I was just messing around, since the 11th Doctor is actually so fun to write. I watched a scene David Tennant did for Comic Relief or something, where he ran into some other past Doctor, and the idea sort of wouldn't go away. Enjoy!
The tenth Doctor couldn't help but gawp at the apparently half-crazed man sitting three tables away, much like the rest of the meager residents in Kenny's Café.
He was, quite simply put, stark raving bonkers, in his tidy tweed suit, fraying bowtie and ridiculous, bright red fez, an enormous gold tassel dangling from the monstrous headwear. As he spoke to his companions, his voice would randomly change volume, before becoming as quiet as a whisper as his over-exaggerated hand movements captured their attention, his eyebrows dancing across his forehead.
A blond, curly-haired middle-aged woman –whom sat next to him- sighed, obviously embarrassed to be in the company of this eccentric character, while red-head and her boyfriend –sitting parallel- appeared somewhat accustomed to his antics, instead resigning themselves to reluctant defeat.
"Oi! Fezzes are cool!" the man bellowed, his indignant pose mismatching the teasing twinkle in his eyes.
And those eyes, so very ancient, yet somehow shining with mirth and childish humor. His features matched his personality; quirky, yet somehow endearing, handsome even.
His hair was dark, and flopped madly about, a little bit overgrown and rugged. He grabbed a spoon, plunking it into the white china bowl placed in front of him, digging a massive chunk of ice cream and sliding it through his lips. The man scowled, making a face as his hands made a beeline towards the ketchup.
Slap!
"Don't," his ginger companion glared, her pretty accent lowered to a particularly threatening tone.
The man sulked, repeatedly stabbing his scoops of chocolate flavored deliciousness with the enthusiasm of a dozing cat. "Fine," he mumbled.
"Fine," the pretty ginger woman repeated.
"Fine?" the madman whined, sounding incredulous.
"Fine," redhead growled.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, sheesh, fine," he snapped. "I should go somewhere where my charming wit and delicate taste buds are more finely appreciated," he bumbled, standing with as much pride as one can whilst garbed in a fez and a spotted bowtie.
The boyfriend's brow rose in retaliation, whilst curly-hair rubbed her temples in exasperation.
"Hnn, over there looks nice," the man said, pointing vaguely to the far side. The tenth Doctor realized he was gesturing in his direction, and swiftly snapped his gaze away from the tall, lanky young man.
By then, the other occupants had simply deigned to ignore the baffling wonder, labeling him as perhaps 'mentally underdeveloped'. Tenth knew, with every fiber of his being, that that was a far cry from the truth. This man had the mannerisms of an ancient being, far beyond the understanding of mere human.
"Hello," the man grinned, absently holding his ice-cream precariously, protecting it against his chest. "Mind if I sit?"
Tenth cleared his throat. "Er, sure," he replied, feeling a little self-conscious in the presence of this strange being who may or may not be a threat.
Although, that being said, the man appeared as non-threatening as humanly possible, squealing with glee as he squirted what could possibly be half a bottle of ketchup onto chocolate ice-cream.
"Eurgh," the Doctor couldn't help but sneer. "That's disgusting."
"This," the man began to retort, plopping healthy serving of reddish-brown substance into his mouth, "is good food."
He waggled his spoon around as he spoke, melted droplets flying onto the polished glass table.
"Good food? You're ruining it!" the Doctor yelped, making pointy, accusing hand gestures at the gradually melting puddle of mushy brick red.
He cradled his bowl against his chest, glaring menacingly at the brown-eyed, skinny guy with sideburns. "Mine," he snarled.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Your funeral," he said, vaguely wondering where his friendly charm might have disappeared to. This guy pushed the boundaries of polite first meetings, instead plunging straight into his act of ice cream vandalism.
The man snorted. "I've always wanted a funeral. I'd like to have an open casket, and a springboard behind my body so I can jump out at some poor bugger," he sniggered.
"Huh," tenth Doctor remarked, allowing the faintest trace of a smile to grace his lips.
