Chapter Text
Females and their dressing rituals. The whole universe is out there and she's putting on eyeliner. Typical. The Doctor paces another impatient circuit around the console.
Then he smells something he hadn't noticed before. The telepathic giggle of his TARDIS plainly tells him that she didn't want him to notice it before now.
The scent of something cooking leads him down the corridor. He knows what he'll find before he gets there (superior senses, him) but he's still gobsmacked when he opens the galley door.
Rose is there, wearing her pajamas and busily frying sausage. She welcomes him with a huge smile, her beautiful face free of makeup. His hearts stutter in his chest. The Doctor thinks that maybe he can put up with some domestics.