Their marriage, if it could be called one, was an awkward affair at best and an uncomfortable cohabitation at worst.
Strangers on their wedding afternoon, John and Rose stayed strangers even now, a month after their vows.
If the clumsily-composed words spoken in front of the priest, her little family and his only friend could be called vows.
Rose pursed her lips, grimacing uncomfortably. Blimey, she could never imagine the life she was leading now even in her strangest, wildest dreams.
She didn't choose to say the word 'nightmares' because life with John didn't remind her of a nightmare. It was an awkward, if lonely, life: she had been sharing a house with a practical stranger for several weeks now. She said practical stranger, but she'd known John Smith her whole life ever since she could remember herself as her own person. John Smith, a decent if a grouchy, moody and sometimes depressed fella, was a character known in their city's neighbourhood. He was lonely and quite unsociable, but he was also known to be kind, and fair, and ready to lend a helping hand to anyone in need.
John Smith was also fifteen years older than Rose herself was.
And oh, was that a sour topic for him.
Rose rolled her eyes in exasperation when she remembered the heated speech he delivered to her and her mother just before they were about to enter the church. While she herself hadn't been a fan of the hasty and pre-arranged nature of their union, she couldn't quite understand the dramatic lectures of John.
"Couldn't you have found someone better? Younger? Why isn't Rickey volunteering to marry Rose when he's towing behind her constantly, making lovesick eyes at her?" John asked, his voice booming, his demeanour sour.
"Thanks ever so, it's not that I'm jumping with joy here, too!" Rose replied, feeling the burn of John's words. He didn't have to say what he was thinking out loud, the words hurt even more when spoken instead of just thought. "I get it, I'm not every man's dream, not yours for sure, obviously, but it's not like we have a choice, do we?" she bit back, turning away to fiddle with the modest bridal bouquet that her best mate, Shareen, had made for Rose's special day.
Yeah. Special awful day is what it was turning out to be.
Rose had her back turned to John, and she couldn't see how a worried expression came over his face.
Rose's mother, Jackie, however, had seen it.
"No!" John protested. Rose narrowed her eyes and started turning to him cautiously. "No, Rose, that's not…ugh! God damn it!" he swore loudly, expressively, and kicked a pebble that was conveniently lying in front of him. Three nuns that were passing past them, rushing to their duties, clicked their tongues at John's offensive words, but he only gave them a mulish glare. Shaking their heads, the sisters of mercy walked into the church without saying anything. Then, Rose felt John's whole attention concentrated on her. "Rose, I didn't mean it like that. You're sweet, and you're pretty, and I'm an old widower with long, boring working hours and not exactly with a sweet disposition. Why you would choose to marry me instead of one of those pretty boys chasing you is beyond my understanding!" he explained, passing his fingers through his close-shorn hair, feeling lost and frustrated.
"Well, she ain't got a dowry, has she?" Jackie, Rose's mother, pushed back. "All of those pretty boys, as you put it, are only after a bit of skirt and fun, they won't marry her, she hasn't got a penny to bless herself with!" Jackie pointed out.
Rose tsked and threw her hands. "What is it? Insult Rose Day? Thank you all so much for making me feel so nice and special!" she accused, pouting and tearing a leaf off a carnation from the bouquet.
Shareen slapped Rose's hand away. "Hey! Don't take your anger on the wedding flowers! You still need them!"
Rose puffed her cheeks in frustration and looked down, scuffing her shoe on the cobbled street's floor.
What a nightmare of a wedding that was.
It was Jack Harkness, John's only best friend (it was truly a miracle how those two were such good friends), put his hands in the air in a placating manner, trying to stop the squabbling among the unconventional bridal party.
