A/N If you squint you just might find a bit of fluff in this chapter…because we could all use some right about now!

Chapter 11

Despite the considerable tension between himself and his…wife, the next few days passed as relatively uneventful. That could be taken as either good or bad, John supposed. The situation hadn't utterly dissolved, but neither had it progressed. They were at a stalemate.

He knew they were going to have to deal with this at some point. Try, at least. But Rose clearly wasn't comfortable talking with him about it yet. She wasn't comfortable with him period. He had a better understanding now as to why she felt that way, but that didn't make the situation between them any easier. If he tried to push her to confront this he sensed she would shut down at this stage; shut him out entirely. Right now she wouldn't even admit she had a genuine problem, a defensive strategy she'd no doubt developed long ago. So whatever approach he took in attempting to persuade her to eventually face this, he was going to have to broach it carefully and when the timing was right.

Until then, John felt at a loss as to how to proceed here and now to simply get through this trip on speaking terms. It was then John recalled his own words. His vow. Among the promises he had made to Rose, one of them was to simply be her friend, come what may. That, he decided, would be his starting point. He would show her that he simply enjoyed being with her, which was true. He wouldn't put pressure on her to open up just yet, nor would he pressure her in regards to the intimacy she so obviously feared. This honeymoon could simply be a holiday of sorts. If it meant their current relationship would look more like best mates than husband and wife, well…at least it would be some form of a relationship. It was a small step, but at least it was a step.

As it happened, this seemed to be the right course of action. After those first tense days and nights of few words and little interaction, giving Rose space and staying true to his promise of not pressuring her for more, she gradually became a little more open to just spending time with him again, finally willing to venture about the ship. Whether she had needed time to rebuild a bit of trust in him, time to move past the possible embarrassment she might have felt over that night, or perhaps a bit of both, either way the tension had eased marginally. She was still distant with him but at least she was with him. They dined together, took in a couple of the evening shows, and spent one afternoon together simply relaxing by the pool.

That activity had proven itself a challenge to his strictly platonic approach. Rose, reluctant at first, had spent most of the time lounging poolside with a book, an innocent enough activity in theory. But while her one-piece bathing suit had been modest by current standards, it had still taken substantial effort on his part not to stare at the smooth expanse of her long, toned legs. John had plunged himself into the cool water almost immediately out of sheer necessity. If Rose had noticed his struggle not to ogle her, she hadn't called him on it. In fact, he'd even caught her sneaking a couple glances at him as he swam, though her eyes quickly averted back to her book whenever he'd caught her looking. Her flicks of interest could have been nothing more than mild curiosity. Considering she'd never seen him without so much as his jacket, his stripped-down state of mere swim trunks was far outside his norm. In any case, at least he'd had her attention.

It was now nearly a week in, and soon they would be docking in Miami, their first port of call. If Rose enjoyed it, John planned to suggest staying for a bit and arranging to take a later cruise on to the Caribbean in order to give them extra time together. But he wasn't sure how she would respond to the idea of extending their trip just yet, so he decided to wait on that suggestion.

As they made their way along the deck to dinner that night, John found himself taking more notice of the passing couples who were linked hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm, pressed close and murmuring intimately. He had never fancied himself an envious sort of man nor a romantic by nature, but it was hard to resist the desire to at least take the hand of the woman beside him. Rose had seemed comfortable with that level of contact before, and for him it had become second nature. But in light of their recent setback, he had been afraid to push for more, no matter how small the gesture.

Instead he tried to appease himself with the fact that Rose was, at the very least, spending time with him again. Enjoying that bit of consolation, John took his time strolling the deck with her, admiring the view of the stars above casting their lustrous glint on the watery canvas below as the two chatted casually. True, it was John carrying most of the conversation, as he had lately. But this, at least, wasn't a challenge for him. If there was one thing he could do, it was talk.

"Ah, just wait until mid-August," he began to ramble, arms folded over the ship's railing and gaze directed upward at the unobstructed view of the dazzling night sky. "The Perseids will be spectacular this year."

