Author's Note: I still do not own Doctor Who. But I have started a fund: The Fund for the Purchase of All Things Awesome by AnorexiaNervosa. We accept all major credit cards, and are tax deductible.

He stood, leaning against the railing, impatiently waiting for Rose to change her clothes. "Fantastic," he said in a sarcastic tone, "I'm going to regenerate by the time she finds something." He flicked an invisible fleck of dust off his leather jacket. "Right, this is ridiculous." He trudged off towards the wardrobe. "How difficult could it be, those were simple directions." He trudged the halls, taking the many turns without thought. Finally, he stood in front of the door to the wardrobe, slightly ajar. "Well, she found it, at least," he sighed and pulled it open, stepping in.

She was standing on her tiptoes, pining a pair of trousers to one of a myriad of clotheslines stretched through the air of the cavernous room. "Oh, Hello," she said around a clothespin in her mouth.

He glared at her, jaw slightly agape. "What, did you forget we were doing something?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes, yes, I know, Naples and all, but," she swept her arms, taking in the room. "Look at this place!"

He looked around with a bored expression on his face. "What about it?"

She sputtered and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. " 'What about it?' It looks like a thousand year old bachelor has been living here!"

He glared at her. "I'm only 950." He looked around again, eyebrows knitted in concentration.

Dirty clothes littered the floor and every flat surface. Coats hung haphazardly from pillars. Shoes made the stairs nearly impassable. In the corner a huge pile of purple, red, and orange yarn had evidence of being used as a nest for some small rodent.

He shrugged. "Okay, so it's a little lived in…"

She looked at him levelly. "Doctor, now, let's think about this carefully." She held her hands up. "There are clothes everywhere. 'A little lived in' is an understatement. A teenager's room is 'a little lived in' This is just plain disgusting!" she held her hands to her mouth. "Now, I understand that after this Timewar," he glared at her hard. "th-that the Tardis suffered some damage and now it doesn't operate as well as it used to, correct?"

He sulked and looked down at his shoes. "I suppose you could say that," he said moodily.

She nodded her head. "Yes, I think that is true. Things are breaking down left and right." She pointed at him. "Like, remember last week when the dishwasher sprung a leak while in flight and we ended up in the middle of the Battle of Gettysburg?"

He chuckled, a wide smile stretching from ear to ear. "Yes, of course. Opened the door, 'LOOK OUT, CANNONBALL!' "

"Yeah, right, right. Nearly lost your head on that one, Doctor," she looked around. "So, how long has the laundry not been working?"

He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Hard to say…" he picked up a cream-coloured jacket. "This is from well before the Timewar."

She eyed the front of it. "What is that brown shriveled thing on the front?"

He pulled it off. "I believe it used to be a piece of celery."

She made a rude noise in the back of her throat. "I think I'm going to be sick."

He threw the coat onto the floor. "Alright, you've made your point! Are we going to stand around here all day or do something about it?" He pointed at the far wall. "You start there, I'll start here. Meet in the middle?"

"Of course. Remember, whites, lights, darks, and colours. And you better pray I don't find a huge pile of skivvies."

An hour later they stood admiring their work. A large pile of white shirts about the size of a small elephant was especially impressive. Another pile devoted to red cravats was also noteworthy.

She held up a pair of plaid trousers, then threw them onto a pile. "I think we could clothe a whole Scottish clan with all the tartan I've found."

He shrugged into a blue smoking jacket, finding the sleeves to be too short. "I forgot how hot this jacket is. How did I wear this for 5 years?" She picked up a dark blue velvet coat. "Oh, now, see, that one is nice." He pulled it on as she hung the smoking jacket on a wire hanger. "What do you think?"

She eyed it critically. "It's good but… I donno…"

"You're right. My hair isn't curly enough." He watched her stoop to pick up a multi-coloured knee-length coat. "Burn that." He clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefully. "Alright, let's get to washing, then."

**

"Right, last vest washed, pressed, and hung," she announced proudly. She turned and found him lounging on a giant pile of dress socks.

"Can you believe it, 3,568 individual socks, and none of them match!" he groaned. She bent down and grabbed two argyle socks that clearly formed a pair. He groaned again, "I defeated the Daleks for nothing!"

"Come on Doctor, this is all we have left to do," she said cheerfully. "Before we hang everything back up, that is," she muttered under her breath.

**

He stood by the time rotor, flipping switches and manipulating dials. He heard her walk down the ramp. "So, are we ready for Naples, then?" he asked and turned to look at her. Her black off-the-shoulder dress and matching hat nearly took his breath away. "You're beautiful," he said finally, then went back to his work. "For a human."

"What about your clothes?" she asked defensively.

"I changed my jumper!" he exclaimed.

She rolled her eyes. 'If he just threw that shirt on the floor, I'll kill him,' she thought as they walked out into the snow.