Christmas Time Is Here~Doctor/Reader

Jingle-Bells was playing for the fifth time on-loop, and the TARDIS console was decked out in enough garland for a department store window display. The display was a bit confusing, since Donna Noble had never really identified as a big fan of Christmas. But there she was, wearing an oversized sweater and trying to wrestle reindeer antlers onto the Doctor. It was a Christmas miracle, she’d decided, when you’d gently swatted Donna away and fixed the Doctor’s hair by ruffling it. She didn’t need presents when that face the Doctor had made existed, and when Y/N had grinned at it.

“Brace yourself!” Donna pulled a purple package from her bag, beaming the Doctor with it in the chest where he was leaning against the console.  A few strands of loose tape—no one other than Donna could justify what they were supposed to be holding down—flapped in the air, and the wrapping slid part of the way off. “Time for presents, no arguing. We gave you fair warning.”

The Doctor lifted the present, shaking it next to his ear. He watched you like you were both in some conspiracy, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing. You were next to Donna on the console sofa, and she had a mean elbow when she jabbed at you. “Well,” he said, face very serious. “Doesn’t sound deadly.”

“Oi, watch it you.” Donna narrowed her eyes as she took a sip of eggnog. “Holiday karma, you’ll get a paper cut. And I’ll laugh in your face, just watch me.”

“You didn’t bake something did you? I don’t think I my stomach can take that again.”

Donna threw up her hands, sloshing her drink onto her skirt. “Would you just open it? God!” She rolled her eyes at you, code for ‘Would you listen to this dumbo?’

“Okay, okay,” the Doctor laughed under his breath as he pulled the wrapping off, which was fairly simple, as half of it was limply hanging off the box. “What a lovely wrapping job, Donna.”

“Doctor,” you said seriously, which meant that your scolding voice was interrupted halfway through with a giggle. He winked at you, and you quickly downed some of your drink, hoping the mug would hide your red face. Don’t break the moment with idiotic whatever-you-were-feeling.

“Oh, you’re just making this painful,” Donna told him.

“All right, I’m opening it.” The Doctor opened the box, reaching in and pulling out an old sundial.

Donna leaned forward, actually looking a bit nervous. “It’s from when we went to Pompeii. I know you’ve got a bunch of old stuff, but Evelina let me have it when we were there. Thought you might like to have it.”

The Doctor turned it around in his hand. “Thank you, Donna.” He looked up with a small smile. “No, really, this is brilliant.”

Donna straightened, wiping her eggnog off her dress. “I know,” she beamed. She pulled out another package, this one a deep green with tiny gold stars. Unlike the Doctor’s, it was obvious Donna had at least tried to be meticulous, and she handed it to you gently.

The Doctor squinted at your gift. “Wait, why does hers have a ribbon? And actual seams?”

“Because I knew you’d complain,” Donna said, voice level. “Christmas karma. Y/N, open it!”

You laughed and tugged at the sides of the package. “I’d like to point out that I don’t really feel afraid of opening your gift.”

“That’s because you and I have an established sense of trust,” Donna said, pointedly raising her eyebrows at the Doctor, as if she were challenging him.

The Doctor snorted. “It’s because you’ve never tried to give Y/N a Kopperzanian religious relic as a souvenir.”

You waved him off. “Oh, she apologized.”

“Yeah,” Donna smirked, “I apologized.”

“We were chased by a hoard of priests,” he countered.

“And she gave it back.”

“… And I gave it back.”

You slipped your hand into the package and pulled out a smooth black stone with engravings lined with glowing gems. The language was one you couldn’t read, but could definitely recognize as Kopperzanian. “Donna!”

“What? It’s pocket sized. And it matches your eyes.” Donna shrugged it off. “And look at your face, you know you love it.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at you, but you folded. “Okay, yes. It’s definitely gorgeous.”

“And?”

You grinned. “And I do love it, thank you Donna.” You hugged her, and she shot a triumphant grin to the Doctor.

“Top that, space boy.” Donna took a long swig of eggnog, and prayed for a moment that he actually would.

“Nope!” You clapped your hands together. “Mine first. Merry Christmas, Donna, and thank you for the party.”

“And for forcing us to go to it,” the Doctor chimed in.

“Scrooge, that’s who you are,” Donna said, sticking her tongue out at him and taking her present from Y/N. She tore off the wrapping. “Oh. My. God.”

“It’s a marshmallow gun,” you said. “And there’s a fresh packet of marshmallows to go with it.”

The Doctor looked vaguely horrified as Donna pumped the gun. It made a loud popping noise, angry it wasn’t yet loaded. “Why?” he asked you, sounding like you’d signed a delivery for the packaged apocalypse.

“This is bloody brilliant, this is!” Donna shouted, waving the gun around. “Mum would never let me have one.”

“And for the first time, your mother and I agree.”

You laughed. “I’m so glad you like it! I was a bit worried that it wasn’t enough—there are also some earrings I found at that shop in the Fourth Squadron of that nebula we went to last week.”

Donna pulled out the jewelry and made the appropriate oo-ing noises. “I have to put them on.”

“What?” the Doctor cocked his head to the side.

“I’m gonna go put them on, I wanna see these babies in a mirror. You stay here, give Y/N her present.” Donna pointed her new weapon at him. “You eat a single one of my marshmallows, and I will destroy you.”

