Fic: All I Want for Christmas (Ten/Rose | PG)
Author: aibhinn
Written for: lunaillustris
Title: All I Want for Christmas
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor and Rose have, for once, a quiet day out, filled with memories, hand-holding, and general fluff. And about time, too.
Author's notes: Ok, this is really just pure candy-floss fluff, I'm afraid, but it's Christmas, right? Written for the ten_n_tyler Secret Santa ficathon. lunaillustris wanted Post Doomsday (doesn't have to be reunion focused); celebration (not necessarily about their reunion); references to their past (bonus points for references to the novels); fascination with a certain word (preferably aficionado); singing (either or both of them); a wishing well. I do hope you enjoy the story!
The planet Haejeri was an exercise in contradictions. On the one hand, all forms of religious expression were forbidden in the public arena; religion was required to be kept strictly private. But at the same time, what seemed like the entirety of Haejeri's population turned out yearly for the celebration of-of all things-Christmas.
"It's not the religious holiday they're celebrating, per se," the Doctor told Rose as they strolled hand-in-hand through the crowded, snowy, be-garlanded streets. "Not the whole 'son of God born in a cave' thing; more the 'peace on earth, good will towards men' thing. Well, I say 'men,' but it applies to everyone. That never made sense to me; why would a language cut an entire gender out of its word for 'everyone'? Doesn't make sense to say 'peace on earth, good will to everyone with a penis,' now does it?"
"Doctor!" Rose protested, laughing. "Can't imagine that's what the angels meant, no. But 'born in a cave'? Thought it was a stable or something."
"Ah, but buildings like stables were often built in caves, or at least under rocky overhangs," the Doctor said. "Much cheaper and easier that way, especially in desert country where wood's scarce. Not that it really took place in December anyway. Shepherds out watching their flocks by night? That's lambing season, that is. Springtime. But it gave a good excuse to create a new mid-winter holiday, round about the time everyone needs some fun in their lives anyway."
"Why is it everything turns into a lecture with you?" Rose asked, but she was grinning.
"You love it."
"I do," she admitted. She squeezed his hand. "We've got quite the history with Christmases, don't we? Remember when you regenerated? The Sycorax and all?"
"How could I forget?" He sighed dramatically. "Ah, the memories. Burning up from the inside out; crash-landing the TARDIS; nearly getting you killed twice, first by homicidal pilot fish dressed as Father Christmas and then by a booby-trapped Christmas tree; being teleported up to an alien ship whilst passed out; waking up just in time to engage in a battle to the death with an alien warlord, on his ship, with his form of weaponry, in my jim-jams. Or, rather, Howard's."
"You forgot saving the world with a satsuma," she reminded him. "Never let it be said that holidays in the Tyler household are dull. Or maybe it's just your influence; our first Christmas together, we nearly got killed and taken over by the Gelth."
"In Cardiff," the Doctor agreed, pulling a face. "We got to meet Charles Dickens, though. That's got to count for something."
"I'm still annoyed with you for seeing Shakespeare without me," Rose commented, but with the grin that told him she was joking. "You could make it up to me, though. We could go meet J.K. Rowling."
"Oh, no chance," the Doctor said, shaking his head. "Meet J.K. Rowling? I'd be too tongue-tied to say a word."
"You?" Rose scoffed. "That’ll be the day!"
"The woman's a genius, Rose! Not everyone can plot a seven-novel-long story, you know. Though she did slack off writing Sorting Hat songs after a while," he added thoughtfully. "I suppose even genius has its limits."
Rose laughed. She couldn't help it. "I'd never have pictured it," she said.
"Pictured what?"
"You! A fanboy! The man who lied to Queen Victoria herself."
"I never!" he protested, injured.
"Dr James MacCrimmon?" she reminded him. "Studied under Dr Bell himself?"
"Oh, that," the Doctor said. "Well, yeah, all right, if you're counting that. I seem to have a habit of annoying royalty. Must be genetic or something. Did I tell you that Queen Elizabeth wanted my head? The first Queen Elizabeth, that is. I had to leg it to get away from her guards."