"Calm down, people!" he demanded, and Rose was impressed at how Jack managed to make even her mother quiet without raising his voice. Then, he turned to John. "Mate, stuff it. The more you talk, the bigger the hole you're digging for yourself is." Having said that, Jack gave a charming smile to Jackie, making her relax her posture and smile in return. No women were immune to the Harkness charms, it seemed. "Mrs. Tyler, don't worry. Everything is already settled, and Rose is more than just the money she has or doesn't have." Finally, carefully, Jack focussed his eyes on Rose, who was equally nervous, upset and insulted. "Rose, sweetheart," he started, walking closer to her and bending his knees to be at the same eye level as Rose was. "You're beautiful. The most beautiful bride I've ever laid my eyes on," he complimented, making Rose blush and John harrumph. Rose knew she was far from the most beautiful bride in the world, not while wearing her old Sunday best dress of cheap dark blue calico, but she appreciated Jack's gesture of trying to lift her spirits up. "John's an idiot, but he's an honest, honourable man, and he will protect you from that madman as he promised he would," he added seriously, and Rose found herself nodding, agreeing. Her own gut feeling was telling her that John was a man to put her trust in. "All you have to do is have patience, not listen to his constant moaning and groaning, and not let you both die from boredom. Heaven knows you'll need to work for two to create a cheerful, bright atmosphere in your household," Jack joked, and Rose found herself snorting through the sudden onslaught of tears that were threatening to fall.
Oh, God, Rose thought, fanning her face with her hands. She was a bride. She was about to step into the church and get married to John. Not that John was bad or evil, but he had a difficult personality, a life of his own, and, well, they'd never so much as talked for more than five minutes in her twenty years of life, and now they were getting married.
Rose heard several people speaking at the same time.
"Sweetheart! Don't cry! It's not as bad as it seems, you'll adjust…"
"Oh, Rose, don't do that, my heart won't survive it. My baby, my only child! A bride!"
"Aw, Rose, come on, don't start, you're supposed to cry only from happy things today…"
But there was one voice that stood out in particular.
"Rose Tyler," John's words, thick with a Northern accent, reached her. "Dry up your tears. I promise not to hurt you, and I swear that this marriage will ward James Stone off hounding you, the judge at the court said so when we asked him for a solution."
John towered over her, but Rose didn't feel intimidated, and she knew it wasn't in his thoughts to make her uncomfortable. He leaned to her, catching her eyes. "I know I'm not the best prize out there, but you'll have a safe life by my side. No Jameses Stones to bother you again. How's that, eh? I'll even pop the bottle of the finest whiskey from my eighteenth birthday today, and there will be dancing - I know you love dancing - how does that sound to you?"
Rose felt a bit silly that John, who was about to marry her against his initial wishes, was consoling her, promising nice things to cheer her up as if she was a fussy child who hadn't got what she wanted. She should have felt stupid or looked down at, maybe even slightly humiliated by the whole situation. Yet she couldn't help herself and giggled at his words, causing a huge, genuine grin appear on his face, making his light blue eyes glitter in the rays of the afternoon sun.
"You ready, Rose Tyler?" he asked, smiling, and offered her his arm.
Rose wiped the tears off with a handkerchief provided by Jack, tucked it into her bouquet's ribbons and accepted John's invitation, walking to the steps of the church.
"Ready as I'll ever be, John Smith!" she replied, smiling sincerely back at him.
After all, the wedding turned out to be better than Rose expected it to be.
Rose returned home from her work at the women's accessories store, announcing her arrival. The clock said that it was 5 o'clock in the evening. She was greeted by John's - and now hers, too - housekeeper, Gwyneth.
Blimey. Never in her life Rose would have imagined herself being a mistress of a house with a housekeeper to wait on her and John. There were a couple of maids, too, who arrived about three times a week, and a strict-looking cook, Mrs. Blon, who came and went three times a week, too, providing their house with homemade meals. While John Smith's household was far from being posh and fashionably modern, it was still very different from what Rose herself was used to.
Having grown up in a small house of a poor neighbourhood with only her mum and her mother's sister to depend on, Rose was accustomed to long hours of work and doing all the house chores herself, sharing those with her mother when possible. Rose's father, Pete, had died in a carriage accident on a busy road six months after Rose's birth, and Jackie, a young widow with an infant in her care, worked herself to the bone to provide Rose with a happy, safe life as much as she could.
And so, it was a shock for Rose to realise that there were people taking care of the household, cooking meals for her, doing the cleaning and the laundry while she was left to her own devices.
It was a good thing that John Smith was a man of modern worldview, Rose surmised. As her husband, he could have ordered her to stay home and play a picture perfect wife, throwing little parties, attending all-female gatherings and church events and generally staying home, reading novels suitable for proper ladies and embroidering fancy patterns on silk cloth.
