A/N: What originally began as a one-shot has since turned into a three-parter. This was inspired by that guy in the powder-blue jacket at the Prom standing so close to the stage during Kurt's coronation. This one right here, actually: http : / media . tumblr . com / tumblr_ll8zg7AMrH1qci7ofo1_500 . jpg . I know it isn't exactly how Burt described his suit, but it still brought this idea to mind.

As for the Doctor – yes, he is from Doctor Who, and no I am not posting this as a crossover because honestly? I'm just using him as a bridge between seventeen-year-old Burt and his future son. So you don't have to have seen Doctor Who at all to get the message of this. If you don't understand any of the timey-wimey bits, just remember that it's basically the Doctor trying to explain time travel to Burt. For those of you who have seen Doctor Who – it's Ten. ;)

Once again, MUCH thanks to AllHandsLinked, my beta, who is the one who decided this should be a three-shot and who made this so much better than it was before.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee - or Doctor Who, for that matter – but if I did their worlds would collide in canon.

"Man, don't be such a fag."

"What did you just say?"

Seventeen year old Burt Hummel stopped laughing to turn and face a tall, thin man with brown hair that seemed to defy gravity. He wore a brown striped suit with white sneakers and was staring down at him through a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, eyes squinted in disgust.

"Excuse me?" Burt asked, glancing around at his fellow teammates just to make sure they had his back. He folded his arms across his chest and glared back at the taller man, trying to appear intimidating. In reality, of course, Burt felt frightened. His palms were starting to grow moist and he refrained from swallowing over the lump that was forming in his throat. This man, while not an authority figure he recognized, was glaring right into his eyes with a piercing stare that intimidated Burt. He tried to stare back, but the anger that surged beneath those brown irises grew to be too much and he was forced to look away with a shiver of fear that went unnoticed by his friends.

"I believe I asked you a simple question," the man in the suit said, folding his hands in a similar manner to Burt's. He cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "What was it that you just called him?" He gestured toward Burt's right, where his best friend Billy stood, frowning in confusion.

"What, 'fag'? So, what? It's just a joke."

The man shook his head. "It's not a joke, Burt-"

"Hang on, how do you know me name?"

The man waved his hand, dismissing the question. "Not important. What is important is that you stop using that sort of language."

Burt laughed along with his friends. "But everybody uses that word. It doesn't mean anything."

The frown on the man's face deepened. "It means more than you seem to understand. It is a word full of hate that can hurt people. And you would do better to stop using it in the future."

"Oh yeah? And why should I do that? I don't see Billy getting hurt by it. Billy, did I hurt your feelings?" Burt fished inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a yellowed handkerchief and cooed mockingly, "Here, do you need to dry your tears?"

Billy laughed along with the others in the group as he took the hanky and pretended to blow his nose and wipe away tears. "Oh, Burt," he said, sniffling. "Thank you so much for giving me your hanky. That word – oh, gosh it just hurt so much."

The man scowled, not taking his eyes off Burt. "Billy – the rest of you – I believe your dance is almost over. I think you would do well to return to it. Immediately."

"Excuse me?" Billy asked, handing the handkerchief back to Burt, who shoved it back into his pocket without bothering to fold it. He walked up to the man in the suit who finally turned his attention to him. Billy, who had opened his mouth to speak, stumbled back suddenly, eyes widening as the man's eyes narrowed at him.

"You heard me," the man growled. "Go back to your dance. I want to talk to Burt alone."

With his last statement, he turned his glare back on Burt, who shuddered, suddenly wishing that he had been told to leave as well.

"C-c'mon, guys," Billy stuttered, already backing away. "We – we should head back." The boys glanced at each other before turning as a group to leave. Burt watched them go, wincing when Billy gave him one last look of pity as he disappeared back into McKinley High's gymnasium, where students were currently dancing to the song from that new Kenny Loggins movie about dance. "Footsie" or something like that.

Burt turned back to face the man who had moved to rest his chin in his hand as he looked Burt over. Somehow, in the time it took for the other boys to leave, the man in the suit had relaxed a bit. The fire in his eyes had dimmed, and now he was looking at Burt's suit with eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Honestly," he quipped in that annoying accent. "What exactly were you thinking when you chose that suit?"

Burt glanced down at his powder-blue tuxedo with ruffles and bowtie. He shrugged. "I think I look like Tony Orlando."

