I have a number of AU fics that I've been working on in pieces here and there and this one is now finished! It's just two chapters and an epilogue total and I'll post the other tomorrow and the epilogue the next day. There are some possibilities for a few more one shots coming off this one, we'll have to see!

The first time they meet, he's wandering through the lobby of the seventh floor, glasses askew on his long nose, hair akimbo and map turned sideways in front of his face.

He walks into a glass partition.

The seventh floor is (apparently) the training area for field agents so it's filled with a lot of large and very fit men (and women) who immediately all have a snicker at the long-limbed geek now splayed artlessly on the floor, blushing madly.

They shut right up, however, with a scathing look from the boss' daughter, who not only just showed them all up on the field run test but also got a near perfect score in marksmanship and happens has a rather outstanding arse that none of them can seem to get their paws on (not for lack of trying). She strides right over and offers a hand up to the man, pulling him to his feet and smiling at his rather dazed expression.

"You new?" she asks, kindly, taking his elbow and steering him toward the lift.

"Erm..." he stammers and that's not like him. Not like him at all. He can talk for all of England, isn't that what his grandad always says? So what if he's not exactly a ladies man and this is, by far, the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen? He should be able to manage more than a stammer.

She's looking at him, her eyebrows drawing together slightly in concern at his silence and gaping mouth and that's no good. She probably thinks he's mute or a nutter so he opens his mouth to answer her and then the lift dings and, suddenly, she's in the lift with him.

The small lift. Alone.

His words leave again.

"Are you all right?" she tries again, reaching a hand up to touch his shoulder.

"Fine, fine, brilliant, molto bene," he explodes and she steps back, surprised by his outburst. "First day, yep, that's me. Went to find HR and ended up in some sort of secret laboratory. Ran away before anyone caught me but then I ended up on that floor with all those very large men. And women. Not ah, not that you're large. Because you're not. You're rather a perfect size and -" his eyes widen as that thought comes spilling out and he latches onto another quickly, "Blimey, did you see the biceps on that redhead? Anyway, was just looking at my map and then fell on my arse and ooo, that's not appropriate language in front of a lady, shouldn't have said that -" The woman cuts him off with a slight giggle and he feels his cheeks flush scarlet again.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, staring down at his trainers. Trainers. With his suit. What had he been thinking? But this is his only suit and he wanted to make a good first impression at work and he's not been able to hold a steady job and couldn't afford dress shoes and really his plimsoles are much more comfortable anyway, but this is his dream job and, oh, she's speaking to him.

" - know how overwhelming this place can be at first," she finishes, smiling over at him from across the lift and he feels his heart stutter a bit at that comforting twitch of her lips.

Oh, he's got it bad already.

He's about to answer, trying to find something that's not too stupid to say in response, when the lift dings again and she steps to the side as the doors open. "Third floor, HR," she says, grinning over at him. "No secret laboratories," she adds with a wink and that makes his breath catch a little.

He gives her a grateful smile and steps out of the lift only to turn back and catch the closing doors with his hand. "What's your name?" he asks on a whim. Maybe he'll see her again, this gorgeous blonde woman who's saved him on his first day.

"Rose," she says with another heart-stopping grin.

"Nice to meet you, Rose," he answers and the lift doors close for real.

Rose.

He likes the sound of that.

He doesn't see her again for almost three days. Not that he's been looking. Or counting. But it's been three days of not looking and not counting and then, suddenly, there she is!

In the canteen.

Which he managed to find all by himself, thank you very much. He is a genius, after all.

Oh, all right. Rory helped.

She comes spilling out of the lift (what is it with him and her and lifts?) dressed in some (rather tight - not that he's noticed) black combat gear with an absurdly attractive redhead (Biceps) and an obnoxiously handsome dark-haired man. What...did they only let gorgeous people into her division? Her head is thrown back in laughter and all three of them are flushed with exertion.

Oh. Not that kind of exertion. He hopes.

Then gulps. Not that he thinks about Rose and that kind of exertion.

Much.