"Really?" Rose asked, diverted. "What did you do?"
He shrugged. "No idea. Hasn't happened for me yet. Maybe we should go on back to Shakespeare's time after all. I'm sure there's all kinds of mischief I can get us into." He winked at her.
"The mischief is the best part," she agreed.
They walked along in silence for a few moments, listening to the instrumental strains of 'White Christmas' coming from a nearby bandstand. "Talking of Christmases," Rose said finally. "That first Christmas after Canary Wharf was dreadful."
"Yeah." He released her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to him. She slid her own arm around his waist and they stumbled for a moment as they coordinated their steps. "For me too. Hadn't been more than a minute since the signal ran out on my goodbye to you, and there was Donna, complete with wedding dress and veil, demanding to be taken back. And I had no idea how she'd got there to begin with! So I had to sort that out. And of course it was right around Christmastime for her."
Bloody hell, Rose thought. Why'd she brought that up now? "And you managed to drain the Thames doing it," she teased, trying to shift the mood back. "Honestly, what is it with you and that river? First you destroy an alien hive mind and pollute the Thames with so much alien DNA that I could literally walk on the water, and then you pour the whole lot of it down a great bloody hole into the Earth's core to drown a bunch of lobster creatures and drain it completely dry. Can't you leave the poor river alone?"
He laughed, but there was a sense of melancholy underneath it. He stopped walking and looked at her, tugging her close to him. "I didn't care about anything much," he said, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "I thought I'd lost you forever.'
No chivvying him out of this, apparently. She wrapped her arms around him. "But you've got me now," she said reassuringly. "And for a long, long time."
"Mm." He looked her in the eye, cupping her cheek. "Am I selfish to be grateful for that, Rose? To be grateful you're all but immortal?"
"No." She leant into his touch. "I promised you forever, remember? I meant it. You've always had all the forever I had to give. It's just a bit more now, that's all."
He smiled slightly and rested his forehead against hers. "I never finished that sentence, did I?"
"You don't need to," she told him truthfully, running a hand up and down his back. "I know."
They were silent for a bit, eyes closed, breathing in each other's warmth as the bustle of holiday shoppers brushed past them. At last the Doctor sighed and raised his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She smiled at him and they started off again, arm in arm.
"As for your comment about the Thames," he said, picking up the thread of their conversation as though nothing had happened. Rose was glad to hear the bounce back in his voice. "I've nothing against it. Lovely river. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'm a Thames aficionado."
"Aficionado?" Rose repeated, amused.
"Yep," he said, enunciating the 'p'. "Aficionado. An enthusiastic fan or follower; a devotee. Of course, the word originally applied only to bullfighting, but it's still one of my favourites."
"Bullfighting? You mean, like in Spain?"
"Oh, yes. It's a Spanish word, you know, or was originally. English is like that, though." His voice had taken on his familiar lecturing tone yet again. "Not much of it is original; you lot tend to adopt words out of any language you fancy. Spanish, French, Italian, Scandinavian, Greek, Latin-lots of Latin. All those Romans in the three and four hundreds, building forts and roads and what have you."
"Not to mention Hadrian's Wall," Rose said. "Just so long as nobody imported any GENIEs from Sardinia, I think we're all right."
"And as long as nobody translates that inscription on the base of the Fortuna statue in the British Museum," he agreed with a grin. "Oh, look!" He pointed across the way. "A wishing well! Come on!"
They sprinted across the square towards the lighted, covered wishing well in the centre. The lights that had been strung around it twinkled in the fading sunlight and gave the well a sort of fairy-tale glow. The Doctor dug into his pockets and came up with a handful of change from assorted planets. He held his hand out to her. "Go on, then," he urged.
She picked out a triangular coin and cocked her head at him. "Is it a male thing to have a pocketful of change all the time?" she asked. "Because even in the other universe, most men jingled when they walked."
"Certainly not," he said firmly. "I only have the change because I knew there was a wishing well here. I love wishing wells. Visit 'em whenever I can."
