Lol, I don't even know. I came up with the summary, and then the rest of the story followed. This might make marginally more sense if you follow Doctor Who, but only just.

I like writing Brittany, feel free to throw prompts at me on Tumblr. (I promise nothing) I'm triptohere over there too.

There's a really weird noise coming from her garage.

Brittany glances down at the board, and moves a bishop three squares diagonally after a small moment of reflection. Lord Tubbington yawns, and licks at his lips, but whatever, she isn't going to succumb to mind games.

'I'll be right back, okay? Remember the pawns aren't prawns.'

The weird noise has evolved into an ensemble of weird noises, clanks and crashes and a high pitched hissing noise, accompanied by a loud voice, having an angry conversation with someone who was either silent, or non-existent.

Brittany arms herself with a ladle, and inches open the connecting door.

Oh. It's the Doctor. Brittany lowers the ladle, and approaches the Tardis, which seems to have parked itself halfway through the floor.

Because Brittany's seen the show, she knows about the whole tiny on the outside, massive on the inside, business, so she sticks her head through the ajar door, and calls into the space.

'Hello? Did you mean to park here? And, will there be a hole when you go, because my mom usually parks her car in here?

Her eyes adjust after a moment, and she spots the Doctor on the left side of the console, lying on his back with the top half of his body buried in the control panel. Brittany decides, from the way he is throwing wires and bits of machinery out of the hole he's created, that his is performing some running repairs.

'What? What? I need a whosmajit.'

The Doctor's hand appears, and grasps at mid-air impatiently, so Brittany approaches, and hands him the ladle. The Doctor makes to draw it into the console with him, but it clonks awkwardly on the frame. After a couple of attempts to drag it in, the Doctor emerges, grumbling, and blinks owlishly at the ladle, before glancing up at Brittany.

'I asked for a whosmajit.'

Brittany nods in confirmation, and the Doctor frowns at her.

'This, however, is a ladle.'

Oh. Oh well. Brittany shrugs.

'I thought maybe whosmajit was another word for ladle.'

'Well, no. No it isn't. Not in any language. So you have no whosmajits?'

Brittany makes a face, and glances back at the door, uncertain.

'Umm, I don't know. Maybe? There are loads of things in the garage that I don't know the name of. Is it a bit like a whatchamacallit?'

The Doctor beams at her, and pats her on the knee in congratulations.

'Yes, yes! A whatchamacallit! Or a doo-dah. A thingie would suffice, but I'd prefer to not have to resort to that. But yes, any of those. Bring me all your assorted thingimajigs.'

After fifteen minutes, which includes a small pause in which she makes a sandwich and checks whether Lord Tubbington has finished his contemplation of the next chess move, Brittany returns, and sits cross legged on the floor next to the Doctor's ankles.

The Doctor is waggling his feet to an unheard tune, and Brittany nods along for a moment, before tapping the Doctor on the toe.

'Hey Doctor. I have all of our whatchamacallits.'

The Doctor jerks up-right, hits his head on something unseen, and emerges, his face newly graced with oil smears.

'Hello, life form I've never met but who knows my name. What are you?'

'Human' Brittany answers certainly, inwardly kicking herself for calling him Doctor. Now he'll think she's from the future, or part of a plot, or possibly related to him, when really all she is is a keen follower of his exploits via the internet. There's a protocol here, and she should have remembered it. She tries to make up for it.

'Umm, I just assumed. You have a...medical air. And uhh, wow, this Ta- I mean this box is really big on the inside, uh? Like, wowzer. Spacious.'

Doctor whips out his sonic screw-driver, and scans her for a moment, and Brittany stays very still, thinking normal thoughts.

'Riiiight. Yes, you are human. Well done. And you've never met me before, correct?'

Brittany rolls her eyes, in the acting performance of her life.

'Duh. Like, I don't even know your name, strange man. Anyway, are you looking at all the wotsits I found, or do I have to go file them again?'

Her pile includes a tin opener, a remote control for a racing car, a fish knife, a broken tamagotchi, a garlic crusher, something that may or may not be some kind of space age air freshener, a waffle iron, something that clicks at her when she pushes a button, an adjustable spanner, and some Christmas lights that have wrapped themselves in an impossible knot.

The Doctor sniffs at the spanner, and then pokes at Brittany's half eaten sandwich with it.

'What's in this?'

'Ummm... ham, spicy Doritos, and a cheese slice.'

'Are you using the cheese slice?'

'Oh, I have more. It's all yours.'

The Doctor prises open the sandwich as if it was booby-trapped, and retrieves the cheese with delicate fingers. After nibbling hesitantly at the corner, he flourishes it at the ceiling in triumph, before disappearing back into the console with it and the spanner.

In a very confusing moment, in which Brittany feels briefly like she was made entirely of Lego before returning to normal, the high pitched hissing noise stops, and the lights on the console stop flashing erratically, and assume a more normal pattern.

'Excellent! Excellent! We have a landing!'

The Doctor wiggles his way out of the console, performs a small pirouette, straightens his bowtie, and dashes out of the door.

Brittany rises after a moment, and flexes out her knees gingerly. After a moment's consideration, she picks up the ladle and the tin opener, and approaches the door.

