#RELEASE THE PCAP CUT AND IT MIGHT ACTUALLY GET ME TO WATCH MALEFICENT

[nehswritesstuffs]

Whouffaldi parents prompt: Daddy 12 takes his turn watching the kids and he plays dress up and has a tea party. Mommy Clara comes home to see Daddy 12 dressed up like a fairy Princess and singing Disney songs.

YESSSSSS

1520 words; takes place in the Getting the Hang of Things ‘verse; since this particular storyline has Twelve as a stay-at-TARDIS dad for the first eleven years of the kids’ lives, this isn’t necessarily his “turn”, but more “business as usual” and although some of the stereotypical “mom comes home to find the house reigned by chaos” is at play in this, it’s definitely more of just that anything Time Lords do involves chaos and little else

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was the third week since Clara had begun going back to work.

The first week was easy and felt like one of her holidays, where she’d go back to Earth and see a few people and prove she was still alive and not dead in some countryside ditch. Surviving the second was a bit rougher, as she had only returned for the weekend, and it was rare that she’d done that. They’d all been a bit clingy that Monday morning, but they knew that they had to let her go.

When they reached the third week, however, it felt as though it was never going to end. The Doctor was sitting on the steps in the console room, tuning his guitar as the twins colored quietly, hoping quietly for the sweet release of Clara’s presence to arrive sooner than he thought. It was only Thursday, which meant that there was still a whole, entire, excruciating day left before Clara once again walked through the TARDIS doors.

“Daddy… where’s Mummy…?” whined a voice. The Doctor had less than a second before his daughter draped herself over his shoulder, impeding his ability to tune the guitar. “Why has she been gone for so long?”

“She’s at work,” he explained. Another weight dropped on his other shoulder and he knew that James had joined them. “Mam isn’t the kind of person to stay at home all the time. She needs to be able to talk to other people and see other things or else she’s liable to go absolutely mental.”

“You aren’t the kind of person to stay home all the time either, ‘cause you’re already mental,” James pouted.

“...and how would you know that?”

“Mummy said so,” the boy stated.

Of course… somehow, he couldn’t be cross at that admission.

“She needs to be here,” Alison groaned.

“Yeah,” her brother added. “We want to have a tea party, and Mummy makes the best tea.”

“Is this to say that I don’t make a decent cuppa?” the Doctor asked.

“It means we want Mummy to do it,” Alison insisted. “We want to have a tea party with Mummy.”

“Well, Mam’s at work, so Dad’s going to have to do,” the Doctor said. He stood up, allowing the preschoolers to cling to his shoulders as he placed his guitar back on its stand and started to head towards the kitchen. The kids slid off his back and dropped to the corridor floor, bouncing along as they followed their father through the inner workings of the TARDIS.

“You mean, you’re gonna have a tea party with us?!” Alison gasped.

“Of course! I thought you liked tea parties with Dad.”

“I don’t remember having a tea party with just you, only you and Mummy,” James noted.

“Well, go set up now!” the Doctor insisted, shooing the children down the corridor. “I want the table to be ready when I get there!”

The pair of three-year-olds rushed down the corridor to the nursery, arms extended like airplanes as they sputtered towards playtime. Their father shook his head and chuckled, stepping into the kitchen to make the aforementioned tea. He got together a whole pot of decaffinated Earl Grey tea, along with a plate of Jammie Dodgers, a plate of windmill spice biscuits, and three stroopwafels. Once everything was on the tray, he carried it out of the kitchen and down to the nursery, where James and Alison were finishing setting up the low-sitting play table with their toy tea service. Both of them lit up in excitement when they saw their father, jumping up and down as he placed the tray down.

“Alright,” he said, sitting down on a cushion. “What’s the plan?”

“Daddy, you can’t sit down,” Alison insisted. “You need to be propertly dressed first.” He glanced down at his t-shirts, jumper, and hooded sweatshirt combo and raised his eyebrow. “I can’t believe that you want to have a tea party and aren’t going to be propertly dressed.”

