What's this? The Second Chapter in a few hours? Maybe I feel bad 'cause I'm such a good updater.
Mostly fluff/filler stuff.
John woke up around 5:30AM.
Too early for some, but just right for him.
Rose complained incessantly about it.
Usually, he would wake up, kiss Rose on the cheek, and slip out of bed, exiting the bedroom as quietly as he could. He couldn't deal with a sleep-deprived Rose every day. He would close the door to the tiny closet before using his cell phone as a light to find his sweats and get changed, turn the light off again, slip out of the closet, kiss Rose on the cheek again (usually answered by her grumbling and snuggling into her blankets) and leave the room. He'd have a glass of water and then go for a run.
John loved to run.
But this morning, when he woke, he found he was too comfortable in his position to even consider leaving his bed. Was this how Rose felt every morning? He turned onto his side to look at her, smiling when he did.
She was beautiful, his Rose. And in her sleep she looked peaceful. So for a while, just a few minutes, he stayed where he was, bundled in his blankets, warm and cozy.
Naturally, after a while, he got restless. He was not longer tired, but he was bored. With a sigh, he rolled himself towards his girlfriend, not stopping until he was on top of her. With a dramatic groan, she turned her head to see him lying casually on top of her, his eyes closed as though that was where he was planning to sleep. The first words she uttered were quite muffled, but he managed to distinguish a garbled "get off, you lump," and he was pushed aside.
He grinned widely at her as she opened one eye to peek at him. She yawned widely, stretching out her arms in a stereotypical fashion and sat up, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes bleary. "What time is it?" She mumbled, almost incoherently.
"Almost 7," John told her.
She groaned loudly and flopped back onto the bed, covering her eyes with her palm. John reached out and poked her side, the slight bit of skin that was visible between her pajama top and bottoms. She squealed and wiggled away from him. "Your hands are cold," she gasped.
He grinned and moved closer. "We have to get up anyway, sweetheart." He told her quietly, leaning in to kiss her cheek. She sighed and sat up again, this time swinging around so her feet touched the ground. She stood on her tiptoes and stretched upwards, cracking her back and shoulders. Before moving towards the bathroom.
She grabbed a towel, and stood in the doorframe, turning to smile at him. "Could you –"
"Make the bed while you take a shower? Yes." John finished for her, a cheeky smile on his lips. "Let me know if you need any help in there."
He heard her laugh as she closed the doors.
Most mornings were some variation of this, and he couldn't help be grateful that he got to live out his life with her. They'd only been back in the parallel world for two years, but it simultaneously felt like they'd always lived like this and brand new.
After her shower, it was his turn. So he kissed her nose as she left and he entered the bathroom, receiving a bleary eyed smile as a reward.
He reached into their closet and found his Torchwood uniform – a simple pair of black trousers, a black shirt, and a particularly handy utility belt in which, to Rose's amusement, he often stashed a banana or two. The uniform was official Torchwood – bullet and laser proof fibers. His standard combat boots were waiting for him by the door.
Rose's uniform, in his opinion, was much better. Still all black, though her trousers were much more form fitting than his, which he greatly appreciated.
After dressing, he went to their shared kitchen, where she was reading the newspaper and sipping her tea, a full mug of tea next to her, already sweetened to his taste. He took a grateful sip and hummed in satisfaction while Rose crinkled her nose at the amount of sugar he enjoyed in his tea.
They rode to work together, during which John told Rose stories of his travels as the Doctor in the other universe.
Today though, was John least favourite type of day. One of their agents had been killed in action, and today was his funeral. As John had not been a teammate of the fallen agent, he would attend the funeral as a guest, in his regular work uniform.
Rose, however, was dressed quite differently. Her pants were black and quite formal, 3 satin black stripes down either side, and well shined dress shoes. Her blazer was a deep blue, two columns of buttons making their way down the front on the collar of her white blouse was visible, buttoned right up to her neck. Four vertical gold bars we sewn onto the right sleeve, on her bicep, representing Torchwood's simplicity and her rank: sergeant. Her cap was tucked under her arm. Her beautiful gold hair, darker than when he'd first known her, was pulled into a tight bun, and the only makeup she wore was eyeliner and mascara.
