Child of Mine
Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or Glee or anything else mentioned.
Summary: "I was taught math by Sir Isaac Newton, I was taught sciences by Albert Einstein, I was taught English by Jane Austin and John Steinbeck, I was taught music by Mozart and Beethoven, and you… You've taught me everything I ever needed to know about life. You are, by far, the best father I could have asked for." As fate would have it the Doctor ends up with a child – a child that is meant to be his.
Warnings: I will probably get some things horrendously wrong but… At least I can say I've tried. Male/male relationships, homophobia, a general disregard to all things canon. Huzzah.
A: N – And here begins a story that I go into filled with regret because I should be do homework instead.
Each chapter will be a year?
The Doctor hummed a bit to himself, walking down the sidewalk with a spring in his step. The tune wasn't one he knowingly had gotten stuck in his head – a mix of around twenty different songs, all from different centuries. Mozart, Bach, Brittney Spears…. Perhaps it was now that he realized that he truly was as odd as Amelia made sure to tell him so often. Or perhaps it was not, for he simply carried on humming and walking down that sidewalk, a familiar skip to his step and a wide smile on his face.
It had been a fun trip. Going to Venice with the Ponds. No aliens in sight (well, besides himself that is), and a simply relaxing day. They had all needed and appreciated one of those.
The TARDIS was in sight and the Doctor couldn't help an even wider smile from spreading on his face. Home. Sexy.
And then he stopped, one foot hovering over the obvious form of a tiny bundle of a baby lying on the steps into the TARDIS. A peacefully sleeping baby, one thumb in its tiny mouth, its eye lashes brushing against its rosy cheeks. The baby was wrapped in a dark green thick blanket, a tiny pale green hat covering what little hair the baby was sure to have.
"Who are you?" He asked the baby, not all too shocked when the small human barely moved in response, its tiny fist clenching around a single piece of white stationary that the Doctor hadn't noticed until he had kneeled down to be closer to the baby's level.
"Where are your parents?" He poked at the baby's cheek, frowning at the cold temperature. Surly no parent would knowingly leave a child out in the cold of this night for very long? He quickly fished his screwdriver from his pocket, waving it in the right frequency over the child's tightly bundled form. He looked up slowly, a deep, unwavering frown on his face. "What are your parents?"
Without a second thought he took the baby in his arms, unlocking the TARDIS in the fastest way he knew how – using the key – and slipping inside. It was warmer in here, the engines generating with a pulse that was purely curious at the newcomer.
The baby seemed to wince a bit at the change in lighting, burying his face in the coat of the Doctor and shifting away from the bright light that was completely the TARDIS. She sensed the child's discomfort, her light fading a bit in sympathy.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" The baby's eyes blinked open at him, a yawn breaking open its mouth. Its small fists reached out towards him, clamping over his bowtie and pulling lightly, as if to tell him exactly what he was supposed to do with it. "What exactly are you?"
The baby's brown eyes gazed at him in a confused manner – or perhaps it was a manner that was different than that one altogether. Perhaps it was one that was telling him, with a raised eyebrow, exactly what it was. It was a human. "No, no." The Doctor shook his head at the baby. "What gender are you? Boy or girl?"
The baby didn't seem to understand the question he was asking – which wasn't all that surprising. It didn't look that old. "What do they call you? Your mummy and daddy?"
At this the baby did answer, gurgling in the way that all newborns tended to do. But the Doctor understood it well enough. "Ah." The Doctor clucked his tongue, a sad look in his eyes. "Well that certainly won't do."
He walked closer to the center of the TARDIS placing the baby on an empty part of the console – that was nearly impossible to find – and leaning closer to him, so close, in fact, that their noses touched. "What are you called?" He asked no one in particular, smirking at bit at the baby's answering murmur. "Yes, yes. But are you a boy or a girl?" The baby made a vaguely annoyed sound and the Doctor leaned back on his heels. "Don't give me that. I know you don't know."
He paced in front of the computers, thinking through the hum of the TARDIS as she tried to comfort the child back into sleeping. A tiny paper – one that he suddenly remembered the baby holding – was sitting before the entryway into the TARDIS, a glimpse of writing the only thing the Doctor saw before he vaulted across the floor towards it.
His eyes scanned the words before him with a growing sense of loss (and also excitement, but the Doctor didn't believe he was supposed to get excited about anything such as this). He looked up at the baby in shock, his eyes wide. "Oh what am I supposed to do with you, little Blaine?" The baby made no response, his eyes shut tightly and a small sigh passing through his lips as he slept peacefully against the hum of the TARDIS.
The Doctor's eyes fell back onto the note in his hand his eyes scanning the words once more, hoping to find an answer to every question that he had. The Doctor wasn't used to having questions and, more accurately, he wasn't used to having questions that were unanswered.
Doctor, the letter read in elegant handwriting, do not ask me how I know of you. I simply do. But, more to the point do not ask me what to do with this child. He is yours now. His parents had left him in my care and I seem to think that you two would make a rather extraordinary pair. His name is Blaine and he is now yours. Keep good care of him.
And that was it.
Nothing else said in explanation and nothing else hinted at. There was nothing to even tell him who this person was that had left him this child. "What are we supposed to do, Sexy?" He whispered to the TARDIS, her answering hum enough to calm his nerves a little. "I can't raise a child." He snapped at the machine. "I can barely take care of myself."
The next hour found the Doctor pounding on the Pond's door, a sleeping baby in his arms and a near panicked look on his face. It wasn't the sort of face Amy was used to seeing on the Doctor so she paused, confused to the point where she even, briefly, considered yelling for Rory. Instead, she simply stepped inside and allowed the Doctor to shuffle passed her, his arms shoving the baby at her in a manner to shake the fact that it was, in fact, a baby he had been holding.
