A Swell Party - 12/13
Title: A Swell Party 12/13 (ahahaha! Finally!)
Author: Claire
Fandom: Doctor Who/Jeeves and Wooster crossover
Rating: PG
Summary: Following a signal, the trio find themselves in the quaint time of Jeeves and Wooster. Unfortunately, getting their hands on what they're after isn't as easy as they might expect. Eventual 9/Rose/Jack
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5
Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10
Part 11
-----
Jack had abandoned his dinner jacket over the railing, and his sleeves were rolled up, his bow tie undone. Had the situation been less apocalyptic, Rose would’ve paused to appreciate the view. The Doctor as usual looked unruffled, bent over the console and staring at the monitor as if hoping the TARDIS would provide the answer.
“Can’t you deactivate the detonation circuit from here?” Jack asked.
The Doctor shook his head, nodding to the readings on the monitor.
“It’s old. Half the components have decayed.” He frowned. “I try anything from here I could set the whole thing off.”
Jack swore irritably.
“We’ll have to get it tomorrow,” the Doctor said and scowled.
“So…we’re going to have to break into Honoria’s room.” Rose chewed her thumbnail as she thought. “One of us’ll have to distract her.”
“I guess that’s me then.” Jack snorted. “Great. Well, at least she won’t shove me in the pond.”
“She might,” Rose said. “She’s not very happy with you.”
“I can’t believe you let her shove you in the pond,” the Doctor said.
“I didn’t! I fell!”
“Stick with the pushing story,” Jack advised. “It sounds better.”
-----
Rose had gone to bed, figuring that tomorrow would arrive quicker if she slept. Jack wished her luck with that.
“Here.” Jack held his wrist-comm out to the Doctor, who looked up at him with a frown.
“What?”
“I’ve programmed the specs of the bomb into it,” he said. “Figured it’ll help you tomorrow - speed things up a bit, since I’ll be out keeping Honoria occupied.”
The Doctor took it with a tight smile, and turned back to fiddling with the bits and pieces spread out on the kitchen table in front of him. Jack hovered for a moment, unsure whether to stay or go.
“Was there something else you wanted?” the Doctor asked shortly, slamming one of the pieces down on the table and snatching up another one, probing it with the screwdriver.
“…No,” Jack said, setting his jaw and turning to leave.
Behind him, he heard the Doctor sigh and the sound of metal being set down on the table.
“Jack,” he said.
Jack paused, but didn’t turn.
“I can guess what Rose told you,” the Doctor continued. “And if she told you what I think she told you…Well, it’s true.”
“And what do you think she told me?” Jack asked the doorframe.
“That she loves you,” the Doctor said. “And, well…You know.”
“No, Doctor, I don’t know.” He shot the Doctor a look over his shoulder as he left the room. “I really, really don’t.”
-----
Bertie found himself collared by Aunt Dahlia before he could get anywhere near the breakfast he smelt in the dining room.
“Now really, Aunt Dahlia!” he protested, as she twisted his ear viciously and dragged him aside.
“You listen to me, Bertie,” she hissed. “If you do anything to wreck this party for Angela, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born, do you understand?”
“…Yes Aunt Dahlia,” Bertie said, wincing as she released his ear. She shot him a glare which would have stopped a rampaging bull in its tracks, and stalked off.
Rubbing his ear and thinking deeply on the injustices of Aunts, he came across Jack, the Doctor and Rose, staring through the open door of the drawing room with expressions of utter dismay.
“Hullo,” he said cheerfully. “What’s the misery?”
“What’s all that?” the Doctor demanded.
Bertie peered through the door at the table piled with brightly wrapped packages.
“Presents,” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor. He’d thought the chap was intelligent. Perhaps not. “For Angela’s birthday. You know - the party this afternoon?”
The Doctor swore. Bertie was about to berate him to mind his language in front of a lady when Rose echoed him emphatically.
“Right,” the Doctor said. “New plan.”