"I like funerals," the man continued his rant. "Not too keen on the dying bit, though. That's a bit of a drag."
Tenth scratched his head in puzzlement, taking a long gulp of hot coffee as he fought down a throaty chuckle. When he'd finally calmed down, he gazed into the fez-wearing madman's eyes, so incredibly old, yet young at the same time. "I like funerals too," he replied.
"Sadistic bastard, aren't you?" the stranger scoffed. "I suppose you're possibly a mass murderer, in which case I shall deploy my psychiatrist talents and degree in cheese-making to cheer your sorry ass up. Either that or you're emo."
"What? No, I-"
Tenth was interrupted by sharp peals of laughter, loud and unsuppressed, and realized with a start that he was being messed with. He promptly grabbed his coffee and downed it, discreetly slapping his face to wake up.
"You're awfully glum, old chap. I don't remember being so miserable," the madman casually droned, as if discussing the weather.
"Right," the Doctor snapped, a little short-tempered. "No two people are the same."
Eleventh blinked, before his face split into a dreaded grin, as if he was sharing a private joke.
"Oh, I beg to differ," he smirked.
Ten rolled his eyes. "What's your name?" he asked, slightly interested in this fellow.
"Oh, you don't need to know my name. After all, I'm not important," the man humbly grinned, although the Doctor could see through his act almost immediately.
"I'm...the Doctor."
There was a short pause, where the man's cheeks crinkled from his growing smile. "What a coincidence, so am I."
"…"
"…"
"That can't be right," Tenth deadpanned.
"No, no, it can't at all. Where's the paradox? The Belgium-shaped explosion?" The self-proclaimed other Doctor ranted, pulling a long, glowing thing from his suede jacket.
"Is that-"
"Yep, sonic screwdriver. Made a few adjustments," Eleventh said, adjusting the setting on the old thing.
"It's not blue."
"No, it isn't."
"…blue was good."
"Green is better."
Tenth's mouth opened and closed repeatedly in a rather brilliant impression of a goldfish. Eleventh held the screwdriver over Tenth as the green light came on, noisily wailing in their ears.
"I don't understand," his eventual verdict was as he did a double take on the reading of his trusty screwdriver.
"What is it?"
"You're like a separate person."
"Well," Tenth replied, slipping on his comedy glasses. "I kind of am."
"Yes, you are," Eleventh pondered to him self, forehead crinkled in thought. "But not really."
"Right," Ten answered, briefly observing the fact that his coffee was now cold.
"Well, since there's been no Belgium-sized explosions as of yet, I would very much enjoy another companion. Hmn?" Eleventh murmured, an excitable smirk gracing his boyish features.
"Er…no."
His smirk immediately dropped. "Aww, come on!"
"No," he flatly responded, wincing as he took a sip of cold coffee.
"Why not?"
"For all I know, this could be some elaborate trick."
The dark-haired Doctor leaned forward, as if about to whisper a secret. His fez teetered dangerously from the tip of his head, gold tassel swinging from the abrupt movement. "Trust me," he grinned. "I'm the Doctor."
"Good evening, everyone," Eleventh beamed, wringing his hands together as he appeared, once again, at the table of his lovable companions; River, Amy and Rory.
Tenth remained quiet, eyes darting like fireflies across water.
"Who's the good-looking one?" River asked, a sultry hint subduing her voice.
"Oh, you flirt," Tenth chuckled, primly adjusting his bowtie.
"I didn't mean you," River deadpanned.
Tenth took that opportunity to leap up. "'Allo," he boisterously greeted. "I'm the Doctor."
Rory gave a disbelieving snigger, his arm still around Amy's shoulders.
"But, you can't be the Doctor," Amy queried. "That's the Doctor."
"Yes, not quite," Eleventh cut in. "I'm the Doctor, but then so is. Long story, tell you later."
"…riiigghht," Rory said slowly.
"Anyone fancy hopping into the Tardis?" Eleventh continued. "I'd like a trip to the local zoo, that'll be fun. It would be quite lovely to see a badger. I like badgers."
