Despite being absolutely exhausted, the Doctor was sitting up in his hotel bed, unable to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could focus on was the sound of Rose’s quiet breathing as she slept in her own bed a few feet away. She was always distracting to him but now, in this new human body, he was singularly focused on her. And, really, it made a lot of sense when he thought about it. Human hormones aside, without a TARDIS and the entire universe at his fingertips, she was all he had. What surprised him was how content he felt.
He rubbed his eyes and looked over at Rose, curled up under her duvet and an extra blanket. He had convinced her he didn’t need it when she offered it to him. She cocked her head skeptically at him in that way he loved and had missed terribly. But, Bergen in winter was freezing and he would never allow her to shiver.
The Doctor checked the clock on his bedside table. The red, glowing numbers said it was 9:30 am. Smaller numbers told him it was December 24th. He chuckled softly to himself. At least he wasn’t in a coma this Christmas. Well, he didn’t think he would be.