Donna hung her head upside down, her red hair still dripping from her long, hot shower. She turned the hair dryer on and grabbed her brush from the dresser. The Doctor had somehow managed to stabilise the TARDIS for once; she barely even felt like she was moving at all. After a couple of minutes, the hair dryer's fuse cut out, and Donna growled in frustration. When she flipped her hair up in a swift motion, she noticed that it wasn't just the hair dryer; the TARDIS was completely dark, and completely silent. Well, except for one thing. The Doctor came running into the room, his eyes shielded to protect Donna's privacy;
"Donna! Hi, yes, okay, um, bit of a problem; the TARDIS circuit has fried," the Doctor crossed one ankle over the other as he leaned against the open doorway. Donna pulled a robe on, and tied it tightly.
"You can look now," she crossed her legs as she sat on the bed, and the Doctor withdrew his hand.
"Right, right, okay, good," he nodded a little manically and curled his mouth to one side thoughtfully.
"So? What are you going to do about it? I look like a drowned rat," Donna glared at the tall Time-Lord, and gestured to the wild tresses, that flowed just past her shoulders.
"I don't know, oh, there's just one other thing; we're currently losing altitude, so, we might..." he trailed off, knowing full well that the truth would no doubt end with Donna screaming at him; he'd learned to read her a little better since he'd had her on board a few months. She was often like a faulty firework; never goes off when it's supposed to, but if you get too close, it'll go off right next to you.
"Oh, let me guess! Blow up and die, engulfed in a ball of fire? Eaten by rabid space worms? Crushed to death by a meteorite?" her tone was the embodiment of sarcasm and the Doctor chuckled nervously;
"Well, no, I was going to say land somewhere peculiar," he pushed his glasses up his nose with his slender index finger, and wrinkled his nose.
"Well isn't that wizard?" Donna scowled and sighed, pulling her legs up to her chest, and folding her arms like a moody teenager, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. The TARDIS lights twitched and crackled a little, fighting against the unseen force that kept them comatose. They eventually usurped this invisible force, and restored their desired and normal function. The Doctor gave a small sigh of relief;
"Let there be light," the Doctor grinned and pushed his tongue up behind his top teeth. Donna turned her head to look at him, and rolled her eyes. The Doctor strode across the room, and picked up Donna's hair dryer, and flicked the switch. It roared to life and he handed it to her as if it were the Olympic Torch;
"There you go! You can do whatever it is you do with your hair now!" he shouted over the noise, and she took it from him, pulling herself off the bed, and hanging her head upside down again. The Doctor watched her curiously for a second and bounded back towards the control room, his mind buzzing with possible explanations for the surge, a multitude of solutions. He grabbed the console panel as the TARDIS jolted back into a steady flight motion. He heard Donna yelp, and he could only assume she'd bumped her head with the dryer. He tried to stifle a laugh at this image, before realising he didn't need to; she wouldn't hear him over the din the dryer created.
Donna combed the last of her hair into place, and smoothed down her purple jumper dress. She slid her boots on, and slicked a coral gloss across her lips and wandered out into the console room. The Doctor turned around and beamed at her, his feet up on the console nonchalantly, as if he had been waiting for her all along;
"Ah, Donna! You look lovely," he smiled warmly and got up, pulling another chair, which Donna had never recalled seeing before, next to his. She frowned slightly as she glanced around the console room. She caught the tinsel hanging from various parts of the machines and arches, a small, real pine tree in the corner of the room, all laden with shiny blue baubles, and what looked like a genuine glowing star atop of it, and a table.
It was a small table, but it had been laid with a red table cloth, with a white and silver runner, two red plates, candles in cradles of holly and pine cones, dusted with snow, and beautifully crafted crystal glassware. Donna blinked and twitched a small smile. There was a small roast turkey, which was nicely browned and ready for carving, a selection of vegetables, roasted potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and pigs in blankets.
"Spaceman, did you do all this for me?" she placed one hand on her hip and grinned a little.
