It was the shop's tenth anniversary, and there was a party, journalists and guests and all, crowded near the entrance.
"TARDIS Books" was the star of the neighbourhood that night.
But in John's eyes, even though the bookshop was his life's project, the only star of that night was her.
Rose Tyler.
Standing outside in the light of the setting sun, Rose was wearing a bright pink number with matching heels. The colour of the dress reminded John of the Barbie doll, but he grimaced and waved the comparison off, slightly disgusted.
There was nothing plastic, generic or artificial about Rose Tyler. She was as natural as they come, and he loved every part of her body, soul and mind dearly. He adored her too-wide lips, her warm brown eyes, the slightly yellowish shade of her bleached blonde hair, the light freckles on her cheeks and the playful shape of her nose. John was in love with her genuine smile, with the way she tucked her tongue into the corner of her mouth when she was teasing him, and he cherished the glowing warmth of her hands whenever she held his.
John admired Rose's strong will, her unbending desire for everyone to be treated fairly, her compassion and ability to find something good even in the darkest of days. He respected her work ethics, and he was eternally grateful for every night she spent at the shop helping him, giving up her sleep and private life for the sake of his business' flourishing.
John appreciated every time she made him smile.
John was in love with Rose Tyler, madly, truly, fully in love, but Rose Tyler didn't know that. John was in love with Rose, but it was unrequited, and he'd be damned if he scared her away with his unwanted advances. She was a sweet, young thing, full of hopes and dreams, and it was only a matter of time before she decided that working in his dusty shop as his assistant was not what she wanted, that the world held so many wonders and excitement, and that the company of John who's eight years older than her and a widower to boot was not what was in the books for her.
No. Rose Tyler was no Barbie. She was exceptional, Rose was, and there was not a single person, both character-like and appearance-like, anywhere in the world.
And so she was wearing her cotton-candy-coloured dress with glitter-covered pumps, and her hair was up in a stylish bun that would look strict and old-fashioned on someone else, but it looked classy and sophisticated on her.
John was mesmerised by Rose's smooth, even movements as he watched her come outside and greet the crowd with an eager smile on her face.
Then, John was startled when one of the shop's workers asked something of him. He was reminded that Rose was out there entertaining the public, holding them from entering the shop until all the preparations for receiving guests and the press were finished. He glanced around the bookstore, noticing how the tables with nibbles were already arranged at the back, finger foods and cupcakes covered by protective plastic domes, he saw the staff putting last details in the press corner, and he watched another worker set the projector on so that the invited authors could give lectures and use the equipment to show their presentations.
A small area with easels and paints was set in the corner of the shop, too, for Rose's later workshop with younger readers.
"Doctor? Rose said to tell you to go upstairs and change into the tux, she said she had one delivered from the dry cleaner's," Martha, one of the people who has been with John from the very opening of "TARDIS Books", touched him on the shoulder. "She won't be able to withhold the crowd from going into the shop, so you better hurry!" Martha teased with a smile and pushed him towards the stairs to the second level of the shop where the bookshelves and the staff room were.
Doctor. The nickname that reminded John all the more about Rose. It was her who gave it to him after witnessing him rescue an old, tattered book and turning it into an almost brand-new one. Rose said that he'd given that poor book another life, healing it, and nicknamed him "the Doctor" immediately.
The nickname caught on quickly, and soon both the workers of the shop and the media started calling John that.
John rolled his eyes good-naturedly but followed Rose's instructions. It was funny how he was her boss and she was his assistant, yet there were many times when it was John who had to follow Rose's words.
She was a force of Nature, Rose was, and honestly, her instructions and plans worked wonders for both him and the business ever since he'd hired her on the spot about two years ago when she stumbled into the bookshop in search of work. Some of the shop's workers weren't happy at how easy a twenty-two year old Rose with no A-levels landed the job, suspecting (not unjustly, he was smitten at first sight) John's feelings interfering with the fairness of the interview. The displeased murmurings, however, died down a month into Rose's working at "TARDIS Books" after things there began to run more smoothly than before. Rose knew the exact time of book deliveries, created the perfect time table for other workers who had before that followed John's strange working hours, took hold over John's own meetings concerning the shop. Rose also made a few suggestions on how to attract more customers, including the youngest ones, by holding kids' books reading sessions with voice actors who were just starting their careers, and she managed to engage other readers by asking John to allow a reading club to gather at the shop every two weeks.
All in all, Rose's appearance brought in a much-needed order into the life of "TARDIS Books", and in John's life, too.
Even if Rose also brought a huge torrent of feelings into John's life, making him fall in love with her almost immediately, and turning slight infatuation into full-blown unrequited love.