Rose flicked a mildly curious look his way as she rested her hands against the steel railing alongside him, the linen skirt of her casual powder-blue dress flapping gently in the sea breeze. "The what?"

He half-angled toward her. "The Perseids. It's a meteor shower. Oh, please tell me you've seen it before…"

She shook her head. "Don't think so."

John frowned at this. "Really?"

"London isn't the best location for stargazing, I s'pose," Rose said with a shrug.

"Getting out of the city is an absolute must for proper viewing. Luckily I know all of the celestial hot spots," he winked.

She breathed out what could have been a soft laugh, and he thought it a gorgeous sound. "I bet you do."

Feeling himself grin, he redirected his eyes to the twinkling pinpricks of light overhead. "Oh, you're going to be in for a treat, Rose Tyler-Smi–"

He saw her head jerk toward him in his periphery, and he didn't quite finish the merging of names forming all-too naturally on his tongue.

John cleared his throat and went on, both their gazes returning to the escape of the stars. "I always look forward to August for that very reason. Brilliant streaks of light blazing across the sky at up to a hundred per hour – amazing! And to think it's all the result of otherwise insignificant bits of debris from a passing comet. Swift-Tuttle, in this case. You might think the shower would bear the same name, but its designation actually comes from the constellation Perseus, because the perceived direction of the shower appears in the same location. Now there's an interesting constellation. Named after the Greek hero, of course, and surrounded by all of the related legends – Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Pegasus and so forth… Notably, the constellation contains the Demon Star, one of the brightest and best known eclipsing binaries, and said to represent the eye of Gorgon Medusa of Greek mythology." He paused. "It's incidentally thought to be one of the unluckiest stars, so best not wish on it." He realized Rose was staring at him and not the sky. "What?"

She made that sound again – the lighthearted one that lightened his own. "You can't half ramble, you know that?"

John schooled his features in mock-affront. "I think we've previously established that I do not ramble. I impart valuable and impressive knowledge."

"In your case that's rambling," she rejoined.

Maybe it was a fool's hope, but he was quite sure he detected a note of humor in her tone. His lips twitched with the effort to keep from grinning back at her like the besotted fool that he was. "But do you agree that my knowledge is nonetheless valuable? To say nothing of impressive?"

Rather than respond with another quip, she cocked her head quizzically. "How come you know so much about stars and space stuff, anyway?"

It wasn't the compliment he'd teasingly fished for, but she was expressing a genuine interest in him, no matter how small. He turned around so his back was to the railing, elbows propped on the cool white steel as he faced outward toward her. "Oh, it's been a favorite interest of mine for years. As long as I can remember, actually. My first hobby, if you will." He paused, caught by the way the silver moonlight reflected in her golden hair. "I can't wait to take you stargazing with me," he murmured, eyes dipping to follow the motion of her throat as she swallowed. "I know just the place…"

She bit her lower lip, averting her gaze. The wall was going back up again. "We'll say this counts and check it off the list, yeah?"

Rose turned away from the rail, walked a few paces and took a seat in one of the white deck chairs. He breathed deeply and followed her, folding his long limbs down into the chair beside her.

"Rose–"

"What happens when we get back?" she broke in, tugging her skirt down over her knees then wrapping her arms around them.

He scratched at the back of his neck, considering his response. Such a question had several possible answers. Before trying to reply, he thought it best to find out what she had in mind. "What do you mean?"

She sighed and shook her head. "Have you even thought about it? And not just…not just the stuff between you and me. There's everything else, too. I mean…I don't exactly fit in with your lifestyle. You're rich and successful. You started your own corporation. Can't imagine who you must hobnob with. Me? I'm a council chav, not some socialite. I can just see me trying to fit in at those fancy parties and posh events with those society types. Everyone you know will see right through me for what I am."