She could work much to her heart's pleasure, and their small house was still not crowded and uncomfortably stiff because everyone tended to leave John and Rose's house at about 6 in the evening, arriving at about 7 in the morning. That way, Rose could enjoy the peace and quiet of her new home, not weighed down by rules of politeness and other expectancies of society.
Rose shuddered visibly and sent a quick 'thank you' to whatever deity was kind to her to give her such a nice life.
She would have made such an awful prim and obedient wife, she would have, Rose thought wryly and turned to Gwen.
"Good evening, Mrs. Smith!" Gwen greeted her with a smile. Rose replied with a 'good evening' of her own, not bothering to correct Gwen anymore. She asked the woman to call her just Rose many times, but it was to no avail. "Tea's ready. You go wash your hands and face, I've warmed some water in the basin by your bed," the dark-haired housekeeper instructed, and Rose obeyed without protest.
It was so strange to be taken care of after a work day, but Rose couldn't find it in herself to dislike the feeling.
After a cold day in the store, warm water and tea by the fire sounded heavenly.
She only hoped that John wouldn't stay at work for too long. While she enjoyed the absence of the people in the house in the evening, she wasn't partial to solitude, being a very sociable and energetic girl by nature.
And there were many a night when John would come home at 10 in the evening or later, leaving Rose to shorten the nights on her own, and there were only so many times Rose could invite Shareen over without making Shareen's husband displeased.
Sighing heavily and hoping that John would stop evading her company, Rose placed her hands in the warm water, making a quick work of washing her face and neck with soap and scented water.
That night, Rose waited for John until midnight, and she was rewarded for her patience by actually seeing him.
It has been about a week and a half since she'd last spoken to him, and them sharing a bed for several hours at night without even touching didn't count as communication.
Clearly, John was surprised to see her, it was obvious by the lines of his face.
"Rose? What are you doing up so late?" he asked, glancing at the dying fire in the hearth. "You'll catch your death if you sit on the first floor after dinner, it's much warmer upstairs," he reprimanded her softly, but there was no bite in his words, just worry. "Did something happen? Are you okay?" he asked, shaking the snow off his coat. He then stomped his feet on the small rug by the door to make sure there was no snow left on his heavy leather boots and let them dry under where his coat was hanging.
"Everything's okay, I'm okay," Rose replied hastily. "I just…" she trailed off, uncertain. What was she going to say? "John, I'm so lonely, I could start climbing the walls, I want some meaningful conversation to participate in, I want to go out and enjoy the Christmas festivities but I can't because I'm a married woman, and a married woman can't get out and have fun on her own, and I can only go to my mum's place so many times a week before some noisy neighbour starts gossiping."
Rose cringed as she imagined herself saying that out loud.
Christ, she was miserable. While Rose remembered that their marriage was an act of necessity and not a love arrangement, and while she was grateful for John's stoic resolution to prove his promise to protect her from James Stone true, she felt…
Lonely. Abandoned. Without a place, even.
And it was Christmas time, for God's sake, and there wasn't so much as a tiny spark of cheer in her soul, and…
Oh!
That was the moment the idea took place in Rose's thoughts.
Christmas! That's where she could start.
The Christmas spirit was all about families and reunions and people becoming closer, right?
That was as good a place as any to start, Rose thought.
"Christmas!" she exclaimed, and she bit back a smile at seeing John baulk at her suddenness. "It's very close to Christmas, isn't it? And I thought, why don't we do something for the celebration? We could decorate, or…" Rose hesitated, seeing a disgruntled expression fall over John's face, "or I could do everything, it's not a fuss, I promise." She bit her lip and wrung her hands, nervous because of his strange quietness. "I could also pick some small presents for Gwen, Eloise and Aileen, too, and maybe something for Mrs. Blon…" Rose's voice faded away.
"Oh, right," John nodded energetically, making Rose lean away in shock. "Presents. Decorations. Right," he repeated and started to slap his trousers with a concentrated expression on his face, as if searching for something. "Suppose you need money for all of that, and I've given you none."
Rose wasn't sure if that was a trick of the dying fire's light or if John looked terribly guilty standing by the door and searching for something.
