The Doctor was always used to spending time alone and he couldn't remember the last time he had celebrated Christmas even if his life depended on it. Well, no one could blame him really. He didn't really celebrate it – not ever since he moved to Cambridge. Besides, whenever he was home for Christmas, things were always awkward and tense with his father. To the Doctor, Christmas was something he dreaded.
Before his life was collided with Clara Oswald, John Smith would see Christmas as any other day – there was absolutely nothing special about it and it consisted of him locking away in the study, burying himself in work.
When Clara Oswald came into his life, Christmas suddenly became a holiday he looked forward too – it meant spending time with her and making her happy. Sure, he was awkward as ever, meeting her family again but it turned out alright in the end. It was probably the fifth or sixth time he met them. The fourth time involved a small wedding in spring.
This time, it would be the seventh or eight time. But, there was a difference this year. Christmas wasn't just going to be him spending time with Clara's family. No. This year, there is an addition to the family – wee Malcolm.
And if he was completely honest, Malcolm wasn't only constantly hungry but he was also energetic. The infant would crawl around everywhere as soon as he touched the ground. Anything that piqued his curious brown eyes would cause him to crawl in the direction of said thing and as much as the Doctor and Clara love his curiosity, it could lead to potential trouble.
Just not too long ago, Malcolm tried to climb one of the dining chairs because he wanted to pull the bright blue table cloth laid out innocently on the table. And then there was the incident where he tried crawling up the stairs but luckily, the Doctor scooped up his son in his arms before the infant had the chance to place a hand on the first step.
John didn't realize how stressful and tough it was raising an infant until he had one but at the end of the day, all the woes and complaints faded away when he realized just how much he loves his son.
He would never admit it, but John was actually looking forward to Christmas. He got on well with Dave, Clara's grandmother is still very fond of him and while he shares Clara's dislike for Linda, he had to admit she is tolerable, especially with Malcolm around now.
The infant is 11 months old and everyone has been trying to get him to say their name. For now, all he could say are words best described as unintelligible so the race was on for him to say either 'mama' or 'dada'.
The university was already on holiday break since the third week of December so that meant John was able to spend more time with his family and allow Clara some breathing space to prepare for Christmas.
One thing he couldn't quite fathom is her state of panic whenever the holiday approaches and he was glad that he was able to lessen her burden by taking care of Malcolm.
Eventually, Christmas morning came.
To say that it was cold that morning was an understatement. It was freezing and most likely snowing outside too. Nonetheless, it was Christmas.
"Stop hogging the blanket, daft man," giggled Clara as she attempted to cover herself with the duvet.
The Doctor let out a chuckle before loosening his grip and allowing her to wrap herself warm, leaving him exposed to the cold air. He cracked one eye open. "Who's hogging the duvet now?"
His wife merely smiled at him before he wrapped his arms around her, trying to get as much warmth as he can. Unfortunately, the intimate moment was interrupted when Malcolm decided to steal his mother's attention.
"Yes, Malcolm, Mummy's coming," Clara said as she climbed out of bed before approaching her son's cot. "There, there, you must be hungry since you didn't even wake up last night," she murmured at the still crying infant. Their child had a habit of being cranky whenever he was hungry.
If there was a sight the Doctor would never get tired of or forget, it would that of his wife trying to comfort their wailing son.
By noon, everyone was wide awake and definitely not cranky but Clara was still in a state of panic as she prepared food.
"Clara, there is no need to panic. Your family won't be here for another two hours at least. We'll have plenty of time," the Doctor reasoned as he watched her work her way around the kitchen. "Are you sure you don't need any help?"
"Yes! I am absolutely sure and didn't I tell you to put on the other shirt? And where's Malcolm?"
"Sleeping," John replied as he craned his neck to confirm that their son is indeed sleeping in the cot placed in the centre of the living room. "And I told you, they won't be here for at least another two hours."
