“And just how do you define a normal Christmas, Clara?” the Doctor asked. He was curious, having remembered in the majority of his regenerations, if he was on Earth during Christmas, the chances that something would go catastrophically wrong were even higher than on any typical day.
Which made it more interesting for him, but not necessarily the human race.
“Poppers. Paper Crowns. Bad jokes. Turkey dinner not cooked in the heart of the TARDIS,” Clara said, adding the last one with a smirk. “Normally I’d have the family here but after you and the last year you were here, I doubt that’s a good idea.”
“I was younger then,” the Doctor said, adjusting his collar. “I’ll behave and not show up starkers this year.”
Clara laughed and shook his head. “Mostly I think it just means the world not ending. Can we manage that this year?”
“I don’t schedule alien invasions. It’s not as though I have a calendar and there’s a big red X on Christmas Day for an invasion.” He grinned though. “But I’ll avoid it if I can. Just for you.”
“That would be the best Christmas ever. But for now...” She handed him a gaudily wrapped metallic green gift. “Real gifts?”
“I suppose,” he said, taking it with a fond smile. There could be fun in a havoc-less Christmas, he supposed...
It was nearly midnight when the light shone outside. The light that should not be shining. The sunlight that should not be shining. He reached for his sonic sunglasses, popped them on his face, and then crept out of Clara’s apartment.
Best to let her think they’d gone the whole holiday with no near universe ending alien invasions. She deserved it.