"No aliens?" Rory asked, slightly terrified of the answer.
"I promise," Eleventh smirked. "If not, you can jump on my face."
"With pleasure," Tenth muttered, still baffled at the prospect that, in a short ten minutes, he'd been sapped from his comfortable state of depression by this raving madman's antics. Oh, sure, he'd been accused of 'not being right in the head' many times, but never to this extent.
Fortunately, Eleventh couldn't quite hear him over the babble of gentle murmurs from the surrounding occupants of the gentle café. Eleventh continued his meaningless rant, which he'd unknowingly zoned out of.
"…badger, badger, badger, parrot!" Eleventh grinned, snapping his fingers as if solving the biggest mystery of all time.
"What?" River scoffed.
"I'd quite like a new companion. A parrot would be nice, like a little one that sits on my shoulder."
"Or a monkey," Tenth spontaneously added.
"Huh?"
"Monkeys are good."
Eleventh smirked, eyeing Tenth up and down as if he were, once again, analyzing him. "Yes, monkeys are very good. Spectacular, in fact! River, you got any cash?"
"I thought the gentlemen was supposed to pay for the first date," she innocently inquired, popping the straw in her mouth and flirtingly sucking up her glass of orange juice.
"Hey, you sexy thing," Eleventh teased.
"Oi, that's my daughter you're talking about," Rory said.
"What?" Tenth said, absolutely flabberghasted.
"Ah, that's a long story, too," Eleventh awkwardly answered, finger raised in the air.
"Is it one of those spacey-wacey, timey-wimey thingys?" Tenth asked with genuine seriousness.
"Indeed," Eleventh replied.
"Right," River snapped. "Well, now that you're both well aquainted, shall we get going? And take off that ridiculous hat."
"It's a fez," Eleventh whined, adjusting the red, cylinder shaped fashion disaster. "And I think it looks rather dashing."
"Oh please," Amy giggled. "That's such a bloke-y thing to say."
Eleventh glared at Amy, proceeding to enter a staring competition where Amy cackling gleefully, as if sharing a private joke. "I'm not a bloke," Eleventh sinisterly grimaced.
"Oh yeah, what are you then?" River airily voiced, batting her eyelashes.
"I don't know…Gandalf," Eleventh said fondly, tugging on the collar of his new knee-length jacket. "Like a space-Gandalf."
"Or that little green guy in Star Wars," Tenth cut in, his voice unusually high pitched.
The next five minutes cued a pair of Time Lords giggling gleefully as they did absolutely cringe-worthy impressions of Yoda and light sabers, which I will not spare the details of.
"All that said and done," River frowned, rolling her eyes in embarrassment, "I think we should get going."
"Brilliant!" Tenth beamed, clapping his hands like an over-excitable twelve year old. "Where to, then?"
"Can I fly her?"
"No, I want to fly her!"
"She is mine!"
Was all that was heard, as they childish pair made their way along the roads of London with a blond, curly-haired woman, a ginger girl and a man with a funny nose.
"Honestly, will you two shut up!" River yelled. "I can hardly hear myself think!"
"Oh, dear-y dear," Eleventh whispered slyly as he threw an arm around her shoulders. "How are you doing..." wait for it "...Mrs Robinson?"
BOOM!
"I hate you," River growled.
"No you don't," the Doctor snapped back, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. Tenth appeared a little happy at the prospect of kissing a glamorous, mature woman in the future.
They finally came to a halt at the sight of a familiar bright blue police box.
"Look at you!" Tenth exclaimed, jamming his glasses on his face to get a closer look. "So new and shiny!" He gave the Tardis a fond pat as Eleventh held the door open.
"Come on in," he grinned. "Welcome to your future home."
Hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing.
Also, if I never feel like doing a second chapter, I'll tell you exactly how no Belgium-sized explosions occurred; some weird spacey-wacey alien comes along and everyone forgets the 10th and 11th Doctors ever met, thus paradox evaded. Okay, so there's a few cracks in my explanation. Sorry about that.
Review?