Title: Seeing Stars
Author: Tess/mihane_echo
Rating: Rated S for squishy
Word Count: 1035
Spoilers: None
Summary: The Doctor and Donna and their Christmas tree. <3
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it belongs to the Beeb and I'm borrowing it to play with. I promise I will return them (marginally) unharmed. ;3
Author's Note: OHMGOD, LOOK. It's a fic. 8D Written for Weekly Drabble Challenge #37 at doctor_donna. Prompt I picked was christmas tree. Happy Christmas, flist. xx Love you all.



It's possibly the weirdest thing he's ever seen before.

Well, the weirdest thing he's ever seen Donna do before. The Doctor has seen weirder things overall, but Donna Noble lying on the floor with her head underneath the Christmas tree is an exercise in remarkable puzzlement for the Time Lord.

Stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets, he ambles across the hardwood library floor to the enormous tree. It really is a thing of beauty; thirty-four feet tall and the most perfect dark green color. The needles are lush and rich and the scent is delicious, filling the room and wafting down the corridors besides. No matter where the TARDIS hides the library, they're able to find it by following the sweet fragrance of sparkling pine.

And it glows. Teeny glass lights shine from within the deep recesses of branches and needles, gold and white and silver and twinkling. The light reflecting off the delicate ornaments throws dozens of soft colors onto the floor and the walls around the tree, and onto Donna's face as she relaxes on the floor.

"No, wait, let me guess," the Doctor says with amusement. "A squirrel made off with your biscuits and you're looking for him?"

Donna smiles, humming softly. "I used to do this when I was a little girl. I always thought the lights looked a bit like a star field, all clustered and scattered through the tree branches. Best I could do sometimes, on the really cold nights when Mum wouldn't let me out to stargaze with Dad and Gramps."

She brushes one finger over the flared needles, almost wonderingly. "It's really pretty," she says suddenly, her expression one of quiet contemplation. Her eyes focus on him then and she smiles warmly at him. "You did a good job."

"Well, you helped," he says and Donna shrugs, looking back up into the tree.

"I handed you the glass pretties I fancied. You did all the shifting and lifting and stringing and hanging." She looks at him again. "You really love Christmas, don't you Doctor?"

"I do," he replies, settling on the floor by her legs. He senses, a bit belatedly, that she's feeling sad and wonders why it took him so long to realise that, especially since he had a big clue in Donna's unusual behavior of lying under the tree. He slips his fingers into her hand, then recoils when he feels a hard metallic object there.

It's a pendant. Small cuts of garnet and amber set into a thready gold circle. In the light from the tree, it seems to blaze like a small fire in Donna's palm.

"What's this?" the Doctor asks, and Donna smiles gently. She lifts her hand, allowing the pendant to dangle from her outstretched fingers.

"My Nan's necklace. Over sixty years old, this. She got it for her sixteenth birthday and wore it until the day she died." She rubs the pad of one finger over the little bauble. "Granddad gave it to me as an heirloom."

The Doctor nods. "It's beautiful." He pauses. "You're missing her a lot right now, aren't you?"

"Yeah, a bit." Donna switches the pendant over to her other hand and then reaches out for the Doctor's hand, squeezes his long fingers briefly. "She passed at Christmastime, so I always get a bit down."

Understanding floods him and the Doctor presses his lips together. "That's why you hate Christmas."

To his surprise, Donna chuckles. "I don't hate Christmas." He raises one eyebrow as though to dispute that, You told me yourself that you did, and she waggles her head in compromise. "All right. Well, not anymore, anyway."

"Really? How come?"

"Why else?" At his blank stare, Donna rolls her eyes. "Because it's when we met, you git."

The Doctor's face lights up and he grins broadly. "Oh. Well, that's one of my favorite parts of Christmas too."

Donna laughs at how pleased he looks and tugs on his arm, beckoning him to come down by her side. He does, stretching out underneath the tree shoulder to shoulder with her. For a long time they are quiet, comfortable in each other's company. Donna leans her head against the Doctor's shoulder and he returns the gesture, resting his cheek against her hair. After another moment, he sighs softly.

Donna chuckles again, her hand coming up to rest on his chest. He can feel her smiling into his shoulder. "What's funny?"

"Nothing, I just... never heard you sigh like that before."

"Like what?"

"Like you're happy."

The Doctor shifts, sitting up on his elbow and leaning his head into his palm. Donna gazes up at him, wide-eyed, as he combs his fingers through her ginger tresses splayed out on the tree skirt. She can feel his heartbeats against her hand, still on his chest.

“I am happy,” he says, brown eyes roaming her features, drinking in the sight of her. “And it’s because of you.” He traces lightly over her skin, down her jaw and over her lips. "You make me happy, Donna Noble."

Donna’s eyes slip closed when he kisses her, sinking with him as he falls into her. Her hand finds its way up to the back of his neck, each touch lighting a rush of heat in his skin as her fingers slide through his hair.

She feels soft and warm underneath him, the scent of pine and jasmine dazzling him; the Doctor deepens the kiss and Donna arches up towards him appreciatively, arms tight around him.

He breaks away to let her breathe and reaches down, takes the small hand resting on his chest. He brings it up and kisses her knuckles tenderly. Donna watches him, blue-gray eyes shining. She purses her lips thoughtfully.

“Me too,” she tells him. “Everyday.”

He grins at her, letting her draw him back down as she kisses his mouth again. Then he settles against her, feeling a bit giddy as he blinks up at the glowing points of light in the darkness of the tree branches. "And you were right."

"About what?"

The Doctor’s grin broadens as he nods up towards the underside of the tree. "They look like stars," he says.

Donna sighs in contented concurrence.

end