DISCLAIMER: I do not own Doctor Who. Which ought to be a crime.

This is the start of a short food-related series based on the Doctor and Rose. I'm not sure if I'll keep it solely 9 Rose, or maybe introduce 10 later on. I guess it just depends on my mood. If you have any prompts/ideas, I'm more than willing to hear 'em. I don't have a set number of chapter or anything, so ideas would be…fantastic.

Reviews would also be fantastic. So send them my way please!

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He was doing some routine maintenance on the craft, lying under the consol on his back. The beaten up leather jacket had been slung over a piece of railing in frustration. Frustration that had not been directed toward his beloved ship, rather a certain companion. The sonic screwdriver, along with a few other foreign tool,s rested beside him spread out over some oily rag.

She took one look at him, heart dropping like a stone off the Tower of Pisa. This was all her fault. Sure, everything seemed okay. However, this little "The-TARDIS-needs-some-work-so-I'm-going-to-ignore-you-for –a-couple-of-hours" bit wasn't because the damn machine needed a new router or set of circuits. Well, that could've been part of it. But Rose was fairly certain it was her…unadvisable course of action from the day prior…was the cause of his grumpier than usual. Like he was going through three midlife crisis at once, plus menopause.

No matter how many times she started with a "You know I'm really—" or "Doctor, I—" he would cut her off with a grunt or snappish remark, asking that she hand him this-or-that.

One last attempt to gain some attention (a sigh and a long, searing glance), and Rose stood. If he wasn't going to let her apologize the traditional way, she would just have to be creative. Giving him one last look, the human slipped from the room.

Over an hour later, the Doctor was roused from his mechanical mess, nose tingling.

The smell was familiar. Suspiciously so. But he knew that it, quite obviously, did not belong; it was unnatural to his TARDIS. Following his nose, the Doctor found himself in the kitchen.

The rarely-occupied chamber was a right mess—flour hung in the air, drifting to lazily coat every surface with a fine layer of white, powdery dust. His twenty-third century mixer (a gift from saving some obscure bakery from the wrath of a sugar high Griftin) had been moved and the bowl sat in the sink, filled to the brim with soapy water. An assortment of bottles, boxes and bags littered the once-clean granite countertops. The oven was off, but cracked open to let built-up heat out as thought it had just been used. Banana peels sat on the top of the garbage. And in the midst of it all stood Rose Tyler.

There was a smudge of flour on her right cheek and another on her forehead, the one crinkled in concentration. She wore some long-forgotten apron. It was a yellow print, with bright red cherries dotted across surface. Lace lined the hems. Very girly.

"Rose Tyler, why are you destroying my kitchen?"

The teenager jumped at accusation. She had been entirely focused on filling the tiny, insolent muffin cups that rested on the counter before her.

"Oi!" She huffed, indigently. "I'm destroying nuffin'."

"What's all this, then?" He gave an over-exaggerated gesture to the room at large. "Trying to break the world record on biggest mess in a kitchen, eh?"

"No, nuffin' like that."

"What then?" He crossed over to her, arms crossed. Rose looked up at the alien, mimicking his actions.

"I was cookin' breakfast."

He was a bit floored at this. Usually he did the cooking, or let the TARDIS handle the menu. Rose hadn't so much as touched the stove in her time here. "Why?"

At this, the young woman turned a lovely shade of pink. "'Cos I wanted to."

"Rose."

"I just did, okay?"

"C'mon Rose, what drove you to cook for yourself?"

"I just wanted to. Let you take a break. I was trying to be nice."

This was a terrible lie. Terrible simply because Rose was a horrid liar. A lie because of the way she refused to meet his gaze, instead tossing her head and turning back to her paper cups. Using measured motions, she scooped a dollop of batter into each cup.

"Rose, tell me." He commanded. "Did you make…banana muffins?"

"It was supposed to be an apology!" She snapped, smacking the spoon on the side of the metal bowl. Ignoring both the irate girl before him and the annoying ringing caused by the bowl, the Doctor forged on. Her moodiness was a surprise, and added to her sudden need to bake, he knew Rose Tyler was discontent. He intended to figure out why by addressing the reasoning behind the first symptom.

"You made banana muffin for me, Rose Tyler?" He was outright grinning. Nobody had ever made him an apology gift before. Well, no one had ever baked him an apology gift. "What for?"

"Oh, like you don't know!"

"No, really I don't."

The girl placed her hands on her hips, glaring up at the 900-year-old alien. He was amazed to see excess water twinkling in her eyes. Unshed tears? What was she crying for? He hadn't yelled at her, called her an ape or anything. "'Cos I disobey you. Nearly got us killed again, yeah? Because I didn't listen."

Now this really stunned him. "You think Nero launching a manhunt throughout Rome was your fault?"