Before Bertie could even get out the words ‘I’m not stealing anything’, he was hustled into the drawing room with the three of them and the door shut behind them.
“We’ll have to do it when everyone’s down at the marquee,” Jack said. “That way no-one’ll walk in on you.”
“Which means someone needs to distract everyone,” Rose added. “Keep them from coming up here.”
“Hang on,” said Bertie, aware suddenly that something was most severely amiss, and that it was unfair to place a chap in this sort of situation before breakfast. “What’re you going to do?”
The three of them glanced at him, thoughtful looks appearing across their faces.
“Bertie,” Jack says, flashing him a grin and draping his arm across his shoulders. “Know any Cole Porter?”
-----
“Now look here,” Bertie hissed, as he, Jack and Rose loitered round the back of the marquee, watching the crowd bustling around. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’ll have no part in it!”
“Bertie…”
“No! If I do anything, Aunt Dahlia’ll have my hide!”
Rose turned her puppy-dog eyes on him, and Bertie felt his resolve rapidly crumbling.
“No, I say, no!”
“Oh come on, Bertie, don’t be a spoilsport old man.” Jack shot him a reassuring smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, what time’s the band arriving?”
“I don’t know. Some time after lunch, I should think.”
Jack glanced at his watch.
“Right, that’ll give the Doctor about an hour at the least.” He grinned at them. “We’ve just got to make sure no-one thinks of presents before then. Keep ‘em down here.”
“Oh God…” Rose shook her head slightly. “This has got to be the most stupid thing we have ever had to do to buy him time.”
“Even more stupid than that thing with the chickens?” Jack asked. Bertie decided he didn’t want to know.
“Yes. Way more stupid than the thing with the chickens. This time it’s a deadly birthday present!”
“Point. Right, Bertie, you can sing, can’t you?”
Bertie froze.
“Why on earth…”
“You and me, we’ll be providing a little… ‘light entertainment’,” Jack said. “Rose’ll be making sure no-one wanders off.”
“Jack…” Rose said, while Bertie wished the earth would open up and swallow him.
“Look, this is what they get for leaving a piano unattended.” He winked at her and began to hustle Bertie towards the stage. “Go on, don’t worry!”
-----
The Doctor stood in front of the table of presents, Jack’s wrist-comm open and scanning over the packages.
“You can come in,” he said. “I know you’re there.”
There was a pause, then Jeeves slid into the room through the side door.
“Pardon the intrusion, sir,” he said stiffly. “But I came to inform you that lunch will be being served in the marquee in a few minutes.”
“Rubbish,” the Doctor said, unearthing the appropriate present and carefully pulling the wrapping off. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have been following me around the rest of the week,” he looked up and raised his eyebrows at Jeeves, grinning. “Didn’t think I noticed, did you?”
Jeeves didn’t answer, and his face remained impassive. The Doctor studied him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the bomb before him, pulling out the sonic screwdriver and various other intriguing devices from his seemingly bottomless pockets.
“Keep an eye out for anyone coming, will you,” he said absently, beginning to fiddle. Jeeves, surprisingly, obliged, stationing himself by the door.
-----
Rose wondered where Jack had learned to play the piano, as she hung around the back of the tent, watching as the guests enjoyed the performance. And all Bertie’s worries about his Aunt seemed unfounded, since Jack had announced Bertie had hired him as the entertainment especially for Angela, before diving straight into some show tune or other. She’d even overheard Dahlia whispering to another guest.
“My nephew,” she’d said, “is one of the most useless creatures on this planet. But he’s got a pair of lungs on him.”
On stage, Bertie was wondering fervently what would have happened if he didn’t have that ‘light and pleasing baritone’ that Jeeves had credited him with so long ago.
This was, Rose thought again, as Jack caught her eye and grinned, by far the most daft way to save the world ever.
-----
After a while, the Doctor spoke again.