"Well...I thought you might miss a proper Christmas, riding around all over the place with a madman in a box. I'm sorry it's probably nothing like what you usually have is it?" he leaned his chin onto his palm and sighed a little.
"No, it isn't," she shook her head lightly and the Doctor looked a little crest-fallen as he caught her eye. She added;
"Do you know why?" The Doctor shook his head and looked up again;
"No one's arguing, no one's stressing, no one's sitting in another room, just to get away from it all. This...this is lovely," Donna sat down opposite the Doctor and she touched his hand lightly, in a friendly, soothing gesture;
"Thank you," she smiled and picked up a cracker, holding it out to him;
"Come on, it's not Christmas without a ridiculous paper hat and some awful jokes," she giggled, and the Doctor grinned, over-lapping his index finger across the main body of the cracker, to make sure he won the prize inside.
"You absolutely cheated!" Donna protested, and they pulled another, which garnished the same response. The Doctor laughed, as Donna pouted, her arms folded like a child's.
"Oh come on, Earth Girl, you can pick which hat you want to wear," he smirked and held them both up. Neither of them were particularly favourable; one was pink, the other yellow, both colours which Donna did not like. She took the yellow one, and with an eye roll, she placed it onto her head. The Doctor laughed, and donned his pink hat with pride;
"How do I look?" he laughed and modelled it for her. She shook her head and giggled;
"You look flipping ridiculous!"
"Yeah? Well so do you," he teased and picked up the carving knife, poising it over the smallish bird;
"What do you want, leg or breast?" he raised one eyebrow, smirking playfully.
"Don't even," she smirked back and flicked at him with her napkin and he winked in a playful way.
"I'll take the legs thank you," she laughed and put her hand over her eyes, unable to shake the innuendos from her mind, as he carved the legs. The knife bit into the moist flesh of the bird, and came away easily. The Doctor eased it onto Donna's place, and began to offer her the other foods he'd prepared. She accepted a bit of everything on her plate except the carrot and turnip mix and Brussels sprouts; she'd hated them ever since she was a child.
"Oh go on! You have to have at least one. Or so I'm told; Rose told me," a slight sadness flashed into his eyes for only a second. Donna had a niggling feeling that maybe he wasn't just doing this for her, but for himself too. He was lonely, and he had chosen her company, she smiled and watched him as he animatedly scooped and scattered and served both of them. He poured them each a glass of ginger mulled wine, and a glass of water with a lemon slice. He held up his glass, and motioned for her to do the same;
"To good friends, both new and old, absent and present," he added a couple of words that Donna didn't understand, the Doctor dispelled her perplexity with his next sentence;
"In this time of togetherness, let us treat these moments as if they were our last. Gallifreyan," he smiled and they clinked their glasses together.
"Hang on, you said the TARDIS translates all languages to whoever is inside or nearby. Why not Gallifreyan?" her blue eyes were clouded with suspicion. The Doctor sipped his drink, before he spoke again;
"She does, but I can will her not to translate for me. I think it loses something in translation anyway." she shrugged and placed his glass back onto the table.
"Wait a minute," Donna's eyes narrowed and she looked accusingly at the Doctor.
"The circuit. It didn't really short did it?" she raised her eyebrows, and the Doctor paused for only a beat;
"Of course it did, why would I-" he was quickly cut off by her sharpish tongue;
"You turned the systems off, to buy yourself time, didn't you? Tine to do this, but why?" she folded her arms and waited for an answer, her stare boring into him.