Clara bit her bottom lip and glanced at the oven that was cooking the turkey. "The last thing I want to do is ruin it like I nearly did last year and go change!"
"Yes, boss," her husband said dryly, keeping a straight face.
As soon as he was out of sight, John's lips twitched at the memory of how his heavily pregnant wife was stressing over the turkey. Tears were shed and she was convinced that the turkey would either be overcooked or undercooked and that Linda would secretly make fun of state. The Doctor however, had assured her things would turn out alright. Clara wasn't convinced and threw him out of the kitchen. He didn't take any offence but blamed her irrationality on the mood swings. Eventually, he was called back to the kitchen to take the turkey out of the oven.
Things turned out alright – dinner was a fairly quiet and relaxing affair. Linda did not spew any terrible comments about the turkey or Clara's current state. All in all, it was ok.
John hoped the same for this year.
His hopes were shattered when Linda started criticizing Clara's cooking as soon as dinner began.
Unknown to them, Malcolm had silently woken up and was staring at his parents with his ever inquisitive eyes, listening to every single word Linda was saying.
"You could have left the turkey in the oven a little bit longer – would have been perfect and whatever happened to the table cloth your nan gave you last year?" Linda said in an almost sneering way.
The infant saw his father reach for his mother's hand from underneath the table as a way of comforting her.
"If you must know," the Doctor then interjected, "Malcolm wouldn't stop climbing the chairs and trying to tug the cloth so I stored it away."
If he could, John would have called her a pudding brain but he knew he had to control himself.
"Clara did the same thing when she was an infant – she would grab anything that piqued her curiosity and wouldn't sit still until she got what she wanted," Clara's grandmother said with a smile on her face as the memory played in her mind.
Clara chuckled at the image of her being just as careless as her son.
Things however, took an unexpected twist shortly after dinner. As the whole family, excluding Linda who was seated on the sofa, were cooing over Malcolm, the infant, who was being carried by his grandfather, decided to throw up over his shoulder and causing Linda to be covered in baby vomit.
Everyone had been too shocked and stunned to have said anything but it was clear that Clara was trying her best to prevent herself at laughing and so did her grandmother.
Needless to say, Linda wasn't exactly the happiest person on earth that day but surely enough, some were, especially Clara.
Her family returned to the hotel they were lodging at after Linda quickly cleaned herself.
Christmas this year was certainly interesting, or at least that was what the Doctor thought as he laid in bed that night, caressing his son's head as the baby slept on his chest. If he didn't know any better, Malcolm threw up on Linda on purpose.
"You look like you're miles and miles away," Clara commented as she stepped out of the bathroom.
John snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at his wife. "I'm just wondering if Malcolm did it on purpose."
Clara let out a chuckle before she slipped under the covers. "Nonsense, he's only an infant."
"And takes after his mother it seems," the Doctor added as he slowly lifted his son and held him in his arms before carrying him over to the cot.
"I wonder where he gets his grumpiness from, though," Clara retorted, grinning.
"I am not grumpy," John grunted, returning to bed.
His wife jabbed his chest with a finger. "Says the now grumpy man."
He rolled his eyes and caught her finger before grasping her hand all together and bringing it to his lips. "I think this year's celebration has been quite interesting."
"Absolutely, and," she said reaching for a box from under the bed. "Here is your present."
He gave her a look before unwrapping his present. His wife had bought him a brand new coat – a red velvet one.
"I figured that since you constantly wear the black one that you should have one that makes you look 'doctor-y'," she explained as he kissed her.
"Thank you, this is a beautiful coat and I don't really have yours or Malcom's Christmas present with me."
Clara gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"Well," he began, setting aside his present. "I actually booked us all a trip to Brighton and since you kept mentioning it, I thought that would be the perfect prese-"
The Doctor didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as his wife wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.
"Merry Christmas, Doctor," she murmured once they parted.
"Merry Christmas, Clara Oswald-Smith."
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! :)