"Oh, so you're a wishing well aficionado too, then?" she asked, grinning with her tongue against her teeth.
"Absolutely. Been to most of them in the galaxy. 'Course, a few of them are pure tourist kitsch, but most of them are just lovely. Like this one." He plucked a coin from the pile in his hand and shoved the rest back into his pocket. "Ready?"
"You're just a big kid at heart, aren't you?" she said with affection.
"Every chance I get," he agreed. They positioned their coins above the well. "After three, then," he said. "One, two, three!"
They dropped their coins simultaneously and waited, listening, until they heard the telltale splashes at the bottom.
"There we are!" the Doctor announced. "Hope you made a good wish, Rose Tyler, because this well is as effective as the Trevi Fountain in Rome. Wishes really do come true here."
Rose tucked her hand back into his. "I didn't make a wish."
"You didn't?" the Doctor asked in surprise, brow furrowing.
"Nope." She squeezed his hand. "I've already got everything I want."
His face cleared, and he squeezed back. "Me too."
They stood there a moment, smiling sappily at each other, until he said, "Come on. There's a sing-along down the market. Christmas carols! We should go join in."
"Can you sing?" she asked as they started off again.
"Can I sing? I'll have you know I was the best singer in my House. 'Course, I was the only singer in my House. Below the dignity of proper Time Lords, singing. Sitting at a deadly dull lecture for hours was more their thing." He raised his voice and warbled, mostly on key, "'God rest ye merry, gentlemen! Let nothing you dismay….'"
"Careful," Rose interrupted. "Religion is supposed to be private, you know."
"Doesn't count on Christmas," he told her. "But if it makes you feel better, we'll skip to the chorus." He started in again, and this time she joined him.
"O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy!"
***
The market square was packed with people-so packed that Rose and the Doctor were crammed together, her back to his chest. Not that she was complaining about that.
They were sharing a page of lyrics. It was actually a display of some sort, thin as a piece of laminated paper and just as lightweight. As one song ended, another song's lyrics would be displayed on the screen, making sure everyone knew what they were meant to be singing. The variety of songs amused Rose: everything from Adeste Fideles-in Latin, even!-to Blue Christmas by Elvis, to Winter Wonderland. None of the natives seemed to think anything was unusual about the mix of songs, and Rose soon got into the spirit of things, singing along happily…until a familiar strain echoed through the market, and the display changed to show a set of lyrics she'd never expected.
"Oh, God," she groaned, prompting a dirty look from a neighbouring caroler. She dropped her voice and twisted round to look up at the Doctor over her shoulder. "We're not really singing this, are we?"
"Why not?" the Doctor asked, surprised.
"Because it's… it's just… it's not really Christmas, this, is it?" Rose protested. "It's just some stupid pop song from a movie."
"Of course it's Christmas!" the Doctor said. "What else would it be?" And he joined in with the rest:
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is...
You.
"Oh, God," Rose groaned again, this time under her breath. "I hate this song."
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace.
The Doctor was singing as well, but she realised that he wasn't belting it out the way he had done the last few songs. He'd modulated his voice so it was quiet, almost tender. She blinked in surprise, then felt a silly grin spread over her face as he slid his arms around her and pressed his jaw against the side of her head, singing almost into her ear.
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you.
He fumbled for her hand, and she placed it in his, squeezing. He squeezed back, then to her surprise, reached round to take it in his other hand as well. She waited, brow furrowed, to see what it was he was doing….
…then felt her eyes open wide as something cool and metallic slipped over her finger.
She brought her hand up, staring at the brilliant star sapphire that sparkled up at her. It was a moment before she could force her body to move; then she turned right around in his arms and looked up at him, taking in the hopeful, slightly-abashed expression on his face. "D-Doctor?" she managed.
He smiled shyly. "We've promised forever," he said. "Just thought we should make it official."
Heart brimming, she flung her arms around his neck. He lifted her up off her feet, swinging her gently back and forth. Their neighbours moved carefully out of their way, but didn't protest. It was, after all, Christmas.
