For the Doctor, Christmas was one of the most exciting holidays of the year… or decade, or month; he wasn't sure. On the TARDIS, holidays were celebrated whenever he felt like digging out gaudy decorations, or resurfacing old recipes for extravagant dinners he could hardly ever pull off. Since the date was never an issue onboard, Christmas could be well into the heart of February, then again on the first of March. But no matter how many times he threw overly-cheerful Christmas parties, it never got old.
So it was by the middle of September that the Doctor found himself galloping about the TARDIS console room, threading strands of colorful lights between railings and pipes and anywhere else they could possibly fit. When he finished strategically placing the lights, he pirouetted to the on/off switch, the tune of a festive song dancing on his lips. His finger flicked the toggle, and the room was lit instantaneously by flashing, colorful bulbs. Red and green tinted every nook and cranny, and the ceiling glittered with bursts of blue and white. Standing at the center of the whirling lightshow, the Doctor grinned.
"All we're missing is a nice snow," he called over his shoulder, clapping his hands together. He rubbed his palms in anticipation, feeling like any child on the wondrous day. "To the kitchen," he announced, taking off towards the smell of a cooked Christmas dinner. Splayed out on the table was a myriad of delectable treats, from a large, tender ham, to a bowl of creamy pudding, to a heap of steaming rolls stacked like a pyramid. It was all far too much food to ever be eaten, but he couldn't help but get a bit carried away with the cooking.
The Doctor practically threw himself into the nearest chair, inhaling the warm scent of the meal whilst humming a carol happily. He started to pile food onto his plate, layering it until there was mashed potatoes and gravy nearly flooding onto his lap. "Before we eat," he said, calming down long enough to stop singing, "we should say what we want for Christmas." A grin split his face in two as he couldn't suppress his glee. "I'll go first!" The Doctor cleared his throat and set his fork down, wiping the smile from his face enough so he could speak clearly. "I want," he started, then abruptly paused. The smile faded further and he looked off distantly, his lips pursing. "I want you back." His hand moved to cover his mouth as tears sprung up, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He let out a shaky breath, holding back a sniffle, and looked around at the empty chairs surrounding the table, then turned to look back at the bright and vacant console room. Another sob racked his chest, and he buried his face in his fingers, feeling suddenly very alone.
"I want you all back."