With a heavy sigh, John ascended the stairs and walked into his study, locking the door behind him to change into the tux. God, he hated poshing-up and playing it cool in front of the press ever since the accident with Joan. Both the tabloids and the serious newspapers had the time of their lives after the tragedy struck, and many issues printed his mourning face and the latest speculations on what truly happened to his deceased wife on the front pages of fresh issues.
And now he had to go out and perform for the press, again, even for a cheerful cause this time, but there still would be lots of gossip and speculation about his private life.
John could bet they would say something about Rose…
Rose!
Who was left alone to fend off the press and the guests, allowing him time to recuperate and get ready. He'd all but thrown her to the sharks while reminiscing about the past.
Damn it!
In record time, John was dressed in a three-piece suit, and he picked up a random tie before rushing out of the study. He was tying the tie around his neck as he was hurrying down the old stairs (everyone agreed that it added charm to the shop's atmosphere), and was finally standing in front of the glass doors, summoning his 'press' self, coaxing the fun, 'devil may care' personality to ward off the blatant, sometimes too-personal questions of the journalists.
Then he noticed that one of the most eager journalists was shaking Rose by her arm, desiring her attention, and he frowned, resentful at such a rude gesture.
He pushed the glass door open and was immediately blinded by the cameras.
"It's the Doctor!"
"The Doctor's here!"
"Mister Smith, can you share your feelings about tonight?"
"John, is what Miss Tyler said about you writing a book true?"
"A book, yes! Rose won't share any details!"
The clamour of the crowd was deafening, and John scrunched his nose at the noise. Blimey, how did even Rose stand all of this for so long?
He stood right next to Rose's side, and he knew that he didn't imagine her shoulders falling in relief at seeing him.
John felt guilt gnawing at him. Rose was never too enthusiastic about being in the limelight, not experienced to such publicity, and because of him she was encountering press often, and today she was also alone.
Well, no more, John thought resolutely, and smiled at the crowd, waving playfully.
"Hello everyone! We're chuffed to see all of you here. It's a great honour to host a party tonight for such a happy cause," John said enthusiastically, and the enthusiasm was real this time.
He looked down to Rose, who was standing on the right side of him, and she looked up at him, too, smiling widely at seeing him.
He couldn't help but grin stupidly in return.
"What about the book? Mister Smith, tell us about the book!" someone from the crowd repeated the question.
"Will you be expanding "TARDIS Books?"
John perked up at hearing that.
He'd been thinking about that on and off for the last two years.
"Well…" he drawled, making the crowd lean in in search of promising news. He smirked, shrugging nonchalantly. "I won't confirm or deny anything yet, but I'll admit that it's a dream of mine, having a franchise opened somewhere in another city," John explained vaguely.
All of a sudden, he felt a strong shiver that wasn't his, and he turned his head to look down on Rose, who was standing stiffly, still by his side, close enough for him to finally notice that she was cold.
Her shoulders were up to her ears, and her hands were clasped tightly, palms moving so that there was friction that would keep her fingers from being cold.
"We want there to be not one, but at least a dozen franchises throughout the whole country," Rose exclaimed excitedly, and John could hear the tremor in her voice that wasn't related to nerves. He touched Rose's naked shoulder gently and nearly hissed in sympathy.
Rose's skin felt cold as ice.
John's body moved without thinking. His mind's demand that Rose was safe and comfortable overrode his actions, and he was shedding his jacket immediately, covering Rose's body with it. He manoeuvred Rose's arms into the jacket, and she, astonished at such a sudden and loud display of affection, and she submitted to the action without protest.
So engaged by each other, both John and Rose couldn't really notice newly-started murmuring of the crowd and another wave of flashes from the cameras.
Rose exhaled with a shudder, smiling a bit woodenly at him - blimey, she must've been cold this whole time, John thought guiltily. He stood impossibly close to Rose and started running his palms up and down her arms in a fast motion, hoping that the friction would warm her up a little bit.
Better yet, he hoped that they could return to the safety of the bookshop sooner, before Rose suffered a cold because of the freezing temperatures.
Silly girl, John thought with desperate fondness as he fought the urge to hug Rose tightly to his chest, to put his arms around her and and squeeze her gently until she could feel his heartbeat, to kiss her hair and put his chin on the top of her head…
Wow!
His infatuation got the best of him for a moment.
John barely kept himself from shaking his head to disperse the persistent love thoughts he had about Rose.
They were mates, best mates even, and he'd be damned if he let his humongous crush on Rose scare her away.
John was older. He was a widower. He had a reputation of a Casanova of sorts, especially after Joan's death and the mourning period that followed. He was terrible at all things domestic and steady, and his working hours left much to be desired.
