady.  Haven’t we met before?”

Cece smiled.  “Yup.  Twelve times, if I’m not mistaken.  Well, I didn’t get to see Eleven, because I gave the invitation to Amy to pass on.”

Eleven straightened his bow-tie proudly.  “Nice to see you again, Cece.  I enjoyed your time on the TARDIS very much.”

He was immediately drowned out by a stream of protesting Doctors, demanding to know why Eleven’s companion was present when everyone else had been told not to bring theirs.

“Hey!”  Cece called out indignantly.  “Chill out, will you?!  I’m not going to be here at all.  I’ll be with my friends.”

They’re not my friends,” Six sniffed.

“You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your relatives,” Four retorted, flipping his long scarf over one shoulder and adjusting his brown hat.

“Well, you are related to all of us in a sense,” Eight said mysteriously.

“Oh stop giving him spoilers!”  Nine complained in his Northern accent.  “You just might cause a paradox!”

“Who are these people, and why are they dressed so funny?”  the Third Doctor asked.

“Oh my giddy aunt!  You’re to talk,” Two retorted, jabbing his dandy-looking reincarnation in the side.

“This is enough of a paradox as it is,” Five muttered, resuming the previous conversation.  “Please, somebody remind me what we’re all doing here!”

This started another seemingly endless stream of loud talking and frustrated demands to know who was in charge.

“EVERYBODY!”  the Little Doctor (as we shall call him in order to differentiate between him and his charmingly-behaved “relatives”) exclaimed at the top of his voice.  “FINGERS ON LIPS!”

Everyone, including Ten, from whom that phrase had originated, obeyed most obediently.

“That’s better,” the Little Doctor continued, smiling proudly from his platform around the dashboard.  “Now that we’re all here together, I’d like to thank you all for coming to my slumber party.  I’m the Doctor.”

“YOU’RE THE WHAT?!?!”  was the instant response.

Chaotic and Disorderly Guests

The Little Doctor passed a bowl of popcorn around the circle of Doctors that had congregated in the control room.  One sat at his left, and Eleven sat at his right.  The Doctors between them sat in chronological order.  Oddly enough, our Doctor had no recollection of having been present at this event as his previous incarnations, but all the same, he had a feeling that this was an event he wouldn’t want to remember for incarnations to come.

“I can’t believe you got rid of the coral theme,” Ten muttered from where he sat on a rolled-up sleeping bag.  (Each Doctor had packed one.)

“This popcorn sticks to my teeth,” Eleven retorted.  “And it was you who set fire to it all.”

Nine gave them a glare that shushed them both immediately.

Everyone looked up as Jack skipped into the room, tapping his feet like a show dancer.

“Hey,” he whispered, pushing in between Nine and Ten.  “Remember me?”

Nine and Ten recoiled.  “Fantastic!”  Nine said sarcastically, at the exact time that Ten exclaimed “Brilliant!” with the same amount of sarcasm.

Jack scuttled off, looking depressed.

Meanwhile, five figures teleported into Cece’s quarters, carrying sleeping bags, pillows, (with extra for pillow fighting,) and duffel bags.  Skye, Hannah, Grace, Emory, and Athena gawked incredulously at their hostess.

“Guys, you’re here!”  Cece exclaimed, rushing to hug them.

“How did you do that?”  Hannah exclaimed.

“Simple,” said Grace.  “She must’ve used some old Dalek technology.  They love teleports.”

Emory struck a pose that kind of resembled a Dalek and started imitating the way those metal, barrel-shaped beings gave their order to kill.  “EX-TER-MI-NATE!”

Everyone laughed except for Grace, who was a–  Sorry, sweeties, I can’t say that yet.  Spoilers!  Let’s just leave it that she doesn’t really like Daleks very much, for good reason.

“So why did you teleport us here instead of letting us come through the door?”  Athena asked.  “We were only a few blocks away from your house when you zapped us all up!”

Cece put a finger to her lips.  “The Doctor’s got his thing going in the control room.  From the way it sounds, it might be a bit chaotic out there.  Besides, Jack’s here too.”

“Yes I am, ladies,” Jack said, popping his head through Cece’s door.  “What are you all doing here?”

“Who’s Jack?”  Athena asked Skye discretely.  She was new to the group.

“That guy,” Skye replied, jerking a thumb at the annoying captain.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Jack looked hurt.  “Aw, can’t I have any fun anymore?  You 21st Century folks are boring!”  He rolled his eyes theatrically.

“Jack, get out!”  Cece roared, reaching under her bead to pull out a large Chinese wok.  “Or I’ll hit you over the head with this!”

