“What?”, Ten piped, his voice turning slightly squeaky. “The trainers, the brainy specs, the coat–you’re the spitting image of me! Well, that’s fitting, of course.”
Twelve’s cheeks flushed a bit. “Come on now, let’s not make a thing out of it. You still wear celery from time to time.”
“Right, of course you’d remember that. Timey-wimey. Hold up: this calls for a selfie.” The Doctor reached for his phone, beckoning the other Doctor to lean in. “Ready? One…two…three!”
“Allons-y!”, Twelve yelled. He knew he seemed a tad gruff, but he was secretly pleased. His Ten cosplay was a hit.