The Doctor knocked on the blue door, the one that eerily matched the colour of his beloved TARDIS.
"Argh I swear if that is more carol singers, I have a water pistol! You don't want to be all wet on a night like this!" An angry Scottish voice called from inside.
"Go get them Amy!" An unfamiliar, feminine cheer encouraged. The door opened sharply and suddenly the Doctor was intimately acquainted with a burst of cold water. The Doctor's eyes trailed from the yellow and red water gun pointed threateningly at him, up the jumper clad arm and finally landed on the face of Amelia Pond, the Girl Who Waited. Her lips had parted in a surprised 'o'.
"Not quite sure how long?" The Doctor used as an excuse, the woman facing him very familiar with how he lost count of the time between their meetings. Ironic, saying he called himself a Time Lord.
"Two years?" Amy answered, the tag question seeming more threatening than an attempt to jog the alien's memory. Squirt squirt squirt. Ah. That explains why.
"Okay. Fair point." The Doctor conceded.
"So, you're not dead." Amy deadpanned, the words oddly reminiscent of a companion's in a different story from theirs.
"And a Happy New Year!" Was the Doctor's only reply.
"River told us."
"Well, of course she did." The Doctor murmured, she spoiled all his fun.
"She's a good girl. Well? I'm not going to hug first."
"Nor am I."
The pair, companion and Time Lord, refuse to look at each other. Both are waiting for the other to crack. Unable to keep the façade up any longer, they both falter, laughter spilling from grinning lips as they embrace.
"Mister Pond!" Amy calls inside. "Guess who's joining the three of us for dinner?"
"Whoa. Not dead then?" Rory steps out from the warm interior of the house, a surprised look pasting along his features.
"We've done that." Amy states, nipping the repetition in the bud.
"Oh."
"We're about to have Christmas dinner. Joining us?" Amy asks her old friend, silently he'd stay still long enough to relax for once.
"If it's no trouble." The Doctor replies.
"There's a place set for you." Rory tells him.
"But you didn't know I was coming. Why would you set me a place?"
"Oh, because we always do." Amy jibes sarcastically. "It's Christmas, you moron!"
"Come on." Rory ushers. "We've set you next to Ophelia, you'll love her…"
Amy and Rory go inside, the door still open, waiting for the Time Lord to join them at their console. The Doctor hesitates, he hasn't done domestic since his Tenth body. He touches his face, wiping the water from Amy's gun from his face. Before he realises she didn't hit his face. He was crying happy tears.
His spell of disbelief is broken by a thought. Barging in and closing the door behind him, last words spill onto the street as the light from the house is locked from the snow.
"Wait. Who in the name of Fish Custard is Ophelia?"