He tries to stop his traitorous thoughts from drifting any further that direction while at the same time letting his genius brain etch the details of that outfit into his memory. (Does she like video games, he wonders? She's a bit like a blonde Lara Croft with her hair braided like that...oh and that's an ill-timed thought because now she's looking over his direction and yes, good thing he's sitting down at his table). Honestly, he's not fifteen and she's not the prettiest girl in school (although she is the prettiest girl at work and there goes his gob again, even in his head).

She gives him a wave and a smile and his new friend Rory gasps, elbowing him when she looks away. "You know her?"

John frowns and notices that Rory isn't the only one who seems to have noticed that Rose waved at him. There are plenty of people who turned his way with that small flip of her hand and now they're all studying him. He coughs slightly and turns to face Rory, avoiding the eyes of nosy canteen eaters. "Well, yeah. Ish. A bit. She helped me find HR on my first day."

Rory gapes at him again for a moment and then shakes his head, turning back to his meal. "First bloody day and you're getting tours from Rose Tyler," he mutters.

The penny drops after a second and John's eyes grow wide as he takes in the full measure of that sentence. "Tyler? As in Pete Tyler? As in Director Pete Tyler? As in our boss Pete Tyler?" he asks, his voice rising slightly.

"The one and only," Rory answers. There is another significant, but not uncomfortable, pause in their conversation and that's one of the things he's learning to like the most about Rory, his comfortableness with silence, when the shy man unexpectedly breaks it with a deep breath and a rushed question, "Listen...d'you think you could get her to introduce me to Amy?"

It's John's turn to gape at Rory. "Who?" he asks.

Rory blushes and nods ever so slightly toward the model-thin redhead sitting beside Rose, flirting heavily with the attractive dark-haired man. "Well, I don't actually know her that well -" John begins and Rory stands up suddenly, pushing his tray away.

"Yeah, nevermind. Not like it would matter anyway," he says forcefully, leaving the table in a whirlwind and John sitting alone.

He's about to get up and follow Rory, to see if he can help in some way, when a shadow falls over him and a slightly familiar perfume drifts toward him. "So...are you just really hungry?" her voice falls over him, just as lovely as before, and he stares up at her a moment, uncomprehending both her sudden presence and the remark until he realizes he's sitting in the canteen, alone, with two full trays of food in front of him. He blushes.

"No, ah, one was my...my friend's," he says, lamely. "He left. Rather quickly."

"Oh, Rory? I saw him," Rose answers and he realizes she was teasing him earlier. "Nice bloke."

"Yeah...he is," John answers and why, on God's green Earth, can he not think of anything interesting to say to this woman?

They look at each other a moment and he's just about to come up with something clever to say (really, he is. And it is absolutely not going to have anything to do with Tomb Raiders or how sexy her legs look in those trousers) when the blue-eyed man sidles up to her, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Ready to go back up, Rosie? I mean, that last round of the combat course with you really got my blood flowing, if you know what I mean," he snickers, winking lasciviously at John who, inexplicably, feels his blood boil a bit. Rose doesn't deserve to be spoken to like that. And of course the git's American.

"In your dreams, Harkness," she says, rolling her eyes and dislodging his arm from her shoulders but still bumping him with her hip.

"Every night, gorgeous, every night," he says, walking backwards toward the lift with his hands outstretched, grinning at her charmingly. And not noticing the redhead behind him with her foot outstretched to trip him as he reaches the lift.

He's liking this Amy more and more.

Rose and Amy both giggle as Jack twists to avoid falling on his face and then Rose gives John one last smile (tongue-touched this time - as if his brain didn't have enough things to fantasize about tonight) and trots into the lift with them.

Torchwood is completely and utterly brilliant, he's decided. He spends his entire day (and a lot of his nights, if he's honest - he's never been good about sleeping) surrounded by and tinkering with technology he'd never even dreamed of existing.

Plus Torchwood offered him a frankly magnificent salary (even worth the huge amount of privacy paperwork he had to sign to get hired here) and now he's got a nice flat in a safe neighbourhood, a large screen telly, and, despite his propensity not to use it, a hugely comfortable bed.

And, well, barely any other furniture. But he's getting there, he really is.

Plus, he's got mates! Real, proper, fun mates! So, they only hang out at work, but he's never had mates like this before and he's a bit overwhelmed at how it works anyway. He was never exactly popular in school, too smart and awkward to really fit in...then it was off to Uni at sixteen and his first doctorate by twenty-one and his second by twenty-four, so no time for the frivolities of friendship then.