Jack was about to run when a glimmer of light caught his eye.  “What’s that?”

“You can’t make me look,” Cece snapped.  “You’re just fooling, as usual.”

“No, he isn’t,” Hannah said nervously.  “I don’t like the looks of this….”

Cece whirled around to see six more figures materialize on her floor.

“Hoohoo!”  a distant but distinctly flamboyant voice exclaimed.  “It worked!  It worked!  We’re on the TARDIS!  Oooh, I can’t wait to see the look on the Doctor’s face!”

Hannah gasped.  “I recognize that voice.  I recognize it all too well….”

“Who is it?”  Cece squeaked, brandishing her wok uncertainly.

A chorus of voices responded in unison.  “I…  Am…  THE MASTER!!!!!”

The Master(s)

“Not again,” Jack muttered, inching back towards the door.

“Don’t move, or I, or shall we say, we shall blast you to smithereens!”  the Prime Minister Saxon/Hoodie Master snapped.  He wasn’t dressed like a Prime Minister, though; he wore a black hoodie over red jammies with feet.  If those had been on any other person, they might’ve looked cute.

“It’s all thanks to you, Miss Ryder,” the Bearded Master said in an oily voice, “because we hitched a ride on your transporter, thanks to my trusty Vortex Manipulator.”

“Hey, where did you get that from?”  Jack demanded in a whiny voice.  The Masters just winked.  It was actually kind of creepy to see six people all wink at once.

“Don’t come near any of us,” Cece threatened shakily.  “I’ve got a wok.”

Hoodie Master only whipped out his laser screwdriver and disintegrated the pot with ease.  “Not anymore you don’t.”

Cece jumped behind Jack, whimpering in fear.

“I kinda like this,” Jack stage whispered to no one in particular.

“I hate to spoil your fun, Captain Harkness,” Hoodie Master said, “but we’re actually here to spoil your party.”

My party?”  Jack repeated.  “It’s the Doctor’s party.  I–”

“THE DOCTOR?!”  the Masters exclaimed.  “WHERE IS HE?!?!”

“We’re not telling you,” Hannah piped up defiantly.  “You won’t get him!”

Professor Yana Master chuckled ominously.  “Foolish girl, we already know he’s here in multiple incarnations.  We’ll find out, and we’ll get all of him!”  He wore a very stylish nightshirt with gold buttons and fuzzy black slippers.

Skeleton Master cackled horribly.  “Just think of all the paradoxes there would be!  We’ll kill off the first one, which will temporally eliminate any future incarnations!”  Naturally, this Master wore his decayed clothes.

“But we’ll kill them anyway,” Hoodie Master exclaimed gleefully.  “I just love killing!”

“You are so sick,” Athena shouted.  “All of you are just so sick!  I don’t know where Cece met any of you, anyhow.”

“I do not hold myself responsible for what I will one day become,” the Caped Master replied coolly.  He still wore his cape over black pajamas.

“And this is the first time, actually,” Cece muttered.

“Then how did he know your name?”

“We know EVERYTHING!”  was the united response.

“However,” a voice said, “it looks like you don’t know that being loud can alert people to your presence.”

“Doctor!”  the TARDIS Figgies and Jack squealed.

“Yes?”  came eleven others.

“Let’s face it, Masters,” the Little Doctor said, “you’re outnumbered.  You can still leave.”

“I don’t get it,” Five muttered, perplexed.  “What do you mean Masters?”

“Those guys are the Master’s each incarnation, all here at once,” Ten replied.

“You mean that old guy’s the Master too?!”

Professor Yana straightened his collar self-consciously.

“You were old once too,” One snapped to Five.

“Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor…”  HoodieMaster purred, enumerating each Doctor’s, well, title.  “I see that you’re really being no fun, so I really won’t get much satisfaction from killing you all, so why don’t we call a temporary truce?  I’m very bored and incredibly hungry.”  He sniffed the air.  “Do I smell Nitro Nine nuggets?”

“Nitro Nine?!”  Seven paled.

“Yes, you do,” Jack replied wanly.  “Doctor,” he continued, addressing the Little Doctor.

“Yes?”  twelve voices responded.

“I meant the little guy!”

“Oh,” eleven voices sighed.

“Anywho,” Jack continued irritably, “do you suppose we should trust him?  Y’know, the whole truce thing.”

Temporary truce,” Hoodie Master butted in.

“Well….”  the Doctors chorused.

“Yes,” the Little Doctor said alone, evoking horrified stares from his previous incarnations.  “They’re bored, and he’s hungry, and Ten, you always wanted him to, y’know, be your buddy and all….”

Ten shrugged.  “Alright.  We just might be able to find some common ground.”