"Well, yeah. It is, iddit?" Now the waterworks had begun. Truth be told, it wasn't a pretty sight. Not only were her eyes red, but her mascara and eyeliner began to clump and streak, sending grayish, watery lines down her soft cheeks.

Shaking his head sympathetically, the Doctor gathered her in his arms, rubbing the her shoulders. "Rose, it wasn't your fault. He just did what was his nature. History wasn't rewritten."

This did not appear to resolve the issue. He rubbed harder, burying his face in her soft hair. "B-but p-pe-people will still die!"

He was at a loss for words. How to explain that the most notorious Roman emperor disposed of many in his time, that a few more didn't affect the course of history…"Rose, people were already dying. None of this was your fault. If not you, than somebody else. It's one of those things already written, Rose. Bound to happen."

This did appear to help in a bit. At least, she didn't start crying harder this time. "People are gonna die. 'Cos of what I did."

The Doctor shakes his head. "No, they're going to die because he is a coward. Not because you did the right thing and stood up for yourself."

"Still. I didn't listen to you, and people are—got," She corrected herself before he could. "Hurt. I should've listened."

"Nah. Just proves you can't always listen to daft old me. You did what you thought was right. I can't blame you."

"I was stupid."

"You were brave."

"You could've gotten hurt."

"But I didn't. See?" He held out his arm, the one the legion had gripped so tightly. "Not even a scratch."

"I almost altered the course of history!"

"No, I would've stopped that."

"Doctor!"

"Rose!" He mimics in a falsetto. "You did nothing wrong. Now how are these muffins?"

"I dunno."

He plucked one from the plate that rested on the dining table. Peeling back the paper wrapping, he took a bite. Chewing, he cast a thoughtful glance toward the ceiling. Rose wiped the corners of her eyes, watching him.

"Any good?"

He grinned. "Fantastic."

"Liar."

He held up his hands defensively. "If I didn't know better, Jackie Tyler's daughter had been swapped at birth for you."

Rose laughed, reaching for her own muffin. Slowly tearing off her own wrapper, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. "So…you're not mad."

"Nope. Not a bit."

"Okay."

They ate, avoiding eye contact until:

"Why would you think I was mad?"

Rose shrugged, tossing her paper wrapper in the bin and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "I dunno. It's just…you've been all quiet. Moody. Thought maybe it was somethin' I did."

"No, no Rose. I was…upset. About yesterday."

She crinkled her nose in confusion. "But I thought you said—"

"It wasn't you." He cut across her, arms folding once more. His eyes seared into hers, emotions bluntly stated in those blue orbs. "I was angry at myself. For putting you in danger, once again." There was a harsh laugh that had no humor behind it.

"We're in danger every day." Rose reminded him, edging closer. "Can't think of a single day we're not."

"Yes, but yesterday…yesterday I meant for us to have a break. No running. No deaths. Just a pleasant day in 50 BC Rome."

"When Nero was rulin'?" She teased.

He rolled his eyes heavily. "For your information, Rose Tyler, Nero was known for advancing the arts and trade in his empire. He focused a good deal of his attention on diplomacy and increased the cultural capital of the empire. Brilliant man. His reign included a very successful war and negotiated peace with the Parthian Empire , the suppression of the British revolt and he vastly improving relations with Greece. Well, you know those Greeks, always got something to say about somethin'. The persecutions were highly exaggerated. You know what they say about the victors and writing history. And I thought it was going to be peaceful."

"Right. How 'bout a cuppa tea, then?"

The Doctor sat down, taking another muffin. "Flew right over your head, didn't it?"

Carelessly, Rose filled the kettle and set it on the stove. "Yeah, pretty much."

"You don't appreciate me!" he exclaimed. "Got more than a thousand library's worth of information in my head, me. And you don't make use of it."

"Of course. That's right."

He frowned. It was not like Rose to ignore him. "Rose?"

"Mmm?" She was reading the back of the tea box, completely intent on the brand's promise of quality and fresh taste.

"Oi, I was talkin'!"

"Oh, were you? Sorry." She murmured something beneath her breath that was decidedly rude.

The Doctor grinned. "What was that?"

"I said, 'Like you ever stop.'" Rose repeated in a louder voice.

He paused from his muffin, looking up slowly. Rose had her back turned, fiddling with the stove. He steadily finished off the pastry, then crept up behind his distracted companion. Placing either hand on either side of the counter, effectively trapping her, the Doctor bent to whisper in the human's ear.

"Rose Tyler, like you have any room to talk. You could talk for planet Earth."

She let out a shrill shriek, spinning around to smack the Time Lord who was roaring with laughter. Who promptly stopped laughing to chase the girl who had duck beneath his arms.

He wasn't sure if he was going to catch her (though he probably could, if he really tried). Still, he had a feeling they were going to have a fantastic day.

Does anybody have any ideas for a better title?

I would love some reviews!