"I just wanted to do something nice for you, for my best friend. I don't normally do Christmas, and the only other Christmas memory I have from Earth is of...Rose, or getting attacked by Christmas trees or pilot fish or the Racnoss or the flipping Titanic!" he sighed in exasperation, and looked down at the floor,
"I just wanted to have Christmas with you," he repeated, playing with a small thread on his suit jacket;
"So why didn't you just ask me?" Donna replied, reaching a hand out to touch his arm, gently stroking his wrist in a soothing motion;
"I couldn't just ask you, Donna, because you have a family. You have people to go home to, you have a home, to go to. Everyone has someone else. I wanted that, just for a little while. I'm sorry I tricked you," he looked away, his cheeks slightly pink, and his deep chestnut eyes avoided her gaze;
"Don't be silly, Spaceman! I love my Mum, and my Granddad, but I'd rather be here with you," she smiled softly, and the Doctor looked up at her, his hearts a little fluttery at the notion that someone wanted to be in his company without expecting anything in return.
"Really?" he tipped his head curiously to one side;
"Of course, you idiot," she smirked and pushed his shoulder playfully.
"See above re; arguments, ignorance and stress. My mother yells at Gramps for sitting out in the garden with his Christmas dinner, looking up through the telescope, and shouting things through the doorway, which leads to her getting more angry that he doesn't want to sit at the table with us. Then, of course, he whispers under bated breath to me about what a bloody pain she is, only my Granddad can only do what is known as stage whispering, and she overhears him. That somehow leads to my mother telling me I'm a disappointment, and yelling at me. Does that sound like fun to you?" she looked up at him with her soft, blue eyes and raised a faint eyebrow. The Doctor shook his head, and blew air out of his cheeks;
"That...sounds like a lot of hard work, and stress to me," he sympathised with her, and squeezed her hand in solidarity. He didn't really remember much of Christmas back on Gallifrey. It was less known as Christmas in Kasterborous, but more as Winter Solstice Festival. He knew one thing that was the same for both holidays; they both involved exchanging gifts, and mighty feasts with your most beloved.
Donna nodded and picked up her fork and began to sample the various flavour she had been afforded;
"So where exactly are we?" she mused, before popping half a roast potato into her mouth, infused with gravy.
"We're hovering just above Christmas Island," the Doctor smiled wryly and and prodded a Brussels sprout with his fork;
"I thought it was fitting," his grin widened, and he popped the green vegetable into his mouth. Donna snorted and covered her mouth with her napkin, as the Doctor's face contorted and cringed at the taste of the vegetable;
"Oh god, that's disgusting. Who EATS these?" he shuddered and swallowed it, before downing the rest of his wine.
"This coming from a guy who lick walls," Donna scoffed and poured him another glass of wine and continued to eat her dinner.
"I'd happily lick a wall at this point," he grimaced and ate a pig in blanket to take away the taste that little bit more.
"This is amazing, you should cook more often," she winked and placed her knife and fork next to each other on her now-empty plate.
"You trying to turn me into a man servant now, Miss Noble?" he smirked and sipped his freshly-poured drink. She held her hands up in defence and shook her head;
"No, no, keep your hair on, just an observation," she chuckled and played with the small jewel pendant around her neck, moving it between her neatly manicured fingers. He rose from his chair and leaned underneath the console, rustling about, moving things this way and that. Donna frowned and rolled her eyes;
"What on Earth are you doing down there, Spaceman?" she leaned over the table, in her curiosity.
"Hang on, hang on," he flapped his hand to dismiss her and, after some time, he pulled out a silver plate with an almost perfectly-formed Christmas pudding with figs nestled around it. It glowed blue as the Doctor lit it on fire, the flambé glaze cooking the brandy into to the rich dessert. He poked his tongue out in concentration and placed it on the table, sidling the other plates along with his arm. This caused the remainder of the turkey to fall to the floor with a crash. The Doctor winced and Donna put her hand to her forehead;
"Well done," she quipped, clapping him sarcastically, he narrowed his eyes to glower at her, but only for a second. The blue-lit layer faded out and died and he cut into the glazed pudding.
"Cream or custard?" he held them up, a charming, yet somehow still wry, smile on his face.
"Cream, ugh, I don't like custard, and you can keep the mice pies over there too, I hate pastry," she grimaced at the thought of the stuff, and gladly received her bowl from him, and placed it upon the silver place mat.
