John Smith paused in the doorway of the lounge, a damp towel hung around his neck. His greedy eyes soaked up one of his favorite sights in all creation. Rose Tyler was curled in the corner of the couch, frowning intently as she perused a magazine. In the absence of an overnight bag, she was wearing his violet jumper (which looked much better on her anyway) and her hair had air-dried into waves and loose ringlets.
He dropped onto the cushion beside Rose and wrapped both arms around her, shifting her to rest back against his chest. "What're you reading, love?"
"It's a dancin' magazine."
"With job ads and such?" At her nod, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Oh, Rose…I'm so proud of you!"
She looked up at him, chewing her lip in consternation. "But John…I don't even know how to begin to apply for any of these jobs. What do I put on my resume? Trained by my mum at home, and took all the dance and gymnastics classes at the local community center? And I can't say I danced in a bar - people will think I'm a -"
"Incredibly lovely and talented woman?"
She smiled at him sadly. "It doesn't work that way. Not out in the real world."
"Hush a moment," he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head, while he rubbed her arm soothingly. "Does that thing have ads for classes, too?"
"Yes."
"Well, then," John said, beaming like Father Christmas, "we find you a teacher, get a bit o' formal polish for the wonderfulness that is Rose Tyler." He reached up to gently tug on a curl, watching in fascination as it sprang back against her cheek. "
"But there's no place around here," she fretted. "And even if there was, how would I afford it?"
"Fiddlin' about with computers pays well enough. We'll manage."
Rose curled tighter into his embrace. "I don't want to go alone, and I can't ask you to -"
John hushed her with gentle fingers against her lips. "Clever girl, haven't you guessed by now? The only thing keeping me here…is you."