Chapter Text
She wasn't drunk, she was just sick. Really sick. Sick enough for her to appear drunk, which was really quite frustrating indeed, as men kept lifting drinks to her and grinning in a vulgar sort of way. She wondered what would happen if she was sick on them, or, even better, right on the dance floor. And her friends had still made her go out. She was wearing very comfortable clothes, black jeans and trainers with a loose blue shirt, hanging out by the back of the club. Her coat was across her shoulders, and the oncoming chill told her to put it on.
"You should hang out with us!" Keisha shouted, twisting her arms up above her head.
"I feel like I'm going to throw up!" Rose yelled back, her arms crossed over her stomach. "I'm still sick, Keish!"
The other girl didn't listen, instead grinned at her friend. "Shareen and I just wanted you to get out, Rose, before you start classes!"
"I know, but that's ridiculous!" She yelled, "I'm twenty years old, I can have a night in my dorm!"
"You shouldn't have to!"
"Can we go home?" She whined loudly, feeling the bile churn in her stomach again.
Keisha shook her head, and Rose questioned her ability to choose friends. She grinned and shouted to Rose, "Get a drink, have some fun!"
Rose turned away from her friend and walked away, grumbling about only wanting to drink ginger ale. She felt a little woozy, but it wasn't because of alcohol, because of course, she hadn't had any. She blinked, looking around to find somewhere to go, and spotted all the areas to sit. Of course, she'd never used any sitting areas at any clubs, but here it was, and here she was, sick as a dog, so she was quite prepared for it. She fell into a booth, starting off with her head on the table and eyes closed. She couldn't be bothered to think about if someone were to try and kidnap her. At this point, she'd just throw up on them and hope that all went well.
She shifted about in her seat, trying to get comfortable and hoping that Keisha and Shareen would try to find her at some point before they left. In that booth, Rose Tyler started to drift off, her head tilting back against the wall, her legs out in front of her across the seat so no one could sit next to her. Her eyes were closed and the music was rattling her aching brain. What she wouldn't give to lay in her bed in her new dorm suite before her roommate got there.
A shuffling unlike dancing pushed through her muddled brain and he heard someone approaching her and cracked an eye open and looked at the worried, tousled man in the brown suit. She opened her other eye and regarded him fully. "Hi," she croaked out, fighting her urge to close her eyes.
The man smiled softly at her. "Are you drunk?" He asked, somehow being heard over the thumping of the bass.
"I have the flu," she replied, "My friends made me come out."
The man reached his hand out for her. "My sister dragged me along with her," he confided, "I can take you home, if you're sick."
At that point, Rose was finding that she would almost rather die via violent murder from this man then stay in the club another minute. She nodded and scooted out from the booth, shoving her arms in the sleeves of her coat. "I'd like that, thanks." She slid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.
"Seems like your friends aren't quite so good." he said, helping to steady her as they headed for the front of the club. She nodded and felt her knees start to buckle.
"I don't feel good," she mumbled.
He caught her around the waist, looking terrified with her behavior, and stood up, holding her to his side. "It's alright, I've got you. I'm a doctor. Can you tell me where you live?"
"I don't... Just take me to..." She breathed out a harsh breath. "Take me to the chippy, the one nearest to here."
"Alright, absolutely," He said earnestly, "I understand, you don't want me to know where you live, and that's quite alright."
"No, yeah, I just-" She covered her mouth with her hand, trying not to retch all over him. He pulled her out of the club and down the street a bit, towards his car. She ducked out from under his arm to throw up next to the club. The man made a face and one of the bouncers laughed.
"Seems your bird's a lightweight, sir!" He shouted, and the other men around him laughed.
The man forced a smile as he held Rose's hair back. "Yes, that's why it's time to get her home, I think."
Once she'd finished, tears streaming from her eyes, he helped her back up and to his car. "If you think you're going to be sick again, I'll pull over, okay?"
"Okay," she murmured miserably.
He held open the door for her and helped her in before he walked around to his side of the car, climbing in and starting it up quickly. He pulled out into the street, going a bit too fast, probably. But he needed to get her home.
She curled up in her seat, leaning her head against the part of the car next to the window. "What's your name?" She mumbled, but with her being half asleep and sick, all he heard was "Wassername?"
Regardless, he got the idea and smiled at her a little bit. "John Smith," he said softly, "That's me. Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too," she said, "Thanks for taking me home," she said softly, her eyes slipping shut.
"Well, what's your name?" he asked, trying to keep her awake so he wouldn't have to wake her up when he got to the chippy. He wished that she would tell him where she lived, but unfortunately, she made sense. He was a stranger, driving her home. And he couldn't drive her all the way home, of course.
He sighed as she hummed for a moment, trying to sort out an answer, apparently.
"Rose Tyler," she mumbled.
"Rose Tyler," he rolled the words around his tongue. "It's been my pleasure."
