John followed his friends into the cinema. They were chattering to each other, holding hands and excitedly giggling about something or other. He rolled his eyes but stayed behind them; if he walked in front, he'd forget himself and let his long legs carry him away from them.

Martha turned back to him and grabbed his forearm. "Oh, I'm so excited!"

"I know you are!" Donna turned around as well, laughing. "We're all excited!"

John nodded along. "Yes, we are. But—move, we're blocking the door—this is no reason to drag me out the day before I have to give my lecture. You know I've been working on it for months!"

"Exactly," his friends chorused. "You need a break. You'll only stress yourself out, and it's not like you don't like the movie!"

He sighed, conceding. He did like the movie, and he would have been stressed out if he'd just stayed home. "Still…"

"You're never such a workaholic." Donna furrowed her brow. "There isn't something going on, is there?"

Martha looked at him thoughtfully. "I don't think so."

"There's not," he assured them quickly. Sure, he was a bit more on edge than usual, but that was because he was being given a trial position as a professor in a department where everyone was at least thirty years older and more experienced than he was. "Come on, let's get the tickets."

"And snacks."

"And snacks." John nodded. He looked at Martha's watch. "You guys can get the tickets, I'll get the snacks, we're already late."

With that said, he was off to the snack bar, hoping that he had enough money to pay for them.

There was no one behind the snack bar. John stopped and looked around, then decided to look at the menu instead of searching; if someone came back and he didn't have his order, he would be late with the food.

He squinted at the menu above the snack bar, taking in the outrageous prices and wondering why they didn't just bring their own food. Martha's words—We need the whole cinema experience! You can't just sneak food in! Especially because, knowing us, we'll get caught!—floated back to him, and he chuckled.

Taking out his glasses and popping them onto his nose, John looked even more closely at the menu and calculated the prices in his head. By the time he heard someone running, he had picked what he wanted and was hastily putting the glasses away.

A blonde dashed behind the counter, her hair flying. Tying it up, she turned around with a smile.

John stopped breathing.

Soft brown eyes looked at him questioningly, shining from under long eyelashes. "Sorry I've kept you. What did you want?"

"I… er…" John found himself speechless for the first time since grade school. He cleared his throat. "Two popcorns, please. Extra butter on one, and three waters. That's… yeah, that's it. Thank you."

"Of course," she said brightly. Tongue sticking out from in between her front teeth, with an impish smile, she turned around to do as John had asked.

The action gave him time to compose himself, and he surreptitiously checked his hair using the reflective surface of a nearby popcorn machine. By the time she turned around, John was in the same position she'd left him in, hair smoothed and glasses hidden.

She held out the popcorn and drinks. "That'll be £22… thanks… and that one's the extra butter."

He paid, and saw, when she put the money away, her nametag.

Rose.

.oOo.

"Took you a while, Spaceman!" Donna laughed as he approached her and Martha. She took two of the drinks while Martha took the popcorn.

John grinned at the nickname—"Head in the clouds, that one!" his mother had joked once—and took his ticket. "We have one minute."

"Let's go then." Martha joined the laughing as they ran to the room the movie was playing in. "We don't want to miss Hedwig's Theme."

"Obsessed, Martha Jones," Donna accused.

"You're not?"

"Of course I am!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"No problem."

"Let's go!"

"Shh… we're here."

"Yeah, you get us enough dirty looks." The accusation was directed at John. "Let's hope you don't get us kicked out of this cinema."

"It was only the once," he whispered defensively. And I was seven, so it shouldn't even count anymore.

"Shh!"

John grumbled to himself and settled into his seat, water in the cupholder on the chair, holding his popcorn protectively to his chest. The film started to play and a smile passed across his face—he really, really liked the Harry Potter films. He was happy that Martha and Donna had dragged him out to see the film—it was playing just the once in the cinema, since it wasn't new—and it was so worth it to see it instead of stress out about his lecture for the final hours of the day.

The title faded out of the screen and John tucked into his popcorn, relishing the salty, buttery taste of the snack and smiling to himself. John barely focused on anything but the film, mouthing along with the dialogue, and it took him almost the length of the whole film to reach the bottom of the bag.

