Beta: Miral-Romanov

What, This Daft Old Face?

Adventures were still had, laughs were still shared and flirting still happened (and then some, with Harkness's presence) but Rose had been acting distant for the past three weeks, and the Doctor still wasn't entirely sure what he'd done. He knew it corresponded with his moment of intoxication, so if there was ever anything he'd ever done that he regretted — besides destroying his home planet — it was letting Harkness get him drunk so he could say whatever it was he said.

The Doctor was positive that Rose had lied when she had told him he hadn't said anything stupid— not just because Rose always ducked into her room early after all their adventures, didn't cuddle with him on the couch anymore and stopped hugging him spontaneously. She didn't keep him company in the console room when he tinkered, nor in the library so he could read her Charles Dickens. It hurt like hell, and he withdrew as well, spending more and more time tinkering and hesitating every time he reached to take her hand— one night, after a particularly terrifying nightmare, instead of dragging himself into Rose's room for comfort as usual, he huddled in the back of his en suite and shuddered.

After their newest adventure — hopping on one foot for their lives all the way back to the TARDIS after Jack slept with the Holy Virgin Priestess — the three of them tripped over each other when they all tried to hop their way into the console room, prompting a fit of giggles on Rose's end when Jack landed directly on top of the Doctor, wagging his eyebrows.

"Off," the Doctor scowled, shoving Harkness off of him, face burning.

"We don't need to do anything, y'know," said Jack, grinning. "We could just cuddle."

Rose snorted and scrambled off the floor, wincing as she put too much weight on her overused leg. "'M bloody exhausted. Gonna take a shower."

"Can I join?" asked Jack eagerly, purposely ignoring the Doctor's glare of death.

"No," Rose grinned, fluttering her lashes at him before limping out of the room.

"How about you, sexy? Want to shower together?" Jack turned his attention to the Doctor, who had already hoisted himself up on the console.

"When Woman Wept thaws and Daleks start tap-dancing," he replied moodily.

"Well I never," Jack said in mock affront, flouncing out of the room with his arms aloft like a ballerina.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, piloting them into the Vortex and sighing. Rose had barely held his hand the whole way. His hearts felt like there were needles being driven into them— Rassilon, he missed her. He'd been theorising for a while now what he'd said; he had either blurted out about his past companions, or he'd gotten angry and shouted at her or something. He had no idea if he was an angry drunk or not, since he'd never gotten drunk before, but he did know that he was a coward when sober, so he'd never actually ask her.

Huffing out another sigh like he was some depressed ape, the Doctor headed off for a shower of his own. As the hot spray trailed down his body, he frowned at the drain, wondering what he could do to make it up to her. Maybe he could try and make dinner? No, that wouldn't work… he couldn't even make toast without burning it… Maybe he could drop Jack off wherever (Skaro would probably be best) and bring Rose to an amusement park planet?

He felt a bit better after imagining the outcome of his idea — most of which involved coming home laughing, then snuggling on the couch in front of some stupid soap Rose wanted to watch — and, upon towelling off and dressing again, strode out of his room excitedly in search of Rose. His good mood popped like a needle to a bubble when he found Rose and Jack waiting for him in the console room, the former all dressed up with her hair blow-dried and curled.

"Can you take the TARDIS to Myleia again?" Jack asked him, while Rose stood avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah, no, I could— yeah," the Doctor stammered, scowling between her and Jack, who was blinking innocently. "Why?"

"Night on the town," Jack drawled, an almost delighted expression coming over his face at the Doctor's look of masked jealousy. "As much fun as it is to stare at your frankly fantastic ass, Doc, I'm getting bored of you playing hard to get. It's time to get laid!"

"Speak for yourself," Rose said, rolling her eyes.

Now his hearts didn't just have needles— they had needles, splinters and bullet fragments lodged in them. The Doctor choked back his possessive fury and hid behind a mask of false cheer, hopping over to the console. "Right-o! Hold onto somethin'." He bounced around the console, hitting levers and strictly avoiding looking at Rose, who was watching him with an almost despondent expression, which disappeared the moment the TARDIS landed with a slight groaning noise. "Myleia, Prixon District, around nine thirty."

"Excellent," Jack grinned, looping his arm around Rose's and all but yanking her to the door. "Don't wait up, Doc! We might not come back!"

