Work Text:
Rose glanced at the clock hanging over her imitation fireplace, checking the time as she scanned the new shipment of books she ordered. The constant downpour outside was her sole distraction from her overwhelming load.
8:45 PM
It was fifteen minutes before closing. Only fifteen minutes until she could head home to her cramped apartment, snuggled in a blanket and reading the night away. As the rain continued to patter against the window aggressively, Rose began to wonder whether she should just close up shop now, seeing as how no one would be making it in this kind of weather. Even she was beginning to worry about how she would make it home, knowing full well that with her nerves and the sleek road, she would most likely end up in some sort of accident.
Standing up from behind the cashier, Rose stretched out a few cracks in her back before picking up the last five books she had scanned. All of them were new instalments for her science fiction section, under the time travel unit. They were written by an author who was becoming rather famous and in high demand — John Smith. One day, the blonde had just been too curious as to who this man was and searched for his summary in one of his most famous novels, The Girl in the Fireplace. He was a tall, rather skinny man with a messy bed of hair and a long trench coat. Rose could appreciate that he was conventionally attractive, even though she wasn’t really into men.
That day, she flipped through the book, all but laughing at the characters in it. There was one girl — the main character’s best friend — who Rose related to on a near creepy level. Still, she’d fallen in love with the man’s works just as much as the rest of the world, always excited whenever a new order came back with his name on it.
As she carefully organised the books into their correct order, she heard a faint banging against the door. Rose jumped in her skin, startled by the sudden noise. She slowly walked to the front of the store, raising an eyebrow when she saw a tall woman slightly hunched over wearing a long black coat that must have been soaked through. Without a second thought, she quickly ushered the woman in, noticing the slight shiver in each step.
The woman muttered her thanks before rushing over to the nearest blanket and wrapping herself in it. Her golden curls stuck to her cheeks, flattening due to the rain. She shivered as she vested the coat, burying herself deeper into the blanket as she sat down on the nearest beanbag seat.
Once Rose’s legs began to work again, she hurried into the back of the store, where she kept a flask of her favourite lavender and mint tea. Grabbing a mug from a cabinet below, she poured some for the undoubtedly freezing customer. Rose carefully carried the mug back to her, smiling softly when she accepted the cup with more gratitude than before. Watching as she took a tentative sip, then broke into a grin.
“Song,” the stranger said, still grinning wildly.
Rose tilted her head in confusion. “What?”
The stranger stuck her free hand out, the grin slowly turning into a smirk, “My name. River Song.”
“Well, River Song, my name’s Rose. Rose Tyler,” she said, shaking her hand, trying to make her voice sound as warm and welcoming as possible, “and I run this shop here. Now, what was someone like you doing out in the rain?”
“Oh you know,” River said with a wave or her hand, “living life, being busy. Can I tell you a story?”
Rose nodded, captivated by River’s flamboyant personality. River quickly began talking about a time where she had previously been caught in the rain as a college student, drunk beyond belief and sad about a horrible breakup she had. Rose found herself hanging on her every word, coming to the realisation that River was the most animated storyteller she’s ever met, and as the owner of a bookstore, she’s met quite a lot of storytellers in her time.
As seconds slowly bled into minutes, slowly bleeding into an hour, Rose felt herself growing more and more attached to the woman. She was only snapped out of her comfortable daze when River let out a loud yawn, suddenly reminding her of the time. She stood abruptly, her hands running through her blonde hair nervously.
“Shit,” she muttered, realising the state of things, “it’s way past closing and there’s still so much to do.” River opened her mouth to apologise, but Rose cut her off firmly, “No, you don’t get to apologise, this is all my fault.”
River stood as well, resting a hand on her shoulder as a comforting gesture. “I could always help?” She asked, her voice soft.
“Really?” Rose asked, her eyes widening in shock. “That would be a big help, thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem, where can I start?”
And with that, the two began working together to clean up the store. That hadn’t been too hard because it just so happened to be a Tuesday, one of Rose’s slower days. After just fixing a few pillows and chairs and organising a few stray books, the store was looking just as good as it had that morning. Ignoring Rose’s protests, River insisted on helping her fix the storage rooms, staying as they catalogued the new arrivals that Rose seemed to have forgotten. The two listened to various pop songs, somehow always reverting back to Taylor Swift. They laughed, they sang, they danced.
Once they finished, Rose was hit with an overwhelming feeling of dread. She helped River pull on her now-dry coat and gave her a spare brush to pull in the curls that were growing more and more by the second. River huffed something about loving getting rained on as much as the next cat. Rose stifled a laugh, instead focusing on the woman brushing her hair.
That was one of her favourite things about River; the golden corkscrews resting atop her head like a crown. The way it perfectly framed her face, tempting her to cup River’s face in her hands. And those eyes. She couldn’t help but gaze into the stormy mix of blue and pale grey that captivated her. There were a few moments of silence before Rose realised she was staring, warmth filling her face. She apologised profusely, ignoring the reassuring words River gave her. River gave her one last smile before pulling her into a fierce embrace, whispering a final thanks in Rose’s ear and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek before leaving.
Feeling her face flush a deeper red, Rose quickly locked up the store, beginning her own journey home. She could still feel the soft impression River left on her as she raised a hand to the place where she kissed her. She could feel herself smiling as she entered the car, only stopping the wild grin on her face when she came to a devastating realisation.
She didn’t get her contact.