The Doctor is In
‘So what exactly are we watching?’ Morgan asked, slinging his bag across his shoulder.
Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘Garcia didn’t tell you?’ The expression turned to a grin, one that was mirrored by Reid, who was still packing papers into his messenger bag.
‘I don’t like the sound of this…’ he said slowly – he’d been caught out before. A year ago he hadn’t spent his weekends rolling dice and pretending to be a fighting Orc named Roger. As much as he hated to admit it, they were turning him into a nerd.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t been interested in intellectual pursuits before they’d dragged him along to a gaming session. He read Vonnegut, and he’d worked damn hard to graduate cum laude from North-Western, but those facts meant nothing when discussing the attack bonus that a Masterwork Greatsword gave him, or exactly why the Cylons decided it was such a fantastic idea to destroy the human race.
‘We’re watching Doctor Who,’ Reid provided, and Emily looks noticeably disappointed that Reid had given up on the teasing so soon.
‘Doctor Who?’ he asked, an eyebrow raised.
‘That joke is old,’ Emily told him matter-of-factly, which confused him.
‘All thirty seasons of it,’ added Garcia brightly, as she joined them, the joy quickly turning to mild exasperation. ‘You guys aren’t ready yet? Kevin’s going to eat all the mini-quiches if we don’t hurry.’
‘Thirty seasons?’ He cast her a look of incredulity.
‘And then there are the audio plays,’ chimed in Reid. ‘The reconstructions, the books, the specials. Torchwood…’
‘I think this could take us all year,’ said Garcia decidedly.
He looked pleadingly towards Emily, who shrugged. ‘I may be a nerd,’ she said. ‘But I am nowhere near the Garcia and Reid Extravaganza Special level.’
‘Yeah?’ asked Garcia. ‘Favorite Doctor?’
‘Second,’ Emily answered without hesitation, before a look of horror overtook her expression. ‘Crap.’ She looked at Morgan. ‘See, this is why I always screw up dates.’
‘Well, I, for one, am a fan of the ravishing Tom Baker,’ Garcia said, as they walked out of the bullpen. ‘He could tie me up with a scarf any day.’
‘Actually, the Doctor was never really seen as a romantic figure until his eighth reincarnation – a trend that has been continued for the new series…’ Reid started, and they were treated to the trivia all the way down to the parking garage.
* * *
Kevin, it seemed, had eaten all of the mini-quiches by the time they made it back to Garcia’s apartment. Thankfully, though, there were still a couple more boxes of them in the freezer, along with the mini-pizzas, the mini sandwiches, and several other varieties of mini that often seems to accompany movie nights.
His presence was expected at said movie nights, because, according to Garcia, ‘If you’re a Vonnegut fan, then you’re really a nerd already, so there’s no excuse for staying home and watching football.’
She directed them to the so-called “Sofa of Reasonable Comfort,” which he had actually slept on a few times; it was far less comfortable when waking up at three in the morning with a crick in the neck. After some deliberation, Morgan and Prentiss sat on the sofa, while Reid took the armchair, leaving the remaining loveseat for Kevin and Garcia.
‘So we’re not actually watching all thirty seasons, are we?’ Emily asked, and Morgan was almost relieved to note that she too looked a little abhorred at the thought.
‘Negatory,’ said Garcia, ‘In preparation for the beginning of the reign of the Grand Moff Steven, we will only watch the episodes penned by his glorious hand.’
‘The Empty Child, The Doctor Dances…’ Kevin started, counting them out on his fingers with unbridled enthusiasm.
‘The Girl in the Fireplace, Blink,’ Reid continued. ‘Silence in the Library, and Forest of the Dead.’
‘Fools,’ Garcia chided them mockingly. ‘I’m ashamed of you – you’re both forgetting the most important one. The only time in the history of anything that fart jokes will ever be funny. The Curse of the Fatal Death.’ A little more seriously, she said, ‘It’s not out on DVD, so I’m afraid we’re stuck with VHS.’
She popped the tape into the VCR, at which point they were regaled with a tune that Morgan realized was familiar – it had been Emily’s ringtone for a while, and was disturbingly catchy.
‘You are doomed, Doctor. Doomed! You are piloting your TARDIS into a deadly trap and even you will not suspect until it’s far too late! Nyahahaha…’
‘You know, if you’re going to spy on me, you really should turn the speaker off.’
It was past midnight by the time they’d watched their way through the episodes, and Morgan had to admit, he didn’t hate it. It was a little cheesy at times, but evidently that was part of the charm.
‘So what do you think?’ Garcia asked, grinning wildly. ‘Can we fully induct you into the Hall of Nerds yet?’
He mirrored the expression.
Yeah. He was whipped.