Author's Notes: I do not own Doctor Who. Now, to set up, this is part of the Regarding Mrs Smith universe and inspired by the 50th Anniversary Special. I am intending to do my take for this universe on the 50th, but I think since I work in retail it's going to have to wait until after the new year with the other stories I have going on if you want a Christmas special that's done around Christmas. So, just assume some version of that happened and it was awesome. Another note, as I understand it there is a film called Nativity 2 with David Tennant and largely the same premise in it. That film is unavailable in the US so I've seen about five minutes of it on YouTube and while that slightly inspired the premise, I have no idea what happens in it so if I happen upon something else similar I don't own it and it was a coincidence. Thank you so much and happy reading!

Christmas.

The very word struck terror in the Doctor's hearts.

Mind you, it didn't used to. Back before he married Donna, it had just been an odd Earth festival that he usually had to save. Then he had to start spending them in order. The first year, it had been just Donna... and the Taluvians. The next year, it had been just Donna and Zara and the time-traveling reindeer. The next year it was Donna and Zara and Chloe, the trip to Harrod's, the ice skating in Winter Wonderland, taking them to the pantomime, shopping and then he had to save the entire city from some snowmen that already seemed to know him, which he supposed was an issue for another day. The next year it had been all that and saving Earth from some evil pixie dust. The previous year it had been all the usual errands and Geoffrey and meeting Alex and the evil toy corporation and saving the Earth and restoring the faith of children in Father Christmas.

It was Fireworks Night. Donna had gotten tickets to three separate Christmas pantos and none to see Richard II and the Doctor had managed to save Parliament from a risen from the dead Guy Fawkes. Donna thought this was as good a time as any to begin listing the Christmas chores for the Doctor as they laid in bed.

Her belly was a rather pleasing bump now and the Doctor watched her rub lotion onto it.

"Do you think we should see Father Christmas at Harrod's again?," asked Donna. "I know we've done it every year, but there's a train at Selfridge's and I wonder if Geoffrey wouldn't have more fun at that."

This was exhausting the Doctor already.

"I thought it might be nice to get a portrait of the children this year," said Donna. "I know it's a bit cheesy, but it could be my mum's present. She always complains there aren't enough 'normal' pictures of them to show her friends."

"Whatever you think, Donna."

"She wants to have her party here this year."

"Here?," asked the Doctor.

"Yeah, she says our house is bigger, of course, she doesn't seem to care about all the work it is hosting a party in a house with three small children. Or she's expecting me to say no so she can hold it over my head. Either way, I've already agreed."

"Right..." said the Doctor, the memory of Geoffrey's recent first birthday party looming large in his mind.

"Oh, I'm also in charge of the Christmas party for Chloe's nursery class."

"What?," asked the Doctor.

"And Geoffrey's playgroup."

"Donna..."

"I know, I know, but we've got to get to know some of the other parents otherwise they'll never let their children come over to play."

"Other children?"

Donna turned and looked at him. "Remember?"

The Doctor nodded. "Right, yes, the whole friends thing."

"That reminds me, the Parents' Council meeting at Zara's school is tomorrow and it conflicts with playgroup so I need you to go."

"The Parents' Council?," asked the Doctor.

"Yes, you only have to do one thing," said Donna.

"Which is what?"

"There's a posh bitch called Poppy Taylor-Thomas in charge. She's been running the school. I think she might have had her youngest just to make sure she didn't lose power. Anyway, she'll want volunteers for the Christmas pageant. Just say we're too busy and try to get on the party committee for the reception classes."

"The Christmas pageant?"

"Yeah, apparently it's a big do, the whole school is in it, we just need to steer clear of it."

"Why?"

"Doctor, trust me, you do not want to be stuck working for this woman on the Christmas pageant."

The next day the Doctor made his way to Zara's school in time for the Parents' Council meeting. It was a nice place with Christmas crafts and artwork lining the halls. Zara had been very happy coming here in between their travels and that was all that mattered to the Doctor as opposed to the litany of reasons Donna gave the Doctor when he protested his children going off to spend the day with well-intentioned strangers.

