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rabid1stToday for Pony Countdown Day...a holiday berry munching pony...and a ficlet.
WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS
by Rabid1st
Doctor Who
Doctor/Rose
Rating: E for Everybody
Beta: No one at all
Summary: It's nothing really...just a little idea I had about holidays...and I made it into fiction.
Disclaimer: I do not have any say in the lives of or right to these characters.
“Merry Christmas,” the Doctor sang, presenting Rose with a brightly wrapped package, ostentatiously festooned with wide and narrow ribbons, tinkling bells, bouncy bows and sparkling geegaws.
Rose pressed her lips together to contain the bubble of laughter threatening to break free at the sight of the gift. Even though her fingers twitched, she made no effort to take the offering from his hand. She wasn't particularly surprised by the present, as the Doctor had been inadequately concealing it behind his back when she entered the control room. What she questioned was his reasoning. “Is it Christmas?”
“Somewhere, certainly,” the Doctor said. He wiggled the present encouragingly in the hope she would take it.
“But,” Rose argued, still not reaching for the gift. “Wasn't it Christmas the day before yesterday? We visited my mum.”
“I rather enjoyed the day before yesterday,” the Doctor said, "despite your mum. Yesterday? Not so much.”
“Being threatened with decapitation will do that,” Rose remarked, “ruin your day.”
“Yes, but here we are...with our heads still attached and I've a present for you.”
Rose took the hint and took the package from him. “Wrapped this yourself, did you?” She couldn't quite stifle a giggle under her breath as the gift tinkled and jingled merrily, curly ribbons dancing as it was transfered to her grasp.
“Oh, absolutely,” he admitted. “Wrapping is half the fun, unless you run out of tape or ribbon...or...bells. We are out of bells, by the way.”
“I imagine we are nearly out of ribbon, too,” Rose said dryly. His slight shrug and sheepish smile told her she wasn't wrong. He watched as she held the present to her ear and shook it slightly. "It's not a puppy," she said.
"Nothing living," he agreed. "Nor anything prone to springing leaks or sparking fires or spoiling and stinking up the place...or...multiplying or mutating and irradiating the neighbors." He patted a jacket pocket. "I keep the list handy while shopping."
Every present-oriented holiday she had to add new restrictions to his list. He was ever so inventive at giving her alarming gifts. Rose placed this one on their chair and stepped back to admire it for a moment. It was an exquisitely wrapped, smallish, squarish one. Big enough to hold a bowling ball but not nearly so heavy.
Sliding his arms around her waist, the Doctor snuggled close to rest his chin on her shoulder and also looked at his handiwork.
“I love Christmas,” he whispered, his exhalation puffing warm against her skin. “And Chanukah. And Solstice. And birthdays. And Me'ReChamah. And Hobbledorf Day. And anniversaries. And Rassilon's Corination. And...”
“...any excuse to give a well-wrapped present,” Rose laughed. When he nodded, his hair tickled her ear. She ducked away from the cheek pressed to hers as she turned to face him, but stayed in the protective circle of his arms. They felt so comforting. “So we've gone back to the day before yesterday to do Christmas all over again?”
“No, not a bit of it. I wouldn't dream of crossing my own time line. Well...not for this. Then we would have to do yesterday again, too. I've simply decided to carry on the tradition from the twelve days of Christmas, but with fewer partridges.”
“Christmas every day? What about the Twelfth Night curse?”
“Poppycock. Christmas counteracts curses. Ask any shaman. Mistletoe discourages werewolves and jingly bells are recognized protection against the evil eye in sixteen different galaxies. And...it's Christmas somewhere on any given day. We could stick to the Earthly celebration and go year to year if you like, starting in 1843 and moving in a linear fashion. But it isn't strictly necessary."
“Time being a relative dimension in our time machine,” Rose agreed before giving him a quick smooch on the tip of his nose.
“Exactly,” he said, beaming at her, because she really was quite clever. “Although, I suppose, in an infinite universe, there must be some spatial relevance as well...I am that certain there is a dimension where they celebrate Christmas every day.”
