John Smith protested as his mates dragged him inside the shabby, roadside bar.

"Live a little! It's your birthday."

"And they've got dancing girls. Some of them are usually up for a little…you know…"

At that suggestion, John stopped dead in his tracks. His face remained impassive, but the tips of his rather large ears flamed red. "I don't know. And I don't want to know. I've got a girl, and we intend on doing our celebrating at home."

"One drink!"

"All right, all right…one drink," John acquiesced good naturedly.

He let himself be herded inside, only to stumble to a halt as the stage came into view and he saw her. She had golden hair, and was wearing a ridiculously small pink something that might be called a costume if there was more of it. She moved with the grace of an angel.

"Sorry, mate," one of his friends whispered as he unceremoniously dropped into a seat. "That one is strictly hands off. They tried to fire her a ways back, for not makin' nice with the customers but no one else can move like her."

"I noticed," John breathed.

"Whiskey, right?"

John nodded silently, unable to take his eyes from the girl on the stage. When his drink arrived, he threw it back in one gulp.

He was waiting for her out in the parking lot. His leather jacket blended into the shadows, and she might have been afraid, except that she knew his profile as well as her own.

"Rose."

"I never wanted you to see me like that."

"I don't mind me seein' you like that, I mind a bunch of randy blokes in a bar seein' you like that," he said levelly.

"John - I know some of the girls - but, I never - I swear -"

He stepped forward and cradled her face in his palms. "I know. The whole bar full of randy blokes were happy to defend your honor on that score. And you don't have to swear. Just sayin' it is enough for me."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, and she wrapped both arms around his waist.

"We've all got to make a livin' somehow. Rose, I'm no expert, but it seems to me like you're good enough to be a proper dancer, in a real theatre."

She looked up at him and smiled sadly. "It's hard, being a proper dancer. My Mum tried it…and it's not like there's a lot of options for a dancer around here."

John gently tipped her face up. "Rose Tyler. I've never known you to back away from somethin,' just 'cause it's hard. And who says we have to stay here?"

"Where could we go?"

"Anywhere."

And she smiled up at him, a genuine, wide grin that matched his own, and laced their fingers together.