Sunday Morning

Birds twittered and chattered away in the tree just outside the window. Their songs penetrated Rose's calming sleep and forced her into a rude awakening. Before she even bothered to open her eyes, she flipped over, onto her stomach, and pulled her wrinkled and unevenly stuffed pillow over her head. The birds songs wouldn't be muffled. Somehow, the sound seemed to be echoed through the fabric of the pillowcase. With a groan, Rose cracked her eyes open.

The sunlight streamed through the corner of the window, beaming a triangle of tiny floating dust particles in the air at the edge of the bed. The covers were strewn all over, reflecting its inhabitants' fitful and dream-filled sleep. Rose sat up slowly, keeping as much of herself as she could beneath the covers. With a glance to the clock beside her, she read that it wasn't even seven A.M. yet. Silently, she questioned why birds liked waking up so early.

Her shoulders slumped back into the soft mattress, hand raising to her eyes like a mask. With the birds practically screeching outside, it would be impossible to fall back asleep, but she wasn't about to give up hope.

Her hand pulled away from her face and she raised an eyebrow at her sleeping companion. The Doctor was still sound asleep, his breathing slow and even. His hair was tousled all over the place, the way Rose silently loved, as were his blankets. One half was almost completely hanging over the side of the bed rather than laying on top of him. Rose's fingers worked through his hair gently, lips pursed in a slight frown. Had he had another nightmare? Was he still in one?

Mostly what Rose wondered was how the man could possibly be sleeping so peacefully when the birds in the yard were shouting like they were.

Beep! Beep!

So much for peaceful and quiet. Another groan released from Rose's throat. The alarm. How had she forgotten to turn off the alarm? Her eyes rolled as she wacked the button on the infernal contraption beside her. They had set it yesterday so they would go on a morning run (as if that was ever going to happen), but Sundays were for sleeping. The alarm should know that. At least, Rose thought so.

The Doctor turned onto his side, so that he was facing Rose, and lowered his eyebrows. Quietly, he muttered incoherently. Rose stroked his hair gently with her thumb. "Just go back to sleep."

The Doctor's eyes opened slightly, taking in Rose's sleepy, yawning features. A smile curled his lip. "Morning."

Rose returned his smile with a warm one of her own, "Morning."

The Doctor rolled over and jumped out of bed in one swift motion, causing Rose's head to pop up, eyes blinking at her husband. The man's grin spread across his face. "Pancake Sunday, right?"

Rose covered her eyes with a hand, but her smile remained undimmed. "You have too much energy in the morning."

"The perks of being half Timelord."

Rose shook her head as she sat up and lowered her hand from her face. As the Doctor's beaming grin entered her view, she couldn't help but return it with one of her own, allowing her tongue poking through her teeth as she laughed.

Slowly, the sound disipated and left a calming silence in the room. The birds chirps softly filled the space, and or once Rose didn't find them annoying. Their songs were actually quite pretty now that she was up and awake.

For a moment, the young woman merely stared, mind absent, at the scene around her. The Doctor was standing expectantly beside the bed she sat on, his hair still Ruffles and clothes wrinkled from a good night's rest. Above his cheeks were te unmistakable dark circles of sleepiness, though his eyes were shining with joy that stretched his lips across his face. It was mornings like this that Rose realized how lucky she was. They had been separated, but they had found each other agai but. Against all odds; against all hope. Sometimes she thought it was a dream, but no, this was real. The Doctor and her, living a completely ordinary, boring, human life. And it was wonderful.

"So...pancakes?"

Rose blinked out of her reverie and nodded her head in reply. "Yeah, yeah...pancakes."

The Doctor's hand appeared in front of her, and she took it with her own, using their bond to raise herself up out of the comfy, soft blankets. Her bare feet padded onto the hardwood beside the Doctor. The cold shivers that ran up her leg almost made her want to retreat back into bed, but the promise of food urged her towards the kitchen, the Doctor following just behind. Their hands remained entwined until the Doctor was forced to separate to grab the cookbook from the high shelf across from the fridge.

