𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲
𝐮𝐡𝐨𝐰

from the eyes of
— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐀𝐃𝐄 —

The Doctor tapped his fingers on the table rhythmically, staring out the window as if the answer to my question was written in the stars.

"Favorite musician, you say? Oh, that's a tricky one! So many brilliant minds, so many incredible sounds across the universe. Where do I even begin?"

I smirked, leaning my chin on my hand. "You could begin by, you know, answering the question. No pressure." I dramatically paused. "Other than losing the already small respect I have for you, of course..."

That was a lie—I respected the Doctor far more than I cared to admit. More than most, at least.

He straightened up, his eyes sparkling like he'd been handed the most important task in the universe. "Alright, let's see. There's the Vrenlox Choir from the Andromeda Nebula—absolutely ethereal, though they can only perform once every hundred years because they literally have to sing their own molecules apart and reform afterward." He paused. "Bit melodramatic for my taste, actually. Not a regular listen."

I'd heard the Vrenlox Choir once or twice. Not my cup of tea.

I snorted. "Drama king like you has limits? Color me surprised."

"Oi! I am not a drama king." He waved a finger at me, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him. The Doctor was definitely a drama king. Not that I could judge seeing as I am a drama queen myself. "Anyway, moving on. There's Flarx and the Quasar Quartet—brilliant little space rock band. They play instruments made from collapsed stars! But their concerts are a bit... destructive. Lost a moon once. Had to save another one from them. A real shame."

"That sounds like a logistical nightmare."

"Tell me about it," He muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But Earth? Oh, Earth has so many fantastic artists. The Beatles—timeless. Ella Fitzgerald—her voice could make the Daleks weep, I'm sure of it. And don't get me started on Queen. Freddie Mercury, now there's a legend. Don't Stop Me Now? Feels like my personal anthem some days!"

I grinned. "All solid choices, but still dodging the question, Doctor."

He sighed, looking at me with mock exasperation. "Fine, fine. If I absolutely have to pick... it's a tie."

"A tie?"

"Yup. Between David Bowie and The Who."

I raised an eyebrow. "David Bowie I get, but The Who? Little on the nose, don't you think?"

He beamed. "Exactly why they're brilliant! Naming your band after a question? That's genius! Also, have you heard their music? They were practically writing my theme tune before they even knew I existed. Who are you? Who, who, who, who?" He sang the last bit with a dramatic flair, making me laugh.

"Alright, valid. But I've gotta ask—no Gallifreyan music on the list? Shouldn't you be repping the home planet?"

He shrugged, so casually that it actually caught me off guard. "Eh, it's alright. It was definitely never one of my favorite parts of my planet or TimeLord culture, in general."

I snorted, leaning back in my seat. "Seriously? You're so dismissive of your own lost culture's music? You'll need to show me."

"Oh, I did," He said, grinning like he knew something I didn't. "Or I will. My past self will show your future self some melodies, and you'll agree with me. It's alright... not bad... just kind of meh. Average, really."

"Average?" I repeated, laughing. "Gallifreyan music? The product of a race that mastered time and space? The race that you came from... average? Never thought I would hear the two words in the same sentence, Doctor."

"Don't look so shocked." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "We had priorities, PJ. Music wasn't one of them. Functional, not exactly inspirational."

In my time here, I had never been to Gallifrey. Never stepped a toe anywhere near it.

Gallifrey was too big of a risk—too powerful even to observe, let alone for me to try meddling with it without notice. For the sake of obscurity, it was better to avoid that place in all manners.

Except for the part where I was traveling with the last and arguably most powerful TimeLord in existence.

It'll be fine. Probably.

Before I could fire back, maybe even ask more questions about Gallifrey, the table shimmered with a soft hum, and suddenly plates of food materialized in front of us.

I jumped in my seat, half-startled, half-impressed.

"What the—?"

"Kitchen teleportation system," The Doctor explained nonchalantly, picking up his fork. "Fancy, isn't it? Cuts down on wait times."

But I barely heard him. My eyes were locked on the steaming plate before me. There it was—the legendary mashbrowns. A golden-brown masterpiece, smelling like heaven itself had taken a frying pan to perfection.

"Oh my God." My voice came out a little breathy, but I didn't care. "Doctor, this smells like... I don't even know what. Happiness? Stardust? The meaning of life?"

"Told you," He said, taking a smug bite of his own. "Ah, reunited with my one true love. Mashbrowns. A culinary marvel—mashed potatoes, hash browns, pancake batter, and a dash of Flarxian xelva spice."

I picked up my fork, practically salivating. "Xelva spice? Love it already, can't believe I never tried it!"

The thing is: every universe is huge.

Every universe is huge and immense with its own billions of cultures and peoples and possibilities and time and space and everything in between.

It was impossible to see or know it all, no matter who you were. Even the Arbiters, as omnipotent as they were, didn't know everything.

While I may be far older than any human, I was still only 393. Which, in the terms of the cosmos, was young.

Hell, even the Doctor was young in the eyes of eternity, and he was double my age!

With that, I'd also only been in this universe for less than 80 years. While I had done much and been to many places, I still had barely even scratched the surface of things to do and places to go.

