Good job, dash.
It was supposed to be a surprise, the Winchesters liked surprises! Well not the kind that jumped out and you. And not the kind that had teeth. And probably not the kind that shouted really loudly. And probably not anything that was on fire.
So of course the Doctor thought it was the most brilliant idea to surprise Sam and Dean by landing the TARDIS in their motel room, bursting through their bathroom door with a cake decorated with ninehundred and six (or thereabouts) candles triumphantly singing happy birthday to himself. Sadly it was cut short by a bullet in the wall next to him, inexplicably at the level of his head.
Dean stood with a smoking gun in his hand. “Dude, Doctor. What the hell are you doing I nearly shot you!”
The Doctor blinked, trying to calculate exactly where his surprise-to-me celebration had gone wrong, got lost somewhere in the division and shrugged it all off. “Apology accepted. Now kindly put that way. I would like to reach 907, with this face!”
Sam watched the Doctor bustle in and slide the cake onto their motel kitchen table. It was kind of a mess with apparently 900 plus candles sticking out at every angle. Upon closer examination he even spotted a couple of fireworks crammed in the center.
“It’s your birthday?” Sam ventured to guess.
“Stanford didn’t let us down did they?” The Doctor grinned, standing next to his cake proudly.
Sam rolled his eyes and Dean tucked his gun into the back of his jeans.
“We appreciate the gesture, Doc.” Dean said. “But we’re sort of in the middle of something. See there’s this rabbit’s foot that gives you statistically crazy good luck.”
“And I touched it,” Sam said miserably.
“Yeah and when you lose it, it kind of…” Dean shrugged.
“Kills you,” Sam finished.
Dean nodded. “This girl, Bela, stole it from us. Now I’ve got to find it before Sam, I don’t know, trips on a brick.”
The Doctor listened to their story unphased. “Well why do you think I’m here?”
Sam looked between him and the cake, feeling less and less like he deserved that 174. “To celebrate…your birthday?”
The Doctor blinked and looked at the cake like he’d never seen it before. “Oh yes!” he suddenly exclaimed, reaching inside his suit jacket and pulling out his screwdriver. “But besides that. Have you ever heard of a birthday wish? Well it’s actually a little TimeLord secret, everything to do with the candles, a family recipe really. Anyways, best way to fight bad luck? Is with better luck!”
With a flourish the Doctor pointed his screwdriver at all 906 candles. The tip of his screwdriver glowed blue and then….nothing happened. The Doctor scratched his head and examined his screwdriver closely. Did he have the right setting?
Dean was sorting through various insults when he caught a wiff of something burning, like flame and cotton. He turned to his left and realized his brother was on fire.
“Shit!” Dean shouted, jumping into action immediately. He pulled the comforter off their motel bed and tried to suffocate the flames crawling up his brother’s arm.
The Doctor looked up from his screwdriver to see the comforter catch fire as well. He was briefly dumbfounded, calculating the chemical composition of both Sam’s jacket and the motel blanket, concluding that it was statistically nearly impossible for them to combust in such a manner. Of course pointing this out wasn’t going to make anybody feel better. So the Doctor pointed his screwdriver at the ceiling and set off the motel’s sprinklers.
With the aid of the sprinklers Dean managed to put out the flames, helping his now wretched looking brother to his feet.
The Doctor grinned at both of them, wiggling his screwdriver between his fingers, delighted that it was in fact on the right setting. “Ah see, no problem after all!”
Sam and Dean stared at the Doctor’s cake as it was slowly ruined by the onslaught of the sprinklers. Sam sniffled in his soaked, miserable, slightly crispy state. So much for their first TimeLord birthday.
This is fucking adorable and if I wasn’t on my phone I’d find a gif