Eleven smirked.  “You just wait, ol’ pal….”

“NO SPOILERS!”  the Little Doctor exclaimed, reaching up and covering Eleven’s mouth.  “Don’t you dare!

“Okay, okay,” Eleven retorted, running a hand through his hair.  “You needn’t act so … funny!”

“Funny is fun,” Hoodie Master said, “Let’s go have some fun already!”  While the other five Masters exchanged funny (in a not-so-fun way) looks, Hoodie Master skipped out of the room, pulling Cece and Jack along with him.

“He’s really a good guy once you get to his good side,” Ten said with a shrug, following after them.

“You said it’d be just us!”  One whispered to the Little Doctor, bewildered.

“There’s been a change of plans,” the Little Doctor replied.  “Believe me, I’m just as confused as you.”

Too Many Time Lords

“Wow, these are good!”  HoodieMaster exclaimed as he chewed on a Nitro Nine nugget.  He held out the bowl to the others present.  “Want one?”

Seven and Jack shuddered in distaste.  Not even the other Masters wanted any!  Hoodie Master proceeded to completely devour the bowl’s contents at lightning speed.

“Now that I’m not going to be hungry,” he continued, licking his fingers, “why don’t we do something fun, like watch a movie?”

“What movie do you have in mind?”  Ten asked a little suspiciously.

“Well, I recently downloaded that movie about a guy who murdered people with a chainsaw,” Hoodie Master began.

Everyone else, including the other Masters, shook their heads vehemently.

When the Hoodie Master’s other suggested titles, ranging from a movie about a cannibal who ate people to a sizzle reel of all the gory scenes from The Lord of the Rings, were rejected, (and Jack excused himself to throw up,) he made one last attempt.  “I found this at a video shop called Nightingale’s.  It was made back in 1965, called Dr. Who and the Daleks.  Anyone like to see it?”

The Doctors began whispering earnestly among themselves.  “Alright,” One spoke up finally.  “Who ratted on us?”

“I did,” Hoodie Master replied cheekily.  “If you really take such offense to this, why don’t I just look up some Teletubbies on YouTube?”

Jack opened his mouth to say yes, but was instantly drowned out by cries of nay from Cece and her friends.

“So let’s dance, then,” Hoodie Master said.  “Everyone form a Conga line!”

Everyone did.  Cece muttered a prayer of thanks that they weren’t dancing in couples, or else she’d probably end up stuck with You-Know-Who.

With a push of his laser screwdriver, Hoodie Master turned on the music again.  This time, the song was “Stand by Me” by Ben E. King.  This was enjoyable for everyone except for Seven, who found himself stuck in Six’s annoyingly curly blond hair.

“This song must be from after my time,” One muttered.  He was bumped along by Jack, Skye, Athena, Cece, Grace, and Emory.

Emory whispered something into Grace’s ear, which ended with “pass it on.”  Grace passed on the message to Cece, who thus passed it on to Athena, who passed it on to Skye.  Grinning mischievously, Skye pushed Jack.  Hard.

The rest of the Time Lords toppled over like dominoes!

“Why wasn’t this song called ‘Fall by Me?'”  Three muttered, rubbing his head from where he had fallen, flat on his face.  “We certainly aren’t standing.”

“Can we please watch a movie?”  Hoodie Master whined.  “I wanna watch Psycho!”

“No!”  Nine retorted, pushing Five and Seven off of his back and tripping over Four’s scarf in the process.  “I am very, very cross now!  All of you, go to your sleeping bags!”

“But we didn’t bring any,” Bearded Master whimpered.

“So sleep on the floor!”  Nine retorted sharply.  “Do not mess with me, or I will use this blaster gun on each and every one of you!”  He pulled out a large, yellow banana.  “Trust me, it’s cloaked in a peel, but it’s dangerous.”

“Good going, Mr. Spock,” Jack muttered from a huge pile of fallen Doctors.

“Thanks,” Nine replied, smiling in his fantastically goofy way.  He returned to a frown and crossed his arms.  “Now go to your sleeping bags.  I’m warning you.”

Everyone, invited and uninvited guests alike, retreated to their sleeping bags / spots on the hard floor / Cece’s room.

The Three Pranksters

[Here you go, Miss Haddock, your moment to shine! 😉  –Cece]

Needless to say, nobody slept well that night.  Ten had this terrible habit of kicking out in his sleep, Six giggled a lot, and Nine snored.  Very loudly, at that.

“Reverse the polarities of their neutron flows!”  Three shouted out once after being kicked in the ribs by a pair of red trainers and being laughed at by a sleeping Time Lord in rainbow pajamas.

