This was inspired by an ask that @timepetalsprompts received that I somewhat embellished upon, and then @lunaseemoony asked to see more, so here we are! Enjoy the creation of a series of ficlets about Tentoo and Rose’s domestic adventures!
As soon as Rose walked in the door, she was met with the
caustic scent of cleaner and loud grumbling curses coming from her kitchen.
what did he do now?
In the week since they’ve been together in this new
universe, the Doctor had managed to destroy her toaster, blow out four
lightbulbs, nearly catch her hair on fire (and then he did catch his sleeve on
fire in his valiant attempt to put out her non-existent hair fire), shatter her glass coffee table, and
disassemble her washing machine.
All in a week.
When she saw her washing machine in pieces, Rose had yelled at him until her throat cracked about how he was bloody useless and a bloody idiot and she couldn’t believe this was her bloody life. He had looked so scared that she was yelling at
him and so hurt, that after only fifteen minutes of storming around the flat cursing to
herself about stupid bloody aliens
and I knew he couldn’t handle domestics,
Rose timidly went back to him and found he had nearly finished putting her
washing machine back together again.
“Sorry,” she had said, plopping down on the floor beside
him. “Didn’t mean to yell.”
“No, I’m sorry,” he’d said earnestly, still looking quite
terrified. “I keep forgetting these aren’t my things. I’m so sorry. I’ll fix it
all, Rose, I promise. I swear, I’ll fix it. Or replace it! Wait. I don’t have
any money… But I’ll figure it out, Rose, I promise! Please don’t be angry.
Please don’t make me leave.”
“I won’t,” she’s promised, resting her head on his shoulder.
“It’s hard, is all. Being back here. But I’m glad you’re here. Even if you are
destroying my flat.”
He’d gotten calmer since that evening, when Rose assured him
that she wasn’t angry, and that she wasn’t leaving, and that she wasn’t making
him leave, and that she loved him and always would.
He stopped taking apart her own appliances and had instead agreed to
freelance for Torchwood’s archive department, meaning he could sit in Rose’s
office for hours on end, tinkering with alien tech to his heart’s content.
Presently, Rose took a breath and held it for five seconds
before blowing it noisily out through her mouth as she carefully walked towards her
Though she was concocting all sorts of scenarios of what he
had destroyed, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited her:
the Doctor was scooping bubbles into a garbage bag. Bubbles. Actual bubbles.
Real, white, frothy, foaming, clean-smelling bubbles. Into a garbage bag.
Rose didn’t know whether to be frustrated or amused.
“Rose!” the Doctor yelped when he finally caught sight of
her. “Oh, bollocks! Rose, I didn’t mean for this to happen! I was trying to do
the dishes, like you’re always telling me to. I wanted to have them done before
you got home, and maybe start on dinner because I wanted to surprise you and
thank you for being so wonderful this past month. And so I loaded it just like
you showed me Rose, and I put in the dish soap, and I went to go clean up the
“What happened in the living room?” Rose asked, taking two
steps back to look. It looked fine to her.
“Oh, nothing important,” he said dismissively. “But then the
dishwasher started making a really funny noise, but I assumed it was supposed
to make that funny whooshywhompwhompwhomp
noise, but when I went back in to check, there were bubbles everywhere Rose! I don’t know what I did
Rose couldn’t hold back anymore. The first giggle escaped,
and she tried to cover it with her hand, because he looked so distraught, and
she really shouldn’t be laughing at him, but she couldn’t help it. He looked so ridiculous,
standing in her kitchen amidst a swarm of bubbles with disheveled hair and
buckets and bags filled with suds. Her entire body started shaking with
“Oh, bollocks,” he said again miserably. “I’m so sorry Rose!
I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean it! Please don’t be upset, love, please! I’ll fix
it, Rose, I’ll clean it all up, and then I’ll finish the dishes by hand.”
“M’not upset,” she hiccupped, wiping her streaming eyes. “I’m
laughing. Not at you. Well, a bit at you. Because of course you would put dish liquid into the
dishwasher. Smartest bloke in the universe doesn’t know how to work a dishwasher.”
“You’re not mad?” he asked tentatively.
Rose shook her head and walked up to him, careful not to
slip on the wet and soapy floor, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“No, I’m not mad,” she said to his chest. “But for future reference,
dish soap liquid doesn’t go into the dishwasher, okay? There’s special detergent to
“Sorry,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m a bit rubbish at this whole
domestics thing, aren’t I?”
“A bit,” she admitted. “But I still wouldn’t trade this for
“Yeah?” he asked softly, looking down at her with those big
brown eyes that always made her stomach flip.
“Yeah,” she confirmed, leaning up to press her lips to his.
Before he could deepen it, she pulled away.
“On the bright side,” she said, leaning down to scoop up a
handful of bubbles, “life with you will never be a dull affair.”
She then upended her hand over his head and rubbed the frothy soap into his hair.