“Tell me,” he said conversationally, opening the base of the ornament and carefully inspecting the wires and circuits he was presented with. “Clever bloke like you, been watching me all week, you should have some clue as to how me and Rose ended up trapped in the upstairs drawing room. Would’ve been difficult to miss someone pushing a bookcase and sofa in front of the door.”
“I’m afraid, sir, I cannot help you. I must have been otherwise occupied at the time.”
“Hm.” The Doctor fell silent, frowning at the object in his hands. He fitted what looked like a fishbowl over the top of it, sealing off all but the base, and then he pressed the sonic screwdriver to the circuits.
Jeeves watched as the ornament exploded silently inside the fishbowl, and a pale blue gas filled it. The Doctor flashed him a grin.
“I never get tired of being a genius,” he chuckled, setting the sonic screwdriver down and taking out some sort of syringe containing a violent green concoction. The needle slid easily through the glass of the bowl. Jeeves suspected he made some noise of surprise, because the Doctor glanced up at him. “Dis’Fah Plexiglass,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Used by most bomb squads around the universe. Marvellous invention. And to think, if I hadn’t blown up that lab, they never would’ve discovered it!” He pushed the syringe and the liquid slid into the bowl, seeming to expand and swallow up the gas, before shrinking down to the size of a pea. “Fantastic! I love it when things go right.”
He set everything down and began to pull it apart.
“So,” he said, as everything was returned to his pockets. “Tell me - why did you lock Rose and me in the drawing room?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
The Doctor picked up the small green bead and studied it for a moment, with a grin, dropping it inside the fishbowl, then folding it up and sliding it into his pocket.
“Why did you lock Rose and me in the drawing room?” he repeated, grabbing a replica of the ornament he’d just blown up and popping it into the box. Sliding the wrapping paper back on, he stuck it back down with the sonic screwdriver and placed it back on the table, then folded his arms and turned to look expectantly at Jeeves. “You must’ve had a good reason. I’m interested.”
-----
Author: Claire
Fandom: Doctor Who/Jeeves and Wooster crossover
Rating: PG
Summary: Following a signal, the trio find themselves in the quaint time of Jeeves and Wooster. Unfortunately, getting their hands on what they're after isn't as easy as they might expect. Eventual 9/Rose/Jack
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5
Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10
Part 11
-----
Jack had abandoned his dinner jacket over the railing, and his sleeves were rolled up, his bow tie undone. Had the situation been less apocalyptic, Rose would’ve paused to appreciate the view. The Doctor as usual looked unruffled, bent over the console and staring at the monitor as if hoping the TARDIS would provide the answer.
“Can’t you deactivate the detonation circuit from here?” Jack asked.
The Doctor shook his head, nodding to the readings on the monitor.
“It’s old. Half the components have decayed.” He frowned. “I try anything from here I could set the whole thing off.”
Jack swore irritably.
“We’ll have to get it tomorrow,” the Doctor said and scowled.
“So…we’re going to have to break into Honoria’s room.” Rose chewed her thumbnail as she thought. “One of us’ll have to distract her.”
“I guess that’s me then.” Jack snorted. “Great. Well, at least she won’t shove me in the pond.”
“She might,” Rose said. “She’s not very happy with you.”
“I can’t believe you let her shove you in the pond,” the Doctor said.
“I didn’t! I fell!”
“Stick with the pushing story,” Jack advised. “It sounds better.”
-----
Rose had gone to bed, figuring that tomorrow would arrive quicker if she slept. Jack wished her luck with that.
“Here.” Jack held his wrist-comm out to the Doctor, who looked up at him with a frown.
“What?”
“I’ve programmed the specs of the bomb into it,” he said. “Figured it’ll help you tomorrow - speed things up a bit, since I’ll be out keeping Honoria occupied.”
The Doctor took it with a tight smile, and turned back to fiddling with the bits and pieces spread out on the kitchen table in front of him. Jack hovered for a moment, unsure whether to stay or go.
