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When it came to nursing a hangover, Clara Oswald knew that loud music from the floor above her was not the remedy to her pounding headache. It was the first of November, and she was still in her Halloween costume from the night before, yet inexplicable, the sounds from above were… Christmas music?
“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring tingle tingling too! Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!” The muffled tones of The Ronettes crooned.
Clara groaned. Rolling off of her bed, where she’d collapsed on top of the night, or perhaps morning before, she stomped out the door and up stairs to the offending apartment. She hadn’t gotten a chance to know any of her neighbors yet, having only moved in two months before, so she had no clue who awaited her behind the door. She knocked, groaning as she felt each rap rattling her brain. Finally, after knocking for far too long, the music level lessened and the door opened.
The woman before her was older, clad in purple and wrapped in Christmas lights that were flashing red and green. She blinked the brightest blue eyes at Clara, an almost manic smile on her face.
“Yessss?” said the woman, “Fancy a cuppa? I’ve got Frozen on.”
“Could you, ehm, turn your music down please?” Clara asked, “I live below you and it’s 6am- and November 1st, a little early for Christmas music.”
The woman’s eyes flicked up and down, taking Clara’s flapper costume complete with crooked headband. She narrowed her eyes and said, “I can change the volume of my music.”
Clara sighed with relief, “Thank you, I really appreciate-” but before she could finish, the door was shut in her face.
Back in her own apartment, Clara crawled back into bed, just in time to hear the music begin again, this time, far louder.
“OUR CHEEKS ARE NICE AND ROSY AND COMFY COZY ARE WE-”
…
Clara soon came to find out that the woman’s name was Missy and that she was entirely unreasonable. She stopped around at all hours of the day, refused to turn her obnoxious music off, and set the fire alarms off baking what she claimed to be cookies but in reality looked like hockey pucks.
Then, she left a tin of so-called hockey puck cookies on Clara’s door step.
It was war.
Clara retaliated, signing Missy up for junk mail, having pizza delivered to her apartment by pizza delivery people demanding payment, and stealing the festive red lightbulbs from the hallway.
Every day Clara would sneak upstairs and pull Missy’s doormat just an inch to the left, and everyday she’d hide in the hallway and watch Missy arrive home, notice the mat, and right it in a huff.
After about a week of the door mat shenanigans, Missy played Feliz Navidad for twelve hours straight.
…
The first snowfall came on the last day of November, and Clara celebrated by building a snowman on Missy’s doorstep. It was a feat, quietly hauling enough snow inside and up three flights of stairs, but she managed it almost without being caught.
The man who lived below her, who Clara came to know as The Doctor, stuck his head out of his door on her third trip up.
“Oh don’t tell me this is about your silly war,” he said, eyeing the bucket of snow.
“It’s not silly,” said Clara, a carrot sticking out of her pocket.
The Doctor gave her a look, “You’re both being ridiculous.”
“She started it!”
“I was talking to Missy the other day-”
“Fraternizing with the enemy, you mean.”
“Having tea and cake,” he corrected, “Remember she was my friend first.”
Clara shook her head, “I need to keep going, my snow is melting.”
After approximately seven million trips up and down the stairs later, she had constructed a five foot tall man made of snow. She rang Missy’s doorbell, darting away and back down the stairs. From the safety of her apartment, she heard the music stop, the door open, and then… laughter?
Missy was cackling above her.
…
The landlord did not like Clara’s snowman, but since it was out in front of Missy’s apartment, and she had no evidence that Clara had put it there, Missy was the one who got the lecture and not Clara.
But now Clara had a bigger problem. Missy wasn’t retaliating. She’d turned off her music- despite it now being an appropriate time to play Christmas music since it was December- and she’d stopped making her horrendous cookies. As the days went on, Clara was sure that the older woman was planning something huge, but soon, she just grew to miss their daily squabbles. Until one day, a note appeared on her front door.
Clara- come down to 105 tomorrow at noon. -Doctor
When Clara arrived, Missy was also waiting by the door.
“This has to be a mistake,” said Clara.
“No mistake,” said Missy, rolling her eyes, “Someone is always trying to meddle.”
The door swung open, and the Doctor grinned at both of them, “Now you have to kiss and make up- literally.” He jerked his chin upwards, and both Clara and Missy looked. Hanging above them was mistletoe.
“Doctor!” Clara cried.
“What the fu-” Missy began, equally mad.
The Doctor slammed the door then called from within, “You have to! Tradition and all that!”
“He is incorrigible,” said Missy.
“You know he tried to stop me from making that snowman?”
“No!” Missy gasped, “That was phenomenal. I wanted to fill your apartment with live mice and nutcrackers, but he wouldn’t let me.”
“Ah,” Clara blinked, “Well-”
“Are you kissing yet?” The Doctor called.
“We’re planning your demise!” Missy yelled back, then turned to Clara, “We should really get on with it. He won’t stop until he gets his way, obnoxious prick.”
It was then that Clara realized she wasn’t opposed to the idea of kissing Missy, in fact, it sounded rather nice. Missy was beautiful, in an arch way, all sharp cheekbones and an interesting nose. She looked down at Clara with hooded eyes, holding still for once, watching her intensely.
Clara stretched up onto her toes before she could lose her nerve, gripping the front of Missy’s jacket and kissing her square on the mouth. Missy kissed her back, deepening the kiss, tasting of coffee and chocolate and something spicy.
She was distantly aware that the Doctor had opened the door again, gleefully clapping that his plan had worked.
Then, she sucked Clara’s lip into her mouth and bit her.
Clara shrieked. Missy laughed.
“Don’t look like a wounded kitten, you liked it,” said Missy.
After rolling her eyes, Clara jerked her head towards the Doctor, “And what are we going to do about him?”
“Hey now,” the Doctor said, “You don’t need to do anything but thank me for fixing this mess.”
“I can think of a few things,” Missy replied, offering Clara her arm, “Care to discuss them at my place.”
“Wait a second-” the Doctor tried again, but Clara took Missy’s arm.
“Sounds delightful.”
“What have I done,” muttered the Doctor and the pair headed up stairs, and Clara and Missy couldn’t help but laugh.