So this is some Twissy cracky fluffy stuff which I wrote because 'Hey- Christmas!". Own nothing and seriously doubt that someone will have bought the rights to Doctor Who for me for Christmas.
...
The Mistress is rather confused when she makes yet another (unannounced) visit to the Doctor's T.A.R.D.I.S and finds it populated with mundane Earth plant-life and brightly coloured orbs. With a dramatic sigh she closes her eyes and brings her palm to her forehead.
"I didn't think you of all people would be taken in by this… festivity," She dares a glance at the oh-so-offensive-to-her decorations as she lowers her voice to let the word slip like poison from her lips, "your pets are rubbing off on you." At this point the Doctor pokes his head through one of the doorways ringed by green foliage, eyebrows raised slightly at the intrusion. Missy turns her gaze to him, decidedly repulsed by the pine needles covering everything.
"You do know they are a fire hazard… Don't you Doctor?" Her words are barely a whisper, "And we know quite well-" As soon as the smile begins to smooth over her face the Doctor decides to intervene.
"You aren't setting a fire on my T.A.R.D.I.S- she hates you enough as it is." The Mistress grins momentarily at the reminder of the ship's animosity towards her. Less than a second later her smile has flown the nest and been sucked through a crack in time into the middle of an exploding star which then decides to collapse in on itself and turn into a black hole. In other words everything about her drops into a completely neutral position. Sensing the even more dangerous switch in moods the Doctor is quick to explain himself.
"Ah, you see- I knew- just knew- that you would arrive now and decided that-" Something dings and the Doctor races from the room as if chased by a Dalek. In all honesty that would be easier to deal with than the irked Time Lady who was in fact pursuing him. He reaches the kitchen and yanks the oven open pulling out a tray and putting it on the counter to cool before the Mistress can get to him.
Upon the sight of the freshly baked biscuits the Mistress brings both palms to her face and groans.
"Shall I just leave and come back when you've got all this human foolishness-" The Doctor is unsure which word the emphasis was meant to be on "-dealt with." She stands staring him down as if he had committed a crime.
In all fairness it probably was in her eyes.
Turning she reaches out for the door. The Doctor places an oven-mit clad hand on Missy's arm who shudders and brushes the imaginary humanity infection off.
"Please, Mistress. I want to spend some time with my friend- my best friend." The Mistress is visibly pleased by the admission.
"So you decided we should celebrate a human holiday?" The Doctor winces and folds up the oven gloves, placing them neatly on the counter next to the almost cooled biscuits. Fortunately for the Doctor he didn't need cue cards for communicating with his psychopath of a best friend,
"It's just that humans seem to connect so well over the event and we both know we don't see things in the same way." She raises an eyebrow, "Please Mistress." She stares at him for a long few seconds before relenting with the usual melodrama that is a prerequisite for her.
With a grin and a waggle of his eyebrows the Doctor grins,
"Good, now how about a cup of tea and a biscuit?" This, the Mistress is much more inclined to agree with.
"As long as you take that ridiculous thing off." He obliges before she attempts to shoot at it. Experience has taught him that wearing clothing that is not appreciated by the various women in his life is a risk to his clothes and possibly his life, judging by the look of revulsion of the Time Lady's face.
The Mistress had to admit that the Christmas biscuits were not bad. Of course the fact that the Doctor had made them made them more palatable to her but that didn't change his natural ineptitude in following instructions. Needless to say they would definitely not be making her list of things to accompany a cup of tea.
Neither was 'cooking' of various foods which the Doctor insisted on. After Missy successfully managed to detonate the Turkey, its back-up and four potatoes the exercise was declared 'useless unless we needed poor-quality small-human food'.
The singing was aborted when the Mistress began to tire and set fire to the piano by 'accidently' knocking over every lit candle in a way which allowed the drier foliage to light and dry out the damper foliage which then set fire and began to burn through the varnish on the instrument.
Currently the Mistress was lying across a couch with her head tipped backwards over the arm and the Doctor attempting to simultaneously shield his mind and mime the name of something or other. Missy had been picking the answer straight from his mind, undeterred by the poor defences and emphasising how much she was unamused.
With a heavy sigh the Time Lady pushes herself off the couch and in another effortless movement has stood.
"You seem have bored me into a temporary sanity. Well done, Doctor." Saying this she leaves the room leaving the Doctor to follow.
Just as she's about to open the T.A.R.D.I.S doors (which the T.A.R.D.I.S is most thankful about) the Doctor pulls her back.
"Wait, Koschei-" He points to the ceiling and in the shock of hearing her old nickname the Mistress stops- glances at the white-berried parasite plant- and raises an eyebrow sardonically.
"Yes, I have noticed the many examples of Earth flora on your ship- you are aware that you probably have a greenhouse aren't you?" The Doctor sighs as the significance goes unnoticed by her and pulls her- umbrella and all- towards him.
Gently he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to Missy's lips which she returns moments later, considerably more ferociously. When he pulls away her eyes are wide and exhilarated.
"I think we're going to need more than one Christmas, Theta." Her fingers pull at his lapels and he smiles fondly, a less menacing version of her own grin.
"Not so bad for a human holiday, eh?"