Written for: lunaillustris
Title: All I Want for Christmas
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor and Rose have, for once, a quiet day out, filled with memories, hand-holding, and general fluff. And about time, too.
Author's notes: Ok, this is really just pure candy-floss fluff, I'm afraid, but it's Christmas, right? Written for the ten_n_tyler Secret Santa ficathon. lunaillustris wanted Post Doomsday (doesn't have to be reunion focused); celebration (not necessarily about their reunion); references to their past (bonus points for references to the novels); fascination with a certain word (preferably aficionado); singing (either or both of them); a wishing well. I do hope you enjoy the story!
The planet Haejeri was an exercise in contradictions. On the one hand, all forms of religious expression were forbidden in the public arena; religion was required to be kept strictly private. But at the same time, what seemed like the entirety of Haejeri's population turned out yearly for the celebration of-of all things-Christmas.
"It's not the religious holiday they're celebrating, per se," the Doctor told Rose as they strolled hand-in-hand through the crowded, snowy, be-garlanded streets. "Not the whole 'son of God born in a cave' thing; more the 'peace on earth, good will towards men' thing. Well, I say 'men,' but it applies to everyone. That never made sense to me; why would a language cut an entire gender out of its word for 'everyone'? Doesn't make sense to say 'peace on earth, good will to everyone with a penis,' now does it?"
"Doctor!" Rose protested, laughing. "Can't imagine that's what the angels meant, no. But 'born in a cave'? Thought it was a stable or something."
"Ah, but buildings like stables were often built in caves, or at least under rocky overhangs," the Doctor said. "Much cheaper and easier that way, especially in desert country where wood's scarce. Not that it really took place in December anyway. Shepherds out watching their flocks by night? That's lambing season, that is. Springtime. But it gave a good excuse to create a new mid-winter holiday, round about the time everyone needs some fun in their lives anyway."
"Why is it everything turns into a lecture with you?" Rose asked, but she was grinning.
"You love it."
"I do," she admitted. She squeezed his hand. "We've got quite the history with Christmases, don't we? Remember when you regenerated? The Sycorax and all?"
"How could I forget?" He sighed dramatically. "Ah, the memories. Burning up from the inside out; crash-landing the TARDIS; nearly getting you killed twice, first by homicidal pilot fish dressed as Father Christmas and then by a booby-trapped Christmas tree; being teleported up to an alien ship whilst passed out; waking up just in time to engage in a battle to the death with an alien warlord, on his ship, with his form of weaponry, in my jim-jams. Or, rather, Howard's."
"You forgot saving the world with a satsuma," she reminded him. "Never let it be said that holidays in the Tyler household are dull. Or maybe it's just your influence; our first Christmas together, we nearly got killed and taken over by the Gelth."
"In Cardiff," the Doctor agreed, pulling a face. "We got to meet Charles Dickens, though. That's got to count for something."
"I'm still annoyed with you for seeing Shakespeare without me," Rose commented, but with the grin that told him she was joking. "You could make it up to me, though. We could go meet J.K. Rowling."
"Oh, no chance," the Doctor said, shaking his head. "Meet J.K. Rowling? I'd be too tongue-tied to say a word."
"You?" Rose scoffed. "That’ll be the day!"
"The woman's a genius, Rose! Not everyone can plot a seven-novel-long story, you know. Though she did slack off writing Sorting Hat songs after a while," he added thoughtfully. "I suppose even genius has its limits."
Rose laughed. She couldn't help it. "I'd never have pictured it," she said.
"Pictured what?"
"You! A fanboy! The man who lied to Queen Victoria herself."
"I never!" he protested, injured.
"Dr James MacCrimmon?" she reminded him. "Studied under Dr Bell himself?"
"Oh, that," the Doctor said. "Well, yeah, all right, if you're counting that. I seem to have a habit of annoying royalty. Must be genetic or something. Did I tell you that Queen Elizabeth wanted my head? The first Queen Elizabeth, that is. I had to leg it to get away from her guards."