John was no catch despite what the press was saying, and Rose would never want someone as burdened and imperfect as him to be her lover.
She deserved much better than him, Rose did.
And John would rather have Rose as a friend in his life instead of having her distance herself from him at his love confession.
And so, he persisted in seeing Rose as his mate, hiding his painful crush away from the world.
Someone in the crowd asked yet another question about John's upcoming book, and Rose was quick to John's rescue. She knew well enough that he felt that it was too early for him to share his plans with everyone.
"We want there to be Doctor's books as well as many franchises across the country," she said cheerfully, but her voice stuttered and shook when she inhaled, shivering, and John found himself holding Rose closer to his body, trying to share the heat in him.
Boy, was there plenty.
"We're shameless like that," Rose kept going, laughing breathily at her words and the crowd's approving noises, "we want John's business known and available everywhere!"
The people laughed. John smiled as he looked at Rose, careless about the onlookers, feeling a turbulent mix of awe, lust and adoration.
She truly wanted him to succeed, and he knew it was genuine desire for him to be prospering and happy, Rose didn't desire anything in return.
Christ.
John wanted to throw his hands up and yell for the whole world to hear that he loved her.
Loved her, desired her, wanted her to want him.
John was startled out of his reverie by Rose's strong shivering and a loud gasp.
"Alright you lot!" he said loudly, trying to be heard over the chatter of the people. "It's absolutely freezing outside, and Rose here is turning into an icicle," he tilted his head to Rose, still hugging her close to his chest sideways. purely for keeping her warm, of course, not because of his humongous crush on her. He then motioned for the people to go towards the entrance. "She's the best assistant in the world, and I'd rather not lose her to a cold or a nasty pneumonia," he explained with a smile, but he was starting to get worried about Rose's health for real.
They needed to go to the warmth of the bookshop, even if Donna and Martha hadn't finished with the last minute preparations yet.
As if Donna was reading his mind, the glass doors behind them opened, and Donna hollered in her usual style:
"Oi! What're you standing there for? Go on then, come on in, and please follow your pre-booked places. Martha will be checking the invitations to help you find the workshops's locations."
The people moved forward excitedly, and John hugged Rose's shoulders to pull her to the side away from the crowd.
Rose didn't protest, and he could swear that she leaned closer into his half-embrace, and he felt her nose touch the skin above his shirt.
He gulped and, to keep himself from daydreaming about being Rose's lover further, he passed his palms over Rose's arms again, then, when he reached the bottom of the sleeves, he took over the task of buttoning the jacket over Rose's body busily.
He bit his tongue trying to keep from lingering the tips of his fingers on the bare skin of her collarbone.
Rose giggled, but it was awkward because she was cold.
"John, stop it! You're such a fusser. I'm not made of glass, you know," Rose complained, but John knew it was half-hearted, she was still shivering, and her nose and cheeks were comically red.
God, she was beautiful.
"Yeah?" he challenged, raising an eyebrow at her. "Try to tell that to your chattering teeth. You're shaking like a leaf," he frowned at her when she looked him in the eyes. The glittering heels of her shoes made Rose taller, closer to his eye lever, but still not close enough to him in height.
"I'm fine," Rose said stubbornly but didn't protest when he risked being outed but hugged her to him, wrapping his arms around her back.
"Mmm, this is nice," Rose mumbled happily into his tie, her face hidden in his chest, and John felt his heart swell with unbelievable love for her. "Are you always this accommodating to all of your workers?" she teased, and John could swear that she was flirting with him.
His heart stuttered in his chest, hopeful.
John made a spectacle of pushing her away, and Rose protested with a pitiful groan. "No, don't be cruel. I'm only joking," she said, and he sighed, refusing to let himself place his chin on the top of her head no matter how much his heart desired that. "Seriously though, John, I'll be fine. It's just a little wind and snow. The snow isn't even sticking to the ground."
"A little wind and snow!" John cried out, looking down at her, incredulous. "Why in the world did you go out without your puffer jacket outside in this blasted cold?"
"The people were ready to storm the bookshop, and I knew that neither you not others were ready. I was he only one not doing anything," she explained, and there was a hidden 'duh' in her intonation. "I also wanted to show off my new dress," Rose murmured softly, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry? What was that?" John asked, teasing.
John knew that Rose rolled her eyes at him even if he couldn't see it.
"I wanted to show off my fancy dress," Rose repeated with mock irritation in her voice. "I saved money for it, too, and I wanted to look pretty in front of the press next to you," she explained, and she sounded sheepish to John's mind.
"Rose?" he called, not understanding her. "What do you mean by that? You always look good enough, whatever gave you the idea?" he asked, puzzled.
