John Smith reached out and took Rose's hand gently in his. Indulging him with a brief smile, she let him entwine their fingers. When he did things like this, when he stared at her in this way, she could almost believe he and the Doctor were the same man. Though the Time Lord had never told her outright of his feelings, Rose knew, and she saw such similar emotions reflected in the human before her.

Except within seconds John broke the illusion, as he told her, quite clearly and very much out loud, "I love you, Rose."

Her breath hitched. She hadn't wanted to hear him say that, not when he wasn't himself. Too late now, though. She glanced at their joined hands. "Thank you, John," she replied, not wanting to watch as his eyebrows undoubtedly furrowed at the way she did not reciprocate his declaration.

She felt the fingers of his free hand press gently beneath her chin, tilting her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Rose," he breathed out roughly, but it wasn't the same, didn't sound at all like how the Doctor said her name.

And then he started to lean in, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting. Rose's own eyes widened in alarm. She didn't know what to do. She liked John well enough, and she knew he doted on her, which made it easier to accept this version of him that was so much less than the version she herself was in love with. But her mind flitted through all the things he did that she disapproved of; the way he taught the boys at the school how to use rifles, which unsettled her because of how very anti-gun her Doctor was; the way he treated the serving staff, as though they were beneath him; the way he was clearly every inch the close-minded individual that a 1913 middle-aged Professor was likely to be. It unnerved her, sometimes, the ease with which he dismissed some of her words and thoughts. He had little inclination to treat her as a true equal, even as he professed to want to love and marry her. So maybe John Smith would take her to bed and wait at the end of an aisle for her and give her children; but he would not be the man she wanted or deserved, and he certainly wouldn't give her the adventurous life she craved. This him had no wanderlust, no driving itch to see the world with her by his side. And she couldn't live like that.

In fact, she was struggling to cope as it was, and it had only been two and a half months of living this static life so far. She was working as the librarian at the school John worked at, allowing her close proximity to him, and she was quite on the path to being bored out of her mind.

Her boredom was what had enabled her to go along with the courtship thing that John had instigated over a month ago. She'd suspected it was a bad idea; after all, she and the real Doctor had only recently shared the odd kiss or seven, and were very much not yet a couple. So she couldn't imagine how the Doctor was going to react when he was back. Still, allowing John to take her for long walks and woo her filled up the hours, so she was hardly going to stop him. Besides, it did feel sort of nice - flattering - to have someone with the Doctor's face fawning over her a bit.

But as John leant in now, for what was probably going to be a full-on snog for once - rather than the chaste pecks he had been bestowing to her cheeks these last few weeks - Rose went very still, afraid that if she let him do this, let him kiss her and hold her and whisper such words of affection, let him lay her down on this seat or on his bed and undress her, then she would end up falling for him by mistake. And where would that leave her, when all this was said and done in two weeks' time? Where would that leave them, if the Doctor decided she had taken advantage of the situation and had a go at her about it, or worse…took her back to Earth, unable to trust her anymore? Or…if she missed this him too much, in the end?

She shook her head at herself. Nah, what was she thinking? She would always choose the Doctor. Always. Even if she did grow to care for the clumsy fool in front of her, who could barely walk in a straight line when she was near and dropped his books and himself down the stairs when he saw her, the Doctor would always far surpass him in what he could give her. A lifetime of adventure aboard the TARDIS, mingling amongst alien civilisations and the stars, holding his hand as they strolled through a faraway marketplace…

She let John kiss her, knowing that it wouldn't be risking anything even before his lips touched hers.

And when they did…

He finally closed the distance between them and pushed his mouth to hers, clumsily and hard and with no finesse, in a kiss that was notremotely as romantic as she thought this John Smith - the man who'd brought her flowers from the local meadow that he'd picked himself and who wrote bloody poems for her - would give. The moment she felt his tongue sneak into her mouth in a rather unappealing fashion, Rose knew for certain that there was no way, absolutely no way, that she'd be able to love or have sex with or marry this poor imitation of the real thing.

So as not to hurt his feelings, she eased out of the kiss gently, pushing at his chest slightly with one hand. He looked dazed when his eyes blinked open unevenly, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself giggling at him.

Rose had kissed the Doctor the week before they'd come here, after a planet under a black hole and all they'd endured that day had left her craving some comfort. He had kissed her back, and it had been nothinglike the kiss she'd just shared with John Smith, who seemed not to have inherited his alter ego's proficiency at snogging her breathless. The Doctor had - quite reluctantly, she thought - broken off the kiss and blustered a bit about them getting some sleep, and in the days that followed, nothing had progressed further than a few similarly passionate snogging sessions on the sofa and the jumpseat and, on one memorable occasion, in her bed when he came to wake her up one morning. And then the Family of Blood had started hunting them, and their newfound intimacy was halted quite abruptly as he had to rewrite his biology and hide them here.

She hoped that the Doctor wanted to resume things when he came back, hoped that they could take things even further, and now, after experiencing such feeble attempts at kissage from the human, she couldn't wait to get the Time Lord's technique back in her life. It astounded her that the man sitting next to her could have the same lips and tongue and teeth and yet do nothing to set her body alight when he used them, whereas his alien counterpart reduced her to a horny mess in seconds.

Rose really would have to remember not to scoff next time the Doctor spoke of his superior Time Lord features.

"Rose," John started to speak again, and Rose sighed, glancing at the mantlepiece, where she knew the watch sat, keeping his Time Lord self safe. Would it be so bad if she opened it early? Probably. She sighed again.

"Rose, did you - did you hear me?" he stammered uncertainly.

"Hmm?" she replied, realising he was still talking to her.

"I said, will you do me the honour of - "

Rose nearly choked on air; she could not deal with that question right now. Knowing she was gonna regret it the moment he twined his tongue with hers with no skill whatsoever, Rose braced herself, leaning in to press her lips back to his, purely to cut off his question. And then, she thought to herself that she might as well use the next two weeks to teach this human a thing or two about how to actually kiss someone. It would kill time, after all, and if the Doctor questioned her about it after he returned, she could just say that it was for the good of their health, and shut up any further queries he made by getting back in the swing of kissing him, safe in the knowledge that she'd have a proper partner with actual abilities in this arena when that was the case.