Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.
A Very Good Goodnight
Their laughs fade away and are soon hidden behind the groans and hums that feel like home, drifting them away to anywhere and everywhere. It's a funny idea, the Royal family being werewolves and all. But, it's not impossible she tells herself.
Nothing's impossible with him.
Her sense of time has always been out of whack, especially compared to his, but it doesn't take much for her to realize that it's time for her to sack out. Her legs ache in a way that she supposes is her body's way of nudging her off towards her bed. Her mind feels fuzzy and her eyes droop. She stumbles down corridors she knows by heart, not stopping until she closes the door to her own room firmly behind her. Leaning against it heavily and taking deep breaths, she sifts through the days events.
Queen. Torchwood. Werewolf. Diamond. Moonlight. Images flicker and fade almost as fast as her brain pulls them up.
A soft knock makes her eyes pop open and she pushes as well as she can at the wall of dreams that feel like bricks threatening to fall down on her. She grabs the doorknob, needing it for supports as well as opening the door that's never seemed so heavy. Finally, she yanks down on it and the door slides open.
It's him, of course it is, (who else would it be?) and he's holding a big, uneven bush of… something. She's tired enough that she doesn't immediately process it. It's green and leafy and only when the smell hits her nose does she realize its mistletoe. He must've knicked it earlier, and then she can't think about that anymore because he's just kissed her.
A proper kiss, where he is himself and she is his everything and no one's in danger and she's not someone she shouldn't be.
Once.
Twice.
They're feather light, wispy, tiny things. But his lips are soft and just a bit cooler and her knees are buckling. His arm shoots out and he's supporting her and a part of her mind knows he loves it as much as she does. Pulling her closer and crushing the leaves to her back, he's falling and he's never liked the sensation as much as he does now. Then, he lets go, stacking her up on her feet and muttering about how it's not technically Christmas time, but somewhere, sometime it is. And, after all, it's only a silly tradition.
She giggles, and he's finally looking her in the eyes and smiling back.
"You forgot to tell me goodnight." He accuses, pointing a finger at her.
She kisses him, softer even than he kissed her and shuts the door in his shell-shocked, grinning face.
"Goodnight!" She whispers, wondering if she'll ever fall asleep now.