A/N: A tiny idea of mine I came up with when 11th was still around. Basically what would happen if the Doctor and Clara were forced to go domestic for a while. Well not entirely for a while since the Doctor in my story isn't sure he can repair the Tardis at all.

I would like to thank DarkBalance for her suggestions and helping me to make this story work.

Chapter 1

It was a rainy summer evening. Blue skies were already tightly hidden behind a heavy layer of black clouds, leaving the city blind. The infinite darkness of night was only, from time to time, pierced by a white light of the thunderstorm. The bedraggled world smelled like dirt, water, and something else that there wasn't quite a word for.

Clara opened the doors to her flat and went inside. This time, she wasn't on her own as she usually was. There was someone else with her. The tall and thin shadow she brought home was drooping, as if there was a huge ballast on his arms he had to carry with him. The man's scared eyes looked at her from under his wet hair. Some strands at the front stuck miserably to his forehead which was unnaturally pale from the cold. He stood aimlessly in the middle of the kitchen while she couldn't stand still and kept moving nervously from one spot to another.

Finally, she came closer to the dark blue kettle resting on the cooker and took it in her hands. She approached the sink and turned on the tap. A familiar sound filled up the room as fresh water streamed down through the rusted pipes straight into the item she held in her tiny hands.

"I'll make us some tea. Tea makes everything better." The woman whispered under her breath. Her trembling voice made it obvious that something bothered her.

Once the beverage was ready, Clara grabbed the cups and left the room.

She turned on the light and entered the living room, cluttered with tons of her personal belongings. The woman put the mugs carefully on the coffee table, afraid to split any of colourful content on the paper sheets covering most of the space. She opened the balcony windows to get rid of the fug and the room was immediately filled with the scent of the storm outside.

Not having enough time for a proper cleaning, Clara removed her still awaiting-to-be- ironed clothes from the sofa and prepared a seat for them. When the couch was neat and tidy, she came back to the kitchen to invite her guest in further.

The Doctor was still standing in the middle of the room and hadn't moved even a step. He was leaning on one of the blue cupboards with his expressionless eyes set on her dishwasher. She reached to him and grabbed him by his sweaty hand.

"Come on." Clara said gently, as if he was a terrified child who needed to be comforted and led him by his hand to the other room.

"Sit down." She showed him the sofa when they were already in the living room. "I know it seems to be the end of the world, but we'll figure something out. You'll see."

He didn't say anything but nodded in understanding. His shaky body rested reluctantly on the cotton couch.

"What happened exactly?" Clara questioned him. The Doctor called earlier this evening and asked her to pick him up from the middle of nowhere, soaking wet from the heavy rain. She hadn't witnessed today's events, and still wasn't sure how it was possible that the Tardis became useless.

He swallowed nervously and gasped as if there was something suffocating him. "The engine gave up."

Clara shook her head subtly and laid her hand on his thigh, hopeful that it would soothe him a little.

"This is what we're going to do." She whispered while her eyes were fixed on his. "You'll stay here;- my flat should be enough for two people. Tomorrow morning, one of us will call UNIT and ask for their help in moving the Tardis, so you won't have to travel 20 miles every day just to repair it."

"I don't think I can do anything about the damage." The Doctor complained.

"You'll make it work again, I'm sure of that." She said with a confidence in her voice and enclosed his cold hand in hers. "Don't worry about anything else. It's my job from now on."

"Thank you." His voice shook.

"No problem. It goes both ways." She reassured him while she rose from the sofa. "I would love to keep you company but it's getting late and I'm working tomorrow. If you don't mind, I'll prepare your bed and go to bed after that."

"Absolutely." The Doctor answered without a hesitation. He got up from where he was sitting as well and watched her leave the room. After a moment, she came back with a fluffy white duvet and a pillow in her hands.

"Fortunately, my family visits from time to time, so I'm fully equipped." She told him while she put the items on the floor by the window. "And the sofa is a bed-settee. Can you prepare the bed and I'll bring some fresh linen?" Clara asked him and disappeared again. This time for a little bit longer.

The Doctor put the cushions and throw lying on the couch aside and lifted the seating a little. The furnishing made a funny metallic noise and from an uncomfortable sofa rose a likely even more uncomfortable bed.

"Here, I have something for you." Clara told him as she entered the room. In her thin arms she had a checked flannel cloth that resembled a pair pyjamas. "I bought it for my dad last year, but he never used it. It might be a little too short, though."

"What's that?" The Doctor lifted his head and raised his eyebrow on her as if she said something very weird.

"It's pyjamas. You'll catch a cold in your clothes, they're still wet."

He moved away a little and crossed his arms over his chest. "Thank you, I'll be fine."

"It's unhygienic, not to mention uncomfortable. It's only for a few hours. I'll do the laundry tomorrow before work and you'll have your stuff fresh as new before you even notice, you have my word." Clara assured him.

"Okay." He whined quietly.

"It's set then." She gave him a genuine smile and left the room once more.

"I'll prepare you a hot bath now. It's been a long day for you and nothing is better than a hot bath, believe me." He heard her voice coming from the bathroom. The Doctor followed her and entered the tiny space of the room.

Her ceramic bath tub was filling up with water and camomile-scented foam at an astonishing pace. Once the tub was half full, she turn off the tap and headed to the door. "Have a nice bath." She said kindly as she closed the doors behind her.

The Doctor turned the tiny lock in the door knob and started to remove his clothing, layer by layer. He was just in his underwear when he heard a tiny noise behind the closed doors.

"Sorry to interrupt-"Clara said with embarrassment in her voice. "-you can leave your dirty clothes on the shelf by the sink, or whatever. Just make sure they're somewhere where I won't have trouble finding them tomorrow."

"Thank you." The Doctor said loudly so she could hear him and sunk carefully in hot bath.

The water was surprisingly nice he had to admit. He gathered some of it in his hands and wet his hair with the intent to wash it. Frankly, the bath was the only good thing that had happened to him during entire day. He still couldn't believe that the damage of the ship was severe enough to make him stuck on Earth for eternity, but it turned out to be. And to make things even worse from now on- he had to rely on help and kindness of others. Centuries of travelling without need of working made him lazy, and he couldn't tell if he was still able to earn his keep. After all, 21st century Earth wasn't the easiest place to live. His companions seemed to manage it just fine, but they had roots here. They were born and grew up here, among all the rules this world followed.

The Time Lord contemplated for a long moment. Once the water started to cool down, he lifted himself up and took one of the towels hanging from the radiator. His body, taken from the hot bath, started to shake a little from the cold while we was drying his limbs and torso with the terry cloth.

The Gallifreyan put on the checked pyjamas that Clara gave him, which unsurprisingly reached neither his wrists nor his ankles, but he didn't mind at all. He had to admit that the feeling of being entirely clean from head to toes wasn't the worst. Now that he had finally washed himself from the trouble and toil today brought had on him, he wouldn't bear stepping into his soiled clothes all over again.

The Doctor left the bathroom and entered the living room, now illuminated solely by a tiny lamp standing on the coffee table, next to a glass of milk and a sandwich Clara left for him. The bed was also already made, and looked definitely better than what he would create without her aid. He laid himself on it leisurely and closed his weary eyes in hope that tomorrow was going to be kinder for him. He really hoped it would…