Author's Notes: Inspired by a prompt from Then Theres Us Challenge 30.

Rose wakes to the feeling of warm breath on the back of her neck and a tickling sensation playing at the curve of her waist. She smiles.

"What are you doin'?" she asks without opening her eyes.

"Origami," the Doctor replies, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the universe.

And perhaps it is for him. If nothing else, it's hardly the strangest thing she's caught him doing in bed.

She shifts slightly, meaning to turn around and snuggle her face into his chest so that he can show her what he's been up to, but strong hands keep her firmly in place.

"You'll knock them off if you don't hold still," he says.

Curious, she cracks one eye open and cranes her neck just far enough to see that there's an entire line of his creations marching precariously across her naked skin.

Amused, she asks, "Exactly how long have you been at this?"

"Ages," he says. "Forever, it seems like. You sleep much much too much, you humans. I don't know how you put up with it. Or how I do, come to that, when there are all these other things we could be doing."

Rose supposes she could easily remark that he's free to occupy himself more gainfully elsewhere if he doesn't feel like waiting around for her while she sleeps. However, she honestly has no intention of giving him ideas like that.

She likes waking up next to him too much. And she especially likes where it leads.

Given how he doesn't object a second time when his folded masterpieces are irreparably crushed between their pressing bodies, the Doctor seems to enjoy it quite a lot as well.

His lips find her skin, and the paper is forgotten.