"We'll be back by one!" Rose called back hastily, sending him an almost apologetic look before Jack dragged her into the darkness.

The doors shut behind them, leaving the Doctor to let his mask drop off his face and clatter to the floor. The TARDIS hummed comfortingly in his mind, but he ignored it, sinking down onto the grating and leaning his head on the console, staring dejectedly at the jump seat. This wasn't fair— whatever he'd said while sloshed was hurting the both of them, and he didn't remember enough to fix it. That was it; he was going to silently murder Jack for getting him drunk, and then he was going to shove Rose against a wall and snog her. Well, maybe not, because he was already an established coward, but maybe he'd just demand to know what he'd said. He'd just have to wait until they came back.

At least, if they came back. Unless Jack would somehow lure her into a motel or something. His hearts clenched in fury and depression at the thought, and he spent the majority of the night imagining scenarios involving Rose draped over the stupid captain, and him in the background watching like an old creep.

When Jack happily led Rose into the nearest pub, plunking her down and ordering a round of hypervodkas — very much like his previous plan — he was astonished when Rose required no persuasion to drink, snatching the closest hypervodka the second it hit the table and tossing it back at once.

"Whoa there, Rosie," Jack said, mouth dropping open as she grimaced at the taste.

"Disgusting," she noted, nicking another one. "An' completely brilliant."

"Though it'd take at least a few minutes to convince you to get wasted," Jack said happily, throwing back his own hypervodka and relishing the feeling of the warm liquid oozing down his throat.

"'M fucking sick of everything," Rose muttered, looking very much like a downhearted drunk as she tossed back the second one and made a face again. "Just want to not think for a bit, yeah?"

"Fair enough," Jack said, grinning mischievously. "Now, how about another one or six…?"

The Doctor jumped when the TARDIS doors opened with a bang, having half-nodded off against the side of the console. He scrambled up off the grating, intent on examining Rose for signs that Harkness had done something to her (and, if discovering even her shirt askew, murdering Harkness) only to discover them both draped on opposite ends of the railings, looking unfocused.

"Oh, fuck," the Doctor cursed, rage boiling into him. Harkness was about to become nothing but a piece of skin on a hanger, just like Cassandra.

"Hey, hey," drawled Jack drunkenly, when he caught the Doctor's eye. "You. Wassup?"

"You got Rose drunk?!" the Doctor snarled, storming over to Rose. "You son of a bitch."

"Shh," Jack shushed him with a smirk, "don't tell th'Doctor."

Rose started to giggle into the railing as the Doctor hoisted her up; the him from a month previous would have scooped her up and held her close, but now he simply slung her arm over his shoulder and helped her over to the jump seat. She lifted her other arm and curled it around his chest, snuggling her face into his jacket with a happy purr. He tried to ignore it, lowering her gently onto the jump seat before rounding on Harkness. "Why the fuck did you get her drunk, you arse?"

"Didn't," Jack insisted. "She did that by herself. Sorta."

"Yum," Rose mumbled from beside him.

"What are you talkin' about?" the Doctor demanded.

"Was I talkin'?" Jack said dazedly.

The Doctor swore in Gallifreyan, leaving Rose's side for a second to pace angrily. "What happened?"

Jack spent a good minute straightening up, looking earnest. "Eight hypervodkas. For me, anyway— Rosie had nine. Go Rosie," he added, with a small fist pump that Rose grinned at.

"Why?"

"Fun," Rose answered before Jack could answer, face practically buried in the leather of the jump seat. "Whee."

"Whee," echoed Jack with a snicker, trying to heave himself up and failing horribly, instead tipping forward and collapsing onto the grating.

Rose burst into giggles again, pointing at him and slurring, "Hark'ess, you're comp'etely fit shaced." As Jack started laughing, she paused and added with a grin, "No wait, the other thing."

"Okay, you, c'mere," the Doctor scowled, storming back over to Rose and scooping her up bridal style.

She let out a happy noise, weaving her arms around him and snuggling her face into his neck, sticking her tongue out in Jack's direction. "Ha," she cooed, "I get th'sexy Time Lord."

The Doctor's hearts leapt and got lodged in his throat just as Jack pouted and grumbled, "No fair."

"Mine," Rose smirked, trailing her nose up the side of his neck.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, cheeks pink. "Er, you. To bed. You," he added, snarling at Jack, "can sleep there for all I care."

