Rose woke up to a lot of thumping and crashing. She groaned, rolling over to press her face into her pillow. It hadn't even been half past seven when Smith had gotten her woken up that morning and now he wouldn't let her get a proper night's sleep! She yanked her blanket up trying to muffle the noises. It worked for a few minutes, the thumping went down to a tolerable din, but then her mobile started ringing. She fumbled it into the approximate vicinity of her ear.

"You better get your stray out of my kitchen, or I'll toss him and you out on your ear, you hear me?" The line went dead before she could respond. Stifling a groan of frustration into her sheets she went to go and deal with her charge.

"He keeps this up much more and I'll toss him out."

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"Smi-th." She flicked on the light and opened her eyes. The kitchen was a mess. Not only was every available pot, dish and tea cosy strewn across the counters and floor, but it seemed as if half the refrigerator had been dismantled, the electrical bits, not the shelves and Smith was still frantically scrabbling through pretty much anything he could get his hands on. It seemed like he was going to make a stab at the light fixtures next. If she didn't stop him. "Smith! What the 'ell do you think you're doin'?!"

It was the first time he'd swung his head to look at her since she'd shown up.

"I've lost it." He turned away again, leaping off the counter in the process, and pacing through the refuse of what had once been her mother's cooking space. "No, no, I can'tve can I? Nooo. I never lose it. Do I? I don't think so. It was just there!" He spun to show her, yanking open the white button down he still wore, sending buttons ricocheting off the walls. She heard glass break but she couldn't be sure where. "Well, I say there I really mean there somewhere else. No pockets there now. Rubbish that is, who's taken my pockets? Rose do you know who's taken my pockets? Can I have them back? Never know what you'll find in a pocket. Yours or anyone else's. Mine had robots once. No, not robots just the brainy parts. Do you get many squids around here?"

She sighed, looking past the mess and back at the mentally unstable man she'd taken in, and let run rampant through her mother's house. It was her own fault really. She couldn't very well expect Smith to understand the intricacies of things like common sense and manners, for one thing he was a bloke and a crazy one at that. So she pushed back that frantic voice nattering in the dark parts of her brain about the mess and what her mum was going to do to her and Smith, and focused on the frantic voice in front of her that actually was Smith.

"Hold on, what've you lost?"

"It's a thing. It's got bits on the end. Laser spanner, I think, unless that's wrong."

"Well, what's it look like?"

"I just said. A thing! With bits on the end! Honestly, Duck! No, not duck, what's the other bit?" He began re-rifling through the cosies.

"What sor' of thing Smith? What'm I lookin' for?" 3:17am stared at her from the digital above the oven, she ran her fingers through her hair tiredly, sinking against the wall and watching the energy the man exuded, she really didn't have any of her own.

"It's a thing, a wrench… drill...it makes cabinets. But only the one time really. It made a lot of them though, Spock was jealous. No…Kirk. Right, Kirk was jealous, Spock's not a captain. Nothing wrong with that of course, nice bit of allonsy. Or no- I don't do french anymore do I? Have you found it yet Rose?"

"Smith, the only things you 'ave here, are your torch and a half naked barbie doll. Where the 'ell did you even get tha' thing?"

"It's my Rose. Turtle said I could have one."

"Yeah, but-" raising her hands in defeat Rose let the subject drop, picking her way through the mess to yank open the freezer and scoop out a bin of ice cream and taking a spot on the counter that had escaped the deluge. Smith's flashlight bumped against her leg. She picked it up and turned it about. Looked like a torch, and they weren't really used to make cabinets were they? It could be confused for something else though, Smith wasn't really working with a full tool kit after all. "You sure it's not this?"

He jerked his head up to look, sweeping his bangs away, but frowned almost immediately.

"No. That one's red, mine's all green and long and-" His hands flailed expressively. "I haven't used a red one in eons… at least eight days. I think. Eight days? I can never remember if I'm lying." He snatched up one of her mother's fancy serving spoons, the one with the faux jade handle, and pointed it, almost threateningly, at the stove. Nothing happened and Rose giggled at his forlorn expression. He shot her a hurt look, brightening when he saw her ice cream. "Are we having custard?"

"It's ice cream, see?" She offered up the spoon.

"No the custard's for me. And carrots. Custard and carrots? No. Too many c's. Not enough promises. Am I dying?"

"What?!" She started hacking, dropping everything on the counter to better pound at her chest. "Why'd you be dyin'?"

"I don't know, do I? Everyone seems to bring out the custard when I'm dying. Or maybe it's just me." He shoved a finger into her abandon ice cream, jerking it out immediately. "That's not allowed! Rude and not ginger!" There were several clatters as he scrabbled away from the counter, his feet churning up the floor. Rose attempted to shush him, stifling her own laughter in her hand. He smeared his sticky fingers against her shirt ignoring her swats, his face twisted into what could only be a pout and Rose's laugh bubbled out of her.

"Rose Marion Tyler I sent you to get that man into bed no to- BLOODY HELL! What the 'ell has he done to my kitchen?!"

Oh my gosh guys I'm so sorry this took so long! I won't bore you with excuses or empty promises, but I will do my best to up the update rate. ha, it rhymes. As always please R&R and thank you so much for your support.