With a triumphant 'aha!' John pulled out his wallet out of the trousers' pocket and walked over to her hesitantly, before giving her an awkward, tight smile and offering a small stack of notes to her. "Sorry, Rose. I've forgotten entirely what it's like to have a…a wife," he said after a short pause, and there was a sad frown on his face. When he noticed Rose staring at him with her mouth slightly open, he smiled slightly and waved the money a little, offering it to her again. "Go on, take it. Use it for whatever you need, Rose. If it's not enough, tell me and I'll go to the bank office and withdraw some more for something you might need," this time, he was smiling softly, as if persuading her. "Come to think of it," he frowned, thinking out loud, "we need to set you up with a bank account. Shall we do it after Christmas?" he asked, and Rose finally started out of her stupor. She took the proffered money and put it on the table, then raised her eyes to her husband, who was standing uneasily next to her. "Thank you, John," Rose said sincerely. "But that's not what I meant. You know I've got a job, I've got money on my own, I just…"
"Oh, come on," John scoffed, interrupting her, "as if that is enough, I…"
Rose gasped, offended.
"Excuse me! It's my job, and an honest one at that, and it's perfectly enough for me!" she defended herself, pointing an accusing finger at him. Rose felt herself grow hot, she hadn't expected a quip like that from a man like John.
"No!" he shouted, making her wince. "No, sorry, no," he spoke quickly, putting his hands in the air in front of him in a calming gesture. "That's not what I meant, Rose. I'm not making fun of your job, nor do I think it's beneath mine, it's just that the whole of the town knows that Mr. Sneed is a bloody miser, isn't he?" he explained, and Rose could see a smile forming on his lips. "Jack had to bully the man into paying the wages several times when he'd conveniently forgotten about them during the busy season," and with that, John chuckled.
Rose couldn't help a smile that appeared on her lips. She could easily imagine Jack chasing the old, stodgy Sneed around his shop, threatening him with a beating.
"Okay, I understand," Rose nodded.
John's shoulders fell from his ears, and she could practically hear tension leaving his body with a 'whoosh'.
"I'm honestly sorry about not thinking about the money beforehand, Rose. And you probably needed so many things for yourself all these weeks…why didn't you say anything?" he lamented, stepping from one foot to another.
"I have everything I need," Rose replied with a smile. She really didn't have everything she'd had at her house when she wasn't a married woman, but she was saving some of the money she got as a salary. New boots and a couple of new dresses could wait: her own old ones could survive a couple of more mendings, and going out wasn't as fun when she was alone, so she didn't need money for that.
They desperately needed a new topic to ward off the awkwardness.
"You hungry? Mrs. Blon left some meat pie in the kitchen. Shall I put the kettle on?" Rose asked, desperate for something to do.
"You don't have to do that," John mumbled, but Rose could see the tiredness in the lines of his shoulders. "You should go to sleep, Rose, I'll be fine."
"Nah, I'm okay. Not really tired, and I don't mind giving some attention to my husband," she replied playfully and disappeared into the kitchen for the promised pie.
Rose wasn't there to witness the gobsmacked expression on John's face after her words.
"Would you mind terribly if I put up a Christmas tree here?" Rose asked after she'd finished chewing the pie. She had dinner when she came back from work, but it's been hours, the pie was delicious, and she felt hungry again. "Something small, I promise, it's just that we've always had one in my mum's place. It's so nice and cheerful to have it, isn't it?"
John replied without missing a beat.
"Rose, this is your home, too. I haven't had a Christmas tree here since…" he stopped abruptly and took a gulp of tea, unsure of how to proceed. "It's been a while since there had been a Christmas tree, it would be a nice…change to have one this year, if you want to," he offered and waved his hand invitingly.
Rose nodded eagerly. "Thank you. I'll see if I can ask the tree shop for delivery."
John raised his head to look at her. "Oh. I might do that. Choose and bring the tree home after work some day. If you want to," he added, unsure.
Rose gave him a brilliant smile.
"We have a deal," she told him, then finished the last of her pie and added some more tea to John's cup. "The decorations are on me, though," she warned him playfully. "Despite the common misconception, I do have some dowry. There's a box of my grandma's Christmas baubles under the bed."
The Doctor huffed out a laugh and shook his head at Rose's antics.
The silence in their bedroom didn't seem quite that uncomfortable or stifling that night.