John angled closer, leaning his forearms on his knees. "What you are is a clever, beautiful woman." She glanced down, but he went on. "A woman who's made mistakes, granted. But there isn't a person in this universe who hasn't. So just try to let those 'society types' throw stones. They'll bounce right back. As for fitting in…," he crooked a wry grin, "I have no doubt you can charm the pants off anyone you meet. And yes, I do have to participate in those, frankly dry and boring, events from time to time. But with you there that sort of thing might actually be bearable for me."

He leaned a bit closer. "Rose, look at me." With reluctance, she lifted her eyes back to his. "You're going to bring a breath of new life. Not just to stuffy society functions. But to my home. To my life. All I ask is that you give this…us…a fair chance. I don't expect it to happen overnight, and I'm not putting any time constraints on you. But I hope in time you'll at least be open to giving it a proper chance."

"I…" Rose breathed in deeply. "I can't make any promises right now."

He glanced down at his hands, nodding as he idly twisted the gold band encircling his finger. "I know."

"'Cause I honestly don't know if things could change."

By "things," he knew she was referring to herself. But he wasn't going to give up on her, on them, so soon. "It's early yet. This is all still new for both of us. So I'm only going to ask you to make one promise right now."

Her voice and expression turned wary. "What's that?"

John gave her a tiny smile. "Still join me for dinner?"

Breathing out, Rose flickered a small smile of her own. "Yeah."

-:-:-:-

John had requested seating on the outside balcony of the formal dining room, their table for two overlooking the dark, rippling velvet of the sea. Soft music from inside drifted through the night air, a live jazz band performing for the listening pleasure of the diners as well as those taking advantage of the dance floor within.

Maybe it was wishful thinking on John's part, but Rose finally seemed a little more relaxed in comparison to previous nights. Perhaps their talk on the deck had gotten through to her on some level. She even offered a tiny smile in his direction when he caught her eye as the main course was served. Her eyes were still guarded every time she looked his way, but he sensed that maybe, just maybe she was letting that guard ease just a fraction.

He kept the conversation light, chatting about favorite foods and the superiority of bananas versus the reproach of pears, even getting a chuckle out of her when he demonstrated through facial expressions the mere thought of the detestable taste upon his tongue.

As they finished the main course and awaited dessert, John decided to take a small risk and finally push the established boundaries just a little, tonight seeming like his best chance yet. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

He took a sip of his wine, lowered the glass and cleared any uncertainty from his throat. "Rose?"

She looked up at him, lowering her own glass of crisp chardonnay. "Hmm?"

He tilted his head toward the inner dining room. "Would you…care to dance?"

Rose hesitated, eyes tracking over to the nearby glass partition, beyond which lay the dance floor where couples swayed in unison, holding each other in a close embrace.

"I'm not much of a dancer," she deferred, eyes falling back to her drink, absently rimming her finger around the circumference.

Perhaps it was asking too much too soon, considering how she felt about any sort of physical intimacy. But she had the security of being surrounded by other people, the fact that he seemed to have regained a small bit of her trust at this point, and the knowledge that in this case dancing was just dancing. They had to start somewhere.

"Nor am I," he admitted. "Which makes us a perfect match." Her eyes flicked up. "We're both imperfect and not afraid to admit it." He shrugged. "Besides, it'll give us both good practice for those dull society events we're planning to liven up together." She bit her lip, still hesitating. "But only if you're comfortable."

"I…" She looked again toward the dance floor, seeming to gather her resolve, that Rose Tyler strength he knew she possessed that didn't like backing down from a challenge. "All right. One dance."

Managing to control his enthusiasm and not whoop in delight, John stood and helped her from her chair. Rose stood and, before overthinking it, he offered his hand. Her eyes flicked to his outstretched hand. There was a moment's hesitation, making it feel like a small victory when she slid her warm palm into his. He squeezed gently, reassuringly, and led the way inside.

John was still adjusting to this reticent side of her. The woman he had first come to know had been so poised and self-assured. He knew, however, that a large part of her inhibitions were due to this current situation. She suddenly found herself in the unexpected position of being a new bride on a honeymoon. Having learned of her fierce aversion to intimacy, it was no wonder she seemed off-balanced by this whole thing. He had to gain more of her trust here. She had to get to know him – get comfortable with him all over again. Hopefully this was a small start.