He held up his hands in surrender, and you both laughed as Donna dashed out of the room. After a few moments, the Doctor cleared his throat. “I do have a present for you. If you’d like it. I, uh, I thought that Donna would throttle me if I didn’t.” He ducked under the console and pulled out a small box. “And I wanted to give you something.”

Smiling, you took the box from him. “Donna aside, you really didn’t have to.”

“Well,” he grinned. “You know. Had all the time in the world, thought I might as well.”

You unwrapped it, probably more slowly than you had to. “Oh, Doctor. This is…”

“Signed. First edition,” he said, and you thought for a moment that he looked nervous as you pulled the book from the box. It had to be old, but it looked freshly printed. “I’ve met him once or twice, Lewis Carroll, and asked him for the favor of signing it.”

You held up ‘Alice’s Adventures Underground,’ your heart slightly erratic over the book you were holding. “I can’t believe it! That’s beautiful.”

The corners of his mouth tugged upward, looking like he couldn’t choose between relief and happiness and his smile landing somewhere that fully mixed both. “There’s something else.”

“How could there possibly be anything else?” You protested, almost laughing in disbelief. “This is already, hands down, the most thoughtful, the most blatantly unbelievable gift I’ve ever gotten.”

The Doctor laughed, and again he seemed a little nervous. But then again, maybe that was you, or the eggnog, which Donna had volunteered to make and could have been on the strong side. He pulled out a slim gold chain from his pocket, and held it out into the light. “It’s a microdetail necklace, carved out of metallic cores and other dusts. They’re made to resemble galaxies, moons, planets.”

You stood, gently taking the stone of the necklace and lifting it. “It’s the star, the one we caught in stellar evolution, being born.”

“First trip into space.” The Doctor smiled as he watched you, letting your happiness lull away any obligation he felt to stop. “Your first, obviously,” he added.

You let the pendant drop and turned your back to the Doctor. With your hand, you lifted your hair to the side and glanced at him over your shoulder. “Would you?”

“Oh, of course.” He tried not to fumble as he draped the necklace around your throat and secured the clasp. His fingers gently trailed against your skin as he pulled away.

“This is,” you began, turning to face him, “incredible, and incredibly too much. I can’t—“

“You’ve already put it on,” the Doctor pointed out. He grinned as you blushed.

“Oh, oh no, I have. It was beautiful, and I just—Listen, I have to keep Carroll, because I don’t think I have the willpower, the necklace is hard enough, I can’t believe you—”

“Y/N—“

“It’s almost impossibly thoughtful, and I’m going to start crying, and that’ll be too embarrassing—“

“Y/N—“

“And Donna’s going to come back at any moment and start pelting me with marshmallows, what if the necklace isn’t safe?”

Just as the Doctor was about to protest again, the door to the TARDIS swung open, silencing you both.

“That’s odd…” he said, face scrunching up in confusion.

“We really can’t have a holiday without nearly dying, can we?”

The Doctor strode to the opened door, and you followed, peering over his shoulder. You exhaled sharply. “Oh, my God. That’s it. That’s the star.” You stroked your necklace with your thumb. “It’s still being born.”

The Doctor glanced over at you, grinning. “Now you can’t turn down a gift when the universe is pulling for it.”

You absentmindedly leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the swirls of green and purple as the particles tried to compress into something majestic and beautiful. Light whites and yellows highlighted the complex cloud patterns, just as beautifully chaotic and intricate as you’d remembered it, when your first moments in space next to the Doctor had hushed you into silence. For a moment you both stood there, side by side as you watched the slow birth of the star. As you peered out the top of the TARDIS doorway, you noticed a small bundle of green leaves and berries stuck to the top of the frame. Donna’s signature overuse of tape secured it in place.

The star gleamed in front of you, echoed by your necklace, and eggnog and happiness warmed your entire body. You hesitated for a moment before lifting onto your toes, aiming a light kiss to the Doctor’s cheek.

The Doctor turned his head, “You know that—“

Your mouth landed off-target, half on his cheek, half tucked into the corner of his lips.

You jolted back, meeting the Doctor’s wide eyes—which would have been comically huge, if not for the fact that you were having an absolute heart attack—with your own panicked ones. “Oh, God! I’m sorry! There was mistletoe—Donna stuck it everywhere—and I thought—well, everything was beautiful and festive, and your gifts—you haven’t even opened mine to you—and the mistletoe—I thought that I might—I was aiming for your cheek! I’m sorry!”

The Doctor watched as you rambled, eyes watching as your lips moved, molded to the words, and he leaned forward, cupping the back of your head with his hand. Then brought his lips firmly to yours.

There was a moment as you processed what was happening, your brain halfway through your next apology, and then every nerve in your body registered that the Doctor’s fingers were tangling into your hair, and that his lips were incredibly warm as they brushed against yours, inviting you to their perfect rhythm—frantic and satisfied, relieved and desperate, as rapid and comforting as his two heartbeats. Your eyes closed, and your hands wove into his hair as his other hand went to the small of your back.

Donna bounded into the room, mouth open, new earrings jingling. She slapped her hand over her mouth, and slowly she backed into the hallway. “God bless us,” she said, looking at the two and bring her arm up and down in a small fist pump. “God bless us every one.”