It was a bright and early Christmas morning when both John and Rose stepped into their little house after a church service. Neither of them were religious people, but both society norms and her mother insisted on them appearing in church that morning.
And so, begrudgingly, John and Rose obeyed.
Not without John mumbling sourly all the way to the church and not without Rose rolling her eyes at her mother's bossy behaviour.
"What would people think, Rose?"
Who cared about what people thought?
Now, however, it was a pleasant afternoon, and John and Rose had their entire house to themselves. They both insisted that Gwen, Eloise and Aileen, along with Mrs. Blon got two days off for the holiday, and John made sure that everyone was paid nicely. Rose handed out the gifts, and everyone left the Smith household happy that night. Mrs. Blon left enough food for them to last an entire week, and Rose was happy that there was a cold place in the cupboard by the window to store the food safely.
"I will start the fire," John announced right after he closed the door behind them.
Rose nodded and took off her dark green bonnet. It was decorated with dried red berries and red flowers, adding to the Christmas cheer.
John called it 'festive' that morning.
Rose gave him a bright smile instead of replying.
"I'll put the tea on and see what there is in the cupboard for us. I swear Mrs. Blon left us mountains and mountains of food. We'll have to give out some to the shelter down the street."
Rose's back was to John, and she didn't see him smile tenderly at her words.
"Yeah," he said and busied himself with starting the fire.
Half an hour later, warmed up and pleasantly full from the meal, they were still sitting at the table, small talk finished along with the tea.
Yet both of them realised that they didn't mind the silence in each other's company.
Suddenly, John perked up.
"Oh! I nearly forgot," he stood up from the table and walked over to the chest of drawers in the adjacent living room. "I got you a small something," he said, took a little box out of the drawer and brought it to Rose.
He looked ready to be swallowed by the ground, Rose thought when she noticed his reddened cheeks and eyes that couldn't quite meet hers. Bless.
"Oh, John, you shouldn't have. That's so sweet!" she said but she was already opening the box to actually sound like he shouldn't have, and it made John smile.
"Oh! How lovely! Thank you, John! Oh, it's so pretty…" Rose murmured and twisted a beautifully painted jewellery box in her hands. Pink and yellow flowers decorated the hand-painted surface of the box. It was a pretty thing and a necessary one at that, too, she needed a place for her pins, rings and earrings.
John nodded at the box, "Open it."
Rose cocked her head to one side, intrigued, and did as he said.
"Awwww. John, this is too much," she whispered, tracing the delicate pattern of the locket inside the box.
It was a pendant in the shape of a pansy, covered by enamel of yellow and purple colours, and there was a small rhinestone in the centre of the flower, glittering merrily.
"No, it isn't," John assured Rose. "I thought that, perhaps, a rose would be too banal…"
"Yes, thank you. I hate it when people assume that I love roses," she interrupted him, smiling, and he could see tears shining in her eyes. Oh, damn. She didn't like it. He should've chosen something else, not all women were impressed by jewellery…
"Oh, John, thank you, it's so pretty!" she gushed, turning the pendant from side to side to see it gleaming in the light. "Can you help me to wear it?" she asked and turned on the chair so that he had access to her neck.
He swallowed, suddenly nervous like a fifteen-year-old who'd never spoken to a woman in his life. "So…you like it?"
"Like it?" Rose exclaimed, astonished. "I love it! Come on, come on, I want to see how it looks on me!"
John complied, unable to say 'no' to Rose.
He cursed his own trembling fingers as they fumbled awkwardly with the pendant's delicate clasp, and he had to restrain himself from caressing Rose's skin with his fingers.
Her skin was so soft, and Rose smelled so nice always, and she was so sweet, and kind and grateful…and young, and pretty…surely, she wouldn't want him to be her husband in the true form of the word?
Clearing his throat, John shook his head to get rid of the naive and dreamy thoughts and finally fastened the necklace around Rose's neck.
Rose jumped from the seat, startling him, scaring him for a moment, but she only bounded to the mirror next to the entrance, admiring the necklace hanging down from her neck, caressing it with the tips of her fingers.
It suited her, John noticed, pleased.
He told Rose so.
She turned to him, smiling shyly, and walked over to where he was standing. Rose hesitated for a while, biting the tips of her fingers as she was bound to do when she was nervous, John knew, and he wondered why she was worried then.