But Rory is kind and clever, even if he tends to roll his eyes at John's more ridiculous ideas, Mickey really knows his way around a computer, River's got a propensity for deciphering alien languages (and for flirting with him - which he has absolutely NO idea how to handle and which, he suspects, is the reason she does it), and Clara's brilliant. The lab downstairs feels more like home every day and these crazy, fantastic people more like family. He's never dreamed that WORK could be like this.

It's been almost two weeks since he's seen Rose Tyler and he's hardly even thought about her. Except, well, last night when he actually did go to bed and then woke up to some rather, erm, sweaty (but pleasant. Very, very pleasant) dreams about her. And, all right, three nights ago when that happened as well. Different fantasy, though, that time it was...

Something he absolutely should not be thinking about the boss' daughter. Who is entirely out of his league. Out of his universe, actually. Although, it had been quite brilliant dream and, unbeknownst to him, the soppy grin on his face is rather giving it away.

"Whatcha thinking about there, Sweetie?" asks River, calling him that nickname that makes him uncomfortable and sidling up next to him, too close to him, just to see him sweat (and not in the pleasant Rose-Tyler-dream-type sweating).

"Nothing," he answers too quickly but River's too clever for that.

"Oh, I very much think it was something!" she singsongs at him, turning to pester Rory from his petri dish.

"That's his 'Rose Tyler' face," Rory grunts, unapologetically turning back to his work and hoping that was enough to get River to leave him alone.

"Oi! It is not!" John defends but he's already flushed bright red and, like sharks to blood in the water, River's caught his blush and Clara's joining in.

"Rose Tyler?" Clara asks, pretending to be aghast. "The Director's daughter? The Sweetheart of Steel from the Field Division? The Queen of Combat? That Rose Tyler?"

He mutters something under his breath that might very well have been a few swear words and turns back to work on his very important sonic tool.

"Hey! I grew up with her!" Mickey chimes in, looking up from his computer across the lab. "We dated, once," he adds smugly and John tries not to punch him for that.

"And by dated, he means that she once was at a pub at the same time he was there watching a match," Clara answers, poking him in the side.

"Hey!" Mickey pouts. "Anyway, the field teams go out Friday for drinks and the pub quiz. We could all go...give those jocks a run for their money," he says, casually, as though this isn't a big deal, as though he didn't just invite John to see Rose Tyler outside of work in one day. "Amy'll be there," he adds, sneaking a gaze over at Rory, who perks up over his petri dish.

"I'm in," River says, automatically. "Any chance to get at that American captain is a good night in my books," she finishes, winking salaciously over at John who is instantly reminded of how the 'captain' had done a very similar thing to him the first time they'd met. Maybe he and River are well-matched, after all. Clara's busy but Rory agrees, and then, well, suddenly he has friends outside of work, too.

And he's going to see Rose Tyler.

Tomorrow night.

Tomorrow rolls around much quicker than he anticipated and he spends a truly inordinate amount of time pacing around his flat before work examining different outfits he could wear to work (jeans and a jumper? His new blue suit? His brown suit? His swirly tie?) and even longer attempting (in vain) to get his bloody hair to do what he wants it to.

He decides on his brown suit in honour of the first time he met her (will she remember?) and if anyone (River) notices that he's inexplicably nervous today or that, in his nerves, he has caused his hair to reach all new, riotous heights, they (she) thankfully don't comment.

And then it's 19:00 and that's good, because he didn't get anything done today anyway, and they're off to the pub and his palms are sweaty and why did he wear this suit? He looks like a secondary school maths professor. The pub door opens, he holds his breath and they go in...

And she's not there.

He tries to hide his disappointment (Rory's face is mirroring his own, he's sure), but none of the Field squad is here, so maybe they're just not off yet. The quiz doesn't start for another hour anyway, so they all grab pints and claim a table near the front. It's fun, just drinking and laughing with these people he's come to care for inside of Torchwood, and is now adjusting his outside life to fit them as well.

