Work Text:
“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled to himself.
“Quite your muttering,” Rose called through the door.
“But Roooooose…”
“We don’t have time for your complaining. We’re supposed to be there in thirty minutes!”
He stared at himself in the mirror. Red, fur-lined trousers were on his legs beneath a white vest and red braces on his chest. The jacket he was meant to wear was lying on the bed behind him and he eyed it malevolently. It seemed to mock him with its bright festiveness. It taunted him.
Pete had convinced him to wear the Santa suit to the Torchwood Christmas party and the Doctor wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened. It was possible that Pete had slipped it in while the Doctor was entirely too focused on Rose to care about the things that were happening around him. That was likely to be what had happened, in fact. Pete was very clever to find his weakness and exploit it in such a way.
The Doctor loved his human life in this new world. He loved Rose, he loved their flat, he loved having a family. Well, most of the time. As of right this moment he could do without the family. His quasi-father-in-law in particular.
His mouth opened to whine again, but Rose cut him off. “You promised, Doctor. It’s only for one party. You can do it.”
Muttering, he reached over and pulled on the Santa jacket, buttoning the hidden buttons beneath the faux fur lining. Once it was fastened all the way, he gave himself the once-over. Not terrible, he supposed. This body was rather handsome and could make anything look good. Even ridiculous Santa costumes. Small blessings, but he’d take what he could get.
“Don’t forget the hat!” came through the door just as he was about to open it, and he sighed a little. She knew him better than he knew himself. With a shake of the head, he reached over to the table and grabbed the hat, dropping it on his head without a care to how it looked.
“Honestly, Rose,” he started when he pulled the door open. “It’s just a Christmas party. You’d think -”
His words stopped there when he got sight of Rose. She was wearing a costume and he knew she was only meant to look cute, but he honestly thought her to be the sexiest thing in the world. She wore a short, green, velvet dress, trimmed a wide, white, fur collar embellished with a sparkling pin that looked like a holly leaf and red belt. Her hair was in pigtails under a green cap, and her legs were encased in red-and-green striped stockings that ended in a pair of green shoes. The shoes were trimmed with red, and the toes curled up into a point where a little bell was attached. Her hands were on her waist and her hip cocked to one side. As he watched, she raised her hands into the air and turned a slow circle so that he could see the full outfit. He did so, and appreciated it.
“You like it?”
“Blimey, Rose.”
She looked down at herself, apparently thrown off by the intense look in his eyes. “What?”
“You look beautiful.”
“Oh, ha-ha,” she snickered. “For an elf, I suppose.”
He took two steps forward and slid his hands around her waist, pulling her close, forcing her to look up at him. “No. You look beautiful despite being an elf.”
Her eyes twinkled up at him. “You got a thing against elves?”
“Not me,” he answered. “Rather like this particular elf. My elf.”
“Good,” she giggled, then stood on her tiptoe to kiss him.
“Especially like it when my elf does that.”
Rose didn’t answer, she was wiping his lip clean of lipstick. “Are you ready to go entertain the Christmas party?”
“Do we have to?” he whined, then his eyes darkened a bit. “I feel like these costumes would be put to better use here.”
One of her eyebrows raised in question. “Better use how?”
“On the floor, draped over the lamp, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Off.”
She giggled again and he dipped his head to kiss her. She smiled against his kiss, even as she returned it. Entirely too quickly her hands were braced on his chest to push him back and away.
“What?” he pouted.
He was gratified to see her biting her lip. “We need to go. We’ll be late.”
“Bugger the party,” he murmured against her neck. “Let’s stay in tonight.”
“We can’t, and you know it,” she argued, curling her body into his in response to the teasing of his lips against the skin behind her ear. He pressed his advantage, sliding his lips down her neck, and she giggled then arched away from him. He chased her, chuckling a little at the game, until he felt a hand press against the middle of his chest. The Doctor looked down to find a mass of white curls there, and it took him a second to puzzle out what it was.
Santa’s beard.
His eyes darted up to Rose’s. “But Roooose…”
“Put it on, Doctor. We’re going to the party.”
The Doctor hung his head in defeat. “Torture.”
“But don’t worry. The party won’t last all night. And when it’s over…” she stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “We’ll come home and I’ll sit on your lap.”