Which he only did once a week now.

"You're new here."

The Doctor turned to see a tall woman, actually his height with a friendly face. She seemed cheerful.

"Yes, hello, I'm the Doctor..." He took her hand and corrected himself. "John Smith. I'm Zara's dad. Blimey, you have a grip."

"Oh, Kate Hepworth. Alistair's mum. He and Zara are in the same class."

"Oh, right," said the Doctor.

"Donna couldn't make it?"

"No, playgroup conflict."

"That's too bad," said Kate. "Donna's usually the only part of these blasted meetings that's any fun. Well, and the biscuits."

"Ooh! Biscuits!," said the Doctor, noting the refreshments table.

Kate led him to a seat.

"So, you're not big on these meetings?," he asked.

"Well, to tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind pitching in, but Poppy's running a work camp, not a council. Rumor is, she actually made the Head Teacher cry last year."

"Blimey," said the Doctor.

"Someone really should stop her," mused Kate.

"Alright, let's begin," a voice rang out.

The Doctor turned. A woman with dyed blonde hair sat at the head of a table and banged a gavel.

"She has a gavel," the Doctor commented.

"That's the least of it," Kate whispered.

"I'm Poppy Taylor-Thomas, president. Now, I'm sure we all remember at our last meeting the disappointment I expressed that the dining hall has not been using organic eggs..."

"Organic eggs?," the Doctor whispered to Kate.

She nodded. "Oh, Poppy wants everything organic. Except her hair and probably her backside."

They listened to some more on the organic eggs debate, then a report on how the school auction was coming along.

"Now, the Christmas pageant," said Poppy. "We all know it's coming and that I'm the only one who can run it..."

"Is that true?," the Doctor asked.

A hush fell over the room.

"I'm sorry?"

The Doctor stood. "Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself. John Smith. I'm Zara's dad."

Poppy looked him up and down. "Donna's husband?"

"Yes, that's the one. Anyway, I was just thinking, how do we know you're the only one who can run it? As I understand it, you've never let anyone else run it. How hard can it be?"

"Don't say that," Kate whispered.

"How hard can it be?," Poppy asked back. "I suppose you would like to run it."

"Well, I could..."

"I've been president of this council for ten years-"

"Well, yes, we've all been president of a council," said the Doctor. "Sometimes as president, you have to step down and give someone else a chance. Otherwise you're not a president, you're a tyrant."

"You can't run the pageant. Your girl's in reception."

"Yes, but luckily, I've graduated reception," said the Doctor.

"Let's put it to a vote," said Poppy.

"Yes, let's vote," said the Doctor. "And mind you, a vote for Poppy is a vote to let her rule you all the days of your lives... or something."

"All in favor that I run the pageant, raise your hands..."

A few of Poppy's flunkies raised their hands.

"All for John Smith," Poppy said stiffly.

At that moment, the Doctor realized he might have made a mistake.

Then the hands went up. Almost all of them.

Oh, yes, this was a mistake.

"Well, then, meet your new director, John Smith," Poppy said smugly.

Kate walked with the Doctor as they went to reception. Everyone had congratulated the Doctor and his victory and she was no exception.

"This is all terribly exciting," said Kate. "No one has ever stood up to Poppy like that before. You're my hero."

"Christmas pageant, how bad could it be?," asked the Doctor.

"Right," said Kate.

"I mean, we just need the nativity set up, papier-mache animal costumes, a little girl who sings flawlessly and at the end the Prime Minister appears."

Kate laughed. "Oh, you're a funny one."

"In what way?"

"Well, that Love Actually reference you just made."

The Doctor's face dropped. "You mean they're not all like that?"

"No." Kate paused. "John, you have seen a Christmas pageant, haven't you?"

"No."

"Well, haven't you been in one?," asked Kate. "I mean, everyone's been in one."

"They didn't have them where I went to school."

"Where was that?"

"Gallifrey."

"Is that in Ireland?"

"I wish it was sometimes."

