Rating: R (situation-y)
Warnings: Crack!fic, baby!fic, happy!who fic, some general wrongness
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jack
Spoilers: S1, 2 ish... it falls off the continuity bandwagon, but it's funnier that way, trust me.
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply. If I owned...no, I'd better not say anything. That's how this whole fic came about anyways.
Archive: Feel free, just drop me a line so I know (my ego is like that)
Beta: Apologies to my long-suffering beta, I had postitus. Again. Encouragement provided by </a></b></a>darkbunnyrabbit, beta-ishness by </a></b></a>chisolmjim who says he doesn't want to say that I make him ill, but...dammit.
A/N: So sorry. So very sorry.
Summary: Wearing the Fuzzy Bunny Slippers of Rassilon, being pampered by Jackie Tyler in the last week of pregnancy...
The poor little creature never stopped talking, not even in his sleep. God help him, being genetically connected, in any way, to the Doctor.
They weren’t the ‘Fuzzy Bunny slippers of Rassilon,’ as the Doctor thought it was so clever to call them, they were those horrible looking Monty Python killer rabbit slippers. They were also on Jackie Tyler’s coffee table. She’d have screamed and slapped the feet of the wearer away, except, said wearer had terribly swollen legs and a belly about to burst. The whole situation was strange as hell, but she wasn’t without sympathy. This was, after all, her grandchild.
Sitting on the sofa, she handed over a plate with two sandwiches on it, one with meat, one with peanut butter—the cravings seemed to change without warning. Damned aliens, and their damned alien offspring. “Eat up. You need to keep your strength up.”
Before a reply could be made, the front door to the flat opened and an exuberant toddler came clopping into the lounge, his face smeared with chocolate and his chubby little hands held out for a hug. Before the little imp could use Jackie as a napkin, he was grabbed by his shirt by a strong arm and hoisted into the air. “Waren, let me wipe your mouth. Sorry, Mrs. Tyler,” Jack Harkness flashed his toothiest lady (and man) killer grin.
The boy began rambling about his day at the park immediately, not even stopping in his choppy mis-pronounced tale of how daddy let him have candy and play on the swings and in sand boxes and the truly magnificent BIG PIECE OF POOP HE FOUND THERE for Jack to clean his little face.
Jackie wanted to be exasperated, but she just sighed, rolling her eyes, patting the swollen, varicosed leg next to her, she got up. “I’ll see about something to drink.”
The boy toddled after her, into the kitchen, explaining in great detail the shape of the poop. It was like a round thing, but like a triangle thing. Like a pyramid. But round. And made out of poop…
Her family had gotten so damned strange in the last few years. Patting the boy’s head, she got his sippy cup out of the refrigerator, hoping for a few minutes of non-poop oriented discourse. The moment the lid hit the boy’s lips he began drinking his juice, still making sounds in between swallows. The poor little creature never stopped talking, not even in his sleep. God help him, being genetically connected, in any way, to the Doctor.
Hell, God help this one that was coming any day now. And, really, God help them all…
Getting the jug of water out of the refrigerator, she gently edged Waren out of the way so that she could past him. Putting the jug on the table, she looked critically at its sole occupant. “Y’know, you could help a little bit.”
Rose looked up from her magazine. “Oh no,” she declared dramatically, tossing her hands up in the air. “I can’t do anything right. He wanted kosher pickles on his waffles, not dill. Well, he can get his own waffles!” the last was declared loudly enough for the person in question to hear. “Oh wait, he can’t get off the sofa without help!”
Narrowing her eyes at her daughter, Jackie pointed at the doorway. “That man in there is having your baby. You get in there and show him some support!”
The mouth piece of the cup unplugged from Waren’s mouth. “Now, dammit!” The boy dropped his cup. “Shit!”
“Warenalspatyixalotravorien Franklin Harkness!” came the instantaneous shouts from Jack and the Doctor in the other room.
A moment later, Jack groaned in disgust. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that.”
“He learned it from you,” the Doctor declared.
Jackie put a hand on the boy’s moppy head. “What’d we say about using grownup words?”
The boy grinned, a charmer already and not big enough to tie his own shoelaces. “Haveta wait till ‘least six.”
A snorting laugh burst out of Rose’s nostrils, holding it back having only made it worse. Finally she managed to get herself under control enough to get to her feet. “Fine, fine. I’m going. But if he doesn’t like those sandwiches, he’s outta luck.”
Jackie sighed. “He’s the one about to pop, and you’re the hormonal mess. Can somebody please explain that to me?” She handed her daughter a tall glass of water to take into the other room with her. “I don’t get any of it, really. It’s all so…. Why can’t you just adopt a cute little baby from China, like normal people?”