Just as I was about to take my first bite, the Doctor watching with a mix of amusement and satisfaction—the hologram flickered back to life at the side of our table.

"How are your meals?" It asked cheerily, making me yelp and nearly drop my fork.

The Doctor burst out laughing, practically choking on his food.

I glared at the hologram. "Fantastic," I muttered. "And terrifyingly punctual, apparently."

"As the humans say, 'holla!', if you need assistance..." The hologram told us.

The hologram disappeared, and I rolled my eyes, picking up my fork again. "These mashbrowns better be worth the near heart attack."

"Oh, trust me, they are," the Doctor said between bites, practically humming in satisfaction.

I took a mouthful and let out an involuntary moan, savoring the crispy, fluffy, slightly spicy perfection. "Oh my god... Doctor, this is... this is better than... I don't even have words."

The Doctor grinned, pointing at me with his fork. "See? I told you! Best culinary creation in the universe. Don't say I never take you anywhere nice."

I waved my fork at him. "Fine I'll give credit where it's due, this time you nailed it. An intergalactic IHOP and mashbrowns? You've outdone yourself, TimeLord. Way better than Churchill's Dalek-invested war room or Victorian motherfucking England."

"Language." He lightly warned. But flattery will get you everywhere, darling..." He quipped before taking another bite. "Now I've got a question for you."

"Oh no," I teased, grinning as I scooped up another forkful. "Better be a good question..."

"Who's your favorite musical artist?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, chewing thoughtfully. After swallowing, I smirked. "Wait, my future self never told you?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Oh, loads of times. But your answer changes every time."

"Well, yeah," I said with a shrug, waving my fork. "We're constantly moving forward and changing, Doctor. Surely your music tastes changes every now and then. Especially with every regeneration?"

He tilted his head, considering it. "Fair point. Although I do believe your taste changes far more than every now and then..."

"My favorite artist changes..." I paused dramatically, tapping my chin. "Oh, I don't know, I'd say about—"

"Weekly?" He guessed, cutting me off with a grin.

I pointed my fork at him with mock offense. "Rude, but accurate." I jabbed it into another piece of mashbrown and chewed with a thoughtful expression. After swallowing, I declared, "This week it's 50 Cent."

The Doctor gaped, nearly choking on his food. "50 Cent? I do like him a lot—actually went to a party with him once. Back then I was all leather jackets and big ears... I was a bit rough around the edges..."

I smirked. "He's a lyrical genius."

"Of course he is," The Doctor waved with a nod before staring at me curiously. Almost knowingly. "But no Sabrina Carpenter, then?"

I jabbed my fork at him again. "Hey—Sabrina Carpenter always. I would lay down my life for that woman."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, of course, my mistake."

"Damn right," I replied, popping another piece of mashbrown into my mouth. "And don't you forget it. Don't forget that you owe me a trip to her concert still either..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, dearest..." The Doctor quipped back. "Alright give me another favorite artist of yours, someone before '95..."

"Which '95?"

"1995..." The Doctor clarified, taking a bite of our shared omelet. "Try this..." He immediately pushed it toward me after taking a second bite.

I brought my fork into it, taking a piece before bringing it to my mouth. "Okay..." I said between bites. "Oh wow, this is good. This is really good..." I moaned.

The Doctor waggled his brows. "Told you..."

"Mmm, I'm thinking ACDC... or Cher! I love me some Cher!"

"Oh yeah, I know all about that one, there was one week that you—" He had to stop, snorting with laughter before he continued. "—You had gotten so... I don't even know... drunk? High too, maybe? Whatever it was, I couldn't be sure, it happened when I taking my weekly rest... and then the TARDIS just started going crazy... woke me up!" The Doctor was laughing hard, and I was confused and slightly disturbed by this story of something that I was apparently going to do. "And so I stumble out of my room, the TARDIS leads me to our karaoke room, and you know what I find?"

"What?" I asked meekly; I was not sure I wanted to know.

"YOU!" He roared, heaving. "You were naked! Completely naked with these beaded gems and tinsel in your hair, a microphone in your grasp, spinning around and singing some Cher song! There were about three empty bottles of wine from Raveron 9 and I won't lie, I thought I was dreaming! Maybe even hallucinating when I found you!"

I stopped his story by throwing a piece of food at him. "Hey! I thought you weren't supposed to tell me about the future! Let alone embarrassing stories like that! Now this needs to happen otherwise I risk causing a paradox!"

Paradoxes weren't impossible to fix but they were annoying to deal with. They didn't always happen when the past was rewritten—but in this case, seeing as it happens in the TARDIS and the Doctor just told me about it; now it needs to occur otherwise risk a paradox.

Although, given the circumstances, it'd probably be a pretty ridiculous paradox.

"I know!" He howled, finally starting to calm down. "That's why I told you the story!"

"You dick!" I cursed, throwing yet another piece of food his way. "You absolute dick! I thought you were supposed to be a kind TimeLord!"

"I am kind..." He sighed, a big smile on his face as he looked at me with a twinkle in his eye. "Kind enough that I more than took care of you for the rest of that night. Held your hair back while you vomited, cleaned you up, put you in some jammies, and cuddled you to sleep as you drunkenly cried to me about how upset you were that I hadn't noticed your—" He cut himself off at the end, a thoughtful smile on his face.