He barely held himself from saying that she always looked beautiful and attractive to him. He held his tongue just in time.
John pulled away from Rose, staring into her face that was astonishingly red now, and not just from the cold.
"Oh John," Rose smiled awkwardly but looked away. "Don't be sly to spare my feelings," she said, fiddling with his tie.
John frowned, not following her line of thinking.
Rose tsked and moved her head impatiently.
"It's just gossip, people talking, is all," she said quietly.
"What of it?" he tilted his head to try and look at her face, but she was looking at her shoes studiously.
Rose muttered something unintelligibly.
"Rose?"
She sighed, and he saw how tense her body was all of a sudden, a far cry of how soft and pliant she'd feel in his embrace mere minutes ago.
With his heart hammering in his chest, John let go of Rose and gently placed his palms on her cheeks, urging her to look at him.
"What is it, Rose? You can tell me," he promised and smiled a little to tell the truth.
Rose's face flushed, and she stammered out:
"It's just that…the media is not impressed with me being your assistant. They found information about my…" she trailed off, shrugging, and she would have averted her face had John not been holding her face. "They found out about my past. And they don't like it."
John scowled. He had a bad feeling about what Rose was going to say.
"When did it become their business?" John asked, insulted on Rose's behalf.
"Well, you're a very…" Rose raised her chin at him, highlighting her point, "media-loved person. And they don't think I'm the best match for being your right hand..."
John's jaw dropped.
"What?!" he exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face.
"They think there should be someone better at the assisting position. Like Martha, and she'd been with you for longer than I am, and she's a prestigious uni student, and people think she's better suited for this position…"
When Rose spoke those words, she looked down. John's heart fell at seeing her looking so insecure, so defeated. The shadows of her lashes painted a mournful picture on her cheeks.
John hated it. He hated the sadness and the trouble people caused her.
"Rose, whatever happened in the past is in the past now," John reassured Rose, and he gently pushed her face up to make her look at him. "What Ja…" upon hearing that man's name, Rose screwed up her face, and John rushed to correct his mistake. "What that man did to you is not your fault. You know that, Rose, don't you?" John asked, but something told him that Rose didn't share his point of view.
"Isn't it? Nobody really agrees," she replied with a laugh, but it was self-deprecating. John frowned. He knew that she was still blaming herself for what happened in the past, and it wasn't right. Nor was it fair.
Rose kept talking. "Whatever you think, people everywhere think differently. They say that my history puts a shadow over your brilliant success, you need no reputation spots when it comes to the shop's future."
On a whim, he pushed her in for another fierce hug.
"I wish you wouldn't think like this about yourself," John said close to Rose's ear. "I wish people would mind their own bloody business, too."
He heard Rose chuckle wetly into his shirt's collar.
"Nah. People will be people. I just need to stop reading comments to articles about "TARDIS Books".
John snorted and pulled away from Rose, keeping his palms still on her upper arms.
"And I wish you would stop reading those stupid comments, too. People are idiots. You're brilliant," he said sincerely. Then, seeing Rose's blush return with vengeance, he declared dramatically to save her from further embarrassment, "In fact, I'm brilliant, too!"
Rose giggled, feeling better now that the attention was off her. John smiled tenderly. She was so unused to praise and compliments, shying away from extra attention whenever possible.
John smiled playfully, 'boyishly', as Martha said all the time, and Rose returned the smile eagerly, feeling her own heart squeeze torturously behind her ribs at how much love and affection she felt towards John.
John and Rose were standing in the street, looking at one another with smiles on their faces. Both of them were holding themselves from revealing their painfully hidden feelings from one another, assured that said feelings would be unwelcome and undesired by the person they were in love with.
That is, until Donna opened the glass doors of the shop, having got sick from watching the lovebirds gazing at each other adoringly, and hollered for them to enter.
"Oi! You two! Quit loitering about, John's lecture starts in fifteen minutes, and you, Rose Tyler, you better get in and get your bum warmed up, I can feel your shivering from here! You have the illustration workshop in fifteen minutes, too!"
John and Rose jumped away from each other when their tiny personal bubble blew apart at Donna's loud voice. Rose shifted from one foot to another, smiling awkwardly and fiddling with her earring. John pulled at his ear and scuffed his shoe on the floor, frowning at Donna's 'perfect' timing.
"Did you two not hear me or what? Come on! Shift!" Donna yelled, rolling her eyes.
All of a sudden, Rose's hand was in John's, and he turned to her with a grin on his face:
"Hurry up! Before she kills us!"
Rose laughed and walked fast after him, trying to not twist her ankles in high heels.
"Oi! I heard that!" Donna grumbled as they entered the shop's doors, passing her.
But both John and Rose knew that there was no bite behind her words.