He dropped her off at the front of the building, knowing she needed to be there first, and that today, she would not be going with him to the field agent section of Torchwood. She leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek and a grateful smile before getting out of the car.
He drove the car to their designated parking spot and stepped out, grabbing his bag before catching up to the rest of the staff.
"Jake," he called when he saw his friend, who turned at the mention of his name. He waited still for John to catch up with him before walking again. "How're you, mate?" Jake asked John as they headed in the building.
"Not too bad. Nice weather today," John commented off handedly.
"Perfect for a funeral," Jake replied sarcastically. John shot him a look before heading to the training area.
Rose looked on at the body of her fallen comrade, lying peacefully in the satin line coffin. She hadn't been close to him, but they'd started at Torchwood around the same time and become somewhat friendly. He'd flirted with her until it became apparent to him that she was not available, at which point they became easy friends. He was dressed in the same garb as her, though only 3 bars decorated his shoulder. Age lines around his eyes had deepened, and his hair was streaked with grey. Self-consciously, Rose smoothed her own perfectly blonde hair back.
"Goodbye, my friend." She saluted him.
Rose was no stranger to death. She'd seen much of it while traveling with the Doctor, and unfortunately, working for a branch of the military meant that she'd continued to see death relatively regularly.
Her mother thought she was crazy for continuing her work at Torchwood, albeit not in the same department. Now that she was no longer desperate to cross the dimensions, Rose had trained as a field agent along with John.
The funeral was a formal affair. Rose carried out the coffin along with five other people who'd worked with Officer McCarthy. He was buried in an army plot, in a row of perfectly lined up white gravestones, with his wife off crying to the side.
When the day was done John found Rose starting herself in the mirror in their bedroom, a frown on her face. His eyebrows pinched together as he walked over and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, smiling at her when she sighed and sank into him. "Everything alright, sweetheart?" He asked, kissing her cheek.
"'S'fine." Rose said with a shrug. "What are we doing for dinner?"
"I thought we could go out," John replied, airily, hoping she couldn't feel his pulse quicken.
She groaned, "not 'out' like to my parents', right?"
John laughed. "No. But it is a surprise, so you don't get to know."
Rose untangled herself from his arms. "A surprise? How am I dressing for the surprise?"
John smiled at her, surprising her with a tug on her arm that made her twirl. She laughed and let go of his arm, unsteadily trying to regain her balance on her feet. "Dress like you," he told her. "I have to run an errand first, but I'll be back here at 6:00 to pick you up."
Rose smiled in acknowledgement.
They both changed out of their work uniforms, John into simple jeans and a maroon t-shirt, while Rose stayed in her undergarments, digging through the closet for something "Rose".
He prided himself on knowing he'd only stared at her rear for a minute and a half.
He drove quickly – Rose would have surely disapproved – until he reached his destination.
The Tyler Mansion.
Stepping out of the car, he ran his hand through his hair before bounding up the steps and knocking on the door.
It was Tony who answered, though John had no idea how he managed to reach the doorknob, he grinned down at the little Tyler, who grinned back.
"Tony! I have told you not to answer the door by yourself!" Jackie Tyler rushed over, a frown on her face. He simply grinned mischievously at his mother, in a very Rose-esque manner. Jackie looked up to see John at the door and smiled. "John! What are you doing here?"
"I came to pick it up," John said nervously, running his hands through his hair again.
He winced at Jackie's squeal of joy before entering the house. "You remember where we put it?" Jackie asked him, and at his nod left him alone, scooping up her errant child and heading, John assumed, to the dining room. John bounded up the stairs to the spare bedroom where he and Rose occasionally stayed, making a b-line to the closet and opening it carefully.