There was a sort of peace in his eye. A kind of peace that someone gets when looking back at a lovingly fond memory.

"Noticed what? What were you going to say?" I huffed, frantically questioning him.

The Doctor snapped out of it, looking to me amusedly. "Spoilers... I really shouldn't say anymore..."

"You shouldn't have said anything at all! Of all the things to spoil, that was the story you chose? And you're not even going to finish it?!"

He snickered almost meanly, well as mean as Eleven possibly could snicker. Which really wasn't mean at all.

"Nope..." He grinned, taking another large bite of one of our many items of food. He washed it down with the Spritzer. "Ah—made perfectly... try yours..."

Fuck this guy.

Although, upon taking a drink of the sonic spritzer, my eyes lit up. This was made pretty good.

After another few minutes of stuffing ourselves, chatting away—the conversation somehow shifted to both our political opinions and ideas for the solar system 55 Cancri in the year 7645.

Imagine a situation similar to what happened in America in 2016 when it was Donald Trump vs. Hillary Clinton. Now, envision Trump and Hillary about seven feet tall, green, and candidates to be president of an entire star system that is female-dominated. Also, envision the outcome of the election causing the system to implement an entire week every seven months where violent murder becomes legal.

That is 55 Cancri during 7645.

The Doctor paid for our food and we left with smiles, full bellies, and an intense conversation about whether the Doctor should step in and fix 55 Cancri for the better or not.

It was not a fixed point in time, so there was not really a chance of a paradox being caused if the Doctor decided to rewrite its history a bit.

"I just feel like you should allow me to build a bomb, we can deliver it to the doorstep of the up-side and boom! All their problems solved; Ron-YONG no longer has no opponent and therefore becomes president of 55 Cancri in 7045!" I explained as we walked out of UHOW.

The Doctor, bless his soul, looked appalled. He proceeded to spin around, tweed jacket flapping and he flicked me on the forehead.

"Bad, very bad, PJ... we don't deliver bombs! That is not what the TARDIS is used for!" He scolded lightly, crying as I swatted his hand.

I opened my mouth, prepared to argue my point further before a piercing ringing sounded about the area. Only a few various beings were around, mostly milling near their ships.

Both the Doctor and I snapped our heads to the TARDIS at the same time. The Doctor had not parked her far from the UHOW entrance.

"Is that?" I started, my voice tinged with confusion. "Is your TARDIS ringing?"

The ringing, which sounded eerily similar to a phone, was coming from the TARDIS.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and looked at me as though I was the ridiculous one.

"Of course she is! Come on then!" He grabbed my arm, dragging me behind him as we approached the outside of the TARDIS.

We kicked up rocks and asteroid dust as we walked back toward the Doctor's home. And my home for the next small while.

My eyebrows knitted together. "Well, excuse me... most spaceships don't have an Earth landline attached to its outside... nor have I seen any other wooden spaceship..."

"Oi! I can guarantee that you've never seen any other spaceship that can travel not only the galaxy but through time and occasionally into other dimensions...!" Well, I did need to give him that one. "And it's not wooden—she's only disguised! Every time the TARDIS materializes in a new location, within the first nanosecond, it analyzes its surroundings, calculates a 12-dimensional data map of everything in a thousand-mile radius, and deciphers which outer shell would best blend in with the environment!" He sounded both impressed and excited as he explained it all with a smile so bright it made me squint.

I chose to pipe up.

"...As a police telephone box from London in 1963?" I finished for him with an amused smile as we stopped at the TARDIS doors. "No matter where we are?"

The ringing continued, persistently.

The Doctor cringed. "Uhm, yeah, I've been meaning to check that out..."

He confirmed what I had long since suspected: the TARDIS cloaking technology was indeed broken.

The part that the Doctor didn't mention but I could clearly see was that he had no clue how to fix that. I wasn't even sure if he'd choose to fix it if the opportunity presented itself.

"Really?" I asked with doubt heavy in my tone. "How long has it been doing that?"

He shrugged me off. "ANYWAY! TARDIS Telephone ringing!" He clapped his hands, opening the small area of the TARDIS that contained its outside landline. He grabbed the phone, bringing it to his ear. "Hullo—the TARDIS! This is the Doctor speaking!" He cheered, in an accent that was ever-so-British.

I leaned against the TARDIS, examining and picking at my nail.

"Uh-huh, yes, yes—of course!" The Doctor was nodding his head, eyes lighting up. "Interesting, yes, very interesting! Of course, I understand! Yes, yes, you can count on me! I have the perfect partner as well! We'll be there in seconds!" He abruptly hung up, slamming the phone back on the switch-hook of the landline.

He then harshly closed the phone portion of the TARDIS in excitement.

My eyebrows furrowed and I leaned away from the doctor who spun in an excited circle, not unlike a golden retriever.

"Down boy, what has you so excited?" I puffed.

He looked at me, green eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. I yelped as he grabbed my shoulders, leaning in close. His breath smelled like the mashbrowns and I had no doubt mine did as well.

