A/N: Here's a thing written because I got a prompt for a Whouffaldi AU with bambinos and Mother's/Father's Day stuff. I ended up writing a bunch of different things because I couldn't decide which AU to write for, so there's the one for this story.
"Are you sure we've got the day right?" James wondered. He colored in his card carefully, making sure that it was neat and tidy. The sheet of paper contained his rendition of a bouquet of flowers, which was very realistic to his nine-year-old self, and the inside was blank so far. His sister was on the other side of the little sitting area in the library, pinning hand-made streamers to the walls and bookshelves.
"Of course we have the day right!" Alison insisted. "I looked it up and it's May 8th! Dad's got that calendar he ticks off on the wall in the kitchen and today's the eighth!"
"…but it's one of those days that moves, isn't it?" he frowned. "Some countries celebrate it another day—I read that too. Earth holidays can be so complicated; why can't we just celebrate Christmas and that's it?"
"You're no fun," she teased. When she was done, she climbed down from the stepladder and rushed over to a spot on the wall where a video monitor sat. Tapping some buttons, the screen showed the Doctor grumpily lording over the technical cords and boxes and interfaces that were jumbled up underneath the TARDIS console. As the girl watched, a coolant tube disconnected itself, blasting the Time Lord in the face with cold air and generating many an untranslated curse word in Vulgar Gallifreyan. "Good! Auntie Idris still has us covered—we can still stick to the plan!"
"I still say the date's wrong," he muttered. James whined as his sister yanked him from his work and dragged him out the library and towards the kitchen. When the twins entered, they found a bunch of ingredients sitting out on the counters and two kid-sized aprons waiting for them.
Working quickly, James instructed his sister in how they were to bake their planned cake. It would have been much easier to have the TARDIS make said treat, but then it wouldn't have come from them, which was the entire point of the thing. This time he didn't take the mixer out of the batter until it was finished stirring, making it so that the kitchen and Alison both stayed splatter-free.
Now, if only they could finish before their father did.
The Doctor was furious. He had just tuned up the TARDIS for its semi-millennial systems check the previous month and everything was now in pieces. From his perch underneath the console, he worked tirelessly on the circuitry above him, hoping he'd be able to get things working in time before he had to fetch Clara for the weekend.
He cursed to himself and scowled fiercely. How did he not catch this during the systems check? Tweaking the tightness of a bolt, he then found the job to be satisfactory before easing himself down and stood on the floor, staring at the network of tubes and cords and whatnot above him.
"Now what's gotten into you?" he growled. The Doctor then took his goggles off and wiped his brow against the sleeve of his hoodie. He'd have to find a new one now that the one he was wearing was covered in grease and suspicious stains, not to mention wash up. It didn't take a mirror to know that he was covered in all sorts of smudges and sweat, and that wasn't going to do for cooking dinner.
Nearly dragging his feet, the Doctor made his way up the stairs and into the corridors, wandering his way towards the bay with the learning docks. He wanted to check in on the twins, since they should have been nearly done for the day. To his surprise, however, the docks were both empty, with the last login being set for yesterday afternoon. He exhaled in exasperation and ran his fingers through his grey shock of hair; he couldn't chastise them too much for playing hooky from their lessons, as he had done once upon an eon ago, though he was definitely going to have to have a serious discussion with them about the importance of education. Should he get Clara for this? No… she had enough on her plate making sure the pudding-brained nutters over at her work could tell their Brontës apart.
"Where'd they run off to, old girl? Not too far, I hope," he wondered. The TARDIS hummed in reply, illuminating his way via the baseboards in the corridor. As the Doctor continued along, his brain began to pick up a puzzling fact: he was being led around in circles and on detours that couldn't possibly lead towards his children. "Give me their location, not the path they took to said location."
With a "you should have said so sooner" sort of whirring noise, the TARDIS took the Doctor down to the library, where Alison and James were waiting patiently. The two jumped up and cheered when they saw their father, throwing confetti in the air.
"Happy Parents' Day!" they shouted. The siblings ran towards the Doctor and tackled him in a hug, not caring that he was a greasy, sweaty twig.
"What's this…?" he marveled. He looked at the low coffee table and saw there was a wide array of snacks laid out, along with a hand-made cake that was covered in shaky piped lettering. "I don't remember anything about this."
"That's because Aly made it up," James stated. That earned him a punch on the arm from his sister.
"No, I did not," she insisted. "It's perfectly legitimate! Parents' Day is a thing, Jim!"
"Then how about if we swing on by Mam and pick her up, since you do have more than one parent," the Doctor offered. The kids took him up on that immediately—it was a bit early to get Mum, but any excuse was good enough for them.