"Yessir." Jack saluted him before curling up on the grating next to the Doctor's abandoned spanner.

"You're a grump," Rose snickered, wriggling in his hold and sighing.

"Thank you," he scowled, heading down the hallway.

"Y'welcome." She was silent for a minute as he walked, staying quiet. Then, to his utter shock, she leaned up the slightest bit and pressed a kiss to his collarbone, apparently leaving unnoticed the Doctor's jump. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Rose?" he said embarrassedly.

She hummed again, raising herself a little more and kissing the hollow of his throat before adding, "How come you're angry?"

"Because Harkness got you drunk," he said, trying to crane his neck away from her mouth and failing horribly.

"Yep," Rose agreed, leaving three more kisses in a triangle underneath his ear and smiling when he shivered. "He says s'cos his first plan failed."

"Plan?" he frowned, pausing and looking down at her.

"When he got ya drunk first," Rose said, blinking up at him dazedly and flicking her eyes towards his mouth.

"What was that supposed to accomplish?" the Doctor asked.

She opened her mouth at once, but paused. "Can't 'member." When he scowled again, Rose smiled up at him endearingly and lifted a hand to slide over his cheek, leaving unnoticed his expression, which clearly showed he was torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to lean towards her hand. "You make that 'spression too much. Ya oughtta smile more."

"Why?" he mumbled, giving in for a moment and tilting his head into her palm.

"More handsome that way."

The Doctor felt heat crawl up his face again and smiled, disarmingly jovial. "What, this daft old face?"

"Mm. Love your daft old face." A genuine smile crept onto his face, probably a goofy one, prompting Rose to beam. "Like'at. S'gorgeous."

"Thank you."

His voice was overly pleased, making Rose giggle. She snuggled into his neck, yawning, hand still on his face. "Tired."

He jolted when he realised he'd stopped in the middle of the hall, and resumed walking. "Bed."

"Not s'eepy," she murmured.

"You just said you were tired," he frowned.

"Oh yeah. Forgot about that."

He gave her a stern look and repeated, finalising the matter, "Bed."

"Don't wanna," she sighed, trailing her fingers down the curve of his jaw. "Wanna talk."

"About what?" the Doctor said, though he still turned into her bedroom.

She was quiet for a long time, playing with the dimple in his chin, avoiding his eyes. "'M sorry 've been dis'ant," she mumbled after a while.

"S'okay," he said quietly.

She clung to him harder when the Doctor tried to lower her into her bed. "S'not. Don't wanna be dis'ant no more. Mish you. 'M sorry," she repeated on a whisper. "Got scared."

He relented his efforts to lay her down and took a moment to hug her back, holding her tightly and savouring their proximity— Rassilon, he'd missed this. "Of what?"

"Th'you'd send me home. Dun wanna go. Ever."

"Why would I send you home, Rose?" he said on a mumble, knowing full well in his hearts that he couldn't, just couldn't leave her behind, not now. He needed her too much.

"… forever, gonna stay wif you forever…" she whispered into his neck before falling completely silent.

He frowned, craning his head away from her to check if she'd fallen asleep, and lo and behold her eyes were shut and the previously ironclad grip she'd had on his jacket was now lax. The Doctor heaved out a sigh, lowering her onto her sheets and this time succeeding, pulling the duvet over her frame before sitting down on the edge of the bed and taking a moment to simply look at her. He'd missed the days when he'd woken in her bed, always clutching her so desperately it almost disgusted him, more often than not with an erection pressing into the crease of her bum, which definitely disgusted him. Would Rose wake up the next morning and things would be back to normal, or would she rouse with little to no memory of this night and continue being distant? If the latter happened, he'd have to find a way to convince her that he'd never leave her, not even if the balance of the universe depended on it.

He realised he was lingering and hoisted himself off the bed, taking care to tuck her in properly so she wouldn't get cold before striding out of her room and down the corridor with a grimace present on his face, intent on dealing with Harkness. However, when he reached the console room, he found said captain snoring up a storm underneath the console, where the TARDIS had placed a thin blanket and a sleeping pad for him.

"Don't spoil him— he don't deserve it," the Doctor snapped, prepared to march over there and kick Jack awake, but the TARDIS hummed disapprovingly at him and he obediently gave up. "Fine. Baby him then."

