"Come for Christmas," Clara said, linking her arm in his with a happy smile. "With George, and the kids, and my dad. Proper family Christmas."
The Doctor fiddled with his collar, trying to think of a way to decline that wouldn't hurt her feelings. "I don't really do Christmas. Not the proper, family sort, anyway. I usually just go off on my own."
"And get into trouble?" Clara guessed.
"Into. Out of. Whatever."
He remembered a glorious Christmas spent saving the world, and barely surviving Jackie Tyler's cooking, and wearing silly matching paper crowns, and feeling Rose's hand clasped in his as they planned their next adventure. A horrid Christmas spent watching a group of new-found friends die, one by one, despite his best efforts to save them. A lovely Christmas when he'd helped a rather extraordinary mum to reunite her family. And…
"I lost you on Christmas Day, Clara," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes.
"Hey." She reached up and gently tipped his face so that his eyes met hers. "That wasn't me exactly. And you found me again, didn't you?"
"Yes, I suppose I did." He looked down into her eager brown eyes and had to smile, just a little. The almighty and powerful last of the Time Lords, wrapped around the finger of a simple, lovely Earth girl. Again. He suspected Freud might have a thing or two to say about that, and he knew Rassilon certainly would, but just then, he didn't much care.
In his mind's eye, he could see two timelines unfurling before him. One found him off on his own, ready to face whatever mischief might come his way. The other found him surrounded by simple domesticity, well-worn holiday pranks, ridiculous paper hats, indigestible food…and love. So very much love. He really didn't know what he'd done to deserve another chance like this.
"Were you perchance planning to have crackers? The kind with the little paper hats?"
"Wouldn't be Christmas without," Clara assured him.
'What harm could there be,' he thought, 'it's only Christmas, after all. What could possibly go wrong?'