"Mr. and Mrs. Claus are expected to show up at my dear friend Ivon Holliday's New Year's Eve party! Seeing as the actual Saint Nicholas and Mrs. Claus can't make it—I figure you and me are the second best option!" He explained, pulling open the door to the TARDIS and tugging me inside.

The console room was just as we left it, the lights lighting up brighter at our entrance. Amy was still nowhere to be found, still asleep no doubt.

"What are you even talking about? Santa isn't real!"

"Of course, he is! But, unfortunately, you won't be meeting him tonight... now c'mon, let's get changed!"

"Wait—DOCTOR!"

▂ ✵ ▂ ✶ ▂ ✵ ▂ ✶ ▂

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧
𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐯𝐚, 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐚
𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞
𝟐𝟏𝟎𝟒

"Holy balls, it's fucking cold!" I grunted as we stepped out of the TARDIS.

The snow was coming down harshly, Russian winters were not for the weak. I still was not sure of exactly what was happening, nor why we were here as the Doctor sucked with his explanations.

"I told you not to wear the mini dress, dear! I mean what kind of Mrs. Claus shows off so much leg?" The Doctor pouted as he once again looked me over.

Key word: once again.

This dude was not sly in the slightest. Then again—while he may be a 900-something TimeLord. He was still a dude, a physically young man and still incredibly new in this regeneration.

I'm sure his hormones were just raging. Not that he'd ever admit to something like that. The Doctor was far too proper for such scandalous activities.

All the Doctor told me is that we are dressing up as Mr. and Mrs. Claus for some New Year's Eve party in 2104—soon to be 2105.

My creation for Mrs. Claus came in the form of a flowy red mini-dress with tall white heeled boots. My hair was pin-straight, half pull back with a tall bump in the center.

Pristine long and fluffy white gloves covered my hands.

The Doctor had helpfully informed me that the theme of this party was nostalgia AKA—themes from 2004. So I did my makeup like someone might've done in 2004. How a hot and young Mrs. Claus would've, at least.

In a nutshell: I look like the hot-hooker version of Mrs. Claus.

It left the Doctor gaping when I met him in the console room.

Now, the Doctor was more accurate in representation. He wore a great white beard and stuffed his Santa costume with fluff to give him a round belly. Not to mention, he was wearing circular glasses. Apparently Santa Claus was his favorite person to dress up as.

Who the fuck was going to believe we were the real Mr. and Mrs. Claus?

"You're not my dad..." I rolled my eyes, closing the TARDIS doors behind us.

"No, I am definitely not..." He shook his head, but there was an amused gleam in his eye. "Alright, this way, dearest!" The Doctor reached out, pulling me into his side.

I cuddled into him as far I could get to steal his warmth—the man was more than warm with his costume and the extra fluff he had within. The Doctor was more than happy to reciprocate as he pulled me tighter and continuously rubbed my arm to generate heat.

I found myself subconsciously leaning my head on his shoulder as we walked up toward a large house.

House was a stretch, this was definitely a mansion.

Music—music from the early 2000s—bumped loudly. People were scattered about the yard, most drunk: talking and dancing. I noticed right away that the majority of people were dressed up in costumes.

Not quite like Halloween as most were dressed like mythical creatures.

There were a number of people dressed in variations of Lord Valentine AKA Cupid or the Tooth Fairy... there were quite a few Easter Bunnies too.

Most of the girls dressed as the Easter Bunny were barely wearing clothing.

I did not hesitate in allowing my gaze to slide across those girls appreciatively. They were hot, okay!

The muscular men dressed as Cupid, wandering around shirtless with only loose pants were eye-candy too.

However, through it all, there was no one else dressed as Santa or Mrs. Claus. Like seriously, nobody.

Not many people were hanging out outside as the snow was falling and the cold was bitter. But those that were outside subtly pointed us out as we passed, their eyes lit up excitedly.

The second we walked up the large marble steps—the two security guards manning the front immediately opened the doors.

The security guard to the left reached for his right earpiece.

"The Claus' are on the premise. I repeat the Claus' have arrived..." He said sternly, though there was an undertone of excitement in his voice.

"Yes, we have..." The Doctor chuckled before grabbing his fake belly. "HOHOHO!"

"This is unreal..." I muttered as we passed through the threshold and were met with quite a chaotic party.

It was like 2004 met 2104—and everyone was going insane.

The inside of the mansion was absolute chaos. It was like stepping into a Pinterest board titled "2004 Party Goals" if said the board had been made by someone high off Speed with no budget constraints.

The first thing that hit me was the sheer size of the space—it was practically a palace. A massive chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, glittering like a thousand tiny stars. Neon lights pulsed in time with the early 2000s bangers blasting from an unseen sound system. My ears immediately caught the unmistakable sound of "Yeah!" by Usher, Lil Jon, and Ludacris.

"Shawty was all up on me screaming yeah, yeah, YEAH...!" I sang along as we walked.

It kinda made me want to throw my ass around. I decided not to mention to the Doctor that I wore no shorts under this mini Mrs. Claus dress—only a lacy black thong.

Oops.

People were everywhere. Dancing, laughing, drinking from glowing cups that. There was an open bar to my right, manned by a sparkly bartender who was flipping bottles like a Vegas performer. Behind it, shelves stacked with liquors of every color imaginable shimmered enticingly.

