Tenrose One Shots

A Black Coffee for the Workaholic?

John had been there for hours, he knew that. It wasn't because the coffee was good, let that be known. But it was a cozy space with a fire in the hearth and comfy chairs. Snow was falling in fat, fluffy flakes, illuminated by the lights outside of the shop. Wait.

John glanced down at his watch. It was 10:51. Latte Hotte (which the shop was so stupidly named) closed at 11:00. He had a quiz tomorrow! He still had 15 pages of notes to go over!

"Oi! Sunshine! Time to go!" Donna yelled from the back room.

John sighed and gathered up his things, desperate to get back to his dorm. It was a ten minute walk, but a three minute dead sprint with no traffic. And he was so tired. For the past few weeks, he was lucky if he got three hours. He decided to not sprint.

He put on his coat and walked out the door with his various notebooks under his arm, bidding goodnight to Donna and Amy, who were cleaning up. He tucked a pencil behind his ear and looked up at the sky, snowflakes landing and melting on his face. There was a shooting star and he couldn't help but smile before he turned left and started walking.

Soft orchestra music started playing and John thought that it seemed to fit the mood perfectly. There weren't many people for a late December night in Central London. It was the first day of winter break for the school kids, and John didn't get a winter break. Wait. No. It was his phone that was making the music. Someone was calling him.

He fumbled for his phone with his cold, almost numb fingers. It was his roommate.

"Hello, Jack," he greeted.

"Doctor!" Jack said exasperatedly. "Where are you?"

"Walking back, where are you?" asked John, nodding to an old man who was walking by.

"The dorm," Jack said. "Come on, I got us fries."

"Jack, you're in London now. There isn't such a thing as 'fries.'"

John could feel Jack rolling his eyes.

"The fries as here," he insisted and then hung up. John looked at his phone for a moment, grinning as Jack's contact, Captain Jack (Sparrow) disappeared.

He sighed and couldn't help but think that chips sounded amazing. So he picked up the pace and soon made it to the dorm building, where he went in and swiped his card for the elevator.

Awkwardly, with all his books still tucked under his arm, he tried to rub his hands together and only succeeded to drop all of his things. He looked down at them, spread out over the floor of the ascending elevator, and sighed. He sighed a lot. As a medical student, he didn't sleep and was generally done with everyone at all times.

How did he do it? Coffee.

Latte Hotte was the closest coffee shop to his dorm and wasn't a Starbucks. Was only run by redheads. Donna Noble, Amelia Pond, Anthony J. Crowley, Ireland Nolan, and Laura Zardari.

John wished he was a redhead. He thought he'd look good. So did Jack, but Jack thought that everyone looked good all the time.

He leaned over to pick up his things as the door opened and a girl stepped in. He glanced up and saw a red leather jacket, bright, intelligent eyes, and a wide smile. Martha Jones, his fellow medical student.

"Oh! Hi, John," she chirped.

He grinned. "Martha Jones! How are you?"

Martha shrugged. "You know. We have a quiz tomorrow," she reminded him. He nodded.

"I still have a lot of notes to go over," she sighed. He nodded in agreement. "...Want to study together?" came her sheepish suggestion. John thought about it.