#wilfred mott

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The next entry in the Short Fic Challenge uses these prompts: someone having the worst luck, the meet part of a meet-cute, and the situation and setting, a coffee shop human AU was suggested by @sunniebelle. Tagging @doctorroseprompts.

John Smith found himself looking at his phone calendar to confirm the date wasn’t actually Friday the thirteenth. Not that he was a triskaidekaphobe. Not at all. He wasn’t superstitious in the least, because he was a scientist with a doctorate and that was not how he rolled.

But, mornings like this certainly tested his resolve. He had awakened to discover that his car had been towed in the night, most likely due to a parking complaint from his annoying neighbor in the next building. John had known he was tempting fate by taking the space right in front of her building, but it had been the only one open. He’d spent a good hour tracking the vehicle down, making him miss his first class. He’d had to call in his TA to teach his first lab of the day, and he wasn’t sure he’d make it to the second.

The second debacle of the day had occurred shortly after he’d burst out of his flat door. He’d tripped over the errant black cat that had taken up residence in the stairwell. John had nearly gone head first down a flight of steps, but had managed to grab the rail just in time. The swearing and clatter had been loud enough for Craig and Sophie, the ground floor neighbors, to poke their heads out their door. Sophie once again disavowed the cat. John had no idea who owned it. He sensed a tone of derision in its meowing at him.

So, no, it’s not Friday the thirteenth, but yes, the cat was black. Managed to avoid walking under that ladder, though. John thought as he walked, shoulders slumped, down the sidewalk towards the newspaper stand and the small cafe next to it. Noticing the white splatter of paint on his black chucks, he groaned. Missed the ladder but not the paint, he mused as he looked back at the workers painting the trim on the building next to his. His neighbor’s building. He told himself it was ridiculous to imagine she paid the painters to mess up his shoes.

Wilfred Mott, who ran the newsstand, greeted him with his usual cheeriness. “Well, hello, Doctor! Everything okay? You look a bit deflated.”

“That’s a good word for it. It’s not been a great morning,” John confirmed.

“Was that your little blue car I saw…”

“Yep,” he said, popping the p.

“Blimey,” Wilfred said, shaking his head. “Wish I’d said something.”

“It wasn’t your problem, Wilf,” John assured him. “Nothing you could do about it. Then to make matters even better, I tripped over the cat in my building. Nearly cracked my head open.”

Wilfred winced. “Ah, I see. Gonna get your car now, I suppose?”

John rolled his eyes. “Soon. Impound yard doesn’t open for another half-hour. I guess I’m going to work after lunch. Hopefully.”

“I’d give you a free newspaper for your troubles…” Wilfred began.

John raised his hand and interjected, “No, I’ll pay for it. I have to keep my favorite newsstand in business, and besides, Donna would kill me.”

Wilfred continued, “…But I’m all out.”

“Ah,” John said. No leisurely crossword puzzle today.

“I think things will look better after coffee and a muffin,” Wilfred suggested.

John nodded. “Excellent idea. Particularly if it’s one of Donna’s banana nut muffins.” He stepped towards the cafe door.

“Have a better day, Doctor. I’m rootin’ for ya.”

With a salute and a smile in Wilfred’s direction, John entered Noble Pastimes, his favorite cafe. He noted that it was rather crowded, even for the end of the morning rush. His friend Donna was behind the counter, as was the barista, Bill Potts, and there were four customers ahead of him.

John realized there was something familiar about the woman approaching the counter. She was blonde, wearing a bright pink hoodie with Punky Fish scrawled on the back like graffiti. Suddenly, it occurred to him why she was familiar, and his heart sped up a bit with the revelation. Oh! The shopgirl from Henrik’s! The one who sold me Aunt Sarah’s scarf. Yes, that’s definitely her. She was lovely. Picked out the perfect gift. Gorgeous eyes, too. Honey… no, whiskey colored. That was the best way to describe them. Why don’t I go to Henrik’s more often? Well, other than hating shopping. She made it a pleasant experience, though. That’s it, all shopping is to be done at Henrik’s from this point forward. I will come up with a list of things I have to buy. Oh, but what if she doesn’t work there any…

“Gonna order, Spaceman?” The dulcet tones of Donna Noble jolted him from his recollections. They’d been friends for years, more like brother and sister, so he often got the unfiltered version of Donna’s customer service charm. Apparently the line, and he, had been moving while he’d been dreaming of blond shopgirls. Well, of a specific blonde shopgirl. He didn’t just wake up with a craving. “You’re late.”

“Been a bit of a morning. Don’t wanna get into it,” John told her. Donna nodded. He assumed she knew she’d get the full story later. “Banana nut muffin, please, and a coffee.” He quickly scanned the display case. Then he looked at it again, and finally on the third pass, he stammered, “There’s none? None at all? You’re out?”

“Yes, yes, and yes,” Donna stated flatly. He assumed the “Dumbo” went unsaid, but understood, because she was in her place of business and not their Wednesday night Uno game.