I barely had time to take it all in before a giant inflatable slide came into view at the far end of the room—complete with people in costume gleefully tumbling down it into a ball pit filled with what looked like glowing jellybeans. A glittery sign above it read: "2004 Nostalgia, Reimagined!"

The crowd itself was a mix of mythical creatures and iconic 2000s fashion disasters. A group of girls dressed as sexy fairies danced on a glowing platform while a guy in a full warlock costume waved glow sticks to the beat of the music. There was even someone dressed as Eve Hallow in a Juicy Couture tracksuit sipping champagne like it was still the peak of style.

The air smelled faintly of vanilla-scented candles, hot pretzels, and the sharp tang of snow still clinging to people's coats.

But what stood out most was the reaction to us.

Everywhere we went, heads turned. People nudged their friends, whispered excitedly, and even snapped pictures of us. I caught one guy in a Cupid outfit holding up his phone to take a selfie with us in the background.

Phones in 2105 were thin metallic pieces shaped as circles. Circles were in right now.

"Doctor..." I muttered under my breath, leaning closer to him. "What the actual hell is this?"

"Oh, it's just a bit of fun!" He replied, grinning like a kid in a candy store. "2104's finest throwback to the early 2000s! And seeing as Ivon Holliday is throwing it—all the people always dress as holiday creatures!"

"Finest?" I deadpanned, gesturing toward a pair of dudes in glittery angel wings who were arm-wrestling over a bucket of what appeared to be glowing cheese puffs. "So what? Ivon's original Santa and Mrs. Claus cosplayers canceled...? Holy crap those ghosts are actually getting it on in the middle of the dance floor..."

"Absolutely!" He chirped before looking to where I was pointing and cringing. He quickly turned away and covered my eyes. "AH! Don't look! People really need to stay doing that behind closed doors! I mean honestly, where is the decency?" He shook his head in disappointment, turning our attention elsewhere. "Oh! But look at that attention to detail! Oh, and they absolutely love us."

"Why do they love us?" I asked, scanning the room again. "And why are we literally the only Santa and Mrs. Claus here."

"That's the point!" He said, puffing out his fluffy belly proudly. "They have people come dressed as the Claus' every year. Symbol of celebration, goodwill, and all that! Only two people can be dressed as Santa and Mrs. Claus! This year, the cosplayers canceled so Ivon asked me to step in. Told me to bring a pretty woman on my arm, my own Mrs. Claus! And voila, here you are..." He bopped me on the nose playfully. "Pretty woman!"

I didn't react to his flirty compliment. He pouted when he didn't get a reaction.

"Yeah, okay..." I muttered, narrowing my eyes at a group of particularly excited fairies who were squealing at us from across the room. "But if this turns into some kind of weird ritual sacrifice, I'm out."

The Doctor just laughed, patting my arm reassuringly. "Relax! It's all in good fun. Now then..." He pulled me further into the party, his grin widening. "Let's go find some drinks, shall we? You've got to try the Nostalgia Nectar."

"Oh, great," I muttered, following him reluctantly. "If I get roofied by the Tooth Fairy, I'm holding you personally responsible."

The Doctor held onto me slightly tighter as we walked through, waving back at a few people who had waved at us.

"Ah! There's Ivon now! IVON!"

A name dressed up in a pink suit—hair wild and bright auburn suddenly stumbled into the Doctor causing him to me go. I crossed my arms, staring at the scene in confusion.

He was nearly as tall as the Doctor, more muscular though.

"Doctor! My good friend!" This man spoke drunkenly, with a thick Russian accent as he greeted the Doctor by kissing his cheeks.

The Doctor looked ever-so-happy to receive the affection, kissing the man's cheeks right back before pulling him into a tight quick hug.

"Ivon!" He cheered. "I'm here, undercover as your esteemed guest of honor..." The Doctor winked, spinning in a circle to show off his costume.

Ivon poked the Doctor's fluffy fake stomach and nodded in approval.

"You look exactly like Saint Nick in this!" He cheered before his eyes turned to me. I was surprised. Ivon's eyes were entirely purple, nearly blue, but actually purple. "And you brought your wife too? Mrs. Claus, you are looking good!"

"She's uhm, she is my—" The Doctor started explaining only to be cut off by Ivon.

"I've always wondered who would manage to tie this old time traveler down! Great to meet you!" Ivon grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it.

I quirked a brow. Even as the Doctor started stuttering and floundering and blushing.

God—he needs to get a grip.

"Yep, often mistaken as his wife, actually his intern, but secretly his sugar baby..." I clicked, my voice turning into a fake posh British accent similar to the Doctor's. Russians don't typically like Americans, I'm not risking anything. "Good to meet you, Ivon!"

Ivon tilted his head in surprise, eyes glistening as he looked at the Doctor in unabashed shock. "Oh, Doctor! I didn't know you rolled like that... alright then!" He sounded amused. "Your escort for the night!"

"What?!" The Doctor coughed. "No! No, no, no! She is just joking!" He purposely glared at me. "This is PJ and she is my partner—" He quickly corrected his wording. "—My companion! Companion-partner-lady...!" He laughed nervously.