"Really?" Rose asked, diverted. "What did you do?"
He shrugged. "No idea. Hasn't happened for me yet. Maybe we should go on back to Shakespeare's time after all. I'm sure there's all kinds of mischief I can get us into." He winked at her.
"The mischief is the best part," she agreed.
They walked along in silence for a few moments, listening to the instrumental strains of 'White Christmas' coming from a nearby bandstand. "Talking of Christmases," Rose said finally. "That first Christmas after Canary Wharf was dreadful."
"Yeah." He released her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to him. She slid her own arm around his waist and they stumbled for a moment as they coordinated their steps. "For me too. Hadn't been more than a minute since the signal ran out on my goodbye to you, and there was Donna, complete with wedding dress and veil, demanding to be taken back. And I had no idea how she'd got there to begin with! So I had to sort that out. And of course it was right around Christmastime for her."
Bloody hell, Rose thought. Why'd she brought that up now? "And you managed to drain the Thames doing it," she teased, trying to shift the mood back. "Honestly, what is it with you and that river? First you destroy an alien hive mind and pollute the Thames with so much alien DNA that I could literally walk on the water, and then you pour the whole lot of it down a great bloody hole into the Earth's core to drown a bunch of lobster creatures and drain it completely dry. Can't you leave the poor river alone?"
He laughed, but there was a sense of melancholy underneath it. He stopped walking and looked at her, tugging her close to him. "I didn't care about anything much," he said, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "I thought I'd lost you forever.'
No chivvying him out of this, apparently. She wrapped her arms around him. "But you've got me now," she said reassuringly. "And for a long, long time."
"Mm." He looked her in the eye, cupping her cheek. "Am I selfish to be grateful for that, Rose? To be grateful you're all but immortal?"
"No." She leant into his touch. "I promised you forever, remember? I meant it. You've always had all the forever I had to give. It's just a bit more now, that's all."
He smiled slightly and rested his forehead against hers. "I never finished that sentence, did I?"
"You don't need to," she told him truthfully, running a hand up and down his back. "I know."
They were silent for a bit, eyes closed, breathing in each other's warmth as the bustle of holiday shoppers brushed past them. At last the Doctor sighed and raised his head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She smiled at him and they started off again, arm in arm.
"As for your comment about the Thames," he said, picking up the thread of their conversation as though nothing had happened. Rose was glad to hear the bounce back in his voice. "I've nothing against it. Lovely river. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I'm a Thames aficionado."
"Aficionado?" Rose repeated, amused.
"Yep," he said, enunciating the 'p'. "Aficionado. An enthusiastic fan or follower; a devotee. Of course, the word originally applied only to bullfighting, but it's still one of my favourites."
"Bullfighting? You mean, like in Spain?"
"Oh, yes. It's a Spanish word, you know, or was originally. English is like that, though." His voice had taken on his familiar lecturing tone yet again. "Not much of it is original; you lot tend to adopt words out of any language you fancy. Spanish, French, Italian, Scandinavian, Greek, Latin-lots of Latin. All those Romans in the three and four hundreds, building forts and roads and what have you."
"Not to mention Hadrian's Wall," Rose said. "Just so long as nobody imported any GENIEs from Sardinia, I think we're all right."
"And as long as nobody translates that inscription on the base of the Fortuna statue in the British Museum," he agreed with a grin. "Oh, look!" He pointed across the way. "A wishing well! Come on!"
They sprinted across the square towards the lighted, covered wishing well in the centre. The lights that had been strung around it twinkled in the fading sunlight and gave the well a sort of fairy-tale glow. The Doctor dug into his pockets and came up with a handful of change from assorted planets. He held his hand out to her. "Go on, then," he urged.
She picked out a triangular coin and cocked her head at him. "Is it a male thing to have a pocketful of change all the time?" she asked. "Because even in the other universe, most men jingled when they walked."
"Certainly not," he said firmly. "I only have the change because I knew there was a wishing well here. I love wishing wells. Visit 'em whenever I can."