"Okay, let's see what we've got here...flour, eggs, water..."

They cooked as if performing a well practiced dance. As Rose bent to a lower cupboard for a measuring cup, the Doctor swerved around her, seamlessly, to get a spatula from the counter. Rose stood up on her tiptoes to get the baking soda at just the right moment so that the Doctor could dot her nose with some flour stuck to his fingers. She giggled at that, but took her revenge a few minutes later by splashing his whole upper body with water she was getting from the sink. His moth fell nearly to his chest as he gazed at her with wide eyes. She laughed fully, hand going to the stitch in her side as he grabbed a towel and dried off his face. His hair drooped down weakly under the water weight.

Twenty minutes later, they say at the kitchen table with two plates of pancakes and a half-finished jar of syrup sitting in front of them. The Doctor's T-shirt was still damp in places, creasing darkly around the collar. He and Rose both had flour blithe he'd in their hair and clothes. The dollop still remained on Rose's nose, making the Doctor smile every time he looked up at her.

"Want some more syrup?"

"Is that even a question?"

The Doctor slid the jar to his companion with a smirk and stared silently as she poured it over her food. Her eyes flitted up every few seconds, taking in the way he was watching her. With furrowed brows, she cut a piece of pancake for herself. "Alright?"

The Doctor hardly seemed to hear her, simply nodding without a sound. His eyes seemed almost glazed over. Rose pondered over his strange expression as she tasted the warm, comforting old taste of Sunday morning. "This is so good; we should do this more often. Pancake Monday tomorrow?"

The Doctor was still absent. He hardly even reacted to her besides very slightly moving his head up and down. Rose drummed on the table and leaned forward. "Ok; what is it?"

At this, the Doctir suddenly seemed to come back to earth, eyes widening as they focused on Rose's and then dropped to his plate. He shook his head softly as he dug into his food quickly "Nothing. Pancakes are good, then?"

Rose eyed him curiously, and he smiled in return, mouth full. As soon as he swallowed, he stated, "Molto Bene."

A pang shot through Rose's chest at the old word. He hadn't said the phrase quite as much as the Timelord him had, owing to his half-Donna-ness. It was more likely nowadays for him to retort sassily.

It was clear from his dropped eyes and gritted teeth that he knew what she was feeling. He had been remembering the old Doctor, too. The other Doctor; the adventurer. Silently, he returned to his breakfast.

"We're you thinking about him?"

The Doctor lifted up his chin, opting to stare at the table instead of meeting Rose's gaze. The young woman continued, "Just now; is that why you looked so distracted?"

The Doctor finished the pancake he was eating and finally looked into Rose's eyes. They were comforting and shining and nervous. This wasn't an accusation; this was a plea.

With slight hesitation, he nodded his head. The room was deathly quiet; not even the birds could be heard. The Doctor cleared his throat. "I love living here, with you. Just, sometimes...I miss it."

Rose was watching a spot of dust floating in from the window. A smile curled her lips without her knowledge. "I miss it, too, sometimes. I mean, I love it here too, and I-I love...you," she grinned at him, and his face lit up, "but every now and again, I don't know..."

"Exactly."

They each took a moment then, staring above each other's heads, absentmindedly tapping their sticky forks on their even stickier plates. Only a few remains of the pancakes sat forgotten on the dishes in front of them.

The Doctor was the first to move, sniffing loudly and widening his eyes as he picked up his silverware. "Anyway; best be off. We're visiting your parents later, right?"

"Right."

Rose and the Doctor cleared the table without another mention of time travel or aliens. Of course, the matter never left the back of their minds, and it was certainly going to come up again someday, but for now, the two companions were satisfied with cleaning and drying the dishes. Because that's what the Doctor and Rose did: they carried on.