“By special legislation or a decree from the Judoon Pope?” Rose suggested, adding, “They must spend a fortune on batteries.”
“Family and presents and snow and jolly fat men and their flying whatever, reindeer.”
“Endlessly tidying, sweeping up broken ornaments and scraps of glittery paper? Listening to kids fighting over toys?”
“Mistletoe and holly and special presentations on the telly. Fairy lights twinkling on rooftops. Carolers caroling non-stop. Music piped into every residence. Silent Night. Deck the Halls. Grandma Got Run Over By A Whatever.” His smile faded as he envisioned it. “Miles of wrapping paper and ribbon and tape. Tangled strings of lights with that one bulb that's gone bad. Piles of cards piling up and you've got to reply to everyone. And the post and the parcels. Bells ringing out on every street corner. Charity workers going door to door. Illuminations illuminated three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Or however many days they happen to have per year, because these things vary planet to planet. But rest assured," he nodded several times for emphasis, "there will never be enough sales clerks. And there will always be too many shoppers. No parking. Traffic jams.”
“The relatives dropping by unannounced,” Rose said in a sepulchral tone. “Drinking too much and starting up old arguments.”
“Never leaving.”
“All those rich holiday dishes,” Rose said, thinking of her waistline. Then, she thought of the pots and pans and groaned. “Oh, all those dishes to clean! Bowls and plates and cups stacked to the ceiling every day.”
“Novelty gifts,” the Doctor added, suddenly very despondent. “There's a question too many people have even with only the one Christmas a year: What do you get for the Time Lord who has everything? Too often it's peanut brittle.”
“I'm getting you a tie,” Rose told him.
“I like ties,” he said, brightening. “Though I'm not sure I wouldn't get sick of them after the initial five hundred or so. Is that something we should put to the test?”
“If you start getting sick of them you can tell me,” Rose said, twisting in his embrace again so she was facing her beautifully presented present, but drawing his arms closer around her as she leaned back against his chest, “and I'll start buying you mugs with funny sayings on them. Or pamper gift sets with loofahs and berry-scented soaps shaped like the lopsided moon of Poosh.”
“Sad really that they've lost the other one,” he said. “I shall retire to Poosh one day and we will grow strawberries. You will love it. Thanks to the Annual Mad Scientist Competition, they have...”
“...bushes with hot cocoa pods sprouting on them,” Rose finished. She was no longer even slightly surprised at him linking his future with hers. “Hot cocoa straight from the pod. And the most temperate climate imaginable, yet with the most amazing thunder storms.”
“Lightning like fireworks. And sky blue beaches. Sand the color of a summer sky on Earth. Marvelous.”
“You'll build a house overlooking the beach and we will sit on the porch and drink cocoa.” Rose sighed. “Who needs Christmas every day with a life like that? Just a spot of Christmas cheer would do us I think, every so often on a bleak night.”
“I wonder if that's what the song means,” he said and sang, “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute.”
“A Christmas emergency?" Rose laughed. "Pull the Christmas crackers and help will arrive? I already have a little angel, sitting on my shoulder.”
Crowing over that, he seized her left hand and spun her out to arm's length, and then back into his body. They danced around the room in a gliding foxtrot as they sang the final verse of the carol together. “For we need a little music, need a little laughter, need a little singing ringing through the rafters. And we need a little snappy, happy ever after. We need a little Christmas now. Yes...we need a little Christmas now."
Spinning to a giggling stop near the chair, they both stared in some dismay at Rose's present. “Are you going to open it?” the Doctor asked after a bit of silent comtemplation.
"Is it likely to evaporate if I don't?"
“Oh, no, quite the opposite, in fact. Tuck it away in a cupboard if you wish. I must admit I've rather gone off the idea of Christmas every day.”
“Then I will save it until we get to Poosh,” Rose told him with a little pat.
