The amount of love I hold for Doctorcest is uncanny now. How did it come to this? How did this happen?

Why do I not care?

On with the show.

Their current predicament was strange enough as is. Ten and Eleven just had to go and make things worse, didn't they?

Although, Nine supposed, pausing his work to thoughtfully consider his attitude towards his older selves, he did realize that their 'predicament' had been current for… Well, about four months now.

Which was a miracle, since the universe typically couldn't go a week without something threatening to destroy it; least of all a paradox created by four different versions of the Time Lord "the Doctor" all meeting at the same point in time. Two of them alone could have imploded all of reality. But, for whatever reason, no such catastrophe had happened.

Yet.

Nine didn't know if he was relieved or just suspicious. Reasonably, he could be both. But that wasn't the focus of his attention at the moment.

After the initial shock of meeting each other, and the realization that three of them couldn't get back to their original timelines, the four Doctors actually settled down and became… almost like friends. If one could be friends with himself. They'd decided to stick together and solve their problem, and thus went with a numerically-ordered naming system. Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve, all the Doctor, and all stuck in Twelve's TARDIS as they tried to sort themselves out and hopefully not destroy reality- really, an ordinary day for any of them. But Nine's current dilemma, the one that had become more apparent in the last few weeks, was that concerning Ten and Eleven's growing… fondness for each other.

He might've understood it from Ten's point of view- after all, Eleven already knew everything about him, and something about having your future literally right in front of you was rather exciting. Not that Nine felt that way about either of them- or Twelve, so don't you start asking. But if anything, Eleven was the more enamored Time Lord. Though that was probably because Ten was the biggest flirt out of the four of them, and he used every trick- disregarding the fact that Eleven knew them all and really shouldn't have fallen for them- on his older self. Perhaps it was a challenge, wondered Nine. To see if you could get a different version of yourself to fall in love with… yourself.

Either way, it was getting to be unbearable. The flirting, the little winks and smiles, and the touches… See, Ten would occasionally brush his fingers against Eleven's hand as they both flew the TARDIS, causing the older-but-younger-faced Doctor to blush and quickly retract his hand from whatever control it had been working at. Nine rolled his eyes every time it happened- and when he caught Twelve's eye from across the console, he could see that the eldest Time Lord was just as sick of it.

But neither of them could bring themselves to comment on it. Maybe it was just how cheerful the mood was when Ten and Eleven flirted, or maybe it was that, with the Doctor being essentially the loneliest creature in the known universe, it was to be expected that the only person he could really be happy with was himself. They didn't know what it was, but Nine and Twelve still refrained from interfering in their business. If they wanted to flirt, flirt away.

Really, Nine was surprised he hadn't caught them snogging yet.

He was interrupted in his musings by the sound of the door to his room opening. He looked up and saw a pair of very aggressive eyebrows glaring back at him. The lined face they belonged to didn't look terribly happy, either.

"Twelve," he greeted, quickly going back to the gadget he'd been working on. Honestly, he didn't even know what it was anymore. Some kind of hair curler, maybe. "Did you get tired of the lovebirds already?" A grin. "You have your own room, you know."

"That's just the problem," Twelve groaned, the complaint made all the more gruff with his Scottish accent. "I mean the lovebirds, not my room."

"What? Is it their first spat already? Remember, if Eleven started it, I win a hundred credits."

"No, you big-eared moron, it's something else." Twelve stalked towards Nine's desk and laid his palms flat against the surface, prompting the younger Doctor to look up and put down his contraption. "They don't know."

A few seconds passed as Nine stared at Twelve. "… Don't know… what?"

"They don't even know they're doing it!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. His action caused Nine to jump slightly, and the youngest Doctor frowned.

"Sorry, clarification please?"

"Ten and Eleven! The flirting, the touchy-feely stuff, it's all… unintentional!"

"..."

"Look," Twelve leaned in close, looming into Nine's personal space. "I just got done talking to Eleven. I told him that it's alright if he and Ten kiss and hold hands, or whatever it is couple-y people do. He looked at me like I was mad."

Nine blinked. "Alright… And…?"

"And he told me, flat out, that he was 'definitely, most assuredly, positively not in love with Ten.'"

"Oh. Exact words?"

"Straight from his own mouth."

The youngest Time Lord ran a hand down his face, contraption laying forlornly on his desk. "That's way too many variations of the word 'definitely'... Christ, he's in denial."

"Exactly! You see the problem now, yes? All that excessive flirting was done subconsciously! All a complete and utter waste of time!"

"What's your problem?" Nine asked, eyeing his future self with suspicion. "I thought you hated flirting."

"Oh, I do. But even more so when there's no point. I mean, it's tolerable when the two people are actually working towards something, but pointless flirtation is… It's…" Twelve struggled to find the words.

"Pointless?" supplied Nine.

Twelve nodded. "Yes!"