Ivon was looking between the both of us weirdly. I shook my head, rolling my eyes.

"Understood, it's complicated..." Ivon finally smirked.

"No, it's not complicated, it's just that we're—" I cut the Doctor off before he could ramble even more.

"You did quite the job here..." I trailed, grabbing a glass of champagne off a tray as a waiter passed by me. The person blushed as I sent a wink their way, licking my ruby lips before sipping the champagne and turning back to the two men. "I mean, this is awesome. 2004 meets 2104? Iconic! Also, Amy is definitely going to kill us for coming without her!"

The Doctor cringed. "Perhaps let's keep this little adventure between us then! No use in making her feel left out! Besides, I'm more comfortable only having one of you to watch in this setting!"

"We're not children, Doctor... you don't need to watch us..." I rolled my eyes, humming at the taste of the champagne.

The Doctor then grabbed my champagne from my hand and downed the rest of it. "Hey!" I squawked. He made a face of discontentment at the flavor.

"You and Pond are both immensely beautiful women. Not that either of you can't handle yourselves, but I would prefer not to think of the ways some people might try and take advantage of that." The Doctor waved me off. "To be honest—I'm more worried about Pond in these situations. She's from Earth 2010, never even left Great Britain until now! There's no telling the trouble she'd get in without me!"

I nodded my head unable to argue that point.

I leaned in close to him, not needing to stand on my toes with the heels I wore.

Slyly, I brought my lips to his ear. "Not to mention..." I teasingly whispered in his ear, not missing the way his baby hairs stood up and goosebumps erupted across his exposed skin. "...I have a loaded weapon hidden somewhere on my body..."

The Doctor, with a blush, allowed his gaze to trail my body. His eyes stalled on my boobs before he hastily looked away.

His floppy hair was being pushed down by his red Santa hat, nearly falling into the eyes of his young face.

"I wonder where seeing as you do have quite a bit of skin exposed, dearest..." He breathed, gaze wide and as he swallowed harshly.

"It's Mrs. Claus to you..." I smirked, stepping back causing the heel of my boot to click on the ground. "I am going to find a drink. I'll be back!" I claimed while spinning around and beginning to strut away.

The Doctor leaped forward, grabbing my elbow to stop me. "Wait, let me come—"

I cut him off. "I'll be fine, you catch up with your friend. I'll grab those Nostalgia Nectar drinks you were talking about. Be back in a jiff..." I patted his chest, making brief eye contact with Ivon who watched us both with a wolfish grin.

The Doctor slowly nodded and hesitantly released me. "Don't be long..." He demanded in a bossy.

I said nothing, only saluting as I sashayed away, pushing my way through the crowd.

Making my way through the sea of people was no easy feat. The crowd seemed to swell as the music pumped louder, "Milkshake" by Kelis blasting through the speakers. Every step I took in my ridiculous white-heeled boots felt like a mini obstacle course, dodging flailing arms, bouncing dancers, and people enthusiastically reenacting TikTok dances from an era before TikTok existed.

Looks like their timing was slightly wrong, they were about 15 years too early.

It didn't take long before I was intercepted by a gaggle of girls dressed like glittery fairies, all glowing wings and sparkling tiaras. One of them—pink hair, bedazzled face—grabbed my arm excitedly.

"OH MY GOD, MRS. CLAUS!" she squealed. Her voice was high-pitched enough to make me wince. "Can we take a selfie with you? Please?! It's for the holofeed!"

Holofeed... actually, I lived in this era for a good two weeks once. I'm pretty sure I made myself an account before I decided the 2100s aren't for me.

"Uh... sure?" I answered, unsure why Mrs. Claus was selfie-worthy but rolling with it.

Before I could blink, I was pulled into the middle of their group, wings bumping into me as phones were whipped out.

"Okay, say 'Santa's Naughty List!'" One girl chirped.

I plastered on my best sultry grin and winked at the camera. "Santa's Naughty List!"

The girls giggled hysterically, their laughter infectious. They seem like good fun—too bad I was here with the Doctor, otherwise, I might try to hang with these bad bitches.

One of them, dressed in a glittery silver leotard, tilted her head curiously as she tucked her phone away. "What's it like being married to Santa? Is he as jolly as everyone says?" Her accent was an odd one, something between a cross of Russian and... Australian maybe?

Wow. These people really took this party seriously.

"Oh, he's plenty jolly," I said with mock seriousness, glancing around conspiratorially before lowering my voice. "But let me tell you, the man's a nightmare when it comes to toothpaste caps. Leaves them off every. Single. Time."

The group burst into laughter, and I wasn't done. "And don't even get me started on the cookies. Sure, he says he's eating them for the kids, but really, the man's a sugar fiend. If I don't hide the gingerbread, he'll have them gone in one night!"

More laughter.

Another girl, this one with a pair of translucent butterfly wings, gasped. "Wait, wait! Does he actually 'ho-ho-ho' in real life?"

This is so weird.

"Oh, absolutely," I said, smirking. "It's his alarm clock setting. First thing in the morning, I get a 'HO HO HO, TIME TO GO!' And if I don't roll out of bed fast enough, he starts singing Christmas carols. By the third verse of 'Jingle Bells,' I'm begging him to stop. And don't even get me started on that man's sex drive...!"