“The floor is hard,” Skeleton Master hissed.  “My poor bones ache.”

“I can see them aching,” Bearded Master remarked.

“Don’t pick on him,” Hoodie Master muttered.  “You just woke me up from the perfect nightmare….”

Jack had stolen several pillows and had built himself an elaborate pillow fort.  He could snore alright, but he was by far outdone by Nine.

Eventually, everyone in the control room drifted off to a rather fitful daze that one might consider sleeping if they weren’t experiencing it themselves.

At 2:oo AM, three sets of feet tiptoed their way down the hall from Cece’s room, arms loaded with all sorts of goodies.  Well, goodies for some, but baddies for others.  Well, maybe whipped cream and sharpie markers aren’t really good for anyone except someone trying to shave off a permanent marker mustache….

“They won’t know what hit them!”  Athena whispered.

“I know!”  Skye agreed, her eyes gleaming mischievously.

“I heard the last one doze off about an hour ago,” Cece muttered, breaking the seal on her can of whipped cream.  “This should be, as he says, FANTASTIC!

The three mischief-makers tip-toed past the various slumberers, who wee all sprawled randomly in the circular control room.  Inwardly, Cece wondered how they’d all fit if the TARDIS was, indeed, just a small blue phone box.  Probably not very well.

“Which one should we get first?”  Athena asked.  So many possibilities….

“Let’s get Hoodie Master,” Cece decided.  “He’s the only one with a face that doesn’t have a mustache.”

“What about Skeleton Master?”  Skye mused.

“He doesn’t have a face,” Cece replied, smirking.  “Come on, let’s go.”  She uncapped her marker and made a beeline for her target.

Already, a stubble was growing in on his usually shaven face, and he had his hoodie up too.  Surprisingly, he didn’t snore.

Cece made his mustache like a bit like Inigo Montoya’s, but then she completed the look with Groucho Marx-style eyebrows and big, round Harry Potter glasses.  At the suggestion of Skye, she even added a little lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.  Done.

“Now who should we do next?”  she whispered, stepping back to admire her handiwork.  “A Doctor?”

“No,” Skye chuckled, grinning evilly.  “Look.”  At their feet lay Captain Jack Harkness, and he was going to have the makeover of his dreams.  The bad dreams, that is.

The Next Morning….

“Aaaargh!”  Six roared.  “Who kicked me?!”

“I did,” Seven replied, smoothing out his question mark-covered PJ’s.  “You have a sign taped to your back that reads Kick Me, so I did.”

Elsewhere, Cape Master received similar treatment from his Sunglasses reincarnation.  “You fool!”  he shouted.  “What insolence!”

Sunglasses Master just shrugged.  “But you said so.”  He peeled the paper off his previous incarnation’s cape.  “It says, Kick me or face the consequences.  I’ve been you long enough to know what those are, and I’d hate to regenerate into that old guy so soon.”  He jerked a thumb in the direction of Professor Yana, who had just sat down on a whoopee cushion.

“Now now,” Three admonished, wagging a finger at Yana.  “That was not polite.”

“What sorcery is this?!”  Hoodie Master exclaimed from inside the bathroom.  He was staring up at his reflection in the mirror in utter horror.  “This is inconceivable!”

“Are you done in there?!”  Jack whined.  He was the first in a line of several irate Time Lords who were all waiting their turn to use the sonic shaver.  In addition to a really prickly five o’clock shadow, however, Jack had a whipped cream beard that made him look like an old sea captain, a thick, black monobrow, and huge, fluttery eyelashes that seemed to be made of something more permanent than mascara.  (He didn’t want to admit it, but it smelled a lot like shoe polish.)

“Oh no!  My scarf!”  Four was mournfully clutching his scarf, which was drenched in lime green paint.  Yes, Skye had dipped the end in a huge tub of it, and then proceeded to throw the rest of it all over Nine.

“I look like a Slitheen!”  Nine wailed.

“You look like the Green Goblin,” Ten teased.

“You look like a celery,” Five added.

“Why do you two keep ganging up on me?!”  Nine demanded, peeking a huge glob of paint off his nose.

Five and Ten just grinned conspiratorially at each other.

Cece and her friends walked past all of them into the kitchen.  Grace, Emory, and Hannah looked quite well-rested, but Cece, Athena, and Skye appeared to be quite bedraggled, and they had dark circles under their eyes that would have put Captain Jack Sparrow (not to be confused with Harkness) to shame.  (Who wouldn’t look like that after a night of laughing like hyenas into pillows so as to not wake anyone else up?)

“I think I smell a rat,” Four whispered to Three.