"Okay, so what do you propose we do, Eyebrows?" Nine stood up from his desk and walked around to face Twelve, who was frowning at the nickname. "Tell Eleven to man up and make a move?"

"No no, first we should clarify Ten's feelings. He was always a flirt, that one."

"How are we going to do that?"

Twelve stared pointedly at him.

"What?" Nine gaped. "Why do I have to ask?"

"Because, I asked Eleven," he replied, so matter-of-factly that Nine wanted to hit him.

They both glowered at each other for a long while, before Nine eventually relented with a groan.

"Fine. I'll ask."

"Wonderful. Now, hop to it. I think I saw Ten in the library."

With a smarmy grin, Twelve turned around and sauntered out of Nine's room. The younger of the two watched him go with a scowl. Then, he sighed, and forced himself to trudge through the door, beginning his search for Ten.

He was, in fact, in the library.

Nine found Ten lounging about on a chair, holding aloft a worn and tattered copy of Recreational Mathematics, Fourth Edition. His reading glasses were affixed to his face- something Nine didn't particularly care for, since he knew full well that Ten didn't need them. It was a bad habit that had carried over to Eleven as well...

He pushed the errant thought from his head and coughed, catching Ten's attention.

"Hey," the skinny Time Lord grinned.

"Hey," he replied, moving to sit in the chair beside him. "Did you and Eleven finally get tired of messing with the TARDIS?"

"We weren't messing with her," he said indignantly. "We were doing maintenance. But then Eleven went to get some tools, came back, and then rushed off again. Haven't seen him since."

"So you just gave up?"

"It's not as fun by yourself. Well, I suppose, since we're the same person, I'd be by myself anyway, but…"

Nine cut off his ramblings with a small smile. "Any idea why Eleven ran off?"

"I imagine he got bored. He does that a lot, you know. Just the other day, we were in the swimming pool. Then he leaves and I find him an hour later in the kitchen."

"Fish fingers and custard?" They both shared a mutual grimace.

"Yeah. Thing is, he's been doing it a lot, lately. It's like… I bore him. Am I boring? I hardly think so." Ten looked to his younger self for confirmation, something akin to desperation in his eyes.

"If you think you bore him, why don't you just ask? Or maybe spend some time apart. You two… spend a lot of time with each other," Nine said as nonchalantly as possible.

"Well, you and Twelve are usually together," Ten replied, not missing a beat. "That kind of just leaves us."

"Well, yeah, but…" Nine sighed. Screw beating the bush. "Look, Ten, be honest with me, alright?"

Ten sat up, looking slightly concerned. "What is it…?"

"Do you… like Eleven? And I don't mean as a friend," he added quickly. "I mean, are you… attracted to him, at all?"

At that, Ten gawked. "Wha- I… No! No, of course not! That's ridiculous! We're the same person Nine, what kind of question is that?"

Nine said nothing, and only watched Ten carefully. The older of them slowly broke down.

"I mean, as far as regenerations go, he's not… terrible… The chin is ridiculous, but, uh… He's… nice. Smart, too. Of course, he's us, why wouldn't he be… " He began wandering into the realm of ramblings, but Nine found that he had his answer. Ten obviously fancied Eleven. The pinstriped Doctor might not have realized it, but he had a bright look to his eye and a slight curl in his lip as he talked about the bowtie-adorned incarnation.

Ten paused, considering his words. Then, with a stunned expression of enlightenment, he muttered, "Oh, blimey."

Nine stood up, adjusting his jacket. "Right, well. You get that all sorted out and talk to him, alright?"

"What?" Ten blinked, suddenly looking horrified. "Why?"

"He might surprise you."

The older Doctor crossed his arms. "Since when do you play matchmaker?"

Nine began walking away, not giving Ten another glance. "I don't. It's not matchmaker if it's yourself."

"So?" Twelve asked, catching Nine a few hallways away from the library. "How did it go?"

"He's head-over-Converse," Nine smirked. "What have you been up to?"

"Bugging Eleven," he replied. "Finally got him to at least admit it."

"Good. What do we do now?"

"Well-!"

Twelve was cut off by the sound of shoes squeaking against the TARDIS floor; both he and Nine looked up, and saw Ten speeding through the corridors, face grim but determined. He didn't even appear to notice his other selves watching him.

They looked back at each other and nodded. Within seconds, they were following after him.

"A man of action," Nine whispered, so low that only Twelve could hear him. The older Doctor hummed an affirmative as they continued following Ten, undetected.

The pinstriped Doctor halted in front of a door- the one that marked Eleven's room. Nine and Twelve saw him flex his fingers in and out of a fist, trepidation shaking his hand. Finally, after a few more seconds of deliberation, Ten swallowed the lump in his throat and knocked on the metallic door.

Eleven's voice came from the other side. "For Rassilon's sake, Twelve, will you stop bothering me- Ten?" The Doctor who looked the youngest had opened the door, and was thus face-to-face with his younger form.