They were nearly doubled over at this point, and I was pretty proud of myself. If the Doctor had been nearby, he'd be doing that flustered little stammer of his.

After a few more laughs and another selfie, I finally broke away, waving over my shoulder as I headed toward the bar. "Remember, girls—Mrs. Claus always delivers!"

The bar was a neon-lit spectacle, practically glowing in the dim light of the party. The bartender was a guy with sharp cheekbones, dark slicked-back hair, and a smile that screamed trouble.

"Well, well," He drawled as I approached. "If it isn't Mrs. Claus herself. What can I get for you, ma'am? A peppermint martini? A hot buttered rum?"

I leaned casually against the bar, tapping my nails on the counter. "Two Nostalgia Nectars, actually. Doctor's orders." I paused before adding. "And make one of them less strong and more sweet—actually super sweet with a dash alcohol—my husband isn't a huge fan of drinking..."

"A doctor ordered it, huh?" He arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, grabbing two glowing glasses from a rack behind him. As he started pouring the drinks, he shot me a mischievous grin. "So, what's it like being married to the big guy? Does he snore?"

"Oh, like a freight train," I said smoothly, watching the glowing liquid swirl into the glasses. "And don't even get me started on the reindeer situation. They're cute, sure, but they shed like crazy. My favorite boots? Totally ruined."

The bartender chuckled, sliding the drinks toward me. "You're funny. Tell me, Mrs. Claus, does Santa treat you right, or should he be worried about losing you to a younger, handsome bartender?"

This was too fucking funny.

There is no way we can keep this from Amy—she would love this! Maybe I should go wake her up now and bring her here.

No, that'd be mean, she really needs the rest. She was only human, after all.

It was amazing to think that just four hours ago, the Doctor was ripping a corset off my battered and burned body. A small bout of exhaustion raced through me at the thought. Truthfully, I had not got much sleep either, and it was starting to catch up.

I let out an exaggerated laugh, leaning in slightly. "Oh, don't tempt me. Santa may have the toys, but you've got the charm."

The bartender's grin widened. "Well, if you ever decide to trade in the North Pole for a little tropical paradise, let me know. I'm moving to Tahiti next week and I make a mean mojito." He said, Russian accent thick. "And the right drink is sweet... practically juice..."

I took the drinks from him, winking at him as I backed away. Nothing wrong with a little flirting. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the drinks, cutie."

As I turned and strutted back toward where I knew the Doctor to be, I blew a playful kiss over my shoulder. The bartender's laugh followed me into the crowd. That was the fun of bartending, talking, and flirting with random people.

I would never be able to even guess the amount of people I had flirted with during my time as a bartender in this universe alone.

Two drinks in hand, I weaved through the dancers and costumed partygoers, already imagining the Doctor's face when I told him about my impromptu stories of Santa's bad habits. This party was turning out to be way more entertaining than I'd expected.

I found the Doctor moments later, standing next to Ivon. He looked hilarious. No tweed, no bow-tie.

Only a great big beard and a huge fake belly with a fluffy red costume. His boots, enormous, were a leathery black.

I came behind the Doctor, holding the glowing blue and purple drinks aloft with a smug grin.

The Doctor, who was in mid-conversation with Ivon, perked up immediately as I tapped his back and he whirled around.

As I handed the glowing blue drink to the Doctor, I couldn't help smirking. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning, his eyes lighting up as he took the glass from me.

"There's my Mrs. Claus," He greeted, rubbing his hands together like some kind of mad scientist. "Took your time, didn't you? What happened—did you get lost, or were you off causing chaos?"

"Both," I replied, matching his smirk. "Also, let's get one thing straight: I'm not your Mrs. Claus."

"Of course, of course," He said, already waving me off like I hadn't just delivered an ice-cold truth bomb. He took a sip of the drink, and his face immediately lit up. "Oh, this is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! Tastes like sherbet and happiness. Ivon, you've got to try this!" He shoved the drink toward the red-haired man beside him, who backed up with both hands raised.

"No, no, Doctor," Ivon laughed, his thick Russian accent rumbling. "Not strong enough for my taste. Too sweet. But tell me, how did you meet such a beauty? You must be quite the charmer."

I snorted so loudly it could've rivaled the party music. "Charmer? Him? Please. I walked into his ship and—"

The Doctor gasped. "Ridiculous, I am the most charming thing alive! And she came to me—as she always does! Can't get enough of me, I reckon..." He said smugly while taking a sip of his drink.

"He's my boss," I said, rolling my eyes. "Kinda..."

Before the Doctor could get in a proper retort, a loud voice cut through the crowd. "Well, well, if it isn't Mr. and Mrs. Claus!"

I turned to see a couple striding toward us, and my first thought was: Wow, they really committed.

The man was dressed as Jack Frost, his icy blue suit shimmering like it had been dipped in glitter and frostbite. The woman beside him, the so-called Snow Queen, was draped in a gown that looked like it had been spun from snowflakes.

"Oh, great," I muttered under my breath. "Here comes trouble."