Since he had been going considerably fast, they reached the chippy quickly. He parked in the lot and got out of the car, wrapping around to her side and pulling the door open slowly so she wouldn't tumble out. She slipped a little but steadied herself, whimpering softly in what appeared to be pain.
"It's alright, I've got you," John said, helping her to her feet. "You'll be able to walk home, it'll be alright."
"Yeah," She murmured, gripping at his upper arms as he held her up. She looked up into his face, her eyes a little bleary. "Hello."
He smiled back at her. "Hello."
She looked away from him and blew out her cheeks. "I really don't feel good."
"I can walk you home, Rose, it's really no trouble," he said earnestly, watching her face go pale.
She shook her head, then seemed to think better of it as her stomach turned. She gave him a tight smile. "That's okay, my friend Mickey works at the chippy here, he can walk me home."
For a moment, she thought that he looked disappointed, and she fought back a smug look that she probably wouldn't have been able to give anyway. "He'll be okay to take me home."
"He's working, isn't he?" John furrowed his brows.
"Do you want my phone number?" Rose blurted out, "I can give it to you, if you want."
She saw his little touch of excitement as he nodded. "Sure," He said, "Yes. I mean, yes. He pulled his phone from his trouser pocket, still keeping her steady with one hand. "Read it off to me, here."
Rose did so, slowly, making sure she got all the digits right. "I was gonna kiss you on the cheek," she said, "But my mouth is gross."
He laughed, a light sound that she decided she would much like to hear again, and she smiled up at him. He slipped his phone into his pocket and held her waist. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said, and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. "I hope your friend sees you home safe."
"I'm sure he will," Rose assured him, her hands gripping his arms for support. "And you can call me anytime, John Smith," She wrinkled her nose and laughed a little. "Sorry, I'm not usually quite so forward. No, sorry, I'm never quite so forward."
He smiled widely at her, feeling younger than he had in a very long time. "Neither have I," he said honestly.
They bid each other goodbye, and Rose stumbled into the chippy, bombarded by the smells that would usually make her mouth water but instead made her feel sick. Mickey was working behind the counter and looked over, a shocked expression passing over his face when he saw her.
She watched as he hurriedly said he needed to leave to whoever was working with him, and ran around the side to come to her. "Are you alright?" He asked.
"Keisha and Shareen made me go out, and I'm really sick," She said, "Can you walk me home?"
"Yeah, of course," Mickey walked her from the chippy and up the sidewalk. "How did you get this far?"
"A guy from the bar drove me, don't worry, I didn't tell him what dorm or where," she reassured him, "He was just a really nice guy who didn't want to be there either."
Mickey made an odd sound of affirmation. "So, he just agreed to drive you to the chippy?"
"I said I had a friend who could take me home," she replied, "And I do."
Mickey helped her into his car, which was far more beat up and less well kept then John's, but a ride nonetheless. She fell back against the battered seat and sighed heavily. Mickey watched her worriedly and began the drive to her dorm.
"Careful you don't puke in my car, yeah?" He said anxiously.
"Yeah," Rose said weakly. "I can't wait to go to bed," she murmured.
She missed the sympathetic look that her friend threw her, and instead heard when he asked, "Alright, so why did Shareen and Keisha make you go out?"
"They wanted me to have fun before I went to my first classes," he said, "But it's bloody Cardiff, you know, and I was so mad, but they wouldn't let me say no." She blew out an angry sigh. "And I already threw up before I got in John's car, so I think I'm okay."
"That's his name, John?" Mickey asked.
"Yeah."
"John what?"
"Smith."
"Smith?! Are you kidding?"
Rose looked over at him. "Excuse me, but aren't you a Smith?" She asked incredulously.
"Yeah, but John Smith? I dunno about that, Rose." He said, pulling onto campus.
"Shut up, it's not gonna be anything serious," She said. "He's gonna call me tomorrow, that's it."
"God, Rose, you gave him your phone number?"
She sighed angrily. "He's nice, Mick. Held my hair back, held me up when I was trying to stand, offered to drive me home. No harm can come of it." She settled back against the seat and let her eyes flutter closed. "You're just jealous."
"I'm not jealous," he was quiet for a few moments. "I'm a little jealous."
She laughed, "My roommate is pretty cute, from what I saw of her pictures, you'd like her, I think."
"Yeah, alright, Rose." She could hear the laughter in his voice, happy that she was happy, even in her state. "Here we are, dorm suite for the lucky ones."
Rose grinned at him. "Thanks, Mick. I'll see you later."
"Don't let that guy come over," Mickey said, pointing to her as she left the car. "I don't want to find you dead in your dorm."
She chuckled and shook her head. "Of course," she said before shutting the door. She made her way up to her dorm, fumbling with the key in the lock and just managing to shed her jeans and coat before crawling under the covers before falling asleep.
Meanwhile, Doctor John Smith was preparing to go to sleep as well, with the woman he'd met on his mind. Perhaps she would be impressed with a University professor. He usually didn't find something to like about someone so quickly, but the sick girl in the club booth would prove to be more of an issue then previously thought.