Cursing his ship, the Doctor abandoned the snoring Harkness and headed off to his own room, thinking that he might get some sleep as well. The last time he'd slept had been two weeks ago, when he'd had the nightmare and had been too frightened to seek comfort in Rose's room— this time, thankfully, he knew he'd be welcome, whether or not Rose was sleeping off nine hypervodkas.

He pushed open the door to his room, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the metal chair in the corner before doing the same with his jeans and his jumper. Now clad only in his pants, he headed over to his utilitarian wardrobe and pulled out a pair of cotton, blue jimjam bottoms, stepping into them and slipping under the covers of his bed. He heaved out another sigh, wishing as he always did that there was no empty space next to him and that he had an armful of soft, warm Rose. He shut his eyes, tremors rippling through him when he remembered the way Rose had pressed kisses up his neck, nudged her nose into the hollow of his throat. Said he was gorgeous. His lips curled up into an unbidden smile— did she really think that? He'd always though he was no looker, by human standards, but if she thought that…

Or maybe it was just the ramblings of a drunken woman with her inhibitions lowered. His scowl returned at that, hope shattering into pieces— of course that's what it was. He was a bloody idiot for getting his hopes up even for a second. Humans were universally known for blurting out stupid shit when intoxicated— Rassilon only knows what he had said, since Time Lords never got drunk under any circumstances, because that kind of behaviour was meant for lesser beings. The Doctor furrowed his brows in concentration, trying to use his telepathic prowess (which, if he was being frank, had always been rather weak) to unlock the memories from that night. Blurred pictures swam before his eyes for a moment— he and Harkness in the bar, nearly falling off of his chair as Jack told him to do something; him clutching onto Rose for dear life as she shouted at Harkness for getting him drunk; his face staring down at hers from above her, in her bed, as he told her quite earnestly that he had something very important to tell her—

The door to his bedroom creaked slightly, but he only half-registered it as he realised something. Rose had lied about him simply wandering into her bedroom. Whatever the reason, it probably had something to do with whatever 'important' thing he'd told her; he swallowed hard, hoping to Rassilon that he hadn't said something stupid, like tell her how she was the only reason he bothered to live anymore… or something along those lines.

He started when he felt the mattress contract next to him and a hand find its way underneath the sheets, stroking over his abdomen— he seized the dainty wrist before it could venture lower like it obviously planned to, and turned his head in the darkness to see Rose watching him with half-mast eyes. "Rose, what're you—?"

"Shh," she whispered, leaning her head down and pressing a kiss to the place where his neck and his ear joined.

When she tried to wriggle her wrist out of his grip and slip it into his jimjams, he only tightened his hold and yanked her hand above the sheets, giving her a stern look despite the half-terrified half-thrilled pounding of his hearts and the interested twitch in his cock. "No, Rose."

"Want you," she said in a sultry voice, right next to his ear.

"No you don't," he mumbled insecurely, before clearing his throat and trying to sound stricter. "You're drunk. Go back to sleep."

"Nuh-uh. Wanna touch you."

Well this was fantastic. Now he had a wanton little companion in his bed spewing delicious filth and a full-fledged erection aching desperately for the relief she was offering, so what was he going to do about it? Lie, naturally, because all of this was because of the effing hypervodkas. "I don't want you to," he said tightly, sitting up so he could give her a glare.

Why her face didn't crash into hurt at once, he had no idea. Instead, she met his gaze as firmly as she could whilst inebriated and argued, "Yes you do."

"No I don't. I really don't." Oh, but I do Rose, I do, I do, I—

"Yes you do. Y'told me."

The horrified expression on his face apparently frightened her, before she practically receded into herself, eyes wide and fearful. "What?" he said in a hollow voice.

"When you were drunk," she said, so quietly he with all his superior Time Lord senses had to strain to hear her, "y'told me."

He knew she'd lied. Cold horror flooded through him, and he clutched at her wrist tighter. "What did I tell you?"

"Y'told me y'love me," she whispered. He went rigid, and she started to panic, words starting to slur together on a terrified tone. "An' then I said I loved y'too, an' you wanted t'shag but I said no 'cos I didn't want you t'regret it an' then you forgot an' I got scared an' 'm sorry!"

"Shh," he shushed, when she tossed her arms around him and started to sob into his neck, his eyes locked on his clothes draped over the chair. Her words had been jumbled and nearly incoherent, but the Doctor understood, and for it he was astonished, gaping into the semi-darkness, his erection all but forgotten.

