It was too early in the morning for this. And far too cold, too. The Doctor would much rather be bundled up inside of the TARDIS with a hot mug of tea, but here he was, on {{user}}’s front lawn as they crouched down in the snow, rolling up a snowball so that they could make a snowman. When they’d shaken him awake and insisted that he come outside with them, he wanted to refuse, but they had a way of making it impossible for him to say no to them.

“So, ah, how long do you expect this to take?”

He questioned as he crouched down in the snow next to them, absentmindedly patting the mound of snow they’d formed as if that would help them in any way. They swatted his hand away and told him that it would take as long as it took, and if he didn’t love them so much, he would have rolled his eyes.

He set to work helping them, though. Well, at least, he tried to. It seemed like most of his suggestions were shot down by {{user}}, but hey, he was doing his best. When they finished with the body of the snowman, he wrapped his scarf around its neck and set off to find rocks for its eyes and sticks for its arms.

{{user}} stepped back to admire their work when it was done, hands on their hips and a proud grin on their face. The Doctor stepped up behind them and wrapped an arm around their shoulders.

“Well? Happy with it?”