Ten coughed nervously. "Er...Hello. I, uh… Don't suppose you want to… talk?"

"Talk?" Eleven parroted, still staring at Ten like he was a Weeping Angel. "A-About what?"

"Just… stuff. Can I… come in?"

"Uh… s-sure." Eleven stepped aside to let Ten enter his room, and after taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, closed the door behind him.

Nine and Twelve emerged from their ingenious hiding place of behind a wall and stared at Eleven's door.

"Did that work?" wondered Nine.

"I suppose we'll see. It shouldn't take too long to make a declaration of love, right?"

Nine gave his older self a look, and Twelve merely shrugged.

"Fine, I don't know. Let's just wait and see what happens."

"I'm going back to my room," Nine said tiredly.

"Going to keep working on that hair curler?"

"Is that really what it is?"

"I don't know. Certainly looks like one."

Without realizing it, both Doctors were walking together towards Nine's room. And when they both did realize it, they were about three feet away from the door and simply decided to not say anything about it.

As it turned out, it wasn't a hair curler. It was an atomic bomb. Luckily, Nine and Twelve were smart enough to avoid activating it and quickly chucked it into the rubbish bin.

"Well, that wasted about two hours," Twelve announced. "I think the boys are done."

He started for the door, with a reluctant Nine following him. Truth be told, he was curious about the results of their little experiment, but he couldn't help but feel a foreboding sense of dread. Like they were about to stumble onto something they shouldn't…

They walked through the corridors until they finally found Eleven's door again. Twelve raised his hand to knock on the metal, but a sudden sound stopped them. It was like a low groan, quickly followed by a small gasp. The sounds were so muffled that neither Doctor could determine which of their counterparts had made them, but they still glanced at each other uncertainly.

"Er…" Twelve hesitated. "What do you suppose that was?"

"Do we really need to find out?" Nine asked, sighing. "Can't we just wait for them to come out on their own?"

Another groan echoed from the door. Twelve glanced at his younger self.

"I'm a bit curious. Aren't you?"

"No."

"Liar."

A pause. "Okay, but you're opening the door."

Twelve nodded, and proceeded to push open the door without even bothering to knock. It slid open easily, as if the TARDIS herself wasn't going to try and stop them, and both Doctors entered Eleven's room at the same time. And the sight that greeted them… Well...

Nine really didn't know why he expected anything different.

Just as he predicted, they'd stumbled upon something that really should have stayed private. Ten and Eleven, both entangled in each other while lying on Eleven's bed, stared at their intruders with wide eyes. It was almost like a pair of teenagers getting caught by their parents doing something naughty. Well, the naughty part of that was right.

They all just stared at each other for a long while, no one willing to to speak.

Though, after a few more seconds, Ten was the first the break the awkward silence. "Uh… Hello."

"Hey," replied Twelve, somewhat awestruck. "So, I… I suppose we were right."

"Yup." Ten looked down at Eleven, whose face was a rather endearing shade of pink. It made Ten grin. "Thanks, I guess."

"We should…" Nine coughed. "We should leave you two be."

"Yes," muttered Eleven, pulling Ten ever-so-slightly closer. "That would be very much appreciated.

And so Twelve and Nine backed out of the room as fast as humanly (or rather, Time Lordly) possible. Once the door was shut, they heard a few murmurs from Ten and Eleven, and then the sounds started up again. They walked away in silence, still side-by-side, headed towards the console room.

"We really shouldn't have encouraged them," spoke Nine, who stared at the time rotor. "What happens when we get this all sorted out? They'll have to leave each other."

"Ours is a life full of heartbreak," Twelve said. "I'm sure they're aware of it, in the back of their minds. Best to let them have this small happiness."

Nine watched him appraisingly. "Well, aren't you suddenly the good samaritan?"

"Oh, quiet." Twelve stalked to the console and began pushing at random switches. "Let's just find a planet to explore while we wait for them."

The TARDIS made its wheezing, groaning sound, signifying the time-and-space ship's landing. Nine looked at the monitor.

"Menzacorida," he hummed, approving. "The Romance Planet."

"Seems fitting. What do you say?" Twelve gave a teasing smile and held out his hand to his younger self.

Nine smiled back. "Shouldn't they be the ones to go to the planet all about love and romance?"

"We're checking it out for them. Consider us concerned parents."

The younger Doctor rolled his eyes, but was still smiling as he willingly placed his hand in Twelve's, and the two walked out of the TARDIS to Menzacorida.

In the back of Nine's mind, the ever-present thought still nagged at him. What would become of them all once they got their problem fixed and returned to their original timelines? Not only would Ten and Eleven be separated, the four of them would likely never be allowed to interact again.

And as Twelve's hand, lined with age but still strong with an undeniable youth, gripped his own, he found himself dreading that inevitability more and more.