"Thank you, John," she whispered, then got onto her tiptoes and placed a quick, sweet kiss to his cheek. "I love it."
John just stood there like a statue, stunned by her gesture, and he could feel a silly smile and a blush forming on his face.
"I got you a little something, too!" Rose said, then told him to wait and rushed upstairs to their bedroom. "I'll be back in a minute!"
John blinked, surprised. Rose got him something, too?
The wonders didn't cease to appear that day.
"Um…" Rose drawled out, unsure of herself. "Merry Christmas, John!" she said and pushed a small, carefully wrapped box in his hands. "It's not as fancy as your gift, but I…I don't know, I saw it and thought of you," she mumbled quietly, looking away from him.
John accepted the box and put it on the table to open it. "Rose, I'm sure whatever you got me is lovely. I'm grateful I crossed your mind, honestly."
Rose hummed without saying anything. She was anticipating his reaction, hoping that John would like what she'd chosen for him.
Finally, John opened the box. It was clear that Rose put much effort into wrapping the present, and he actually felt a bit sorry for tearing the packaging off.
"Oh," he stated, shocked.
"What?" Rose asked, worried. "John, if you don't like it, I'm sure we can still return…"
"Rose, it's beautiful. Thank you," he said, taking the watch out of the box, taking it into his palms and touching the engraved surface with the tips of his fingers. He looked at Rose, and she swallowed nervously at the intensity of emotions in John's eyes. "I love it. Thank you so much, Rose," he said, then paused for a moment and reached out a hand to her.
Rose accepted his hand eagerly, squeezing it between her warm palms.
"Thank you, Rose," John repeated, and for some strange reason it seemed that he was thanking her for something else.
He was, but Rose didn't know that.
It's been a long, long while since another human being had John in mind for more than an afterthought. There was Jack, of course, but Jack and John were best mates, and it was only natural that they had each other's backs and cared for each other in their own way.
But somebody other than Jack?
Not in a decade or more.
And Rose, sweet, darling Rose, who was stuck in the loveless marriage with John to avoid the hounding of a rich, cruel man of nobility with his eyes set on her, had it in her heart, her mind to think of him on this Christmas day.
John scrunched his eyes, fighting the tears.
Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for them. Maybe, miraculously, she would be open to the idea of the true marriage between them.
But he wouldn't be greedy. He wouldn't rush.
He'd brush up on his courting skills. He'd even ask for advice from Jack if he couldn't come up with ideas of his own.
But John was a grateful man, and so he would be grateful on this Christmas day, sharing it with somebody important to him by his side, spending it with someone who thought him good enough to be deserving of a present and warm wishes.
It was long after midnight, and John and Rose were both lying in bed, listening to the ticking of the old clock in the living room downstairs. The candles were put out, and the streets outside were quiet, but they both didn't mind the quiet at all.
Carefully, tentatively, John stretched out his hand to touch Rose's. She accepted the gesture without hesitation, linking her fingers through his and squeezing his palms slightly. John let out a relieved sigh, and Rose giggled, caressing his hand with her thumb.
"Rose?" he asked, and his throat felt parched from anxiety.
"Yeah?" she replied without missing a beat.
"Would you…would you want to go out on a date with me?" John asked and closed his eyes. He would understand and accept any answer she'd give him without acting like a boor, he would never punish her for her choice. She'd never have married him if it wasn't for circumstances, and so he wouldn't hold her responsible for her reply, he would respect it instead.
But he thought that there was something happening between them, something sweet and tentative and glowing, and he wanted to see if she could feel it, too. "We could, we could start a proper courtship and see how it goes for us, what do you say, Rose?"
She hummed, and her thumb was still caressing his hand in hers. John tensed, readying himself for rejection.
"I would love to, John," finally, mercifully, Rose replied, and John could swear that a huge load was taken off his shoulders. "Only if you take me to the Christmas fair tomorrow and win me a prize at the shooting range! And you'll have to throw in a couple of cupcakes from Mister Martin's bakery, too, " she teased and pushed him with her elbow playfully.
John chortled at her words and squeezed her hand without saying anything.
Rose wasn't against them as a real married couple.
She wanted him to court her.
That night was the very beginning of John and Rose's happy union that would last for many decades to come.