"What? Custard is brilliant! Gotta love custard, Donna," he grinned and proved his point as he drowned his pudding in the warmed yellow sauce. Donna just shook her head and started to eat. The Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out of his pinstriped suit pocket, and he pointed it at the main frame console, the familiar bluish hue emanated from it, and its slight buzz echoed out as the Doctor pressed it. The console whirred slightly, almost in protest, but it settled and began to play Christmas music softly in the background. Donna smiled; the Doctor did too, both nostalgic for different things. They continued to share stories as they ate, or more, Donna did, the Doctor remained fairly tight-lipped about his past on Gallifrey. Donna didn't push the issue though, as she knew it was a painful thing for him to remember.
One bottle of wine became two, which became three, and they laughed, about everything and about nothing. Donna stood, or at least attempted to, her head a little light, and herself a little giddy from the wine. She leant up to poke at the small green and white sprig that hung from a wreath. The Doctor's eyes followed to where she looked, and he too, stood, and wandered over.
"Well then…how about that?" he laughed in a manner of mirth and put his arm around her shoulder. She turned to look at him; one eyebrow arched and put her hands on his face;
"Oh go on then, it's Christmas," she smirked and kissed him without giving him a chance to stop her. He flailed his arms a little and looked a little like a deer in headlights after she had pulled away. She shrieked with laughter, at his face;
"Oh lighten up, Spaceman!" she prodded him in the chest as she spoke, he shook his head, as if immerging from a trance.
"Right, well then," he cleared his throat and looked around for something that was not there.
"Are you blushing?" she laughed and ruffled up his hair. His blush deepened and he began running about again.
"No, no, I'm looking for…Twister! Yes! We should play Twister!" he bounded around, a little drunk himself, even though he could handle his drink a damn sight better than any human being. Eventually, he found the box he was looking for and unravelled a giant Twister mat. Donna blinked and tipped her head to one side, watching him curiously;
"Oh, you were serious?" she put down the glass she'd emptied, and helped him lay the mat down. He nodded and pulled out the spinner;
"One little observation, Doctor/" Donna pointed her finger up to emphasize this point;
"Hmm?" he mused, as he reattached the hand of the spinner, and checked its effectiveness;
"How are we supposed to play, AND spin the spinner?" she put her hands on her hips and he dismissed her with his hand. He pulled out the sonic again and pointed it at the spinner, which then moved of its own accord;
"Donna, I'm a Time-Lord; don't try to out-fox me," he smirked, arrogance abundant in his reply. She giggled and shook her head, removing her shoes;
"Alright, right hand blue," he pointed at the mat and Donna placed her hand there, crouching to prevent her dress from riding up. This went on for several minutes, Donna laughing as the Doctor held his whole body weight on one arm, as he had to sonic the board as he maintained his position. Eventually he couldn't bear the strain and he fell atop of her. They laughed and rolled over onto their backs, still laughing.
Donna's hand rested an inch or so away from the Doctor's, and without thinking she edged it towards his; little did she know, he was doing the same. It wasn't a conscious decision, but it was an inevitable one. Their hands clasped together and their heads turned, their eyes meeting, the smallest of smiles creeping onto their faces;
"I feel really bad I didn't get you a gift now," she laughed dryly, and shuffled closer to lean her head on his shoulder. He tipped her head up, so that she was looking at him. He held her gaze and smiled with an untold and incomprehensible amount of love and warmth;
"Oh Donna Noble, you gave me the best gift of all," his voice was reserved but still loud enough to hear of the gentle chorus of 'Silent Night' as it played softly in the background. Donna looked at him, puzzled;
"What's that then?" she furrowed her brow as she contemplated his revelation.
"You're my best friend, Donna Noble; you gave me a home," he smiled softly, as he wiped a tear from her eye; she smiled, and in a voice that had become thick with emotion, she replied;
"Well then...you're welcome, Spaceman."