![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Title: Laundry
Rating: G
Word Count: 371
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Time Used to Write: An afternoon
Spoiler Warnings: Just series 1 stuff.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all characters, settings, etc. do not belong to me - obviously.
“How long have you kept all of this?”
Glancing up, the Doctor eyed Rose over the rim of his glasses and shrugged. “A while, I suspect. Maybe hundreds and hundreds of years - got to blend in somehow. You go to places, you collect their clothing. Sometimes by accident. Actually – mostly by accident. Been doing it for years; I’ve got quite the collection now.”
He was currently elbow-deep in the TARDIS’ wires, nodules, gizmos and gimmicks. Without another moment’s thought, he disappeared once more behind the control systems, leaving the young blonde girl to fend for herself within the mass of fabric, lace, canvas and pinstripes.
“Well, you’re cleaning up the TARDIS, I figured you ought to be cleaning up the wardrobe too,” she mumbled, fingers idly running down the length of a dress she remembered quite fondly. She wore it when she and the Doctor went into the year 1869, quite a while before the Doctor she first met regenerated.
“Doctor.”
Only the buzzing sound of his sonic screwdriver answered her.
“How do you do the laundry?”
His head popped up into view. “Oh, that’s easy. We go to your mum’s place.” He grinned.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I mean. Running around with you everyday and all – it’s messy business. Where do you wash your posh suits? Or do Time Lords come with some kind of automatic cleaner’s service?”
The Doctor straightened, his brown pinstripe suit flawless, clean and always crisp. He pointed the screwdriver in his hand towards the wardrobe. “Why don’t you have a look there,” he suggested.
“What? Behind these coats?”
He nodded, looking positively cheerful.
She divided the coats in half, pushing them to either side. “There’s a laundry machine behind here!”
“Isn't it brilliant? Barely use it, but it’s there.”
“You don’t use a line?” she teased.
“Well, we could if you want,” the Doctor replied. It was difficult to tell whether he was being serious.
She shook her head.
“All right, Rose. While I finish cleaning the controls, why don’t you pop some of those dirty dresses into the machine?”
“Sure.” She grinned again, with a sudden mischievous glint in her eyes. “And the suit you're wearing, Doctor? Looks like it could be cleaned, too.”
Rating: G
Word Count: 371
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose
Time Used to Write: An afternoon
Spoiler Warnings: Just series 1 stuff.
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all characters, settings, etc. do not belong to me - obviously.
“How long have you kept all of this?”
Glancing up, the Doctor eyed Rose over the rim of his glasses and shrugged. “A while, I suspect. Maybe hundreds and hundreds of years - got to blend in somehow. You go to places, you collect their clothing. Sometimes by accident. Actually – mostly by accident. Been doing it for years; I’ve got quite the collection now.”
He was currently elbow-deep in the TARDIS’ wires, nodules, gizmos and gimmicks. Without another moment’s thought, he disappeared once more behind the control systems, leaving the young blonde girl to fend for herself within the mass of fabric, lace, canvas and pinstripes.
“Well, you’re cleaning up the TARDIS, I figured you ought to be cleaning up the wardrobe too,” she mumbled, fingers idly running down the length of a dress she remembered quite fondly. She wore it when she and the Doctor went into the year 1869, quite a while before the Doctor she first met regenerated.
“Doctor.”
Only the buzzing sound of his sonic screwdriver answered her.
“How do you do the laundry?”
His head popped up into view. “Oh, that’s easy. We go to your mum’s place.” He grinned.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I mean. Running around with you everyday and all – it’s messy business. Where do you wash your posh suits? Or do Time Lords come with some kind of automatic cleaner’s service?”
The Doctor straightened, his brown pinstripe suit flawless, clean and always crisp. He pointed the screwdriver in his hand towards the wardrobe. “Why don’t you have a look there,” he suggested.
“What? Behind these coats?”
He nodded, looking positively cheerful.
She divided the coats in half, pushing them to either side. “There’s a laundry machine behind here!”
“Isn't it brilliant? Barely use it, but it’s there.”
“You don’t use a line?” she teased.
“Well, we could if you want,” the Doctor replied. It was difficult to tell whether he was being serious.
She shook her head.
“All right, Rose. While I finish cleaning the controls, why don’t you pop some of those dirty dresses into the machine?”
“Sure.” She grinned again, with a sudden mischievous glint in her eyes. “And the suit you're wearing, Doctor? Looks like it could be cleaned, too.”