Genre: Doctor Who, Minions
Word count: 1193
Prompt: 10 - Doctor 10 , 6 - Minions, 10 Egg nog
Gevr, I hope that you enjoy your story and will have a lovely holiday! My thanks to you and to my beta, Sparky955 for her help!
The Doctor wasn’t a drinking man as a rule. Well, he has created a banana daiquiri back in the time of Louis XV, but that was more of a one off. No, he’d learned, often the hard way, that it paid to keep a sober head, especially when everyone around him was losing theirs.
He watched three young girls run by, shiny bows stuck in their hair, skates in hand. The youngest one was especially overwhelmed by the immense tree before them. The Doctor had to admit that Rockefeller Center had the best trees. All those lights drew him in like moths to a flame, so he made it a point to come at least once during the holiday season to sit, watch the skaters and admire the tree.
“Girls, girls!?” A bald man scanned the crowd anxiously.
“You looking for three of them, all wrapped up like Christmas presents?” The Doctor asked.
“Yes. Have you seen them?” The man looked wary, but hopeful.
“Over on the bench getting ready to take to the ice.”
The man wiped his brow. “Thank goodness. Their mother would kill me if I lost them.”
The Doctor laughed. “You don’t mean that.”
The man smirked. “Actually, I do.” He shivered and turned back to the crowd. “Mark, Dave, Kenny!” Three small figures approached all bundled up against the cold. “You stay with the girl and don’t lose them this time.”
“Ooo, Boss, pudum pem skate, mac?” The tallest one asked, hopeful. The TARDIS immediately translated it to, “Oooh, Boss, can we skate, too?”
“Yeah, sure, just don’t lose them – again! You know what Lucy said she’s do to us.” He waved them away. “It’s hard to find good help these days.” But it was said with affection.
A slender redhead ran up to the man, followed by a crowd of small figures. “Gru, did you find them?”
“Oh, yes, Lucy. Yes, they are skating.” He gestured toward the ice and asked shyly, “Would you… do you skate?”
“Um, not really well.” She looked away as if embarrassed.
“That’s a relief. Me, either.” Hand in hand, they walked towards to rink and The Doctor smiled, even though it caught this heart. Rose…
Several of the small figures sat down on the Doctor’s bench. The closest one reached out and picked up the corner of The Doctor’s scarf. It was long and colorful, a favorite of a previous reincarnation of himself. When Christmas came around, he always wore it, just to remember those times and Sarah Jane… all the lost companions… he sighed, then felt his sleeve tugged.
The Doctor smiled. “Hello. I’m the Doctor”
The hood slid back and the fact that the small figure was bright yellow and had just one big eye should have surprised him, but he found so little did these days.
“To bida ko to tup uso ba,” translated into “You look like you could use this.” The figure offered him a paper cup of something.
“Should I say, gracias?” he asked and the figure’s eye grew even bigger.
“You understand me?”
“I do, with a little help from the TARDIS.” He sniffed the cup’s contents. “What is this?”
“Really good stuff! Egg nogggg….”
“I’ve heard about this stuff.” He took a swallow and then gasped. Suddenly a warmth started to spread from his stomach outward. “Wow, what’s in it?”
“Eggs and… nog stuff.”
“What are you?”
“Minions. We work for The Boss.” He nodded to the ice where Gru and Lucy were busy holding each other up and giggled.
Another minion ran up. The Doctor suddenly realized the little creature was holding a rat. A rat with a gem-encrusted collar and a leash, but a rat none the less.
“Santa! It’s Santa!” The little fellow was jumping up and down with excitement.
Stuart made a rude noise and shrugged his shoulders as he handed The Doctor another cup.
“Don’t be like that,” The Doctor chastised him as he took a long pull on the egg nog. His tummy was warm and happy now. “Why, Santa embodies all that is lovely and wonderful about this holiday.”
“See?” Bob looked hopeful, from Stuart to The Doctor and back. “Buddy? Please?”
Stuart blew another raspberry. “Todd?”
“Yeah, Boss?” Todd was tall and had two eyes.
“Bob wants to visit Santa.” Stuart’s voice was dripping with ennui.
“Yeah, okay, me, too.”
The Doctor stifled a yawn. “Maybe you should leave your little friend here,” he said to Bob, who looked confused from Todd to The Doctor. He pointed to the rat. “Santa might not approve.”
“He’s had his shots,” Stuart muttered. “Bob, too.”
“Okay!” Bob thrust the rat at The Doctor and ran off. Then he was back to give the rat a kiss. “Bye, bye, Poochie!”
The rat looked up at The Doctor as he finished his eggnog and tried to assume the air of someone very cool, cool enough to be holding a rat with a jewel-encrusted collar. “Good… um… Poochie.”
A small group of minions lined up in front of him, one holding a pitch pipe. He blew it and they launched into a chorus of Jingle Bells.
Another cup of egg nog appeared and The Doctor found himself joining in.
How much time had passed, he wasn’t really sure, which was very odd for a Time Lord. Usually they are all about time, but for some reason, it didn’t seem important. His feet seemed very far away at the moment.
“You okay, Boss?”
“Yes, just a little tired.” He got to his feet and swayed in place. The sun had gone down and it had gotten cold.
“We’ll take you home.” Stuart snapped his fingers and a mob of little yellow minions arrived. He should have been alarmed, but he simply felt too content.
“That’s okay. My place is just around the corner.” He made a gesture towards where he’d parked the TARDIS.
“Perhaps I could help.” The voice was warm and comforting. The Doctor looked over his shoulder and grinned.
“Doctor.” He looked down at the numerous paper cups on the ground. “Would one of you, the one who actually wants his stocking properly stuffed, pick those up? It’s the most wonderful time of the year to not litter, too.”
“I’ll do it,” The Doctor said, leaning over, but his balance wasn’t what it usually was.
Santa smiled and patted his shoulder. "It’s all right, Doctor. You take care of the planet enough.”
The Doctor opened his eyes and blinked wearily. He was in bed, his bed, and the TARDIS hummed a song around him. His head felt as if it were filled with sawdust and his mouth, well, word defied how it felt.
“What a crazy dream,” he muttered, sitting up. Then he stopped and rubbed his eyes. He blinked and rubbed them again. There, propped up on a chair, was a crudely drawn picture of himself holding a rat with a jewel-encrusted collar.
Than kew was scrawled across the bottom and The Doctor smiled. Perhaps, it wasn’t a dream after all, but rather just one more golden memory etched upon his mind...