Kathryn Moore, usually known as Katie, was standing in the doorway of the TARDIS's kitchen, blinking. She had been traveling with the Doctor for four and a half weeks now, but she still hadn't seen a sight so odd before.

The Doctor, that mad, wonderful, insane, anything-but-domestic Time Lord, was sashaying about the kitchen, cooking. He had on one of those white chef's hats, and an embroidered fuchsia apron with borders in a shade of black that somehow managed to be obnoxious. The embroidery consisted mostly of the phrase "Kiss me, I'm a different species" in 32 different languages, only one of which was Earth based.

"I like the color on you, but I am not doing what the words say," she commented dryly.

The Doctor whirled around to face Katie. The domestic picture was completed as she saw the bowl of some kind of batter in the crook of one arm as he stirred it with a whisk. She couldn't hold back the smile any longer and laughed.

"Oh, how I wish I had a camera. I could hold this over your head for years to come."

The Doctor got an odd look on his face for a fraction of a second, only to replace it with an unashamed expression. "I happen to have gotten this apron from Julia Child after helping her subdue one of her cooking creations when she used Fra'que eggs instead of pepper. Not a pleasant experience. Too much butter."

"And just what, exactly, brought on this desire to make breakfast? I thought you never ate breakfast."

He looked blankly at her. "I don't. But ever since we stopped in to visit Marie Antoinette a two weeks ago, I decided to pull out my culinary skills again."

Katie half-smiled, remembering the adventure. "Yeah, that was a fun trip. Well, except when we stayed too long and almost got caught in the middle of the French Revolution. You know, I never would have thought that the only reason the history books quote her as responding to her starving people, "Let them eat cake," was because she was organizing a party at the same time."

"Never trust history books," he told her sternly, pointing the whisk at her. A blob of batter plopped to the floor.

"Just what are you making," Katie questioned, walking over to the stove. Pleasant surprise flashed across her face. "Flapjacks!"

"Pancakes. This is not an oat bar."

"No, flapjacks. That's what we called them where I lived."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her. "Where do you get a name like 'flapjack' for a pancake?"

That made Katie pause. "I don't know. I'd have to look that one up." She turned away from him and started going through the cabinets. "Now, where did you try to hide my coffee beans this morning? Or did you decide to throw out the grinder again." Even after a four and a half weeks of no longer being human, Katie still loved coffee. It was an ongoing argument with the Doctor, whether coffee or tea tasted better. He was constantly throwing out or hiding her coffee in an attempt to get her to stop, but she always produced a secret stash or found it.

"Neither. I made you coffee."

"You did what?" Katie spun around staring at him in shock, though it was tempered with good-natured teasing. "You actually tried to make a cup of joe?"

"There is a whole series of events behind that name, but yes I did," the Doctor said, smiling at her.

She looked at him suspiciously. "What did you add to it?"

"Nothing. It's just straight black coffee," he told her, pointing at the counter where a steaming cup was sitting. "Tell me what you think."

Katie sighed. "I suppose it's my punishment for my attempts at making tea. Black coffee made by a coffee hater in a coffee pot."

"I didn't use the coffee pot. I used your percolator."

The horror in Katie's eyes was genuine. "You used my percolator!" Ignoring the spiting griddle she had to reach over, she snatched her percolator from its place at the back of the stove and started talking to it as she dismantled it.

"What did he do to you? Oh, you'd better be okay. If you're damaged I'm going to kill him." Satisfied that nothing was wrong, she whirled on the Doctor. "Don't - touch - the percolator! I got that from Benjamin Thompson for Christmas in 1793! Well, technically I made it first, but still!"

Unflustered by her outburst, the Doctor just pointed at the cooling coffee mug. "Drink."

Still glowering at him, she drank half in one gulp, frowned, and sipped. Still peering curiously at the mug, she took a spoon out of the drawer and dipped it into her cup. It came out covered in grainy goop. "Just how did you make this coffee before cleaning the percolator?"

"I filled the canister with the holes in the lid with coffee grounds, and the rest with water. How else do you make coffee in a percolator?"

"That's all? You didn't add anything else."

The Doctor got a sheepish look. "Well, I might have put some grounds in the bottom of the pot."

With a chilling calm, Katie gazed at him with half-lidded eyes. "How much."

"A cup."

"No wonder this stuff is mud! You don't add extra grounds to the rest of it! Aw man, this is probably clogged now. I don't care how well you cleaned it. From now on, please don't try to use the percolator. I'm picky about my coffee."

"Don't need to get all twisted up about it. Just a coffee maker."

"It's not just a coffee maker, it's my percolator. I'll bet you planned this, just to get me to stop drinking it. You'd better pull out one heck of an adventure to make up for ruining my coffee."


Half and hour later, Katie was still smoldering. She had grudgingly admitted that the Doctor's pancakes were the best she had ever eaten, but bad coffee first thing in the morning was not something she forgot easily. Currently, she was leaning against a wall, watching the Doctor dash about throwing levers. Usually, this was her favorite part.

Vworp vworp vworp. Thoum.

"Landed!" He dashed towards the door, that grin on his face. Katie was hard put not to smile back.

"So when are we this time?"

The Doctor made an exaggerated bow as he opened the TARDIS door with a creak. She cautiously walked up to it, and could hardly believe her eyes.

"Kathryn Moore, welcome….to the American Revolution."


*Constructive critisisim welcome, praise happily accepted, flames not wanted*