And then the field teams come breezing in. They're loud and a little obnoxious, but they work hard, he knows. He's still not sure exactly what they DO out there in the 'field' but he's seen some of them come back worse for the wear or exhausted and mud-covered in the canteen at late hours when he's stumbling around searching for coffee in the pursuit of science. He's never seen Rose come back bloodied (thank goodness) or even mud-covered, but he's sure she works just as hard, if not harder, than the rest of them.

Rose is dressed in dark jeans that sit low on her hips and a burgundy jumper that is riding up just a bit and she sparkles through the group, clearly the focal point of the energy. Settled at the pub table with her are Amy and Jack and a few other fellows he thinks he recognizes. Jake, part of her team, Wilson, a large bloke he doesn't like the look of very much and an odd, lumpy sort of fellow who seems to go by 'Strax'.

Mickey and River have, of course, noticed that conversation has dwindled a bit as Rory and John are both a bit...distracted by the newcomers to the pub and share a moment to exchange rolled eyes. "Oi! Stroppy fellows one and two! The next round is on you," River interjects, tapping John on the hand and smirking.

He's going to protest that he certainly not being 'stroppy' but it's no use arguing with River and he did just spend the last oh, three minutes checking out Rose while trying not to look like he checking out Rose so John nods and Rory follows him up as they'll have to pass right by Rose and Amy's table to get to the crowded bar. John rather prides himself on making it past Rose's table without tripping and falling over, but, it seems, it wasn't destined to be without incident. Because Wilson's already had a few and the night's just beginning and John is starting to be confirmed in thinking that he's rather a twat.

"Ooo, it's the science squad!" the man snickers, stumbling up to poke John in the chest as he waits patiently for a space to open up at the bar to get more drinks. Strax laughs loudly at that and Jake's mouth quirks up a little too. Rose, he notices however, frowns. He stiffens as the man moves closer to him and Rory does as well, both of them familiar with unwanted attention from idiots like this one from years of primary school bullies. "Up from your labs to socialize with the normal people!" he continues, finishing off his drink with a gulp. "Get one for me, wouldja, science-boy?" he slurs, his hand moving up as if he's going to take John's specs off his nose.

Rose is suddenly there in between them, her eyes flashing and her hands on her hips. "Shove off, Wilson," she says. "Get your own drink. You're going to be pissed before the quiz even begins," she rolls her eyes.
l
With the barrier of Rose and the difficulty Wilson is probably having standing with all that lager in him, the tension of the situation dissolves and the large man slides back down in the booth. "It helps me think," Wilson says, proudly.

At that, John can't help himself the little snort of derision that comes out. Oops.

Wilson's suddenly back on his feet and, oh, blimey. He is a very large fellow. They're both towering over Rose in between them, one bulky and the other scrawny but both tall. "Ya got something to say about that, science-boy?" Wilson asks, rolling his shoulders back in what John presumes is supposed to be a threatening gesture.

"It's John. John Chesterton," he responds down his nose at the other man. Rory is silent but tense beside him and, wow, Rose is close to him in this crowded pub. He can't see her face, just the top of her head and the roots of her hair are slightly dark. Not a natural blonde, then? Good to know and while he's distracted cataloging how her hair smells and the way her head would fit very nicely into the crook of his shoulder, his mouth continues without him, "It's scientifically impossible for alcohol to actually help you think. You see, alcohol affects brain chemistry by altering levels of neurotransmitters; specifically, it increases the amount of the inhibitory neurotransmitter GABA, which decreases the brain's electrical activity in addition to causing the sluggish movements and slurred speech being demonstrated very well by you at this very moment," he chatters. Jack and Amy are smirking across the table but the rest of the field agents around them have grown rather quiet.

"You callin' me a slug, Chesterton?" Wilson grinds out.

"It's Doctor Chesterton and no, actually, I wasn't, but I can see how you might have gotten that confused," he retorts. The testosterone flying between them is rather high as they glare at one another and he sees rather than hears Rose's heavy sigh, her shoulders moving up down in front of him.

"Wilson, sit back down before you make more of an idiot out of yourself and Doctor Chesterton," she turns to him and that's when he's ashamed, when he sees that little bit of disappointment in her eyes, "you better just go on up and get your round. I'm sure your friends are waiting on you." Her stern gaze is tempered by the small smile she gives him before she turns back to her booth.

