#theauthorjen

"What the hell do you think you’re doing, John? I was having a conversation," Rose bit out, yanking her arm out of his grasp and not bothering to hide her anger as she glared up at her ex.

It was just unfair that he looked that good in a tux. And that she knew how much better he looked when that tux was all rumpled from shagging her in a cupboard.

"What the hell are you even doing here?" he hissed, ignoring her question.

"I was invited," she answered icily. "Not that you ever seemed to recognize it, but my firm is incredibly influential and I’m the one who made it that way."

Rose watched him try and find words for a moment before continuing. “I’m more than an ‘airheaded blonde who uses her looks to get what she wants’ as you so succinctly put it last time we talked.” She smiled ferally, the wolf that hid just beneath the surface rising up to make itself known. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other and there’s a party that I’d like to get back to.”

She turned on her heel and reached for the door.

"Rose," his voice sounded strangled, like he’d barely gotten the word out. "Please don’t go, not yet."

Rose threw him a glance over her shoulder, “Why should I stay?”

"Will you please hear me out? Just give me a couple minutes and then if you want to leave and go back to the party, I," he swallowed, "I won’t bother you the rest of the night."

She sighed and turned back around, leaning against the cool stone of the house as she met his eyes. They were pleading with her and she’d always had a weakness for his puppy dog eyes.

(had always had a weakness for him. period. and she knew it. but he’d said please twice and that was so unlike him)

"Alright, you’ve got two minutes. Best start talking," she said, trying not to let on that her anger was melting away, leaving her vulnerable.

"Three months ago I made the worst mistake of my life in pushing you away, No, don’t say anything," he said when Rose opened her mouth, "You agreed to listen and I just…I need to get this out.

"You terrify me, Rose. You always have. You’re so good and kind and brilliant and I…" he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, betraying his nervousness, "I fell arse over teakettle in love with you on our first date when you were making Star Trek references while eating vinegar-drenched chips that you’d had to pay for because I left my wallet at home. And it scared me to death. I didn’t know how to deal with those feelings, didn’t know how to be in a relationship, really. I’ve lost so many people, Rose, and I didn’t want to lose you so I tried to push all those feelings away.

"But then for some reason you stayed and you made me better but I still couldn’t get those words out and I was still scared out of my mind so I picked fights with you because I was frustrated with myself. And I was intentionally cruel and drove you away before you could leave me." John looked up, meeting her eyes so she could see that he meant every word. "And I’ve regretted it every day since. I learned how to pretend that it didn’t matter but I’ve missed you every day and have been trying to become a man you’d be proud of and then you walked in tonight dressed like you walked right out of my fantasies and everything hit me all at once again.

"I’m not expecting you to change your mind, because everyone knows I don’t come close to deserving your forgiveness or you, but I was hoping that maybe we could at least try to be friends. Have a second chance."

Silence stretched between them for several long moments as Rose tried to process everything he’d just said. She’d told him she loved him several times and he’d never said it back and that had been part of the reason behind their breakup and now…now she knew he’d felt the same.

"John…"

He flinched, “You don’t have to say anything. I knew this was a long shot, I just…seeing you again…I had to try.”

"John, I don’t think we can just be friends. Not with our history." She took in his despondent expression and rolled on, "I’d like to give us another chance though on the condition that you’re actually going to try to be open about what’s going on in that head of yours,” she said with a small smile.

"Really?"

"Really."

He stepped forward and wrapped one of her hands in his, lacing their fingers together. “Can I kiss you then, Rose Tyler? Because you’ve been driving me crazy all evening while you flirted with everyone without looking my way once.”

"Did that on purpose," she admitted without a hint of remorse. "Knew you always had a thing for me in red and figured I could get some revenge if I wore this."

"Well, it certainly worked if torture was your aim," he whispered, mouth just a couple inches from her.

"Worked a lot better than I planned," she said, placing her free hand on the back of his neck and playing with the short hairs there. "And yes, John, you can kiss me."

He wasted no time in closing the distance between their mouths and relearning the lips that he’d been dreaming about for the last three months without any hope of ever feeling them move against his ever again.

When they reentered the party, the front of his tux was wrinkled from where she grabbed onto it and her hair was slightly more tousled that it had been previously.