A/N: Just a quick one shot. This hasn't really been edited or anything and I know it is late, but I wanted to put it up anyway!

- Erin

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or The Thick of It... obviously.

The warm scent of freshly baked gingerbread cookies carried down the long hallways. Multi-coloured Christmas lights and wreaths adorned the candy striped walls. The sound of snow covered boots squeaking against the old wooden floorboards broke the relative silence of the early morning. Malcolm wobbled his way sleepily towards the kitchen where he knew his wife would be baking up a fucking storm. As he approached the large red and green door, he heard the quiet sounds of humming through the clattering of pots and pans.

"Good morning, darling," Malcolm called to Clara when he entered the room. Her back was turned towards the door while she transferred her latest batch of gingerbread boys and girls from the baking sheet onto plates. "Busy day already?"

"Charlotte, be a dear and bring these into the dining room. There should be a spot on the table near the window. I'm going to take a small break while I talk to my husband." Clara passed off the plate to the shorter girl and wiped her flour covered hands on her apron. "You're awake early this morning, love."

"It is this bloody list the planning committee gave me a few weeks ago. I've only got a few more days to read over and finalize everything before they'll want it back to make preparations. "Malcolm rubbed at his forehead to ease the headache that was quickly starting to make an appearance. Clara chuckled and shook her head at her husband.

"Don't go wearing yourself out," she warned as she crossed the kitchen. Sitting herself gently in his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his chin. "Is there anything I can help you with; ease the work load a bit?"

"I wouldn't scold you for a cup of really fucking strong coffee if you've already made some."

Clara giggled and kissed his warm cheek before standing again to fetch him some breakfast and coffee in his favourite mug. Malcolm threw the book he was carrying open to a random page and started typing away on his cellphone that came from his pocket. The life of someone leading two is always busy.

"Holly says that the preparations for the party are coming along nicely. Seems all we do these days is prepare for one event or another. Hopefully everything will be ready for the big day though. It feels as though I've been making cookies non-stop the past few days. I could use a bit of a rest, or three." Clara informed Malcom a while later. His plate of food had since been cleared and multiple mugs of coffee had been gulped down greedily.

"Are you father and that wretched wife of his coming to the party again this year? My mother isn't sure if she's going to make it up—or so she says in her letter. Fucking woman wouldn't pick up a damn phone if her life depended on it. She knows it takes for ever to dig through all that mail." Malcolm mumbled the last part in annoyance.

"Well it isn't exactly like she can just take a plan here Malcolm," Clara reminded teasingly. "I spoke with my father on the phone last night, and apparently Linda says—"

"Love, I'm so sorry to have to cut you off, but I'm needed at Downing Street. Fucking Ministers can't even give me a bloody morning off without giving me a reason to sell their fucking balls and kidneys on the black fucking market for spare change."

Clara rolled her eyes at her husband's antics and followed him as he rushed out of the room and towards the front door towards the garage.

"Don't forget your coat and scarf! You'll freeze!"

"For fuck sakes, sweetheart! I haven't got all day." Malcolm turned on his heel and huffed.

"Oh, shush," she wrapped the red plaid scarf around his neck and handed him his black winter jacket. "Here, some hot chocolate for the road. We can't have you getting sick on Christmas."

"What would I do without you, darling?"

"Well you still haven't read through that list a second time, so I'm not sure how much help I am to you after all."

"That's bloody nonsense, sweetheart. Who the fuck is Santa without Mrs. Claus?"

Standing on the tips of her toes, Clara kissed her husband sweetly; keeping her balance with a hand on each of his shoulders. Malcolm wrapped his free arm around her waist to keep her close for just a moment long, letting out a growl when she pulled away. He pressed one last kiss to her neck and released her from his grasp.

Clara approached the reindeer at the head of the large, red sleigh while Malcolm had a few last words with the elves milling about. She patted the animal's heads and whispered words of encouragement to them before their take-off. When she reached the head of the group, she made sure to give Rudolph's nose an extra pat.

"Make sure you bring him home safely," she looked outside the garage's lone window and back at the reindeer. "Put that amazing nose of yours to good use. I need him in one piece."

The deer neighed at Clara and stamped his foot on the frozen ground in agreement.

"When are you going to tell him, Mrs?" one of the small boy elves asked Clara after a group of them had watched the sleigh take off.

"Christmas Eve of course?" Clara smiled down at the boy and rested a hand on her stomach. "What better time to tell Santa that he's going to be a father, than his favourite day of the year."

A/N: Well, let me know what you think!