Great. Just great. Here he was, the Doctor; in his eleventh incarnation, and he just had to go and get himself into trouble. To do what was forbidden by ancient Time Lord society.
And he hadn't meant to. To run into himself like that. It just sort of, happened.
But anyway, be had been walking through the streets of London in the year 2008. He knew it was risky, he really did. But the Doctor was particularly fond of that year, and it just so happened that he was looking for a little shop. The ones that were often favored by his previous incarnation. He was looking for something as a keepsake to remember that year by. And the Doctor was very careful to remember exactly where he had been on that particular day in London.
Yet of course, the TARDIS had taken that moment to have a slight–very small–glitch in the navigational system, setting the Doctor off course by two days.
Two days that proved to be very fateful.
So here was the Doctor, walking the streets of London on that sunny afternoon. Not even paying attention to where he was going, he was looking into the little shop windows along the street. Suddenly, something clipped him on the shoulder, and his head flung around to the source.
It was a man—a tall, skinny, sticky-uppy haired man. He was wearing a brown pinstriped suit and looking at the Doctor with big, brown eyes.
Great.
"Sorry," exclaimed the Tenth Doctor, halting just before Eleven. "You alright, mate?"
"Uh, Y-yeah," he stammered, trying to keep calm.
Where was the paradox? He had just made contact with himself in the past, and here they were; just standing there; and nothing was happening.
Ten didn't look convinced. "You don't look too great," he went on, examining the expression spread across the other's face.
"N-no, I'm fine," he assured, worried about what would happen because of this interaction. Probably something very extremely not good.
Ten shrugged. "Alright." He began to walk in the opposite direction, and Eleven couldn't help but marvel at the slim body that used to be his. No wonder all his companions fancied him.
Ten turned then to look behind his shoulder. "I'm the Doctor, by the way."
"I know," replied the Eleventh Doctor without thinking. He clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late. Ten was already walking back over to him, brow raised in confusion.
"What do you mean, you know?" he asked.
"I, er, lots of people know you, Doctor," he tried. But Ten wasn't buying it. He got up close to the Eleventh Doctor's face, trying to assess the situation. He took a deep breath through his nostrils, then widened his brown eyes.
"You're Time Lord," he accused, stepping away from Eleven as his mind desperately racked for some sort of explanation. But to his dismay, there were only two possible solutions to this problem. One, it was the Master in another regeneration; or two, it was himself in a future incarnation. And he was going with the latter.
The Eleventh Doctor raised his hands in front of him defensively. "Now hold on," he began. "How was I supposed to know I'd run into you! You're not even supposed to be here!" He paused, as understanding began to slowly cross his face. The TARDIS!
"What do you mean I'm not supposed to be here?" Ten shot back. "Did you forget about me already? Do you even know what kind of damage we could be inflicting on the universe right now?"
The Eleventh Doctor rested the heel of his hand on his forehead, sighing exasperatedly. "It's the TARDIS," he tried to explain. "I—well, haven't exactly checked up on her navigational system lately…"
"Great," grumbled Ten. "That's just bloody brilliant." He shot a look at Eleven. "And just to think that I'd be such a scatterbrain in one of my future incarnations." He paused, curiosity mingling with his expression. "Which one are you, anyway?"
Eleven rubbed the back of his neck. Spoilers. Well, what's the worst that could really happen though?
"I'm Eleven," he mumbled, feeling embarrassed in spite of himself. He was concentrating heavily on not meeting his previous incarnation's gaze. Those big, soft, brown eyes.
The Doctor mentally slapped himself. What was he thinking? This was himself for Rassilon's sake! But still, how could he never have known how utterly attractive he had been?
The Tenth Doctor raised a brow, seeing the flush spread across the other man's face. He couldn't help but notice how strikingly hot it looked.
"So you're next in line for me, eh?" he stated, stuffing his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. "Not too bad, if I do say so myself."
Eleven stared for a moment. Was his Tenth incarnation seriously flirting with him? He ran a nervous hand through his hair, before smiling a bit shyly. "Are you kidding?" he replied. "I miss that skinny body so much, it's almost upsetting."
The Doctor chuckled. "That can be arranged." Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed Eleven's face in his hands, and pulled him forward into a kiss.
Eleven was stunned at first, but then he relaxed and kissed back, letting his eyes slide shut. He could've sworn he felt a tiny electric current pass between their contacted skin. But then he felt the warmth leave his lips, and his eyes opened, meeting with Ten's. It was an odd sensation, looking into his own eyes. He could see all the pain and destruction those eyes had seen, and he suddenly felt very lonely.
The Tenth Doctor smiled and pulled away. "No paradox," he said, as if he was only confirming his suspicions. "Maybe it doesn't apply if we're not in the same incarnation."
Eleven was still speechless, not quite sure what to think now that his earlier thoughts had become a reality. He cleared his throat.
"It seems you may be right, Doctor." He grinned. "But maybe you should come with me, to help me repair that navigational glitch in the TARDIS."
Ten nodded. "I might have to, as it seems you've forgotten how to do it yourself." He held out his hand, and Eleven took it gladly. They walked together back toward the TARDIS, and the Doctor had a strange sensation that he had found the keepsake he'd been looking for.