“Was there something else you wanted?” the Doctor asked shortly, slamming one of the pieces down on the table and snatching up another one, probing it with the screwdriver.
“…No,” Jack said, setting his jaw and turning to leave.
Behind him, he heard the Doctor sigh and the sound of metal being set down on the table.
“Jack,” he said.
Jack paused, but didn’t turn.
“I can guess what Rose told you,” the Doctor continued. “And if she told you what I think she told you…Well, it’s true.”
“And what do you think she told me?” Jack asked the doorframe.
“That she loves you,” the Doctor said. “And, well…You know.”
“No, Doctor, I don’t know.” He shot the Doctor a look over his shoulder as he left the room. “I really, really don’t.”
-----
Bertie found himself collared by Aunt Dahlia before he could get anywhere near the breakfast he smelt in the dining room.
“Now really, Aunt Dahlia!” he protested, as she twisted his ear viciously and dragged him aside.
“You listen to me, Bertie,” she hissed. “If you do anything to wreck this party for Angela, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born, do you understand?”
“…Yes Aunt Dahlia,” Bertie said, wincing as she released his ear. She shot him a glare which would have stopped a rampaging bull in its tracks, and stalked off.
Rubbing his ear and thinking deeply on the injustices of Aunts, he came across Jack, the Doctor and Rose, staring through the open door of the drawing room with expressions of utter dismay.
“Hullo,” he said cheerfully. “What’s the misery?”
“What’s all that?” the Doctor demanded.
Bertie peered through the door at the table piled with brightly wrapped packages.
“Presents,” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor. He’d thought the chap was intelligent. Perhaps not. “For Angela’s birthday. You know - the party this afternoon?”
The Doctor swore. Bertie was about to berate him to mind his language in front of a lady when Rose echoed him emphatically.
“Right,” the Doctor said. “New plan.”
Before Bertie could even get out the words ‘I’m not stealing anything’, he was hustled into the drawing room with the three of them and the door shut behind them.
“We’ll have to do it when everyone’s down at the marquee,” Jack said. “That way no-one’ll walk in on you.”
“Which means someone needs to distract everyone,” Rose added. “Keep them from coming up here.”
“Hang on,” said Bertie, aware suddenly that something was most severely amiss, and that it was unfair to place a chap in this sort of situation before breakfast. “What’re you going to do?”
The three of them glanced at him, thoughtful looks appearing across their faces.
“Bertie,” Jack says, flashing him a grin and draping his arm across his shoulders. “Know any Cole Porter?”
-----
“Now look here,” Bertie hissed, as he, Jack and Rose loitered round the back of the marquee, watching the crowd bustling around. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I’ll have no part in it!”
“Bertie…”
“No! If I do anything, Aunt Dahlia’ll have my hide!”
Rose turned her puppy-dog eyes on him, and Bertie felt his resolve rapidly crumbling.
“No, I say, no!”
“Oh come on, Bertie, don’t be a spoilsport old man.” Jack shot him a reassuring smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Look, what time’s the band arriving?”
“I don’t know. Some time after lunch, I should think.”
Jack glanced at his watch.
“Right, that’ll give the Doctor about an hour at the least.” He grinned at them. “We’ve just got to make sure no-one thinks of presents before then. Keep ‘em down here.”
“Oh God…” Rose shook her head slightly. “This has got to be the most stupid thing we have ever had to do to buy him time.”
“Even more stupid than that thing with the chickens?” Jack asked. Bertie decided he didn’t want to know.
“Yes. Way more stupid than the thing with the chickens. This time it’s a deadly birthday present!”
“Point. Right, Bertie, you can sing, can’t you?”
Bertie froze.
“Why on earth…”
“You and me, we’ll be providing a little… ‘light entertainment’,” Jack said. “Rose’ll be making sure no-one wanders off.”
“Jack…” Rose said, while Bertie wished the earth would open up and swallow him.