.oOo.

John wasn't a popular man. Sure, he was adorable, with his large glasses and not-quite-fitting suits and long coat, and the way he matched his Converse to his mood, but he wasn't classically handsome. His face was too angular, he wasn't ridiculously buff, and he talked for too long about obscure topics to keep female interest.

He had his own women that found him interesting, of course, but none of them were blonde bombshells with large eyes and inviting smiles. They weren't incredibly nice, their eyes didn't sparkle at him, they didn't bite the tip of their tongue when they smiled, and they certainly didn't give him their numbers.

John followed Donna and Martha from their seats and out of the chamber. It took several seconds for him to adjust to the light of the hallway, and by that time, they were already in the ladies'. He turned around several times on the spot, then threw away his empty bag of popcorn.

He stood in place for another minute. Martha and Donna still didn't appear, and he had no way of knowing whether or not the girl was still there, so John didn't wait for them and walked down the hallway until he reached the cinema's main hall. From there, John confidently moved over to the snack bar.

From where he stood, he couldn't see the face of the woman behind it; she was faced away from him, refilling one of the popcorn machines. When she didn't react to his presence, John cleared his throat.

Immediately, she whirled around, and her eyes widened. "Hi."

"Hi." He shuffled his feet. It was the girl from earlier, smiling just as before and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Er… earlier, I bought popcorn from you—do you remember?"

"Yeah." She nodded, expectantly looking at him.

"Well, you gave me popcorn earlier, and I asked for extra butter on my popcorn but instead I found a box of sour gummy worms buried in it… how and when and why is there a phone number written on—because… well." John swallowed. "I know the answers to all those questions, I think, but I'd hate to be wrong."

"You're not wrong, no."

"I'm not?"

"You're not." She stuck a hand out over the counter. "My name's Rose."

"John." He shook her hand, smaller than his and fitting perfectly together. "Smith. PhD. Er… John."

"Rose Tyler, shopgirl. Lunch lady. Cinema snack seller." She laughed. "I get around. What're you a Doctor of, John?"

"Astrophysics." They were still holding hands, and he was in no rush to let go. "Wanted to be an astronaut, but they didn't trust me with the red buttons… Rose?"

"Yes?"

"When do you get off tonight?" He gave a small smile. "It's not that late, and I know a great chip shop down the road, so—assuming that I was right and that you gave me your number because of a potential romantic interest—do you want to go with me?"

She looked like she was thinking for a moment. Then, smiling the adorable tongue in cheek smile, she nodded. "Gimme five minutes?"

"Of course."

"And my hand back." She laughed when he looked embarrassed and let go, but was more amused than offended. "I'll give it back later."

.oOo.

A quick text to Martha and Donna sent them on their way without John. They were as excited as he'd expected them to be, but content to wait until the next day—or midnight of the current day—for the details.

Rose came back, jacket draped over her arm, several minutes later. He greeted her with a wide grin, offered her his hand, and they were on their way. The shop was open all night, but they got there quickly, walking, and got into the queue behind another young couple.

John saw Rose reaching into her purse, probably for her wallet, but caught her eye and shook his head. "I've got it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." His smile widened when he saw that they were still holding hands.

They approached the counter when it was their turn, ordered a small portion—sharing on a first date, and not only because John wasn't sure that he'd be able to pay for more—and stood off to the side as the order was completed. John took the time to reach into his coat for his wallet, and…

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm skint."

She laughed. "You're a cheap date, you are!"

"I'm sorry." How had it gone so wrong so quickly?

Then she laughed. It was one of the best sounds he'd ever heard—not only because he'd thought he'd ruined any chance they may have had—bright and clear and cheerful. "I can get it, Doctor."

"'Doctor'?"

"You're a bit harebrained for an astrophysics professor, aren't you?"

"Yeah." He grinned as he ruffled around in her own wallet. "I'll make it up, I promise."

Rose smiled. "I know you will."

And they walked to the counter, still holding hands.

For this prompt on Tumblr: "You work behind the counter at my local movie theater and I asked for extra butter on my popcorn but instead I found a box of sour gummy worms buried in the popcorn? How and when and why is there a phone number written on…oh" AU