So much for 'cool and casual' and just 'happening' to bump into her at fun night at the pub. That was not quite the interaction he'd been hoping to have with her this evening.

He shuffles up to the bar and slaps down a few quid, taking a pint in each hand as Rory does the same but he's stopped again as he passes by Rose's table, where the men have had their heads together and Rose and Amy are sitting on the side, giggling about something, ignoring everyone else.

"How 'bout a friendly workplace wager, Doctor?" Jack calls out.

John's eyes narrow at him slightly but his gaze flickers over to Rose, whose head has come up at this new interaction. He doesn't trust the fly pretty boy but Rose is watching and he doesn't want to seem like a coward, especially not after she stood up for him earlier. "What kind of wager?" he asks, cautiously.

"The pub quiz tonight, our team against yours. Loser buys the winner drinks for a month," Jack smiles up at him, oozing charm. "And I gotta say, you're going down," he adds, wolfishly, his eyes flickering below John's belt buckle and for the love of...that man would flirt with a lampost.

But seriously? Captain Innuendo and the ape squad (Rose excluded, of course) want to challenge his team? His team with four masters degrees and four doctorates (Ok, so Mickey doesn't have a doctorate, but he has two so it still counts) among them? "You're on," he snaps, oblivious to Rory's intake of breath beside him.

"Just one problem," Jake adds, leaning forward as the quizmaster steps toward the mic to begin the quiz. "You've got to have at least five for a team and...oops, I don't see that many people at your table."

"One, two, three, four," Wilson counts out, obnoxiously. "Even I can do that."

"Guess you'll just have to forfei -" Jack begins, ready to pull the rug out for their little stunt when he's interrupted suddenly.

"Five," Rose says, standing up and taking her pint with her.

"Rose -" Jack starts but she's already breezed off across the pub, John, Rory and a number of others staring after her. Jake turns to Amy with what looks like a protest but Amy mutters something about them all being wankers and deserving it anyhow and maybe she'll go play for the Science Squad next time as well.

Rory's ears pink.

John jogs slightly to catch up with Rose, careful not to jostle Mickey's pint as he goes. "You didn't have to do that," he says, leaning down toward her ear because it's noisy in this pub and he certainly imagined that she just shivered slightly because there is no way that actually happened.

"I know," she replies, moving over slightly to grin up at him and he just grins daftly back for a moment.

"Then why did you?" Rory asks, interrupting them and sliding into the booth, handing River her pint. Mickey and the other woman had been watching the whole thing unfold from across the pub, and John may have thought that shiver was imaginary but Mickey certainly didn't. There is some peripheral noise around the pub as papers are passed out and team names selected.

All four people at the booth are now turned to stare at her, interested in her answer, and Rose shifts a little, uncomfortable. "I just wanted to," she shrugs slightly, then brightens. "Besides, there's always WAY too much testosterone going on over there," she tries joking and then blushing slightly as she realizes that there are three affronted men sitting around her now. "I mean, I'm sure you're all manly men as well. Look at this hand," she tries, picking up a surprised John's hand, showing it around the table and the letting it go suddenly, embarrassed, because John is gaping at her. "I can see you're all, um, strapping young men. Except for you, of course," she adds to River and then groans and puts her head in her hands a moment, coming back up bright red.

"Can I try that again?" she asks over the awkward silence that has fallen and that breaks the moment and all five of them begin to laugh.

"Strapping!" John hoots.

"You may have met your match, boss," Mickey laughs and if John turns a brighter shade of red than he was a moment ago with Rose touching his hand, well, the pub lights are low and surely she can't tell.

"I'm Rose," she says, catching her breath after a fit of laughter and she looked glorious like that, he thinks, head thrown back, cheeks flushed. He'd like to make laugh like that all the time. "No, no, wait, don't tell me, let me try," she says quickly, over Rory who begins to introduce himself. "Um...Rory Williams, you helped my mum deliver Tony - on the A1, in the back of a Torchwood van, if I remember correctly," which makes Rory duck his head and blush an almighty shade of red. "Micks - good to see you again, you'll have to fill me in on your gran tonight, and..." she considers River a moment, who returns her gaze with a flirtatious smile. "River Song!" she says, triumphantly. "The only woman I've ever known to stand up Jack Harkness," she laughs and River laughs, delightedly.

