Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. I am currently penning a longer story but thought after recent events in Manchester and London, we all need a little bit of escapist fluff, even if it is an old theme.

"And it's... one tequila, two tequila, three tequila floor."

Barbara Havers watched the six young women around her slamming tequila shots down like they were water. Licking, sipping and sucking had ceased hours ago. Now it was just slam and wham.

"It's... four tequila, five tequila, six tequila door."

"Come on Sarge. Tequila! Tequila! Tequila!"

Barbara waved her hand. "No. I've had enough."

"You can never have too much tequila."

"Bathroom break," Barbara replied. She stood and felt the world sway. "Back soon."

She carefully navigated to the Ladies and thumped down in a cubicle. Her hands shook as she fumbled for her phone. Noticing it was after midnight, she hesitated then hit her speed dial number.

"Barbara?"

"Sir? Sorry, I know it's late... but I need... rescuing."

"Rescuing? Where are you?"

"Soho."

"Oh? Oh, yes. Tracey's hens night. Too many cocktails?"

"They're onto tequila shots now. If you don't come and save me, I'll need a liver transplant tomorrow."

Tommy laughed. "Well, I suppose we shouldn't waste NHS funds. I prefer they use my taxes for other purposes like education or curing cancer. Which bar are you currently propping up?"

"The Green Monkey, or maybe it's the Orange Giraffe. The Yellow Tiger? I can't remember, but it's a colour and an African animal."

Barbara was annoyed when he laughed again. "Tigers aren't African. Leave your phone on. I'll find you. I'll be about half an hour. Will you be okay until then?"

"Yeah."

"See you soon." Tommy hung up.

Barbara took a deep breath then staggered back outside to the table. Six shots were lined up for her. "No, I've had enough. I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Nonsense, Sarge. Tracey doesn't get married every day."

Barbara felt the eyes of her colleagues boring into her soul. She knew that they had only asked her to be polite, but she wanted to be liked, or at least pretend someone liked her. Her fingers closed around the glass. Knowing her head would hate her tomorrow, she skolled the shot to applause. One became two became three.

"Hello, fancy meeting all of you here."

Tommy! Barbara's eyes tried to focus on the voice. She could see dark brown hair and a lot of teeth in front of her. He slowly came into focus. "Take me home to bed, Tommy." She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Go, Sarge!" The table erupted in catcalls and whistles. "Woo hoo, looks like the rumours are true."

"Enough! Sergeant Havers is a little inebriated and needs an escort home. Nothing more."

"No, Sir. Of course not, Sir."

Barbara felt detached. She understood their insinuations but was having trouble understanding why people would assume they were sleeping together. "He's my friend. Tommy's a gentleman. He may have slept with everyone else in The Met, but he's never tried it with me. No, not even him. No one's ever wanted to sleep with me. Scared I might bite it off I think."

The women all laughed and made rather crude comments about men. Strong hands tried to steer her away. "Come on, Barbara. Let's get you out of here. Goodnight ladies. Say goodbye, Barbara."

"By-ee! Night..." She waved as Tommy guided her to the door. "Sorry, I... drank too much."

"I'm glad you called me. Goodness knows what might have happened."

Tommy hailed a cab and gave his address. Barbara held the yellow handrail as he fastened the seatbelt. "But I live in Camden."

"Tonight you're staying at my place."

His tone warned her not to argue. "People will talk. They already think... but I told them. I told them the truth. Never. You would never..."

Barbara looked at him and said nothing more. Her boss looked disappointed. He was embarrassed for her. She had said too much. She was trying to tell him that she understood, but she was rambling. "Too many tequilas."

This time he smiled. "So it would seem."

The jaunty movement of the cab put her to sleep. Tommy gently shook her awake before guiding her inside. "Come on, no, not that way. Over here. There, that's it. One step. One more."

Barbara waved her arms expansively. "What will your neighbours think? You go out after midnight and return with a drunken woman."

"It will enhance my reputation no end. Now come on, up the stairs. That's it. You can stay in my room."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

Tommy opened a door and led her to a large bed. He lowered her and helped her sit then knelt down to remove her shoes. Barbara looked around. The room was rather ordinary. She had expected velvet drapes, period furniture and a canopy over the bed which should have been on a raised platform. Instead, it was a functional and modern room which she would describe as dull. "You sleep in here?"

"When I'm not called out in the middle of the night to rescue damsels in distress."

"I thought it would be more..." She could not think of the word.

"More?"

"Palatial."

Tommy looked up and smiled. "Not poncy enough for you?"

"I could live in this room."

Tommy frowned. "Good to know."

"No, I mean it. It's ordinary."

Tommy raised his eyebrows. "Then I shall have it redecorated at once. I can't live somewhere ordinary."