He'd blurted out his feelings, and then forgot.

And she loved him.

"Don't hate me," she whimpered.

"No, love," the Doctor murmured, rocking her gently, feeling like a hundred pounds had just left his shoulders at his instinctively added endearment. "Never."

She quietened after a brief while, and he looked down at her to see her half-asleep. Despite the tear tracks on her face, he felt elation blossoming in his chest at the sight of her— she was back in his arms again, after nearly a month of pretending there was a three-foot wide brick wall between them, and now he knew why. Finally the world felt simple to him: she knew he loved her, he knew she loved him, and now he could finally tell his own rules to sod off and love her like he should. He wiped off the tears from her cheeks with the back of his thumb, hating himself and his self-professed 'superior Time Lord biology' (or, as he'd apparently said while pissed, 'perior Time Lord 'ology') for making him forget and making her cry. Her dress had hiked itself up to her hip, showing a brilliant expanse of thigh and a hint of pink knickers; he trailed his fingers absently up her thigh, stopping just shy of what was deemed appropriate before settling down next to her comfortably.

"Doctor?" she mumbled after a bit.

He started a little— he'd thought she was asleep and had been halfway there himself. "Yes Rose?"

"D'you still want me?"

He let out a hollow laugh and skirted a hand up her back. "Oh yes. Yes Rose, always."

Her hum was watery but happy. "Doctor?"

The Doctor chuckled. "Yes, Rose?"

"C'n I kiss you now?"

He snapped his head up, only to find hers centimetres away from his face, only slightly red eyes locked on his mouth. His breath caught in his throat, adrenaline pumping through his body at once and making his legs itch to run like he always had, but his mind made his face dive forward instead, catching her bottom lip between his. She shivered on top of him and kissed him back instantly, clumsily sitting up so she could properly straddle him, hands travelling up to cradle his face. His head fell back and his own hands curled over her waist as bliss swept over him in a feather-soft wave— oh, he'd wanted this for so long, and now he could finally have it. Rose seemed to be thinking along the same lines, sighing peacefully and deepening the kiss, slanting her mouth and licking his bottom lip.

Things escalated quickly when the Doctor coaxed her tongue into his mouth, miraculously barely tasting the hypervodka; soon his hands were guiding her grinding motions against his crotch and hers were combing over his scalp. When Rose let out a pant and angled her hips so that her inner thigh rubbed right against his erection, the jolt of pleasure made his body jerk and he stilled her hips with his hands. "Wait," he said breathlessly against her mouth. Rose froze at once and he added hastily, before she could panic, "We should probably wait 'til you're sober—"

"I said th'same thing when you were drunk, an' that went horribly," Rose said earnestly, trailing a comforting hand over his jaw when he looked ashamed. "I'll never, ever regret this, whether or not 'm pissed. An' 'f I forget, you'll just haveta remind me."

He still wasn't convinced, and opened his mouth to voice more doubts, but Rose convinced him with another searing kiss and a particularly skilled roll of her hips that had him bucking up. His doubt trickled away slowly, as did his calm composure when Rose sucked on his tongue and slipped her hands underneath the sheets to trail her nails over his abdomen. The Doctor's stomach jerked, and his hands flew up to shove themselves underneath her dress, bunching it around her hips in an effort to push it up over her head. She retracted her arms so he could lift the dress off of her, cheeks and bra-covered breasts flushing when he all but drank her in with his eyes, and he lifted himself up and traced the path with his tongue. As he set to work on tracing the Gallifreyan alphabet over her collarbone with his tongue while simultaneously undoing her bra with one hand and playing with her breast with the other (impressive git) Rose flicked open the tie on his jimjams far too easily for someone as drunk as she was. He tore his mouth away from her neck and he grabbed her wrist before she could dip her hand in and touch him.

"This is gonna be embarrassingly quick if you do that," the Doctor warned her.

"Next time?" she asked hopefully, managing to slip a finger in and trace the base of him.

He grunted at the contact and bucked his hips again. "Definitely."