THE END
WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS
by Rabid1st
Doctor Who
Doctor/Rose
Rating: E for Everybody
Beta: No one at all
Summary: It's nothing really...just a little idea I had about holidays...and I made it into fiction.
Disclaimer: I do not have any say in the lives of or right to these characters.
“Merry Christmas,” the Doctor sang, presenting Rose with a brightly wrapped package, ostentatiously festooned with wide and narrow ribbons, tinkling bells, bouncy bows and sparkling geegaws.
Rose pressed her lips together to contain the bubble of laughter threatening to break free at the sight of the gift. Even though her fingers twitched, she made no effort to take the offering from his hand. She wasn't particularly surprised by the present, as the Doctor had been inadequately concealing it behind his back when she entered the control room. What she questioned was his reasoning. “Is it Christmas?”
“Somewhere, certainly,” the Doctor said. He wiggled the present encouragingly in the hope she would take it.
“But,” Rose argued, still not reaching for the gift. “Wasn't it Christmas the day before yesterday? We visited my mum.”
“I rather enjoyed the day before yesterday,” the Doctor said, "despite your mum. Yesterday? Not so much.”
“Being threatened with decapitation will do that,” Rose remarked, “ruin your day.”
“Yes, but here we are...with our heads still attached and I've a present for you.”
Rose took the hint and took the package from him. “Wrapped this yourself, did you?” She couldn't quite stifle a giggle under her breath as the gift tinkled and jingled merrily, curly ribbons dancing as it was transfered to her grasp.
“Oh, absolutely,” he admitted. “Wrapping is half the fun, unless you run out of tape or ribbon...or...bells. We are out of bells, by the way.”
“I imagine we are nearly out of ribbon, too,” Rose said dryly. His slight shrug and sheepish smile told her she wasn't wrong. He watched as she held the present to her ear and shook it slightly. "It's not a puppy," she said.
"Nothing living," he agreed. "Nor anything prone to springing leaks or sparking fires or spoiling and stinking up the place...or...multiplying or mutating and irradiating the neighbors." He patted a jacket pocket. "I keep the list handy while shopping."
Every present-oriented holiday she had to add new restrictions to his list. He was ever so inventive at giving her alarming gifts. Rose placed this one on their chair and stepped back to admire it for a moment. It was an exquisitely wrapped, smallish, squarish one. Big enough to hold a bowling ball but not nearly so heavy.
Sliding his arms around her waist, the Doctor snuggled close to rest his chin on her shoulder and also looked at his handiwork.
“I love Christmas,” he whispered, his exhalation puffing warm against her skin. “And Chanukah. And Solstice. And birthdays. And Me'ReChamah. And Hobbledorf Day. And anniversaries. And Rassilon's Corination. And...”
“...any excuse to give a well-wrapped present,” Rose laughed. When he nodded, his hair tickled her ear. She ducked away from the cheek pressed to hers as she turned to face him, but stayed in the protective circle of his arms. They felt so comforting. “So we've gone back to the day before yesterday to do Christmas all over again?”
“No, not a bit of it. I wouldn't dream of crossing my own time line. Well...not for this. Then we would have to do yesterday again, too. I've simply decided to carry on the tradition from the twelve days of Christmas, but with fewer partridges.”
“Christmas every day? What about the Twelfth Night curse?”
“Poppycock. Christmas counteracts curses. Ask any shaman. Mistletoe discourages werewolves and jingly bells are recognized protection against the evil eye in sixteen different galaxies. And...it's Christmas somewhere on any given day. We could stick to the Earthly celebration and go year to year if you like, starting in 1843 and moving in a linear fashion. But it isn't strictly necessary."
“Time being a relative dimension in our time machine,” Rose agreed before giving him a quick smooch on the tip of his nose.
“Exactly,” he said, beaming at her, because she really was quite clever. “Although, I suppose, in an infinite universe, there must be some spatial relevance as well...I am that certain there is a dimension where they celebrate Christmas every day.”
