A/N: This is my first Doctor Who story. Hope you enjoy!

Domesticity

She hadn't even noticed there was a kitchen for the first few months in the Tardis. They were always traveling, after all. It was stopping here, visiting there and meals were always taken out. That was part of the excitement for the Doctor. "Taste the local cuisine!" he would exclaim, eyes twinkling. So, she didn't know there was a kitchen until one particular slow day where she decided to take a look around the Tardis. It really was a remarkably large place to be crammed in such a small police box. Room after room she wandered, her hand running along the wall like a sensory breadcrumb to follow back.

She came upon a door that she didn't recognize and gingerly opened it, anticipation making her gnaw on her bottom lip. She had no idea what to expect. With the Doctor, she had learned to really expect nothing. Reality always ended up exceeding her expectations to the point where the latter really wasn't necessary. Still, she had a sort of vision for what would be behind the door. Something extraordinary. Something only he could explain. Instead, all she found was a rather ordinary looking kitchen.

She walked in, moving over to the stove. She turned a knob and a small flame rose from the clean grate. A turn off and she moved to the refrigerator, opening the door. She had done it more as a reflex (turn the knob-look in the fridge-) but she found herself looking at a fully stocked refrigerator. She stepped forward and pushed a few items to the side, eyes widening as she saw just how much food the Doctor seemed to have been hoarding. And that was when she got an idea.

The Doctor smelled something strange. He couldn't place the scent. It almost smelled as if something was burning, never a good sign on a space ship. Immediately he began to wonder if one of the transmission ports had gone on the fritz and he moved forward hastily. The smell grew stronger as he traipsed down the corridor. Yes, something was definitely on the fritz. And that something smelled absolutely vile.

Oddly enough, though, the smell seemed to be emanating not from the transmissions chamber, but instead a room that he distinctly remembered being the kitchen-not that he used the room often being a strictly fish-and-chips man. With so many wonderful fish-and-chips stand to visit across the galaxy, why touch an oven?

Gingerly he pushed open the door and saw that Rose did not share this sentiment. She was very much touching the oven. And the stove. A pot was bubbling on one flame-lit grate, a putrid scent hitting his nose that made him wince.

"Rose, what in the world are you doing?" he asked, covering his nose for a moment. Rose looked over at her shoulder toward him with one brilliant grin. It was then that it occurred to him that this stomach-churning scent was not affecting her. In fact, she didn't seem to be bothered one bit by it and it gave him the acute desire to run from the room as he easily ascertained what would could next.

As if to answer this horrible prediction Rose gestured to the table and said, "Sit down, Doctor! I've made us dinner!"

"We can get food," he said, babbling on, "So many new places to try! Why dirty up the kitchen?"
"Already dirtied," she said crisply. "So sit yourself down. I've made one of my mum's specialties!"

The Doctor swallowed hard, hands holding onto the table for dear life as he sat awkwardly. He didn't trust anything that came out of a Jackie Tyler recipe index, and he trusted it even less when made by her daughter. He would trust Rose with his life, but whatever was bubbling on that stove made him sure that he did not trust her in the kitchen.

"This was one of my favorite meals as a kid," Rose happily shared, stirring the mixture. The Doctor hesitantly craned his neck to see what exactly was in that pot. He turned his face away with a stricken look when he saw it resembled some sort of brown sludge. "Mashed beans!" she continued, babbling on with her one-sided conversation dotted with the occasional glance thrown back toward him. "With a touch of cream and salt and pepper! Better than more fish and chips, eh?"

Frowning morosely at the table he said, "But I like fish and chips."

"That's just because you've never had Jackie Tyler's famous mashed beans."

"Are they really famous?" he asked as she scooped large spoonfuls onto two plates. There was a bit of bread she had made in the oven, as well, and she gave them each hunk of the loaf. "Are they written up in books? Talked about across the galaxies?"

"They will be now," she said with a grin, setting the plate in front of him. "One bite and you won't be able to keep your mouth shut about them!"

The Doctor nodded in agreement with a blank grin. Yes, he reckoned he would have a bit to say about this dinner being forced on him. What he didn't reckon was that any of it would be positive.

Rose sat in front of him, looking at him expectantly as he looked just as expectantly back. Why in the world was she looking at him like that? It was unnerving, really, to have someone look at you so expectantly, even when it is a creature as pleasant as Rose Tyler.

"What?" he finally huffed.

"Well go on!" she exclaimed, gesturing to the plate of food. "Have a bit!"

"You going to stare like that?"

"You betcha," she said with a grin. "Want to see your face when you have your first bite of Jackie-"

"Jackie Tyler's famous mashed beans," the Doctor finished hurriedly. "Yes, yes I know."

"Well come on now," she snapped, not too keen on being interrupted. "Don't want it to get cold."

The Doctor didn't mind it getting cold if it meant that it was kept a moment's longer away from his mouth. Perhaps if it sat there long enough it would disappear from his neglect. He glanced at Rose and thought even if that were possible she would not budge an inch. Sighing, he picked up his fork and dug into the brown blob.

"You had to go all domestic," he muttered before forcing the fork into his mouth and beginning to chew.

Rose rolled her eyes slightly at his dramatics. Yes, he complained now but soon he would be singing her praises. Many a Tyler holiday had revolved around these beans, and she had complete faith in them. At least she did until the Doctor began gagging, eyes going wide as he leaned forward. His hands hit the table with a loud thump and she jumped.

"Doctor?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

Her mouth screwed up into a frown as she huffed, "Oh, now don't be ridiculous."

"Rose, but these are awful. Barely edible."

"You've just been up in the stars too long," she said sensibly, although her tone held the slightest edge. Clearly his rebuff had struck a chord. "Forgot what good home cookin' is like, yeah?"

"No, I remember it just fine. And it tastes nothing like that."

Rose felt her frustration hit a fever pitch and she dug her fork into her mashed beans as words failed her. She couldn't argue with him right now, so she would instead fight with example. She would show him how delicious these beans were. His taste was off. That was it. She shoved the beans into her mouth and began to chew. Yeah, she would show. She would-

"Ack," she said through a nauseating mouthful of beans, spitting them back onto her plate. These were not Jackie Tyler's famous mashed beans. She was sure she followed the recipe yet what she ended up with was something she wouldn't even feed a horse. She jumped from the table, desperate to find something to wash the taste from her mouth.

Behind her at the table, the Doctor laughed.

"You do not get to comment on this!" she said pointedly after drinking a large glass of water. She took both of their plates and dropped them straight into the garbage, closing the lid with one final clang that signaled the end of her short-lived foray into cooking.

"So," the Doctor began, stretching out at the table. He folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back and suggested, "Fish and chips?"

A/N: I would love any feedback you can offer!