"Tis half-term," John announced.

"It tis," Rose sat back on her ankles and dropped a brush, wet hands set on her apron. "Shame the floors haven't caught wind of important calendar dates." She mashed her wrist to her nose as a provisional itch. "What can I help you with, Mister Smith?"

"Headmaster Rocastle said he would honor a tradition held in my household." Arms wrapped round his back, he took wide steps left and right as he spoke. "That half-term be not only for me, but my housemaid as well." Rose's jaw dropped. "Therefore, effective immediately..." He chuckled. "I can't do this, may we depart now?"

"You didn't!" She looked both ways. Whispering intently, "you liar!"

"Was that..." he feigned contemplation, "a memory of tradition, or wishful thinking?" He half shrugged. "Either way, what's done is done."

Rose tossed her brush into the mop bucket and kicked it under the staircase. Then taking John's hand, she dashed up the stairs to his room. Door shut she gave John a hearty embrace.

"You're fantastic!"

"Rose!" Although jittery, he caught her. "You've made a- a scene." Dropping her just as quick. Face an embarrassed red, he could not hide a smile in the presence of hers. "If word spreads.." She bounced giddily from foot to foot. Making it impossible to reprimand her. "Rose." He balked a laugh, trying to sound stern, "please stop."

She went straight to the leather couch. "What to discuss today?"

"A- actually." His sharp consistency —standing up straight, nose high— paired with the occasional nervous speech, is something Rose defines as one of his endearing traits. Finding small things like these, taking such characteristics seriously instead of a parody of the Doctor, is something she has taken up out of respect to his being, and to avoid another row. "I was... was wondering if..." Needlessly John readjusted one of his many frames. "That is, if you wouldn't mind..." right words abandoned him. "that I escort- tag along on a visit to the- your blue box."

Rose tilted her head to the door. "You're sure?"

"Slightly."

Ever so brave.

Venturing willingly to explore horrible wonders.

John Smith knew this to be no easy task for any man.

The blue box. A magic carpet. The door to other worlds. The TARDIS.

"She'll love to meet you," Rose practically sang, slipping a key from her blouse.

"She?" He hissed, huddled up to her shoulder, wide eyes fixed on the windows as if it would allow him a peek inside.

Flick of the wrist, and Rose twirled up the metal ramp inside, as if basking in it's sinister green light. John gaped. The sheer size of it demanded his knees to give in. Denying a desire to swoon, he steeled a foot, and walked inside.

The lights flicked. John ducked, throwing an arm up in defence.

Rose giggled. "S'fine. That's her hello."

"Right," his voice like harsh gravel. "Certainly it's a," carefully John reverted to proper posture, "pleasure." He went to the rail for support, yet felt the spine of a book. Two books clamped on the railing, as if it were a bookmark. On closer inspection, the entire room had been littered with novels.

"Didn't expect company," Rose assorted the books within her immediate area into a pile. "Sorry."

Interested in her reading material, he took up a few. Incorporeal to Corporal. Psychograft: A How to Guide. Vortex Manipulator User Manual. Nothing recognisable. "What are these?"

"Required reading, research, mild curiosity." She gestured vaguely about the room. "Take your pick."

"The terminology is lost on me. For what purpose do you read?" John took it upon himself to help stack them here and there. "Surely not for leisure."

Rose scoffed. "Heavens no!" She bumped her hip to the console, arms crossed. "The Doctor's got this nasty habit of making plans go right down the gutter, you know, from what I've told you?" Heaving a heavy sigh, he nodded sympathetically. "Not waiting for that to happen this time."

Her resolute tone sent John's heart stuttering. She wishes to fight off the threat? "This," he waved a book at her, catching his breath before hitting it to the console. "This is you strategising?" Smiling disbelief, he advanced on her. "And what army have you assembled?"

"Don't undermine me," she snapped. "There's a big if on them appearing at all, which based on our luck, is when. He trusted me to protect you." She looked at him down her nose. "'sides you've no idea what I have in store for them."

"Okay." He mimicked her stance. "Enlighten me."

She blinked. "What?"

"I'll admit you possess more skill in the extraterrestrial field. Yet I cannot in good faith let a woman take arms in my stead."

"Tough."

"Quick to quip." He circled the console, proclaiming, "despite my coming to be, I'm assured in my competence as a soldier." He pinched the bridge of his nose at her silent staredown. "Rose, quit being stubborn and trust me."

She circled parallel to him, like a practiced dance. "Not until you trust me."

"Rose."

"No! Since I met him, the Doctor's taken one decision after the next from me. I'll not have you doing the same!" She met him halfway. "You're in this with me, John Smith, or not at all!"

John slammed his hand down on a novel. "Fine!"

Rose dealt a blow to a guide with a force that rivaled his own. "Fine!"

He grabbed the jumpseat, white-knuckled, and sat. "Okay!"

She dropped to the ground, crosslegged, as the grating pinged loudly beneath. "Alright!"

And they read.

A/N

Went and had a Human Nature rewatch. Really should've done that before I picked this back up. Or before I wrote this at all! Somehow I'd been under the delusion that this took place in the States! Heaven help me... how did that happen... Revisions went to tiny details, nothing big thank goodness. I'm at a loss. Such a crucial detail. I just... I can't... I'll just sulk...

Update. The half term I replaced labor day with is a week long mid-season holiday. I couldn't find the exact date it began, but I found it began in the 19th century, and that's good enough for me!

NYfan: Thank you, and you're welcome! I hope the rest of this story continues to live up to your compliment.