“There’s no banana nut muffin,” he repeated stupidly.

“Then would you take a blueberry? Because there’s customers behind you,” Donna sing-songed.

“Fine,” John sighed, his shoulders sagging. There was no point in being angry. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shopgirl giving them both the side-eye as she collected her coffee from Bill. Donna bagged up a blueberry muffin and thrust it at him, then he stepped over to where Bill was handing out another coffee. He noticed the shopgirl was stuffing her change in her purse.

Bill gave him a sympathetic smile.“Sorry about the muffin.”

“I’m not surprised, honestly. It’s been the morning from hell. My car got towed. Made the fatal error of parking it in front of the building next door.”

“The crazy neighbor called the towing company on you?” Donna interrupted. He nodded, not wanting to get into it.

“M’ sorry to hear that,” Bill said sympathetically, seeming to understand his need to refrain from elaborating.

“Had to call Martha in to teach for me, and she’ll probably have to do the afternoon lab too. Then some random cat tried to murder me, I got paint on my trainers… then no newspaper, and no banana nut muffin. I don’t mean to be a knob. I know it’s ridiculous to be so disappointed over something so small…”

“Small things have a way of pilin’ up, though. Sounds like your morning has been rubbish. S’cuse me for interruptin’,” a woman spoke behind him. He startled, then turned to see the shopgirl, holding a bag and a travel mug. “Not my business, I know, but… M’name’s Rose Tyler, by the way. You came into Henrik’s a couple of weeks ago. I remember you.”

Faced with the object of his musings actually speaking to him, John stammered eloquently, “Oh.” Then his brain relayed the information that not only did she remember him, she’d just introduced herself and he was standing there like a lump. “I’m John Smith. Yes, that was me. Aunt Sarah loved her scarf.”

Rose grinned broadly. “That’s great. Erm… sorry about the banana nut muffin. I must’ve bought the last one.”

He found that in the presence of a Rose Tyler smile, he could forgive quite a bit. “If it had to go with someone, I’m glad it went with you.” Internally, he winced. He was no Casanova, but that was awkward even for him.

Then Rose did something with her tongue, poking it out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled, and it made him forget the whole morning’s ordeal. It even made him stop thinking of banana nut muffins.

“I have an idea, if you have some time. Wanna share?”

“Share what?”

Rose chuckled, holding up the bag. “I bought two. Want one?”

“I wouldn’t want to take away your breakfast,” he demurred.

“S’okay. I’ll survive until lunch.”

John blurted, “I’ll buy you lunch, Rose Tyler.”

With that tip of the tongue smile, Rose told him, “Let’s see how breakfast goes.” She turned and headed towards an empty table by the window. John started to follow.

“Your coffee, Dr. Smith,” Bill grinned. Was that a knowing smirk she was giving him? John imagined it was. As he grinned and stuffed some cash in the tip jar, he noticed Bill elbowing Donna. Not caring that they’d probably contributed to the neighborhood gossip today, John joined Rose at the table.

He did bring her lunch later at Henrik’s, after picking the car up at the impound yard.

Eventually, they shared many more breakfasts, lunches, and dinners (and midnight snacks.) John Smith always called Rose Tyler his fair Fortuna, because meeting her was the moment his luck changed for the better.

lastbluetardis:

Summary:Single parents Rose Tyler and James McCrimmon come together to embark on a whirlwind, passionate romance that seems to be the happy ending each of them never thought they’d get. But when James’s past comes back to haunt them and threatens to tear away everything they’ve built together, they must find a way to weather the storm that will either break them or draw them ever-closer, all while answering the question of what it means to be a family.

Ten x Rose AU @doctorroseprompts​

This chapter: ~7700 words, lightly explicit for a scene towards the middle

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His grandmother must have been waiting for his arrival, watching from the front window, because the moment James took a step into the warm house, he was pulled into a pair of small yet strong arms.

“James! Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you, darling.”

Grinning, he allowed himself to be folded into the embrace, despite his grandmother only coming up to his chest.

“You’re too thin. Are you eating enough?” she clucked, her usual greeting ever since he’d gone through puberty and stretched out before her eyes. Throughout his teenage years, she had made sure he had access to as much food as he wanted, never denying him a pre- or post-dinner snack, though it made no difference—his body struggled to put on and keep weight.

“Yes, Grandma,” he answered patiently.

“Hmph.” Evidently finished with him, she dropped her arms from his waist and instead cooed, “Where is my Alex?”

His child giggled, then a blur of black and burgundy launched itself forward. While his grandma hugged and kissed Alex, James flicked his eyes to Rose, not wanting her to be left out. She had a soft expression on her face that melted his bones. He sidled up to her and rested his palm on her lower back.

David stood beside her, but Matthew was hiding behind Rose’s legs, his fingers fisted into the fabric of her dress.

“Well don’t just stand there, introduce me,” his grandma said, still smothering Alex in hugs and kisses.

“Don’t you dare, wait for me!”

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