In the kitchen, One and Two sat at the table, rubbing their temples.

“I woke up with one of those modern music players blasting in my ears,” One moaned.  “I will burn Susan’s records when I get back to the 1960s!”

“My previous incarnation,” Two was saying, “he learned to tolerate the stuff.”

“You mean me, don’t you?”  One shuddered.  “I despise it.”

“Actually,” Cece said with a smirk as she started gathering the ingredients for a huge batch of pancakes, “your current incarnation recently informed me that you absolutely adore the Beatles, the Stones, and the Who.  Especially the Who.”

“THE WHO?!”  One fainted.

“Cece?!”  Jack hollered as he stormed into the kitchen.  “What did you do to my face?!”

Cece looked up innocently from her bowl of batter.  “Pardon?”

“My face!”

Cece and her friends burst into laughter as she handed him a sponge.  “See if this helps you any.”

Jack walked away, muttering something about a lawsuit.

An Unexpected Surprise

“Don’t worry,” the Little Doctor said reassuringly to Hoodie Master even as they struggled to hear their own thoughts over the ensuing pandemonium.  “I don’t suspect you of having pulled these pranks.  The girls do this sort of thing to Jack all the time.”

They glanced concernedly at Jack, who had successfully removed the eyebrow and sea captain beard, but the eyelashes were quite persistent.  He was being chased by the Tenth Doctor, who was being chased by the Ninth Doctor, who was being chased by the Seventh, who had called his bluff about the banana blaster.  “Don’t let Ianto see me like this,” Jack begged.

As they passed by, Hoodie Master took out his phone and snapped a picture, which he promptly sent to both Ianto Jones and Sherlock Holmes’ phones.  (With that text so Sherlock, he also sent in a request for the skin on his pink phone, but he had a feeling the detective would just ignore it.)  Strangely, he didn’t get a response from anyone.  Not even Ianto, who should’ve been laughing his head off by now.

“He’s not telling you everything,” Sunglasses Master cut in ominously, sidling over to where they sat.  Common sense told him not to lean on any of the buttons.

“What do you mean?”  the Little Doctor asked.

“Explain, my future incarnation.”

Hoodie Master looked around furtively.  “Alright.  I kind of influenced them to do some of the more annoying pranks, using a reboot of the Archangel Network.  But I made them play pranks on us too to throw you all off the scent.  I know it was inevitable that they’d try to pull something, so I … offered them some subconscious suggestions….”

The Little Doctor paled.  “Jack!  Jack, get over here!”

“What?!”  Jack wailed.

“I need you to go and disable the Archangel Network,” the Little Doctor instructed.



“But I can’t go out like this!”

“I’ll send Ianto and Gwen and all of  Torchwood a whole photo gallery of you fluttering those eyelashes if you don’t,” the Little Doctor threatened, taking out his own phone.

Jack sighed resignedly.  “Oh, alright.”  He left the TARDIS with Four’s hat pushed low over his face.

“I suppose I should ask,” the Little Doctor continued when Jack was gone, “how did you know about our party?”

Hoodie Master grinned an evil-looking grin.  (He was especially good at those.)  “A little Master told me.”  He would say no more.

Just then, the TARDIS’ doorbell rang.  The Little Doctor went over to answer it.  It was his friend and former schoolmate, David McDonald.

“Hey,” he said, looking over the Doctor’s shoulder and into the TARDIS, to see Time Lords chasing each other and throwing tantrums, and a bunch of teenage girls throwing pancakes everywhere.  “What is going on in there?!”

The Doctor sighed.  “Yeah.  Long story, but I’ll be putting an end to it soon.  Nice watch, by the way.”

David shrugged.  “Thanks.  I found it in my sock drawer the other day, collecting dust.  Figured I’d try it on and see if I’m not late anymore.”

“Good idea,” the Doctor chuckled.  “Why don’t you come on in.  I think Cece was supposed to be serving pancakes….”

Just to recap, the first mistake the Little Doctor had made in the last forty-eight hours was inviting all of his previous incarnations to a slumber party.  (He’d have to wipe their memories before he sent them back.)  His second mistake had been letting Cece, her friends, and Jack stick around.  His third mistake had been tolerating all of the Masters.  Letting David McDonald into the TARDIS was about to become his fourth.

2 thoughts on “The Doctor Slumber Party

    • Allison the Writer says:

      Well, in the TV show, I haven’t heard anybody specifically say he is Merlin, but that IS an interesting point! And his sonic screwdriver does remind me of a wand. Somebody (not me, since Merlin isn’t exactly my strong point in fanfic) should write a MerWho fic about that, if they haven’t already!


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