They walked past the meticulous maze of linen draped tables, finally reaching the dance floor on the outer skirts of the room. Pressing forward, they wove in and out of the swaying couples as they found an open space where they would not be crowded. The slow, rich tones of "Moonlight Serenade" crooned in their ears as they released hands and turned to face each other in the low light.

John's hand reached for hers again, this time sliding up until their palms were pressed flat and their fingers interlocked. He stepped closer – close enough to be practical to their purpose but careful not to crowd her – and placed a light hand on the feminine concavity of her waist.

"If I smash your toes to smithereens, I hereby give you permission to do likewise to mine," he quipped, trying to keep this comfortable for her by lightening the mood.

"Fair enough," Rose said, clearing her throat. Then, tentatively, she raised her left hand to his right shoulder and let it rest there.

Even through his pinstriped layers he could feel the warmth of her hand upon him, penetrating through to his skin. He longed to pull her closer, to feel her full body pressed to his. Remembering the disastrous results the last time he'd done something like that, John forced himself to maintain a distance she was more comfortable with.

He gave her a warm smile. She returned it with a look of uncertainty.

"Like so…," he murmured. With the gentle guiding of his hand on her waist, they began to move, awkwardly at first, both trying to find and establish a rhythm. Both were stiff in their unpracticed movements, further encumbered by weighted tension.

At first Rose kept her eyes directed downward, though not entirely out of reticence. She had to watch her feet thanks to a couple of close calls by both of them. After a few minutes of awkwardness, they began to adjust to the slow beat and fell into a modest rhythm.

"We'll get the hang of this yet, eh?" he spoke encouragingly, the words referencing more than just the dancing.

"At least one of us thinks so," she mumbled.

After another moment or two of silence, John spoke up again. "You don't just have to become some sort of society hostess, you know?"

Rose shrugged, her fingers shifting a little on his shoulder as she glanced back down at her feet. "What else would I do?"

He didn't mention a possible return to TARDIS Corporation just yet. That was a tricky topic and represented one of the issues they still needed to move past. Plus, he didn't want her to see it as her only option.

"Anything," he settled on in response. She met his eyes then. "You can do anything, Rose. What is it that interests you?"

There was a long pause. "I…I dunno."

"Well, there's horses," he prompted. "Training? Breeding? Showing? Don't forget we have the stables at Gallifrey at your disposal."

Rose's eyes brightened for a fraction of a moment, then grew dull along with her resigned tone. "Gotta have experience and skills for that sort of thing. I don't have either. All I've ever done is ride."

"Or even veterinary medicine?" he continued, undaunted.

She snorted. "Without so much as A-Levels?"

"Well, no. But you can study and get there." A look passed over her face, as if she had never considered it a possibility; as if she never thought it could be a possibility for her. "Like I said, you can do anything."

Rose looked at him then. Really looked at him, as if his words held the weight of the universe. "What makes you think so?"

"You're clever, resourceful, and don't back down from a challenge," he answered without hesitation. In a quieter voice he added, "I believe in you."

She dipped her eyes, but a ghost of a smile lifted her features. "I think you're daft."

"Possibly…probably. That's nothing new. But I'm not wrong about you. And…hold on…was that a smile?"

She straightened her features and shook her head. "No."

"I think it was…," he wheedled.

"I only smiled 'cause you're daft."

"Ah-ha! You did smile." His own grin sobered. "For the record, it's a very good look on you. I hope to see it again sometime."

As they had talked, their bodies had relaxed and drifted closer, his hand now resting on the small of her back, their hips grazing once or twice as they moved. When the tune came to an end, they both realized their proximity.

Rose cleared her throat, let her hand slip from his shoulder and made to step back.

John released his hold around her, but kept her hand in his a moment longer. He raised it to brush a delicate kiss across her knuckles before releasing.

"Thank you for the dance, Rose."

He could only hope the flush that bloomed across her cheeks was a good sign.