Wherever It's Christmas p.1
Title: Wherever it's Christmas
Author: betawho
Rating: PG
Characters: 11th Doctor, Amy, Rory
Words: 11,132
Summary: Amy decides it's time to celebrate Christmas in the Tardis, whether the boys want to or not.
“We missed Christmas!” Amy declared from the top of the stairs.
Rory and the Doctor looked up. Rory was handing the Doctor tools as the Time Lord fixed something under the console.
“Nonsense,” the Doctor said, “this is a time machine, it can be Christmas anytime you want.”
“In that case I declare tomorrow to be Christmas,” Amy said as she stumped down the stairs.
“Tomorrow!” Rory said with a yelp.
“Why not today?” the Doctor asked as he jumped up and flexed his fingers, ready to type in coordinates. "I seem to remember they have a very good Christmas on...”
“Oh, no. We’re not just going to gate crash someone else’s Christmas, we’re going to make our own.” She slung an arm around each of them. “My very first Christmas with my boys,” she said with satisfaction.
Rory groaned.
“What?” The Doctor stared at Rory, hearing something in that despairing tone.
“That’s why she wants it tomorrow,” Rory said.
The Doctor shook his head. “I’m not getting it.”
“Preparations!” Amy said with glee, she twirled away from them and started pacing, ticking items off on her fingers. “We’ll need a Christmas tree, and decorations, and food to cook for Christmas dinner, and presents, and no peeking!” she turned and glared at the men, stabbing an accusing finger at them. Both men reflexively bobbed backward from that pointing finger.
“We’re going to do this up right!” Amy plopped her hands on her hips and glared at them to defy her.
“Why do I get the feeling it would be easier to stop an invasion of Sontarans?” the Doctor said quietly to Rory.
“Because it probably would,” Rory whispered back.
“The first thing we need is a tree!” Amy said, turning in a slow circle and surveying the console room looking for a good place to put it. “There’s bound to be loads of sparkly stuff in here we can use for decorations but first we need a tree.”
The Doctor, always game for anything, shrugged, grinned and set his fingers on the keyboard, ready to type in coordinates.
“What kind?” he asked.
“What kind what?” Amy said, pulling her gaze from the unused area in front of the scanner.
“What kind of tree? Oak, Boabab, Willow? They decorate palm tress in Australia don’t they?” He started to type in coordinates.
“Pine,” Rory said quickly.
“Fir,” Amy said at the same moment.
They looked at each other.
“An evergreen tree,” Rory said. “Something with needles.”
“But not porcupine needles,” Amy put in quickly, “or real fur.”
“Okay,” the Doctor drawled looking back and forth between them. “How about something from the American West? 1890?”
Amy looked at his questioning, little boy face and grinned. “I’ll wear cowboy boots. Come on, Rory, lets go get changed. Something with snow, Doctor!” Amy yelled over her shoulder as she dragged Rory up the stairs to the costume room.
Thirty minutes later the Doctor stood beside the Tardis door in bowtie and tweed with a huge, double-bladed ax propped on his shoulder.
Amy and Rory clattered down from the console dais and joined him, Amy was dressed in fur trimmed boots and a white fur stole, looking like some sort of Hollywood Queen out of White Christmas. Rory was more practically dressed in jeans, plaid shirt, jacket, and hunters cap with ear flaps, looking for all the world like a scrawny lumberjack.
“What’s the ax for?” he asked.
“Yeah, I though you’d have some sort of lightsaber or something to cut the tree down with,” Amy said.
“I read up on Christmas traditions while you were changing. Hence,” he hefted the ax, it looked like some sort of Viking weapon, “an ax to chop down the chosen tree with, and...” he opened the door with a flourish, revealing a snowy white hillside. “A winter wonderland for tromping about to find the proper tree.”
Amy squeed and clapped her hands. She grabbed his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek then charged out into the knee deep snow.
“I brought cocoa,” Rory said pathetically, as he held up a plaid thermos and glared jealously at the Doctor’s cheek.
“Don’t worry about it, Rory,” the Doctor clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, she’s getting away.”
Outside, the Tardis was parked on a snowy hillside. The rich, resinous scent of pine from the scattered trees mingled with the crisp, metallic tang of fresh snow. The sun shone brightly from a cloudless blue sky, glinting sparkles off the snow, adding an odd insulated warmth to the air.
“It’s perfect!” Amy scooped up a wave of snow and tossed it high. It scattered and swirled away on a gentle breeze, coating her hair and stole with diamond sparkles. She laughed.
The Doctor and Rory grinned.
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