“Aren’t you a little young to be worrying about being properly dressed?” he fired back.

“It’s the rules!” his daughter insisted, smacking her tiny fists on the table. “Daddy, you’re embarasstming. If you don’t follow the rules, then tea will be ruined”

The Doctor swallowed hard as he realized that there was no escape—he was going to have to comply with The Rules. Not made by him. For once. Rassilion curse him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It had been a long four days in when Clara finally returned to her flat that Thursday evening. Setting down her keys in their dish and kicking off her shoes, she felt more tired than she had in a long time. Getting back to work properly again was really straining her, which she had a feeling was going to happen, just not to the degree to which it was knocking her directly onto her arse. It was worth it, though, as she was getting reacquainted with her chosen profession and catching up with not only a bunch of her former coworkers, but seeing the progress that some of her students had made since before she went on her “sabbatical”. She shuffled into her slippers and picked up a small device from next to the dish her keys sat in, pressing the button. It whirred softly, glowing a gentle green, and she put it back, carrying her marking further inside the flat as she went towards her bedroom.

There, in the corner, the TARDIS was materializing. She was hoping that she would catch her family by surprise, that her children would squeal in delight, while their father would start planning for later on that night when they were alone again. Entering the ship, she noticed that the console room was decidedly empty—the only evidence that anyone had been there recently was some abandoned coloring books and errant guitar picks.

“Doctor? Kids? Guess what? There’s a fault with the toilets at work—we’re going to be closed for a week…” She began to investigate into the whereabouts of her family, cautiously going through the corridor. They weren’t preparing dinner, nor were they in the library, or the study…

Ah, she found them! They were in the nursery, huddled around the short play table in the middle of a presumed tea party. Clara couldn’t help but laugh as she saw the Doctor sitting there, translucent costume wings strapped to his back, while he wore on his top half one of his frilly shirts from his dandy days and the patchwork-colored jacket from another time she knew he’s rather forget. All three were alerted to her presence at the sound of her laughter, the children elated whilst the Doctor was mortified.

“Mummy!” Alison and James exclaimed as they scrambled to their feet and began to run towards her. Their own play-costume wings flapped as they bounced across the nursery, not caring about the state of anything anymore, all because Mummy was home. They both crashed into her legs as they clung to her, not wanting to let go now that they had her again.

“So here is where you are,” she smirked. “I was wondering what was keeping you.”

“Aren’t you back from work early?” James wondered.

“I am, but that’s because there is an issue with the building I work in,” Clara explained. “The issue is so bad that I can’t go back for a week.”

“Did someone get hurt?” Alison squeaked.

“No, no—just some toilets began to explode and they’re going to need to completely redo the plumbing,” Clara said. She popped up on her toes as the Doctor came over and bent down, pecking her on the lips. “Admit it: I’ve seen you in worse states.”

“Yeah, you have,” he agreed, face tingeing pink. “How about if Mam finishes up the tea party, while Dad starts to put together dinner?”

“Coward.”

“Yeah.” He patted the twins on the head and gave Clara another kiss before walking towards the door. “I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

“Nuh-uh—you won’t get off that easy,” Clara insisted. She pulled the Doctor back towards the table and had him sit down, the grin on her face absolutely insufferable. “Sit, sit… tell me about your week.”

“Mummy, you need to be dressed propertly too!” Alison gasped. She somehow pulled a fourth set of wings from the closet and handed them to Clara, who put them on as one would a backpack.

“Now all the Royal Faeries are here,” James stated. The boy placed a couple biscuits on a plate and put it in front of his mother. “Her Lady the Faerie Queen has joined her family for tea!”

“Does that mean then that you are the Faerie Prince and Princess?” Clara asked. The children nodded excitedly, and she turned towards the Doctor. “That must make you His Regal Highness, the Faerie King.”

“What else would I be?” he shrugged, sipping on his own cuppa in an effort to seem nonchalant. “It was part of the rules, right kids?”

“That’s right!” Alison said. “Rules are rules!”

At least there were worse rules to have to follow.