"He deserved it," she chuckles.

"Oh, I have no doubt," Rose answers and then John clears his throat. "Yes?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What about me?" he says and no, he is absolutely not pouting at her. All right, maybe he is, but he's also in awe of her. She knew all of them...in fact, he'd wager she could name just about every Torchwood person in this pub and that she would have pleasant things to say about them all.

"You, Doctor John Chesterton," she grins slyly at him, "would be the man who single-handedly managed to set off a level four security breach within the first ten minutes of working at Torchwood." River, Mickey and Rory all turn to stare him with wide eyes.

"It was an accident!" he says, defensively, throwing up his hands and they all break into another loud roar of laughter.

The rest of the evening passes by far too quickly by John's standards, and he simply can't remember the last time he had so much fun. They do, in fact, win the pub quiz (the other teams never stood a chance, really, between Mickey's knowledge of technology, Rory's of medicine, River's of history, Rose's of pop culture and John's everything in between) and then, quite suddenly, John is standing alone on a street corner at two in the morning beside Rose Tyler.

His head is still buzzing from the pints he drank and the heady feeling of her thigh pressed up close against his in the booth, their fingers brushing over the pencil to jot down answers, breath mingling in heads-together decisions. "You going uptown?" he asks, making conversation to stave off both an unwanted awkward silence and the chill in the air.

"Yeah," she answers, running her hands up and down her arms and he has the sudden fleeting thought that he'd rather like to do that for her, among other things, which pulls him up shortly. It's one thing to imagine those things about Rose Tyler when Rose Tyler isn't there, it's another thing entirely to do it while she's standing half a meter from him and the smell of her perfume is still lingering on his suit jacket from where their shoulders had been pressed against one another.

A cab pulls up in front of them. "Want to share?" he asks, not sure from where this sudden courage is coming.

"Sure," she smiles and he motions for her to go first and then clamors in after her, his lanky limbs folding awkwardly into the small space. There is a beat of silence where Rose fiddles with the strap of her messenger bag and he taps out a rhythm on the sole of his trainer when they both try to speak again.

"That was -"

"I had a good -"

Both of them flush and turn forward in the cab a moment, only to meet each other's gaze surreptitiously on a glance back, causing a chuckle to break the silence. "You first," John says, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, just able to make out her silhouette against the lights of London flashing by outside.

"That was really fun," she says, smiling at him briefly and then looking down to twist her hands together in her lap, oddly nervous behaviour from a woman who normally seems so poised and in control.

"It was, wasn't it?" he grins, his widest, happiest grin because this really is the happiest he's been in a long time. Encouraged by her bright smile back at him, he continues, "We should do it again, sometime! Go out, I mean. To the pub. And by 'we' I mean everyone, of course. All...all of us. Rory, Mickey, River, Clara! Oh, you didn't meet Clara! She's lovely. Not that I've been noticing. She's a lovely person, is what I meant. But she is pretty. Not as pretty as you but ah, yes, anyway, that's what I meant. Going out. With everyone. Not just the two of us. Unless you'd like to do that. To go out, I mean. Just...ah, just the two of us."

She's silent a moment, staring at him with her mouth slightly open and he backpedals fast. "Of course, you don't, I mean, that's ok. I don't really do that anyway. Been a long time since I've done that. Or done anything, really, been a while. Not that I'm inexperienced," he squeaks, "I just..."

Rose cuts him off suddenly with a finger pressed against his lips and, blimey, her finger is warm and soft and he's breathing really hard now, harsh sounding in the otherwise silent cab.

"I'd like that," she says, softly.

"Which, er...which part?" he asks, once her finger comes off his lips although he'd give back those words if it would keep her touching him a bit longer.

"Both?" she says, giving him a shy smile. The cab stops then and she moves to get out and he feels like he can finally breathe again when her head pops back in the door a moment, startling him (but not enough to make a very un-manly noise of surprise. Nope, that wasn't him).

"I like chips," she says, grinning at him one last time, tongue-touched and that's it.

He's a goner.

Rose Tyler fancies chips and, he thinks, might just fancy him.