Chapter 8: TARDIS, Time Vortex

The Doctor didn't take Rose to Christmas immediately after Mickey chose to stay behind in the parallel world. No, he knew her well enough to know that right then she needed her mother, so he brought her home and let her stay for a bit. To his relief within a few hours Rose was ready to go. She made a comment in passing about wanting to go back home to the TARDIS and his heart leapt for just a moment, his better judgment stifling the feeling somewhat but unable to fully contain the joy he felt whenever she reassured him like that without even knowing she was doing it.

Back in the TARDIS it suddenly struck the Doctor that he didn't want to go anywhere, which was a more than strange feeling. Still, the ship could use a rest after everything she'd been through with crossing the void, and he had a feeling Rose could as well.

He waited until she'd fallen asleep before setting things up. First the right room, which took a bit of rearranging as it turned out. Only one with a fireplace was five floors from Rose's room, so that had to be moved. Then came the task of locating any Christmas items he had on board, which the TARDIS graciously assisted him with. He worked as fast as he could but by the time he was done, Rose was already waking. He quickly trotted down the hall and popped in.

"Good morning!" He greeted cheerily. Rose scowled at him. Literally scowled and he hadn't even jumped on the bed this time.

"What do you want?" She moaned, hiding under her pillow.

"Time to get up. Come on, I made breakfast."

"It's not that algae stuff again, is it?"

"Nope." He gave her a huge grin. "Pancakes."

Rose peered at him from behind the pillowcase, then slid out of bed, walking towards her dresser at a trudgingly slow pace. "Alright. Fine. Just give me a minute to get changed."

The Doctor gave a quick glance at her striped flannel pyjamas. "Oh come on. Everyone wears their PJs on Christmas. If you want I can find the one's your mother gave me. We'd almost match, what with the stripes..."

Rose smiled, her expression losing its sleepy haze. "Is it Christmas then?"

"Of course!" He reached his hand out to her and she took it without hesitation, following him down the hall.

"Kitchen's that way," she told him as he took her around the corner. Without answering he continued to lead her, stopping at the door to let her walk in first.

Rose couldn't say she recognized the door when they'd reached it. So many of them looked the same on board but something told her this one was different. With the Doctor watching her earnestly, she pushed it open and stepped inside with a gasp.

It certainly wasn't as grand (or well put together) as the ballroom he'd taken her to before, and it wasn't as spectacular as stepping into the 1800's, but everything about the room called out two things: Christmas and Home. There was even a fireplace. A fireplace! In a space ship! A fleeting concern that it might lead to pre-revolutionary France or some other place passed through her mind but she didn't dwell on it.

There was a decorated tree, its colored lights casting beautiful hues on the fire lit walls. Music was coming from somewhere, perhaps the walls of the TARDIS itself. Slow, instrumental pieces, adding to the coziness of the room. There were stockings, wreathes, even a bit of mistletoe (though he really should have put it over the doorway, rather than against the wall where it'd serve no purpose). Beneath the tree she caught sight of a few stuffed animals she was certain were at the foot of her bed when she went to sleep. It was just like him to do that - no real presents, but they served to complete the image. And there across from the fire, a couch for two placed alongside a set breakfast table.

She turned to the Doctor, unable to fight the huge smile on her face. She was certain her eyes were tearing up but she couldn't help it. It was strange to see him put so much effort into cheering her up. This whole Christmas thing had come about between them by accident really. One was by chance, a second since the last had worked, a third created a pattern that went on from there. But this... this wasn't just put in the address and go. This was so much more.

Wordlessly he guided her to the couch and the two sat side by side facing each other. Suddenly feeling awfully self-conscious Rose looked away, choosing instead to focus on breakfast and hoping he'd attribute the blush in her cheeks to the heat of the room.

"So then," he said, breaking the gentle silence. "We've got a sugar filled breakfast: pancakes, maple syrup and fruit, including bananas of course, and hot chocolate for afterwards. Then..." He reached over the side of the couch. "...Christmas movies!"

Rose took the stack of cases from him, then rolled her eyes in his direction. "The Muppet Christmas Carol?"

"What?" He gave her an offended look. "It's a good movie. Excellent cast. Even takes place in London. Shame old Jim wasn't around for it. But, we've got Muppet Family Christmas too where he got to do some dishes on screen. Underappreciated though, the film, not Jim. Everyone knows the Christmas Carol, but ask them about the TV special and they think you're bonkers. Still-"

"Doctor?"

"Mm?"

"You gonna talk all the way through breakfast?"

He gave a sheepish grin, then leant forward to grab his plate, noting that Rose had apparently started without him and was hoarding the syrup at her end of the table. Bumping her out of the way intentionally he reached over the grab the bottle, laughing when she complained about his rudeness. He returned the insult quickly when she started picking food off her plate and dumping it on his because apparently the pineapple was too sweet and she plain didn't like blueberries.

Breakfast over, he popped a movie in and they sat comfortably, leaned against each other, sipping from their mugs and laughing together, always at the same things. The Doctor could reason that the movie was designed to make you laugh at those specific points, but he knew it was more than that. A connection; both their thoughts running in tandem together. It was how their plans always needed no explanation, and how their hands always met between them.

At some point during the second film (How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Rose's choosing - the original animated one thank-you-very-much), Rose plopped down her cup with a groan and looked at him with sad eyes. "You know when you've got your hot chocolate about halfway down and the temperatures just right... it's perfect right then so you chug the rest down?"

"Maybe?" He was lying. Had no clue what she was talking about and naturally she could tell, because they knew each other like that.

"Well, maybe it's just me then. But either way it's a bad idea. That much heat and chocolate at once does not work."

"Stomach hurt?"

She nodded and he shifted her towards him, sliding his arm around her to rub her stomach. They readjusted once or twice, finally settling with the Doctor sitting with his back to the arm of the couch, Rose lying back against him with his hand moving in comforting circles on her abdomen. "Feel better?" He asked.

She nodded wordlessly, trying to focus on the movie in front of them, but despite getting a good nights sleep she felt herself drifting off. She blamed it on the heat of the fire, the dim Christmas lights, and the warm cocoa she'd been drinking. Another part of her mind added that they warm body behind her and the arms wrapped around probably helped.

Behind her the Doctor felt her breathing begin to slow as she slipped into sleep. Silly little humans, sleeping so much of their life away. Still it had been a while since he'd caught a good nap, and he couldn't remember a time he'd been more comfortable than right then. Flicking the screen off with the sonic screwdriver (having lost or recycled the remote ages ago), he settled back, eyes closed, and let himself fall asleep.