Domestic

(10th Doctor and Donna)

Sometimes having a roommate can be a real pain.

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"Donna!"

"What is it this time? I'm trying to take a bath!" Donna leaned out of the Tardis bathroom, a towel wrapped around her head.

The Doctor stalked over to her and waved a wobbly sandwich in her face, pickles flying everywhere. "What," he said, with ominous emphasis, "is this?"

She gave him a look like he was a blithering moron. "Lunch?"

"Why was it sitting on the console over the navigation controls?"

Donna looked down at herself, wrapped in a towel and fuzzy slippers, then back up at him, pointedly. "Is now really the time? I made you a sandwich. Be grateful!"

She slammed the door in his face.

He knocked on the door.

She jerked it back open with an annoyed look on her face. "What now?!" She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "My bubbles are getting cold!"

"You got crumbs in the stellar rectifyer!" He waved emphatically, the sandwich in his hand spraying onions and mustard down the hall. "It's going to take me hours to take it apart and clean them out!"

"You better add that to your list, then," Donna said, nodding to a slice of onion that was sliding down the wall in a glob of mustard. "I'm not cleaning that."

"How many times have I told you not to set things on the console?!" He shook the sandwich at her face.

"None, spaceboy!" She pointed a finger at his nose, two inches away. "If you had, I wouldn'ta done it. Besides, you're always leaving stuff lying around!"

"This is not about me!"

"Hey, I'm not the one who leaves dirty socks in the bathroom. You don't catch me hanging my undies out to dry do you?"

"No," he got right back in her face, his quiff standing up in outrage. "You just leave dirty dishes lying everywhere!"

"One dish! And it was for you! The ice cream bowl doesn't count. I wasn't done with it, it's not my fault you sat down before you looked."

He glared at her, she glared back.   

He ran a hand through his frazzled hair. "Are we having a domestic dispute?"

She shrugged, a red strand of hair falling out of her turban. "I'm just trying to have a bath."

He looked down, his shoulders unhunching, visibly calming himself, he noticed her fuzzy slippers. "Nice slippers," he said in a conciliatory tone.

"Thanks," she said. "They're yours."

She slammed the door in his face.