They stood on a tree lot, glancing around nervously because the Doctor didn't know the first thing about picking out a tree and he was fairly sure his companion didn't either – but they had to find one. She'd gotten her own apartment and, she'd explained on a laugh, she'd offered to host the Christmas dinner there. Of course, one turn around her apartment and he'd sniggered, asking quietly, "Where would you even fit one? A proper Christmas tree – should be massive; this place, not so much."

Now he was listening to people talking about the color of the pine needles and the pungency of their smell and the thickness of the branches and the rigidity of the trunk. He heard someone talk about the watering and the raking of remnants and the issues with rodents or insects or… he thought he heard someone say bats? Looking sideways at the petite brunette who had the edge of her thumb planted firmly between her teeth, working away at the skin there, he frowned and then took a step back, deeper into the selection of trees.

"Doctor, don't you dare," she sighed.

"I'm not running away," he replied defensively.

She slipped back to stand beside him, "Then what are you doing?"

Raising a hand flippantly, he looked at her and explained, "I'm inching away from the daunting words being shouted by irate people who all waited until the last minute to get a tree and seem very intent on doing harm to one another to secure the best of the last available."

Clara managed a smile, "Am I one of those people?"

He grinned back, relaxing slightly to tell her, "Well, no, you just seem confused," then he asked, "Have you ever purchased a live tree before?"

With a shake of her head, she admitted, "Dad's job. I just burnt the soufflé and wrapped the presents."

Holding his hand out, he nodded, "Then let's do what we always do."

Taking his hand, she questioned, "Save the world?"

"No," he scoffed, exhaling through his teeth and shaking his head at her, "Partner on a problem and find the best solution."

"Ah," she nodded, "So you know how to pick a tree?"

"No clue," he shrugged, "But I'm hearing it's got a lot to do with limbs."

"Limbs?"

He reached to a tree at his side with his free hand and snapped a branch off, then dropped it away quickly with a look around to make sure an employee wasn't looking. "I suppose not that particular tree."

"But now you've broken it," Clara pointed out, feeling his fingers nervously working over her hand.

Releasing a small laugh, eyebrows rising, he corrected, "I didn't break it; I tested it."

"For what?"

"Some bloke said if the branches are dried out, it's been on the lot too long."

"I waited until three days before Christmas," Clara told him, "Chances are they've all been on the lot too long – I just need something presentable that I can keep alive for four days. Not even looking for it to stand up straight or smell up the house," she paused, then muttered, "I'm certain there are scented aerosols I could find at the market."

The Doctor nodded, slowly, gulping when he saw two men begin to bellow over who approached a robust olive tree first and he eyed her sideways, asking, "Are you certain you couldn't just pick up the plastic sort?"

"I told my dad I'd gotten a real tree!" She hissed.

"Why would you lie to him about the tree?" He gasped back with a frown.

Clara gnashed her teeth slightly and told him wryly, "Because I wanted to impress him!"

"What other sort of lies have you told?" The Doctor groaned.

"Oh, there's a list of them," she sighed, "Starting with the fact that I've somehow learned how to cook a turkey."

He turned, asking blankly, "You don't know how to cook a turkey?"

Clara grimaced and then looked up, "Thought you just stuck it in the oven for a bit, like everything else."

"Ah, you back for another…" an employee started to ask, but the Doctor panicked and gripped Clara's hand, pulling her towards the spot he'd parked the Tardis, dragging her inside and taking her straight to her apartment, eyes shutting when she came to his side and stared up at him.

"What…" she started, gesturing back, "Was that?"

Looking at the frustration on her face, he asked, "How about I take you to a forest, without the questions and the anxiety and the…" he threw his hands up and Clara shook her head.

"Nevermind the tree, Doctor," and she stepped out of the Tardis, holding the door and then turning to ask, "You'll be here for Christmas, won't you?"

Saluting, he blew air into his cheeks and released it, "With bells on."

She chuckled.

"Not," he motioned towards her, "Literally." Then he raised his head, "Unless it's expected – traditions in your family don't include bells being physically worn on one's person…" she was shaking her head, already letting the door close behind her, and the Doctor looked to the console, not understanding why he had panicked. He could handle an army of Cybermen, but tree shopping… with Clara… Eyes coming up to the closed door, he slapped a lever and turned a knob, tapping at his screen.

Clara watched the Tardis de-materialize and she pushed her hands into her hair, glancing around her apartment, at the random tinsel and hung cards and she laid a hand down on the blue lights and assorted ornaments she'd purchased for a tree she'd never get and she went towards her room, throwing herself into bed. So she'd get through her first Christmas in her new apartment without a tree. And the rustle in her living room woke her an hour later, making her jump and turn with a gasp before she saw the blue box just outside.

Shifting off the bed, Clara moved to the doorframe and watched as the Doctor argued with a tree that sat at a good height, but an enormous girth in the corner of her living room. "Where…" she started as he turned, brow rising before he smiled and nodded to the tree. "Where did you get that?"

"The lot," he responded brightly. "Turns out, I have a time machine!" He waited for her to smirk before explaining, "I went back to the lot, three weeks ago, and got one of the first they set out. Still fresh, nice smell, bendy branches – which are a great sign – and I was assured there was no way you could muck this up in four days, short of actually setting it on fire, which I told Archie, I told him, you had no such intentions."

Clara smiled and moved forward, launching herself onto the Doctor and gripping him in a tight hug he returned with a laugh before she inched back sheepishly and sighed, "Thank you."

He nodded, "Merry Christmas." Then he gestured to the Tardis, "Looks like you were getting some rest; I'll come back at a better time." She chuckled. "And if there are any other lies you need help with…"

"I have your number," she reminded with a laugh.