Rose hummed happily, withdrawing her hand with a clear look of regret. Hands became tangled when the haste to shed their clothes turned frenzied, and soon Rose was naked above his equally naked body, perched on him like she was his goddess. His cock pulsed at the sight of her, and damn it, he wanted to be in her now. She once again seemed to be thinking on the same wavelength, letting him roll her underneath him so that he was on top, their brief minute of foreplay consisting merely of snogging, nipples being played with and suggestive rocking, until he finally lined himself up with her entrance (fuck, she was soaked) and sank into her.

A shudder rippled through him and he stilled, panting even though he hadn't started thrusting yet. A voice in the back of his mind was saying that he was only waiting so she could adjust to his size, but in reality he just be still for a moment, savour what it felt like to be surrounded by her, because he knew full well that if Rose woke up and didn't remember, he wouldn't have the courage to remind her. It became harder to keep still after a while, especially when she started making noises and clenching around him, and the Doctor gave in, simultaneously capturing her lips again while pulling out of her halfway and pushing back in.

Sweat broke over their bodies in a thin sheet and the sounds of their sighs mingled as he rocked in and out of her, the friction sending gentle sparks of pleasure up his spine. Urgency ensued that this wouldn't stay slow and steady for long, and soon he was grabbing onto the headboard for leverage and speeding up his thrusts until they were short and erratic, spurred on greatly by the fumbling arches and loud moans Rose was making, and the way she grabbed his arse and shoved his hips down made them both cry out with how fucking good it felt.

He was astonished when Rose's cries started to get sharper and she shattered underneath him before he was even close, arching off the bed and digging her nails into his bum; he paused his thrusts, mesmerised by the flush on her cheeks and the way she screamed his name before collapsing into a trembling puddle onto his sheets, chest glistening and hair fanned out like a halo on his pillows.

"Oh Rose," he gasped out, ignoring the urge to move again and staring down at her. "You're—"

He was about to say 'you're beautiful', but she silenced him before he could finish by yanking him down to her level and snogging the breath out of him, shunting her hips up again and reminding him with a near painful throb that he was still rock hard and buried inside her. With a whimper he resumed his thrusts, taking care not to touch her oversensitive clit but reaching up a hand and flicking his thumb over her nipple to see if he could make her come again. She started to pant again after a while, crying out when the base of his cock nudged her clit, so he grabbed the underside of one knee and hoisted it over his hip so he could drive into her at a different angle, groaning out in unison when it gave him the ability to go deeper, the tip of his cock brushing her cervix. His balls drew up — Gods, he was close — but she was still a bit of a ways off, so he slowed his thrusts again and reached down to rub the sides of her clit.

"Doctor," she slurred on a whimper, jerking when he hit something inside of her. "Doctor, 'm gonna again…"

"Come," he ordered raggedly, pounding into her erratically now.

She obeyed him at once, shouting out his name a second time as she came again, and he managed to see the first few seconds of it before his own orgasm forced his eyes shut, pleasure crashing over him in multiple, gale-force waves. His seed was ice on her insides and she cried out again at the fantastically alien feeling, before the last bit of liquid was wrung from him and his elbows gave out.

They stayed silent for a long moment save for stuttering breaths, warmth washing over the Doctor as he lay on top of her. When he was fairly certain he wasn't going to collapse again if he tried to hoist himself up, the Doctor lifted off of her and looked down at her. "Rose?" She hummed contentedly, eyes shut and breaths already steadying as she fell asleep within seconds. He brushed her hair out of her eyes, whispering with fear, "Don't forget," before settling down next to her.

Usually the Doctor barely slept longer than four hours — he had better things to do than risk being swept away in nightmares — but when he finally roused that morning his internal clock told him he'd been asleep for ten hours. The Doctor grunted, feeling sluggish from too much sleep, and he started to move before pausing with a frown when he realised two things— one: he was naked, and two: he wasn't alone. Remembrance hit him like a lightning strike and his eyes flew open, taking in the sight of an equally nude Rose stirring next to him, hearts pounding against his ribcage in terror.

She stretched, breasts pushing forward — he took a moment to enjoy that — before letting out a loud groan and bringing one hand up to her head with an audible, "Ugh." Rolling over, she opened her eyes and regarded him blearily, taking in his terrified expression. A smile curled over her mouth and she murmured, "Hello, gorgeous."

He practically deflated with relief, beaming at her like an old fool and clutching her tightly. "What, this daft old face?"

A/N: Sequel to In Hypervodka Veritas. Nine and Rose get their happy smutty ending :) Hope you enjoyed!