- Five Times Glitter Bothered the Doctor. And One Time It Didn't. (6/6) Author
- General Characters
- Ten, Rose, OCs Spoilers
- Through the end of S2 Disclaimer
- I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for the kids. They're all mine.) Summary
- His daughters like glitter. Author's Notes
is still gallivanting in the UK, lucky cow, but before she took off she kindly beta'd this for me. Thanks also to Kristin, who suggested several of these scenarios, and to bouncy_castle79
for the read-through. The lovely icon was created by swankkat
for me, commissioned by jlrpuck
</lj>for my birthday. 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5
The gyometer thrust wasn’t thrusting. While it wasn’t thrusting, they couldn’t really go anywhere. The rest of the family didn’t seem terribly concerned about this at the moment. They’d just had an exhausting visit to New Guyj’d, involving a donkey-like creature and socks, and everyone seemed inclined to just relax for a while, including Brem. Brem was normally concerned every time the TARDIS hiccupped but just now he was engrossed in a historical Frovilian text that he had found in the library and that he was reading slowly and carefully. And the girls were doing whatever the girls normally did. It probably involved a tea party and…
Glitter. Finally opening the gyometer thrust, that was what spilled out of it. Glitter. And, because he’d been laying under the gyometer thrust, looking up at it, it spilled into his eyes and his nose and his mouth, which had been open so he could clench the sonic screwdriver between his teeth.
Coughing and gasping, he pushed himself out from underneath the console, swiping piles of glitter off his face. How had they even gotten that much glitter into the gyometer thrust? How had they gotten any glitter at all in there?
“What’s the matter?” asked Rose, as he managed to finally blink his eyes open.
“Glitter,” he said, making a noise like a cat choking up a hairball to try to get it out of his throat. “Glitter in the gyometer thrust.”
“How did that get there?” she asked.
He gave her a look.
“Alright,” she said. “So I know how it got there.”
“They cannot just…strew glitter all over the TARDIS, Rose. There’s too much glitter around here.”
“I know,” she said, sympathetically. “But they like glitter.”
“That doesn’t mean that it has to be in the gyometer thrust, Rose.”
“No. You just need to set ground rules for them.”
“I’m rubbish at setting ground rules.”
There was a moment of silence. “So can you go talk to the girls about the rules?” asked the Doctor, hopefully.
“No,” responded Rose. “I’m going to make that your job. Because you’re rubbish at it.”
“Rose,” he sighed.
“I’ll make us a cuppa while you go talk to them.”
He frowned as she walked out of the control room, and then forced himself to the nursery. Athena and Fortuna were clustered around their arts-and-crafts table. And there was a pile of glitter on the floor under the table. He sighed.
“Hello, Daddy,” they chorused at him, turning immediately back to their project.
“We need to talk,” he began, trying to sound stern. “About the gyometer thrust.”
“Oh, that,” said Athena.
“We put glitter in that,” added Fortuna.
The Doctor boggled. “Why?”
They looked up at him in confusion.
“To give you something to tinker with,” said Fortuna.
“While we were in the Vortex,” continued Athena.
“So you wouldn’t be bored.”
He stared at them, one who looked like him and one who looked like Rose, and shook his head in exasperation. “You can’t—“
“Look what we made for you!” exclaimed Fortuna, and she and Athena skipped over to him, clutching something, which they handed across to him.
It was a piece of paper, cut into an oval, and absolutely drenched in the same pale blue glitter that was covering the floor of the nursery at the moment. And the pale blue glitter formed words. Word that were crowded into the oval of the paper but words nonetheless. “Best Dad in the Universe!” it proclaimed. He opened and closed his mouth, but found, shockingly, that he had no words to say.
“D’you like it?” asked Athena, eagerly.
“We can stick it to your suit,” said Fortuna, holding up a safety pin.
He looked from one to the other of them. And suddenly realized how much they looked like themselves. They were no longer the babies they had been. Athena’s freckles and dark eyes and unruly Time Lord hair—they were no longer features he had given her but hers. The same way he looked at Fortuna and saw, past the golden hair and those wide compelling eyes, not just her mother but her. These remarkable little creatures who had once been a matter of genetics to him, of human-Time Lord DNA all mixed up and intertwined, and now were, abruptly, their own people, and he would blink his eyes and they would grow older and older and older and time would pass and they would be done with glitter and they would realize that you shouldn’t sabotage the gyometer thrust and they would no longer make him daft badges to pin to his suit and suddenly, quite abruptly, he reached out and crushed them to him.
“Dad,” said Athena, in mild protest, against him, but he ignored her and instead kissed both of their heads.
“Glitter,” he said. “Glitter everywhere in the TARDIS. Anywhere you want.” He suddenly wanted to come across it two hundred years from now, glitter from that crazily short time when Athena and Fortuna had adored it so. He released them from the hug and looked back down at them.
“Really?” asked Athena, shocked.
“Yes,” he said.
“You wrinkled it,” complained Fortuna, staring in chagrin at his “Best Dad in the Universe” badge.
“Oh, I didn’t,” he protested, smoothing it out. “It’s perfect. It’s beautiful and perfect and I love it.” He took the safety pin from Fortuna and pinned it to his lapel.
The girls beamed up at him, pleased, and he smiled down at them.
“Your mother’s making me tea,” he said. “So I’m going to have a cuppa with her.”
“Tell her not to be jealous,” Athena warned him, seriously. “We’re going to make her something, too.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed, and left them to their machinations in the nursery and walked to the kitchen. His timing was perfect: she was just pouring hot water over tea leaves in the pot. He leaned against the doorframe for a moment and watched her, with a sudden astonishment, the mother of his children, and when had that happened?
She glanced up at him. “Did you tell the girls?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him, catching the fact that he was staring at her. “What?”
He walked suddenly over to her and pulled her against him. She made a noise of surprise, but rested her head against his shoulder.
“What?” she asked again.
He took a deep breath and said, “I love glitter.”