“By special legislation or a decree from the Judoon Pope?” Rose suggested, adding, “They must spend a fortune on batteries.”
“Family and presents and snow and jolly fat men and their flying whatever, reindeer.”
“Endlessly tidying, sweeping up broken ornaments and scraps of glittery paper? Listening to kids fighting over toys?”
“Mistletoe and holly and special presentations on the telly. Fairy lights twinkling on rooftops. Carolers caroling non-stop. Music piped into every residence. Silent Night. Deck the Halls. Grandma Got Run Over By A Whatever.” His smile faded as he envisioned it. “Miles of wrapping paper and ribbon and tape. Tangled strings of lights with that one bulb that's gone bad. Piles of cards piling up and you've got to reply to everyone. And the post and the parcels. Bells ringing out on every street corner. Charity workers going door to door. Illuminations illuminated three hundred and sixty-five days a year. Or however many days they happen to have per year, because these things vary planet to planet. But rest assured," he nodded several times for emphasis, "there will never be enough sales clerks. And there will always be too many shoppers. No parking. Traffic jams.”
“The relatives dropping by unannounced,” Rose said in a sepulchral tone. “Drinking too much and starting up old arguments.”
“Never leaving.”
“All those rich holiday dishes,” Rose said, thinking of her waistline. Then, she thought of the pots and pans and groaned. “Oh, all those dishes to clean! Bowls and plates and cups stacked to the ceiling every day.”
“Novelty gifts,” the Doctor added, suddenly very despondent. “There's a question too many people have even with only the one Christmas a year: What do you get for the Time Lord who has everything? Too often it's peanut brittle.”
“I'm getting you a tie,” Rose told him.
“I like ties,” he said, brightening. “Though I'm not sure I wouldn't get sick of them after the initial five hundred or so. Is that something we should put to the test?”
“If you start getting sick of them you can tell me,” Rose said, twisting in his embrace again so she was facing her beautifully presented present, but drawing his arms closer around her as she leaned back against his chest, “and I'll start buying you mugs with funny sayings on them. Or pamper gift sets with loofahs and berry-scented soaps shaped like the lopsided moon of Poosh.”
“Sad really that they've lost the other one,” he said. “I shall retire to Poosh one day and we will grow strawberries. You will love it. Thanks to the Annual Mad Scientist Competition, they have...”
“...bushes with hot cocoa pods sprouting on them,” Rose finished. She was no longer even slightly surprised at him linking his future with hers. “Hot cocoa straight from the pod. And the most temperate climate imaginable, yet with the most amazing thunder storms.”
“Lightning like fireworks. And sky blue beaches. Sand the color of a summer sky on Earth. Marvelous.”
“You'll build a house overlooking the beach and we will sit on the porch and drink cocoa.” Rose sighed. “Who needs Christmas every day with a life like that? Just a spot of Christmas cheer would do us I think, every so often on a bleak night.”
“I wonder if that's what the song means,” he said and sang, “We need a little Christmas, right this very minute.”
“A Christmas emergency?" Rose laughed. "Pull the Christmas crackers and help will arrive? I already have a little angel, sitting on my shoulder.”
Crowing over that, he seized her left hand and spun her out to arm's length, and then back into his body. They danced around the room in a gliding foxtrot as they sang the final verse of the carol together. “For we need a little music, need a little laughter, need a little singing ringing through the rafters. And we need a little snappy, happy ever after. We need a little Christmas now. Yes...we need a little Christmas now."
Spinning to a giggling stop near the chair, they both stared in some dismay at Rose's present. “Are you going to open it?” the Doctor asked after a bit of silent comtemplation.
"Is it likely to evaporate if I don't?"
“Oh, no, quite the opposite, in fact. Tuck it away in a cupboard if you wish. I must admit I've rather gone off the idea of Christmas every day.”
“Then I will save it until we get to Poosh,” Rose told him with a little pat.
THE END
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Date: 2009-12-23 01:15 pm (UTC)