A/N: Just a short one shot that came to me. I put the rating as M because I'm paranoid, but in reality, it's probably closer to T. Enjoy.

Where was she? Donna was usually up and about by now but she was nowhere to be seen this morning. The Doctor paced around the console room for several more minutes before deciding to go and find her. Walking down the corridor until he reached her room, the knocked on the door,

"Donna, are you in there?"

He heard her voice, slightly muffled, call out, "Yeah, but I'm busy. Come back later."

Well, the Doctor was never one to follow orders, so he simply opened the door and barged right in. The sight that greeted him was rather unexpected.

Clothes were strewn across the floor and bed, boxes were stacked on top of each other throughout the room, and there were innumerable pairs of shoes everywhere. It looked as if a hurricane had come through Donna's room.

"Donna?" he tentatively called out.

"Yes, what is it Doctor?" She asked as she emerged from her closet, another stack of boxes in hand.

"Ummm, what exactly are you doing?"

"Well, I seem to have collected a lot of stuff while I've been traveling with you. I thought it was about time I organized it all. Kind of like spring cleaning."

"All of time and space to see and you'd rather spend the day in here… cleaning?"

"I don't exactly want to, but I need to. I walked into my closet today and was nearly crushed by all the stuff in there." She looked thoughtful for a moment before a smile broke out across her face.

"You know, this would go a lot faster if you helped me."

A look of horror crossed the Doctor's face. "Oh no, I don't-."

"Come on Spaceman. If you help out, then we can get this done faster. And the faster we get it done, the faster we can get on with another adventure."

That did make sense. He really didn't want to spend any more time in his ship then he had to.

"Alright, what do you need me to do?"

"Great! I can start picking up these clothes from the floor and get started on organizing these boxes. I just need you to go and get the rest of the stuff out of the closet. Most of it is pretty high up, so be careful."

The Doctor nodded and strode into the closet to reach for the first box he saw. Bringing it down to his level he saw it was yet another box of clothing. "Blimey Donna, how many clothes do you need?" He asked as he walked over and placed it on the bed.

"Says the alien who wears the same outfit every day."

"Oi, that's not true. I have two separate outfits."

"Oh, excuse me, two outfits. What a variety."

He couldn't think of a suitable comeback, and so instead simply went back to the closet for the next box. On the top shelf there were five more boxes stacked beside each other and on top of the center one was a black shoebox. More shoes? Why did women feel the need to own so many shoes? It still puzzled him to this day.

He tried to grab the shoebox but even with his height, his fingertips just grazed the edge. Instead he decided to grab the large box it was resting on and just grab the small one when it was lowered. Unfortunately, that's not exactly what happened.

He reached for the large box and began lowering it down. As he turned to head out of the closet, his foot came down on a stray shoe, causing him to lose his balance. The short stumble allowed the shoebox to dislodge from its perch and fall to the floor with a crash.

"Doctor, you alright in there?"

"Umm, yea… I'm fine… be right out." He stared at the ground, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

The shoebox had tumbled to the floor and the contents had spilled out. But the box didn't contain shoes. Scattered on the floor of the closet were several… personal items. The Doctor bent down and quickly began scooping them up to place them back in their box, his face burning the entire time. Sadly, he wasn't quite fast enough.

"Doctor, what are you doing in there? You know," she asked jokingly, "if you want to try my clothes on, all you have to do is ask and I-."

The box she had been previously holding crashed to the floor at the sight before her: The Doctor hunched down in her closet over her private shoebox, its contents either scattered on the floor, or in his hand.

"What the hell are you doing!" she screeched at him, her face trying desperately to match her hair.

"Donna, I can explain. I… I… I…."

"You, you, you better start explaining yourself if you want to live to see another day."

"The box… it just fell when I was pulling it down."

Oh, this was so mortifying. He was sure the look of embarrassment and horror that he saw on her face was mirrored in his.

"On second thought, I think I can handle the cleaning by myself."

"Yeah, you're probably right. The TARDIS needs repairs on the… thing. I'll just be..." he gestured to the safety of the corridor.

"Good idea."

"Well good luck with your orgasm—organizing! Good luck with your organizing!" If his face was burning before, it was positively flaming now.

"I'll be in the console room if you need me. I'll just leave you to it." He raced out of the room before he could embarrass them even more, if that was even possible at this point, which he doubted it was.

When he had reached the safety of the central console, he made a vow never to help anyone with their spring cleaning again.

END