"Well," said Kate, "look on the bright side, you don't have to get the Prime Minister."

"Bright side? That was the one thing I was certain I could do!"

The classroom door opened. The children ran out and Zara bounded up to the Doctor.

"Hi, Daddy!"

"Hello, my Zara," he said, scooping her up and giving her a kiss. "Good news."

"What?"

"I'm in charge of the school Christmas pageant."

"What?," asked Zara looking like her mother.

"Here is my mobile number, John," said Kate handing the Doctor a piece of paper. "We can meet up for tea and chat after the school run tomorrow if you want."

"Oh, brilliant," said the Doctor.

Kate and her boy left.

"Daddy, do you know how to make a Christmas pageant?"

"Zara, I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord. I'm nine hundred and ten years old. I'm the Oncoming Storm, I- I, no, no, I don't really have any idea. Do you?"

"I'm in reception."

"That was the same sorry excuse you had when I asked you to help me stop that asteroid."

The news did not go over as well with Donna as the Doctor might have hoped. The children had gone to sleep, Donna was working on the Christmas cards and the Doctor casually mentioned that he was the new creative director for the Christmas Pageant.

"You did what?!," she screeched.

"I am running the school Christmas pageant," said the Doctor. "Well, they begged me, really..."

"What did I say? What did I tell you not to do?"

"Yes, I know, but things happen and I was caught up in the heat of the moment..."

Donna shook her head. "You have to tell them you can't. Say you're dying. Say I'm dying. Say everyone's dying."

"Donna, it's just a Christmas pageant."

Donna laughed. Then she laughed again in a manner the Doctor found disconcerting, like something the Master might have done. "Just a Christmas pageant? Just a Christmas pageant?!"

"I've already got another parent on board," said the Doctor.

"Oh, God," said Donna. "One other parent! Doctor, do you have any idea how much has to be done?"

"I've put in calls to David Cameron's office."

"What does David Cameron have to do with anything?!"

"You know, the bit at the end."

"I'm going to bed," said Donna. "If I wasn't pregnant, I would be taking a bottle of wine, but that will just have to wait."

"Donna..."

"You are on your own, Time Boy."

Donna stormed upstairs as the Doctor sighed. He looked to Esther.

"What do you think?"

The dog buried her nose under her paw.

The Doctor sighed and realized he heard the TARDIS brakes grinding.

Which was strange as he was looking at the TARDIS in its spot in the sitting room.

A pebble hit the window. He walked over and looked out to see the TARDIS.

And his future.

"Out here, sand shoes!," Eleven shouted.

"Chinny," he grumbled.

The Doctor walked outside. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to help with the Christmas pageant," said Eleven.

"What?"

"And look!," he said. "Look what I've got!"

Eleven ducked back into his TARDIS and came out with a papier-mache lobster head.

"Papier-mache heads! I've finally gotten them all done! It's like a zoo in here!"

"Except you can't because we know you can't go back on your personal time line."

"Oh, come on, if that were really true, we wouldn't have a personal time line to go back on. Besides, you need my help and you know it. At the very least, I've spent four hundred more years collecting an absolutely stunning collection of children's Christmas pageant costumes."

"Just one problem."

"I suppose you're referring to the ginger goddess we're married to?"

"The one I'm married to!"

"Same thing. Come on, sand shoes. My children are all grown-up! I don't get to have this sort of fun any more. The Parents' Councils never seem to want the help of a five times great-grandfather. They still want me to buy wrapping paper which I can't quite figure out."

"Not the same thing." The Doctor shook his head. "No."

"Please say yes," said Eleven.

"And why should I?"

"Because," said Eleven, "someday you'll be the one asking."

There was that. So, because he would be the one asking and because it would at least mean two other parents would be helping him- even if they were only technically two total- he decided to relent.

"Fine," the Doctor groaned as Eleven clapped his hands together. "We're meeting Kate tomorrow for a tea after the school run."

"Excellent," said Eleven. "I'll be there."

"Oh, I bet you will, chinny..." the Doctor muttered as he went back in the house.