Barbara tilted her head to one side. "No. Nothing about you is ordinary." She reached out and stroked his cheek. "My personal Prince Charming."

"Well, Cinderella, your slippers are off. Let's take that jacket off then you can have a nice long sleep."

Barbara allowed him to slip her jacket off her shoulders. She wriggled her arms to free it but tumbled backwards onto the bed. "Whoopsie."

Tommy gently lifted her and removed the jacket. He then lay her down and lifted her legs onto the bed. Barbara tried to help, but the room was spinning again. When it slowed, she looked up to see Tommy pulling up the blankets. "I need the bathroom."

Tommy sighed through a tight smile. She could see she was testing his patience, but she needed to go, somewhat urgently.

"Up you get then." Without complaint, he helped her navigate across the open space to his ensuite.

Barbara felt her legs trying to go in the opposite direction to her eyes. "Normally my legs work okay."

"Yes, I know. Just lean on me." They reached the door. Tommy looked confused. "Will you be okay in there by yourself?"

"Yes," she said with more confidence than she felt, "I have used the bathroom by myself since I was five." She closed the door in his face.

Her jeans were her tightest ones, and she wrestled with them down her thighs. Getting them up again was beyond her. She decided not to bother. Having them locked around her legs made her gait even more erratic, and when she opened the door, she stumbled straight into Tommy's arms. "My jeans are too tight."

He steered her back to bed then silently tugged on the hem of her jeans to help take them off. Barbara smiled at him. Always the gentleman, he was focussing hard on her feet, not daring to look anywhere else. Finally, they came free. Tommy covered her with the blankets. "Now, goodnight, Barbara. Call me if you need anything. There is a bin beside the bed if you feel unwell."

"Would you read me a bedtime story?"

"You want me to read to you?"

"Yes. Or tell me a story you remember."

He sat on the side of the bed. "Why?"

"Your voice is soothing. I often drift off thinking about your voice."

"You do?"

Tommy grinned at her with the soft fondness in his eyes that she knew was reserved for her. "Yeah, I'm a sea urchin."

Now Tommy laughed. "Not the most flattering analogy you could give yourself."

"You know, spiky and poisonous on the outside and soft in the centre."

He put his hand on her shoulder. "You are not poisonous, not to me. I'll tell you a story but only if I can get under those blankets. It's cold out here."

Barbara patted the bed. "Deal."

Tommy slipped off his shoes then pulled off his jumper. He looked at her as if making a decision then unbuckled his trousers and let them fall to the floor. He walked around the bed and climbed in beside her, propping himself against the timber headrest. Barbara rolled over to face him.

"Ready?"

"Yes, Tommy."

"Once upon a time, there was a lonely prince, called Timmy."

"Prince Timmy?"

"It's my story, so yes, Prince Timmy."

Barbara giggled. "Okay."

"Prince Timmy lived in a big castle by the sea. He grew up knowing he would one day become king or all the land, and because of that, he could never trust anyone. All his friends were sycophants and only ever flattered him. 'You're so strong, Prince Timmy. You're so handsome, Prince Timmy. What a wonderful warrior you are Prince Timmy. How wise you are Prince Timmy.' In time, without anyone to tell him the truth, he began to believe he was the strongest, bravest and wisest prince in all of England."

"Sounds like a ponce."

"Yes, he was. One day Prince Timmy was walking down by the sea when he spied a young woman collecting driftwood."

"And he had her executed for poaching?"

"You can't poach driftwood. No, are you going to keep interrupting or will I finish the story?"

Barbara rolled closer and put her arm over Tommy's waist. "Sorry."

Prince Timmy walked up to the woman. She had brilliant green eyes that mesmerised him."

"Was she a witch?"

"No."

"Okay, good."

"'What is your name young woman?' he asked. And she replied, 'Babette, my prince.'"

"Babette?" Barbara smiled at the name and the way Tommy had mimicked a feminine voice.

"Hush. Last warning."

"Sorry, Tommy."

"The prince started to chat to Babette. 'Why are you collecting driftwood?' 'To warm my hut. My parents are elderly, and the winters are cold.' 'Why don't you buy firewood?' 'We cannot afford it, Prince Timmy.' The prince felt sorry for the girl and helped her gather wood. He carried it to her hut in the forest behind the beach and was surprised by how poor her family seemed. Their only wealth was a small garden of flowers that Babette said she sold at the market to buy food. He pulled his purse from his robe and offered her gold to buy more wood. Babette was furious and threw it back in his face declaring that she could not be bought. Prince Timmy was confused. Money had always bought friends. Everyone wanted his money. He was beguiled by this urchin of the sea."

"Good on her."

