Inspired by a post from the lovely chocolatequeennk.
The Doctor followed his nose into the rather large kitchen of the Tyler mansion. It was either very, very late, or very, very early, depending on your perspective, but Rose was busy at the sink, washing up cooking implements. A lovely, warm, cheesy smell filled the room.
"Rose, love, what are you up to?" he asked curiously.
Rose flushed as she turned to face him. "I was…a bit homesick, if you must know."
He didn't really have any words for that, so he stepped up beside her and laid a hand on the back of her neck and pressed his lips to her temple. "Your dad has staff for this sort of thing, you know."
"I know," Rose replied in a small voice, "but it's not what I'm used to."
He didn't quite know what to say to that, either, so he picked up a dish towel. "Let me help," he offered.
Rose raised an eyebrow at that.
"I promise not to break anything."
She smiled and passed him a pot to dry.
"What are you making? It smells wonderful."
"Tuna casserole. And no, it doesn't have bananas."
"Rose Tyler, I'll have you know that I'm entirely aware that bananas are not compatible with every single item of cuisine in the galaxy."
She smiled at that, just as he'd been hoping.
"Doesn't mean you can't have 'em for desert, though," he couldn't resist adding.
Rose laughed outright at that, and something inside the Doctor relaxed, just a tiny bit.
"Is it ready to eat yet?" he wheedled. "It smells really good."
Rose checked the oven. "Yup. Nice and bubbly." She carefully lifted the casserole dish and set it on top of the stove. "Oi!" She slapped his hands away. "You'll burn your fingers, you daft idiot. Also, you're dishing this up with a spoon when it's had a chance to cool a bit."
The Doctor pouted a bit, but went off in search of spoons and bowls.
They were settled at the kitchen table with their bowls of cheesy goodness. (The Doctor was on his second.)
"Why tuna casserole?" he asked curiously. "It's delicious," he hastened to add, "but your dad can afford filet mignon and Dover sole and what-all-else that posh people eat."
"But that's the thing…I'm not posh people. I'm just…this is what I'm used to. I just wanted something familiar, is all. This is what I grew up on…things you could make from tins and boxes from Tesco."
"I'd never have thought this came from tins," the Doctor said candidly.
Rose took that as the compliment it was intended - especially the way he was shoveling food into his mouth.
Pete wandered in, rumpled and yawning. "Something smells good. Got enough for your poor old dad?"
"Help yourself," Rose invited. "I hope we didn't wake you."
"S'fine," Pete replied, loading up a bowl. He sampled a spoonful before moving to the table. "Mmmm. My mum used to make this. Haven't had it in ages. Cooks don't like to make this sort of thing. Thanks, love."
"Any time, Dad."
"What on earth's going on here?" Jackie shrilled, using far too many decibels for the hour.
"Just a little midnight picnic, love," Pete said soothingly. "Come join us."
Jackie padded over in her pink fluffy slippers and dressing gown. She poked at the casserole dish. "Tuna?" She turned back to the table and pointed to the Doctor. "This one takes you all over the galaxy, to all sorts of fancy places, and your father here has a professional chef, and you come down here in the middle of the night to make a tuna casserole?"
"Jax, it's Rose's home too. She can come down here and cook whatever she wants, whenever she wants," Pete said firmly. "Especially since she's willing to share." He winked at his daughter.
"Oh, all right then…give us some," Jackie acquiesced, filling up her own bowl.
"Feeling better?" the Doctor asked, as they were cleaning up the last dishes.
"I am, thanks," Rose replied.
He wrapped his arm around her waist as they turned off the lights. He'd never quite understood the human notion of comfort food. He'd always found his best comfort in her.