Disclaimer: If I owned Doctor Who, Doctor/Rose would be canon and River would never have existed.

A/N: So this is something I've been wanting to write for quite a while because, as I have stated before, the Doctor and Rose are everything that is perfect in the world.

This will basically be a collection of fluffy snippets of their life together in the TARDIS. There's a bit of a plot if you squint, but not much more than that. Pure fluff (be careful how much you ingest at once). ;)

Allons-y!

. . .

Domestics

Mornings

The Doctor doesn't need much sleep. He may choose to – lying in bed, eyes closed, for a few hours is a pleasant way to pass the early hours of the morning. Rose swears he snores, he swears Time Lords do not snore (their superior biology does not allow them to) but he can't tell if she's joking. Besides, tinkering with the TARDIS in the early hours of the morning just as pleasant – if not more so, since it afforded Rose a decent night's sleep.

How humans – his pink-and-yellow one included – can possibly need so much sleep is beyond him. The Doctor has to forcibly stop himself numerous times from waking Rose up – at 3:00 AM, at 3:02 AM. . . . It gets boring amassing all the knowledge the universe has to offer when there is no one to share it with right that very second. He knows from experience though, that even if he may find the mating habits of the Sycorax absolutely riveting, Rose does not care at 4:30 in the morning, Doctor!

Therefore, he waits until a semi-reasonable time – 7:06 AM – before bounding into her room, excited as a puppy with his gorgeous (if he does say so himself) big brown eyes to match.

"Time to start the day, Rose Tyler!" he crows, bouncing up and down on the pink bedspread. Rose groans and buries her head in the pillow, grumbling about inconsiderate Time Lords and has he ever heard of a thing called beauty sleep.

The Doctor is quite used to such grumblings.

"You're beautiful enough," he reminds her. "Now – up, up!" He lifts the coverlet to expose her bare feet and she opens eyes still fuzzy with sleep to glare at him.

He only beams, step one on his mental checklist complete.

Step two – breakfast – is a bit more difficult. The TARDIS is constantly switching things around on him and in the fifteen minutes it takes Rose to stumble into the kitchen – hair a mess, still in her pink pajamas – he has only managed to unearth a potato masher and a chestnut-roasting pan. Where did they pick that up?

She only laughs at his befuddled expression, one which quickly changes to outrage as she reaches into a cupboard and pulls out a griddle. Rose selects the ingredients for banana pancakes with ease and he growls, muttering idle threats to the TARDIS under his breath.

Rose tells him she must know who the domestic one is.

The Doctor shakes a finger at her and ties an apron around his waist. "I'll show you domestic, Rose Tyler." He sets to chopping the bananas with relish while Rose adds the milk, eggs, and flour – what she would call more vital ingredients but what is more vital than bananas? – to a large mixing bowl.

Pouring the malleable batter onto the hot griddle, the Doctor uses his sonic to manipulate it into ridiculously intricate shapes before plopping the banana slices in, one by one. He slides several piping-hot Daleks onto a plate Rose hands him before starting on the next batch – Cybermen this time.

You know, most people just make hearts and smiley faces. Rose laughs and pops a piece of Dalek into her mouth.

The Doctor gives her a hard look – and then winks. "I don't do anything by halves, Rose Tyler."

But he makes hearts anyway – three of them – with the intensity one would reserve for surgery on that same organ. One comes out slightly wonky which, he holds firmly, are the way Time Lord hearts are supposed to look.

"None of that Valentine's Day nonsense for us," he tells her. "Do you know, I've never understood that holiday. What is it, a competition between gents for who can buy their wife more stuff? Or between women, for who gets the most? You know, once. . . ."

Amidst his rambling, Rose sets their plates on the table and he joins her. They drown the pancakes in syrup – the Doctor chops up another couple of bananas to put on top – and eat their way steadily through the pile. The Doctor knows there will be no running today.

Instead there is talking. Talking about planets they've been to – dangerous and non – and planets they plan to go to – dangerous and non. Talking about going to visit Jackie – she'd love to see you/she'd love to slap me; a sadist your mother is. Talking about Captain Jack's luck rebuilding the universe (the Doctor) and whether he might be interested in some dancing (Rose despite the Doctor's protestations).

I didn't mean me, Doctor! After all, you're the slim, foxy one, aren'tcha?

"And rude and not ginger! I think that might turn him off a bit."

Doctor, I have never seen Jack turned off in my life.

They talk about they will do (visit planets and save alien races), what they might do (visit Jackie. The Doctor accepts this as fact, he can never say no to Rose), who they will never, under any circumstances, do (Jack).

They talk instead of do and that's fine with the Doctor. Because right now he has Rose and he has banana pancakes and he is happy.

. . .

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! If you have a scene you would like to see, leave it in a review or PM me!