The Doctor (not_your_tardis) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2013-08-29 16:12:00 |
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No one could ever call The Doctor 'domestic'. The word just didn't fit. It even rolled off the tongue in a very strange way -- the kind of way that made your face scrunch up because you'd just licked a toad or eaten something truly awful. It was no a word he'd ever really accepted into his lexicon of 'adjectives he was willing to accept'. He'd even out-right balked at the idea when Rose had mentioned it once before...and that was a memory that had grown all the more prominent, now that the two were, you know, living together. Rose had been an exceptionally good sport about it though, and hadn't really batted an eye at how he'd disassembled things, or how he'd been pouring over ideas and designs for how to help the Quarian girl with her condition. He figured Rose knew it was better that he was busy working on something, especially if it kept him from fiddling with the stove too much. She'd even let him take the door off their apartment until they could get a doorbell -- and a very large sign that politely asked people not to knock. The Doctor appreciated that and, today, he had decided to take a break and do something nice for her. He'd waited until the two had both ventured out of the house and, while they left him to tinker and wrestle with whatever he did during the day, The Doctor got to work. He was going to cook....something. It shouldn't have been hard, right? Cooking was just simple chemistry and physics, just of an edible variety. Chemistry and physics were two of his best schools and he had the sonic, which meant ht wouldn't have to worry about the complications of actually working the oven. The dish had ended up being roasted chicken and vegetable, largely because The Doctor was unwilling to cook and go to the store (he needed his limits), but he figured it would be acceptable. Besides, it wasn't terribly complicated, even if the flouring of the chicken and wielding of the cutlery did get a little bulky. It wasn't that he didn't know how to cook, because he was nine hundred years old and that would have just been ridiculous, it was just that he didn't do it often. Now he just had to hope Rose didn't come home until it was done. By his calculations, which was his third best school, it should have been ready to come out right around the time she got home. If it didn't work out that way? Well...Maybe he could tell her there was another fire? No. The Doctor thought. That was probably not the best idea. |