This place looks a bit like she would image the moon might look, if it was blue. She's in a sort of glass dome, about a hundred yards across. In the centre there is a small shed, with a door. Other than that, it was empty, and distinctly lacking in Doctors.

Seriously, if she had just stolen someone's cheese slice, she certainly would not wander off into an alien landscape without saying thank you.

It is with this in mind, anxious to resort some semblance of justice, that Brittany approaches the door in front of her, and knocks twice, her knuckles echoing oddly off the metallic substance.

The door slides open after a moment, and there's a guy stood there with odd taste in facial grooming and two heads.

Brittany decides to act as this happens to her every day.

'Hello. I'm with the Doctor. I have his watchamajig.'

She holds up the ladle helpfully. Mr Bad Moustache seems to sneeze at her after a moment, but then disappears through the door, which Brittany takes as an indication she should follow.

There's a lot of sliding doors, general clanking, and several two headed guys, but then the last door opens into a room that contains the Doctor, who greets her with a cheery 'Hello? You again?' before the door slams closed behind her.

'You know how my cheese slice fixed your flying box?'

'Yes?'

'You're welcome.'

The Doctor claps a palm to his forehead, and nods furiously.

'Yes, yes of course, very poor form of me, thank you very much. Say, did you have plans for the rest of the day?'

Well, she had been half way through a game of chess with her cat, but other than that it wasn't exactly action packed. The Doctor clears his throat before she can formulate an answer, and continues.

'Only, I have an inkling they mean to keep us prisoner until I can fix their whosit.'

At this point he gestures at a very elaborate piece of machinery next to him with an unhappy looking expression, and Brittany frowns.

'Do people think that you are some kind of roving handy man? You're clearly not very good at machines?'

The Doctor staggers up-right in outrage, and flings himself at the machine in a flurry of activity.

'What? I'll have you know that my mechanical abilities are unsurpassed in several universes, I was just taking a moment to consider the possible solutions to this particular malfunction...everything will be solved in a matter of minutes, if you'll just allow me a moment's adjustment time because they appear to be operating on the old imperial system, which, hmmm...'

He flicks mournfully at a number of switches for several more seconds, before slumping down to his original position.

'Bit of a challenging one though, if I'm honest. Not an issue if I had my full tool kit and the thingumibob at my disposal, however I find myself somewhat under equipped.'

After a moment, Brittany goes to sit next to him, pats his knee sympathetically.

'The imperial system can be really tricky, I hear.'

The Doctor nods absently, and scratches at his chin.

'Ah well! We can wait it out, possibly get dragged into another room, I'll try and talk us out of it, get us in deeper trouble, and then we'll take it from there.'

Brittany has a choice to make at this stage. Because at the moment this is probably only about ten minutes worth of show, and there is plenty of running, being confused, and facing immediate peril to go before the Doctor settles everything down.

However, she did leave Lord Tubbington mid-game, and he can be quite fiendish if given too much time to consider his next move. So she decides to move things along a bit.

'I don't suppose this is a thingumibob, is it?'

The Doctor grasps at the can opener like it is a life-line.

'A-ha!'

Well, that was all very straight-forward.

And, she might have saved the universe. Like, usually, saving the universe involves a great deal more jeapody and panic, but Brittany puts that down to lack of efficiency.

The Tardis deposits her back in her garage without landing halfway through the floor this time, and Brittany jumps out with her assorted bits and bobs.

'Thanks, Mr Doctor-man, excellent day out. Glad I could be useful.'

The Doctor leans in the doorway, and then checks the screen of her broken tamagotchi.

'Hmm, I appear to have quite a lot of spare time today? You want to go anywhere else? We can go anywhere, and I'll have you back for dinner?'

Brittany knows about this one though. He'll pretend that he'll have her back by bed time, and the next thing she knows the space time continuum will be dissolving and time will have fractured and there'll be aliens everywhere and Santana will have been kidnapped, and possibly have died several times like that poor Rory guy did, and things will have gotten complicated.

So she declines, politely.

'Umm, thanks, but I'm in the middle of a game of chess with my cat. I don't want to get out of the zone, you know?'

The Doctor observes her for a moment, and then points a finger at the ceiling.

'Tough opponent, is he?'

Brittany nods.

'Devious. I think he cheats, but I can never catch him.'

The Doctor eyes her shrewdly, and then leans in.

'Would you appreciate some tactical advice during the contest?'

She's never beaten Lord Tubbington at chess before. Granted, Brittany can't claim total ownership of the victory, but being part of a winning team is always better than a losing individual, she reflects when she high-fives the Doctor, and Lord Tubbington stalks out of her room in a bad mood.

'So, you know, if you ever need thingumees, or whosamajits, you know where I am.'

The Doctor salutes her once, before stepping back into the Tardis.

'Excellent news, chess champion! Another time, maybe?'

Brittany just grins and waves, and plugs her ears for the inevitable noise of the Doctor disappearing off into the space-time continuum.

Santana rings that evening.

'Hey Britt, I finished that assignment, finally. Sorry to abandon you all day, you didn't get bored and spam Instagram again, did you?'

Brittany lies back on her bed, and grins at the ceiling.

'Nah, I was okay. You know, hung out with Tubbs for a bit. Nothing unusual. You wanna come over?'