"Yes. So Prince Timmy went back to the beach every day and helped her gather driftwood. Over time they talked about his life, and she gave him practical advice. She told him about her family and how they had fallen on hard times. They argued and teased each other, and soon they were firms friends. Then one day, he did not return to the beach. At first, Babette was worried, then she heard from her neighbours that he was to be married. Babette was pleased for him, but she knew he did not love the woman but was doing his duty."

"They always married for power or to have children."

"Indeed. Anyway, his wife died in childbirth. Babette went to the castle. Prince Timmy was watching from the parapet and saw her leave a small posy of flowers by the gate. It touched his heart because she was leaving her only income as a gift to ease his sorrow. Prince Timmy understood that Babette was his only true friend."

"Months later, after he was out of mourning, Prince Timmy returned to the beach. Babette was gathering driftwood. 'Hello, Babette.' 'Hello, Prince Timmy. I was sorry...' she began, but he held up his hand. 'No more talk of the past. I came to help you gather wood.' Months passed, and every day he would spend more time with Babette."

"I think he had the hots for her."

Tommy laughed. "I think so too. One day Prince Timmy went to the beach, and Babette was not there. He went to the hut. Two graves with little driftwood crosses were near the hut. He called out to her, and all he could hear was a groan. Prince Timmy went into the hut and found Babette on the floor, writhing in pain. He sniffed her food. She had cooked up magic Mexican mushrooms instead of the beach mushrooms that she had often told him was a major part of her diet. Prince Timmy lifted her into bed and took care of her."

"He was a good prince."

"Yes, he was. He gave her water."

"Tommy, I'm thirsty too."

"Your wish is my command." Tommy got out of bed and filled a glass of water in the bathroom and brought it back to her. She drank eagerly. He resettled himself in the bed. Barbara put her arm back over him, and he wrapped his arm over her shoulder. "Will I continue?"

"Yes, please."

"Prince Timmy stayed all night with Babette and nursed her. When she was asleep, he told her that he loved her, knowing that she would never hear him."

"That's sweet."

"Now, you, young lady, also need to go to sleep."

"That's it? So what happened?"

"In the morning, she woke up and felt better and they went to collect driftwood."

Barbara snuggled in closer to Tommy. "No, that ending stinks. She heard him say he loved her. She woke up in the morning and told him she loved him too."

"You think she loved him?"

Barbara smiled. "I know she does, er... did. More than anything."

"But what about him being a prince? She hated poncy princes."

"But he's her poncy prince, and she won't let him get away with any nonsense."

Tommy kissed the top of her head. "No, she won't. Now go to sleep, Barbara."

He started to move away, but Barbara gripped his t-shirt and held firm. Tommy lowered himself slowly into the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

"G'night, Tommy."

"Goodnight, Barbara."

She started to drift to sleep. "I love my poncy earl, you know. I'd never tell him, but I do."

Barbara groaned as the Light Brigade made its last charge across her skull. Heavy hooves pounded her brain to mush.

"Barbara, it's okay. It's just a nightmare."

"Sir?"

Barbara opened her eyes. She was staring at her boss's chest. "Oh god, what did I do?"

"You had too much tequila. You phoned me and asked me to rescue you. I brought you home here."

"Tequila? Yeah, I remember. One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor." She tried to sit up, but strong arms kept her in place. The cavalry resumed its charge across her head. She swore and buried her face against Tommy's chest.

"I gather you are not feeling your best this morning."

"Mexican mushrooms."

Tommy laughed. "Would you like some water and aspirin?"

"Yeah. And a new head too, please."

Tommy stood, and Barbara noticed he was just in his boxers and t-shirts. "Did we?"

He looked across and smiled softly. "No, I just told you a bedtime story, and we went to sleep."

She buried her head in the pillow. How could she ever face him again?

"Here, take these."

Barbara's need for water and pain relief was greater than her embarrassment. She swallowed them greedily. "Thank you."

"My pleasure." Tommy took the glass then climbed back under the blankets and enveloped her in his arms.

"Did I say anything I shouldn't have?"

"No. What do you think you might have said?"

"That... Did Prince Timmy really love Babette?"

"Yes."

"Because he would break her heart if he were only being nice."

"No. He loves her."

"Does he know she loves him?"

"Yes."

"Then why hasn't he said anything?"

"Because he's not as brave as he makes out. He thought she would laugh at him."

"She'd never do that."

Tommy leant down and kissed her softly. "I love you, Barbara."

"I love you too, Tommy."

He kissed her again, and she groaned. "Sorry, my head."

"I shouldn't have taken advantage..."

"I read once that vigorous lovemaking is a great hangover cure."

"I've never tried it."

"Me either, but it might be worth a try."

"Hmm, except I want to make love to you very, very slowly. And I want to wait until you are feeling better."

"I knew you were an honourable man, Prince Timmy."

He kissed her again, then pulled her against his chest. "Get some sleep, my love. Then I might show you my dishonourable side."