"Oh, so you're a wishing well aficionado too, then?" she asked, grinning with her tongue against her teeth.
"Absolutely. Been to most of them in the galaxy. 'Course, a few of them are pure tourist kitsch, but most of them are just lovely. Like this one." He plucked a coin from the pile in his hand and shoved the rest back into his pocket. "Ready?"
"You're just a big kid at heart, aren't you?" she said with affection.
"Every chance I get," he agreed. They positioned their coins above the well. "After three, then," he said. "One, two, three!"
They dropped their coins simultaneously and waited, listening, until they heard the telltale splashes at the bottom.
"There we are!" the Doctor announced. "Hope you made a good wish, Rose Tyler, because this well is as effective as the Trevi Fountain in Rome. Wishes really do come true here."
Rose tucked her hand back into his. "I didn't make a wish."
"You didn't?" the Doctor asked in surprise, brow furrowing.
"Nope." She squeezed his hand. "I've already got everything I want."
His face cleared, and he squeezed back. "Me too."
They stood there a moment, smiling sappily at each other, until he said, "Come on. There's a sing-along down the market. Christmas carols! We should go join in."
"Can you sing?" she asked as they started off again.
"Can I sing? I'll have you know I was the best singer in my House. 'Course, I was the only singer in my House. Below the dignity of proper Time Lords, singing. Sitting at a deadly dull lecture for hours was more their thing." He raised his voice and warbled, mostly on key, "'God rest ye merry, gentlemen! Let nothing you dismay….'"
"Careful," Rose interrupted. "Religion is supposed to be private, you know."
"Doesn't count on Christmas," he told her. "But if it makes you feel better, we'll skip to the chorus." He started in again, and this time she joined him.
"O tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
O tidings of comfort and joy!"
***
The market square was packed with people-so packed that Rose and the Doctor were crammed together, her back to his chest. Not that she was complaining about that.
They were sharing a page of lyrics. It was actually a display of some sort, thin as a piece of laminated paper and just as lightweight. As one song ended, another song's lyrics would be displayed on the screen, making sure everyone knew what they were meant to be singing. The variety of songs amused Rose: everything from Adeste Fideles-in Latin, even!-to Blue Christmas by Elvis, to Winter Wonderland. None of the natives seemed to think anything was unusual about the mix of songs, and Rose soon got into the spirit of things, singing along happily…until a familiar strain echoed through the market, and the display changed to show a set of lyrics she'd never expected.
"Oh, God," she groaned, prompting a dirty look from a neighbouring caroler. She dropped her voice and twisted round to look up at the Doctor over her shoulder. "We're not really singing this, are we?"
"Why not?" the Doctor asked, surprised.
"Because it's… it's just… it's not really Christmas, this, is it?" Rose protested. "It's just some stupid pop song from a movie."
"Of course it's Christmas!" the Doctor said. "What else would it be?" And he joined in with the rest:
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is...
You.
"Oh, God," Rose groaned again, this time under her breath. "I hate this song."
I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace.
The Doctor was singing as well, but she realised that he wasn't belting it out the way he had done the last few songs. He'd modulated his voice so it was quiet, almost tender. She blinked in surprise, then felt a silly grin spread over her face as he slid his arms around her and pressed his jaw against the side of her head, singing almost into her ear.
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas day
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is you.
He fumbled for her hand, and she placed it in his, squeezing. He squeezed back, then to her surprise, reached round to take it in his other hand as well. She waited, brow furrowed, to see what it was he was doing….
…then felt her eyes open wide as something cool and metallic slipped over her finger.
She brought her hand up, staring at the brilliant star sapphire that sparkled up at her. It was a moment before she could force her body to move; then she turned right around in his arms and looked up at him, taking in the hopeful, slightly-abashed expression on his face. "D-Doctor?" she managed.
He smiled shyly. "We've promised forever," he said. "Just thought we should make it official."
Heart brimming, she flung her arms around his neck. He lifted her up off her feet, swinging her gently back and forth. Their neighbours moved carefully out of their way, but didn't protest. It was, after all, Christmas.