"You look like a cliché," he replied, before cocking his head and looking up at the ceiling with a shrug of his shoulders. "But it is 1984. Great year," he added with a grin, still not looking at Burt. Then, rather suddenly, he went from smiling to frowning, creasing his forehead as he rubbed at his chin thoughtfully. "Course, there was always that Pepsi commercial incident. I never did apologize to Mike for that…"

"What? You know what? I don't want to know," Burt said shaking his head and starting to back away from this strange man. "Look, did you come here to criticize everything I do? Because if you did, I don't want to hear it, so I'll just be on my way-"

"Not so fast, Hummel," the man said grabbing onto Burt's forearm and tugging him forward. With Burt sputtering behind him, the man pulled him around a corner and stopped in front of a janitor's closet.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Let go of me! I have to get back to my date!"

The man chuckled as he swung open the door. "Don't worry, you're date will never even know you were gone."

With another tug, Burt stumbled into the janitor's closet. Rather than falling to the floor as he expected to, however, he hit something solid and wooden. Leaning back, he frowned in confusion.

"Where'd this blue box come from?"

The man grinned at him as he slipped a key into the door of the box. "I parked it here."

And with that, he pushed the door open and pulled Burt inside after him.

Needless to say, Burt thought he felt his heart stop when he found himself in a room that was far larger than even a janitor closet could hold. The room itself was round, but not perfectly so. A metal ramp led up towards a small platform, at the center of which was some strange machine. The man in the suit was already at this, pushing buttons, turning dials, and pulling levers. In the center was a large, clear tube, inside of which was some sort of blue thing that began to glow and move up and down as a loud whooshing noise filled the air.

Burt started to back up, with the sole intention of getting out of this freakish, impossible, place. He reached behind him, feeling for the door handle. Finding it, he tugged on the door, but it didn't budge.

"What the-?"

He turned to face the door, gripping the handle with both hands and pulling hard, but the door refused to budge.

"Sorry about that," the man said without looking up. "The TARDIS doors don't open in the middle of fourth-dimensional travel. It probably wouldn't end up being very nice if you got sucked out into the time vortex while we're still inside it. While she has a shield around her protecting us if that were ever to happen, of course, it's just better safe than sorry. Right?" With that, he looked up at Burt with a grin, the same one from before, as if he thought everything that was happening right now was the funniest thing on Earth. Burt, however, was still reeling from that speech that had begun slow and ended in a jumble of words that didn't make any sense to him whatsoever. He shook his head in confusion before glancing back at the strange man who was currently skipping around the center…thing.

"Sorry, but what the hell is going on right now?" Burt asked, quaking in fear. Or maybe it was because the entire room was shaking.

"Oh, right. I do this a lot, don't I? Just going off on adventures without answering questions – or heck, even letting people ask them most of the time. Nevermind. Let me give you the run down, then, shall I?" The man hopped up on a railing, perching his feet on it and leaning forward. "My name is the Doctor. This is the TARDIS, a Time and Relative Dimension in Space machine. With it I can travel through time and space. And yes, it's bigger on the inside." He followed this with another grin and a waggle of his eyebrows, as if those few sentences made everything make sense.

Burt could feel a headache coming on. Feeling slightly nauseous, he reached out a hand and leaned against the ramp railing. "Someone must have spiked the punch, because there is no way any of this is real. I'm hallucinating. That's it."

The man – doctor, he said – laughed. "Oh, someone did spike the punch, but you didn't even drink any."

Burt frowned. "How do you know that?"

He shrugged. "I'd smell it. Trust me. I have a good nose. Shaped nicely, too, don't you think?" He tilted his head in the air, turning so Burt could see his profile, expectantly waiting a comment.

Alright, now Burt was officially weirded out."How do I know you're telling the truth and that you're not just some figment of my imagination? You won't even tell me your name."

"Not true!I told you my name."

"You told me a title. You must have a name."

He nodded. "I do. But I can't exactly tell it to you. It's…complicated."

Burt felt his eyes rolling as he scoffed. "So, what? I just call you 'Doctor'?"

The Doctor nodded. "Yep! Everyone else does! Now, how about you see when the TARDIS has taken us!"

And with that, the shaking stopped.

The Doctor jumped off his perch and bounded down the ramp. He opened the door and left, letting the door close behind him. Burt stood still, not moving, except for the trembling that was still plaguing his body.

The door opened once again and the Doctor poked his head back in. "Well, are you coming or not?"

Slowly, Burt nodded but the Doctor had already disappeared again. He made his way back towards the door and, with a deep breath, gripped the handle and tugged it open.

What Burt had expected was the same janitor's closet that they had first stepped into, with the mop leaning against the wall next to the door. What he got instead, was a cramped dark space between the TARDIS door and something solid.

"Where are we?"