DISCLAIMER: Doctor Who belongs to BBC. This story was written purely for my enjoyment and your entertainment. No money is being made from this fanfiction.
Author Note: This scene is taken directly from the Ninth Doctor's season, in the episode The Doctor Dances. Happy Christmas to all and enjoy the story.
Father Christmas
"Look at you, smiling like Father Christmas," Rose laughed. The Doctor gave her a cheeky grin.
"Who says I'm not, red-bicycle-when-you-were-twelve?" His grin grew wider as Rose's mouth dropped open in shock. He wasn't Father Christmas, not really. I mean, there has been a few times when he had to step in, but he had been younger then. More colorful. And particularly fond of jelly babies.
Besides, Nick was a jolly sort of fellow. The Doctor had merely helped him sort out a few issues with his wife and some elves. Making a few deliveries here and there didn't really make him Father Christmas. And there had been the time he had helped with that Rudolph business. But that had just been a convenient genetic experiment in the Crimson Sector of Photonia and a really foggy Christmas Eve.
Either way, it was good fun, and he was certainly enjoying Rose's glorious smile, making her glow from the inside out. Father Christmas indeed. Fantastic!