"Santa Claus!" Jack Frost called, spreading his arms wide like he was about to sing Let It Go. "And Mrs. Claus! Care to settle a little debate? My wife here insists you're the 'most iconic couple of winter,' but I think we could give you a run for your money."

The Doctor's face lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh no. I knew that look. He was thrilled by the challenge. "Oh, is that so? Well, Jack, Snow Queen—lovely costumes, by the way, truly inspired—I'd be happy to prove you wrong. What did you have in mind? A gift-wrapping contest? Reindeer wrangling? Snowball fight?"

Is the Doctor joking? I refuse to do any of those... well, maybe the reindeer wrangling.

The Snow Queen tilted her head, a sly smile curling her lips. "Dance-off."

I nearly choked on my drink. "Oh no. Doctor, no. Absolutely not."

"Dear, yes. Absolutely yes." He grabbed my arm and started pulling me forward. "We've got this."

The thing I was slowly realizing about the Doctor is that despite his words: this guy is incredibly competitive.

The music shifted, blasting a remix of Get Low by Lil John. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, forming a makeshift dance floor. I dragged my feet, trying to resist.

"This is a terrible idea," I hissed. "They're going to obliterate us. Look at them!"

The Doctor grinned. "Have confidence."

Jack Frost and the Snow Queen went first, gliding across the floor in a waltz so graceful it looked like they'd choreographed it in their frozen palace. The crowd ooh-ed and ahh-ed as they spun and twirled, their movements dripping with icy elegance.

But also... it didn't really match the hype song playing.

"See?" I muttered. "We're doomed."

"Nonsense," The Doctor said, stepping onto the floor. "Watch and learn."

I expected a lot of things, mainly the Doctor dancing similar to how he did at the ball Pollux's parents had put on. Wildly wag his arms around and awkwardly move his gangly limbs.

What I did not expect was for him to drop to the fucking ground and started spinning on his back.

He was fucking break-dancing, in a Santa costume!

There is no way. No way this awkward TimeLord—Doctor Eleven—who can't speak without flapping his hands can fucking break dance... and yet, the proof was happening right before my eyes.

"What the fuck?!" I shrieked, nearly dropping my drink. "DOCTOR! You can break dance!?"

"Of course, I can!" He yelled, rolling onto his feet and launching into the most ridiculous robot dance I'd ever seen. "I'm the Doctor—the Oncoming Storm. I do it all!" He proceeded to do the robot before moon-walking.

Oh. My. God.

The crowd erupted into cheers, and I couldn't help it—I handed my drink to a random bystander and jumped in. If he was going to embarrass himself with the most awesome moves I'd ever seen, I wasn't going to let him do it alone.

I rolled my body and spun like three times, transitioning into a cool move I vaguely remembered learning from a drunk night in Miami. The crowd went wild as I hit the splits and popped back up into another spin.

"More spins!" I shouted, clapping like a maniac.

The Doctor didn't miss a beat. "Don't mind if I do!" He called back, dropping to the ground and spinning so fast his Santa hat flew off.

Holy shit.

At some point—I was twerking, definitely showing off my thong but getting down low and shaking my ass as if there was no tomorrow. The Doctor when he realized that, cried out for me to stop, but when I didn't listen, he did the next best thing and came up behind me to cover my ass.

Cover my ass by allowing me to twerk on him.

We might've been a little tipsy. Okay, more than tipsy.

People who were watching started screaming a songlike chant. Something along the lines of "Mr. and Mrs. Claus are loose—they're jiggy! They're loose, they're jiggy! They're loose, they're jiggy!"

The Doctor grabbed my hips, moving with me—both of us leaning against each other. The heeled boots brought me up so I was closer to his height. Our hips moved in sync with each other.

And damn: for as awkward as the Doctor was, for the fact that he had on a damn Santa outfit with a big ass stomach made of fluff; his hips certainly didn't lie when he put his all into it. Especially when he was determined to keep up with the way my hips were moving—all in an effort to stop me from giving everyone a nice show of my ass.

Okay, there is no way we're keeping this from Amy. There is also no way she's ever going to believe me when I tell her just how the Doctor was dancing tonight.

Hell, I almost don't believe it and my ass is the one currently all pressed up on his groin.

This was the Doctor for fuck's sake. The Doctor who apparently had hips that don't lie.

By the time the song ended, we were both out of breath and the crowd was chanting our names. Jack Frost and the Snow Queen were nowhere to be seen, having slinked off in defeat.

The Doctor hastily pulled my dress down causing me to laugh.

"Well," I said, grinning. "That's one way to make an impression."

The Doctor's cheeks were flushed—either from exertion or embarrassment, I wasn't sure. "Oh, PJ," He said, his voice dripping with shock. "I can't believe you didn't wear shorts under that!"

"Are you really surprised though?" I asked, taking a champagne glass from another waiter who passed by and taking a sip of it with a cheeky grin.

He shook his head with a sigh, looking downward but keeping a hand on my hip and still standing exceptionally close to me.

Protectively.

"No..." He tittered. "Unfortunately, I am not surprised at all, you crazy wayward girl..." But then he puffed immensely out of breath. "Ugh, I'm getting way too old to be doing any of those moves anymore..."