"Doctor why do I have a baby?" Amy questioned as the bundle's eyes blinked up at her, a pout on its lips from being awoken from the comfortable warmth the Doctor had resonated. Not that Amy wasn't warm, but she was fairly certain the baby had fallen asleep in the arms of the Time Lord and that it didn't particularly enjoy being moved from its position. It settled easily against her chest, though, its hand forming a fist around the ends of her hair and pulling on it slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention. Amy smiled down at the child, an almost possessive feeling making her want to run upstairs and give the child to Rory and tell him to run with it.
"He's my baby." The Doctor said absentmindedly, waving a hand in her direction.
Amy looked down at the child in shock. "He's your… he's your baby?"
"Yes." The Doctor nodded at her.
"You had a baby?" Amy questioned slowly once more. She never could understand where it was the Doctor was coming from in some aspects.
"Yes." The Doctor kept his back to her until this comment, turning around to face her with his eyebrows furrowed. "Well no. But he was left on my doorstep."
"On your doorstep?" Amy looked back down at the child in her arms, a deep frown on her face. "He was abandoned?"
"And given to me, yes." The Doctor looked at the child Amy held for a long time before falling onto her couch. He looked more worn out than she had ever seen him. "I need help, Amelia. And that's not something I admit lightly."
Amy settled down beside him, the baby cradled to her chest and her heart picking up speed. "Help? How?"
"I don't know…" The Doctor closed his eyes. "I don't know how to raise a child."
Amy's heart skipped a beat. Was he really doing what she hoped he was doing? "Are you… Giving us him?"
The Doctor's gaze snapped up to meet hers. "Oh no. No no no no." He shook his head. "I would never do that to you. He's not yours. He's not your responsibility. It wouldn't be right."
"No. It would be very much right, Doctor." Amy hugged the boy closer to her body before she realized exactly what the Doctor was saying. This baby – somehow – had become the Doctor's responsibility. And the Doctor had, somehow, managed to convince himself of this. If Amy knew anything, she knew how impossible, and pointless, it would be to try and convince the Doctor otherwise. "Maybe it will do you some good." Amy forced a sort of happiness that she didn't feel into her voice.
"How's that?"
"You won't be alone." She handing off the sleeping baby to the Doctor's almost childlike grasp. "You can teach him everything there is to know about the universe."
The Doctor held the little boy in a gentle grip, his eyes softened. "Do you think I can do it, Pond?"
And the answer was yes, the answer was always going to be yes. If the Doctor hadn't been able to do it she never would have handed the child over. If the Doctor hadn't been able to do it he would have recognized that himself and given her and Rory the chance to be parents once more.
But the Doctor would be able to do it. Of that she was sure. She told him as such, and the smile that spread across his face when the baby boy's eyes opened was almost enough to make the pain it caused in her heart almost disappear.
"So… What is it that you do with a baby?" The Doctor asked the Ponds the next morning, Rory blearily awake at such an hour, and Amy never having slept the night before. The baby boy – Blaine – was sitting up in the Doctor's lap, his head leaning against the tall man's chest and a carrot in his mouth as he diligently sucked on it.
"Why do you have a baby?" Rory asked for perhaps the twentieth time that morning, still not receiving any answer.
"Well you need to get food for him. And clothes. Oh! And toys." Amy seemed to be having perhaps too much fun making a list of things Baby Blaine would need to survive out in the universe, a pad of paper out in front of her and her pen scrapping against it every few seconds.
The Doctor perked up. "I like toys." He held Baby Blaine up to his face. "Do you like toys?"
The boy made a noise of agreement around his carrot and the Doctor laughed, holding him in the air for a moment before placing him back into his lap. "Why is there a baby?" Rory asked again, dropping down next to Amy at the kitchen table, a cup of tea clutched in his hand. He couldn't help staring at the little baby that was dressed pleasantly in little dinosaur pajamas.
"He likes dinosaurs." The Doctor concluded eagerly after the baby squealed once more.
"How do you know that?" Amy questioned in a small bit of wonderment. Just when she thought she knew everything there was to know about the Doctor he would go and do something like this.
"I speak baby."
"You can't speak baby." Rory spoke up indignantly, even though he knew it was very possible that the Doctor spoke almost everything.
"I speak everything." The Doctor waved off Rory's comment, smiling brightly. "So he likes dinosaurs and that thing that comes out of the soft things."
Amy blinked at the Doctor in confusion. "The soft things?"
"Yes." He waved in the general direction of their television. "That the sound comes out of."
"Speakers?"
"He likes speakers?" Rory asked dryly, looking down at the innocent baby.
"No." The Doctor sent Rory a look that was one he had seen more times than he could count. The fact that the Doctor's brain worked on an entirely different level from his own was something that Rory had needed to get used to within an hour. "He likes the things that come out of the speakers. Music, precisely."
"Oh." Rory looked down at his tea once more, before he realized that his original question had yet to be answered. "Why do you have a baby?"
"Well… it's technically the Doctor's baby." Amy scratched at her head before scribbling diapers down onto the list of things the Doctor would need. "Someone left on the doorstep of the TARDIS."
"Someone gave you a baby…?"
"Babies are cool." The Doctor smiled down at the baby in his arms, the little boy giggling as the Doctor rocked him back and forth on his lap.
And, for some reason, Rory couldn't help thinking of how much they would probably get along together.
A: N – So… chapter one/prologue/year one.
To be honest I don't know what the turn out for this is going to be, nor do I know how the story is actually going to turn out. Pairings are unknown as of now. It's either going to be Plaine, SeBlaine, or Blaine/oc… since everything seems to be Klaine. ;)
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