“Look, this is what they get for leaving a piano unattended.” He winked at her and began to hustle Bertie towards the stage. “Go on, don’t worry!”
-----
The Doctor stood in front of the table of presents, Jack’s wrist-comm open and scanning over the packages.
“You can come in,” he said. “I know you’re there.”
There was a pause, then Jeeves slid into the room through the side door.
“Pardon the intrusion, sir,” he said stiffly. “But I came to inform you that lunch will be being served in the marquee in a few minutes.”
“Rubbish,” the Doctor said, unearthing the appropriate present and carefully pulling the wrapping off. “If that was true, you wouldn’t have been following me around the rest of the week,” he looked up and raised his eyebrows at Jeeves, grinning. “Didn’t think I noticed, did you?”
Jeeves didn’t answer, and his face remained impassive. The Doctor studied him for a moment, then turned his attention back to the bomb before him, pulling out the sonic screwdriver and various other intriguing devices from his seemingly bottomless pockets.
“Keep an eye out for anyone coming, will you,” he said absently, beginning to fiddle. Jeeves, surprisingly, obliged, stationing himself by the door.
-----
Rose wondered where Jack had learned to play the piano, as she hung around the back of the tent, watching as the guests enjoyed the performance. And all Bertie’s worries about his Aunt seemed unfounded, since Jack had announced Bertie had hired him as the entertainment especially for Angela, before diving straight into some show tune or other. She’d even overheard Dahlia whispering to another guest.
“My nephew,” she’d said, “is one of the most useless creatures on this planet. But he’s got a pair of lungs on him.”
On stage, Bertie was wondering fervently what would have happened if he didn’t have that ‘light and pleasing baritone’ that Jeeves had credited him with so long ago.
This was, Rose thought again, as Jack caught her eye and grinned, by far the most daft way to save the world ever.
-----
After a while, the Doctor spoke again.
“Tell me,” he said conversationally, opening the base of the ornament and carefully inspecting the wires and circuits he was presented with. “Clever bloke like you, been watching me all week, you should have some clue as to how me and Rose ended up trapped in the upstairs drawing room. Would’ve been difficult to miss someone pushing a bookcase and sofa in front of the door.”
“I’m afraid, sir, I cannot help you. I must have been otherwise occupied at the time.”
“Hm.” The Doctor fell silent, frowning at the object in his hands. He fitted what looked like a fishbowl over the top of it, sealing off all but the base, and then he pressed the sonic screwdriver to the circuits.
Jeeves watched as the ornament exploded silently inside the fishbowl, and a pale blue gas filled it. The Doctor flashed him a grin.
“I never get tired of being a genius,” he chuckled, setting the sonic screwdriver down and taking out some sort of syringe containing a violent green concoction. The needle slid easily through the glass of the bowl. Jeeves suspected he made some noise of surprise, because the Doctor glanced up at him. “Dis’Fah Plexiglass,” he said, as if that explained everything. “Used by most bomb squads around the universe. Marvellous invention. And to think, if I hadn’t blown up that lab, they never would’ve discovered it!” He pushed the syringe and the liquid slid into the bowl, seeming to expand and swallow up the gas, before shrinking down to the size of a pea. “Fantastic! I love it when things go right.”
He set everything down and began to pull it apart.
“So,” he said, as everything was returned to his pockets. “Tell me - why did you lock Rose and me in the drawing room?”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
The Doctor picked up the small green bead and studied it for a moment, with a grin, dropping it inside the fishbowl, then folding it up and sliding it into his pocket.
“Why did you lock Rose and me in the drawing room?” he repeated, grabbing a replica of the ornament he’d just blown up and popping it into the box. Sliding the wrapping paper back on, he stuck it back down with the sonic screwdriver and placed it back on the table, then folded his arms and turned to look expectantly at Jeeves. “You must’ve had a good reason. I’m interested.”
-----