Clothes which were no longer there.

Oh, he was going to kill Jack.

He stormed back toward their room, only to stop three meters from the door at the din coming from within. His ears instantly flamed as he heard the deep moans coming through not nearly enough wood and drywall.

"Oh, yes, Master! Please! Anything you want, sir, anything at all," Ianto's voice pleaded and John nearly evaporated on the spot.

Eyes wide, John retreated back into the loo, hoping he wouldn't be able to hear their shouts. Now what was he going to do? Those wankers (oh, perhaps not the term he should be using at the moment) had stolen his mobile too, so he wasn't sure exactly of the time, but he was almost certainly going to be late for his plans with Rose if he didn't get a move on.

Oh.

Rose. What the hell was he going to tell Rose?

He sat in the loo for a long time, head in his hands, only once brave enough to venture outside the door again ("Harder! Harder, sir!"). He could stay in here for the rest of the evening. Surely Ianto and Jack couldn't go that long. But Rose was going to think he stood her up, and that would never do. In fact, much longer and Rose would probably come down looking for him and he didn't want her to come anywhere near the fiasco happening in his room. Finally, he embraced what looked like his only option. He was going to have to go upstairs.

Praying to any deity that would listen that he wouldn't run into anyone else on the trip up to Rose's floor and that Rose was in a merciful mood, John dragged himself up the stairs and down the hall, his ears growing a brighter and brighter shade of red with every milimeter he went.

After a few deep breaths, he raised his fist and knocked on the heavy wooden door, which whooshed open almost immediately.

"Hey, John! I was starting to get worri - oh," Rose trailed off as her wide eyes took in the full sight of him. John felt his blush darken even further as her eyes meandered down his body, taking in everything from his bare feet and hairy legs to his towel-covered waist to his unclothed chest and closely-shorn head.

"Hi," he said, looking anywhere but at her face. She looked lovely, in a pair of stretchy work-out trousers and a loose top, her hair pulled up messily and only the lightest amount of make-up still on. "Can, uh, can I come in?"

"Sure," Rose answered, automatically stepping aside and sounding a bit dazed.

Once John crossed the threshold of Rose's familiar room, he had no idea what to do, shifting back and forth and staring at a point somewhere over her left shoulder.

"Not that I'm complaining about the view," she started and his blush, somehow, deepened. "But are you going to explain?" Rose asked, sounding a bit confused and a lot amused, especially in the face of his uncomfortable silence.

"Was in the shower. Jack stole my clothes," John answered, succinctly.

"Ok," Rose answered and he could tell from the sound of her voice that her giggles were not far away. "And you didn't go get them back because -?"

"He and Ianto are...currently occupied," he responded, blushing even further, which he wouldn't have thought possible.

And, there, Rose started snickering. "Your face!" she gasped, the snickers turning into full-out laughter, which very soon had Rose on the ground, clutching her side. And, oh, he really didn't like having her down there on the ground because one false move and she'd be seeing right up his towel. "Those bastards did that on purpose you know," she laughed, finally regaining enough composure to sit up and eye him again. Except that wasn't much better because now her face was very near a part of him he'd prefer not to be thinking about at the moment. Or that he would prefer to be thinking about a lot.

"I know," he mumbled.

Sniggering, she muttered, "Currently occupied."

"D'you have any clothes I could borrow? Feeling...exposed," he managed, which set Rose off giggling again. At his wounded look, she finally gathered herself enough to stand and start rooting through drawers.

"Oh, I dunno. I think that's a good look for you," Rose giggled, shifting through her piles of clothing. "You should walk around wet and half-naked more often."

"Well, then so should you," he retorted, the words out of his mouth before he could reign them in.

Rose froze a moment before she relaxed and sent him a cheeky look over her shoulder. "I will if you will!" she responded, smiling that little tongue-in-teeth grin she'd been driving him mad with since they were thirteen. "Here," she continued, tossing him a pair of long-ish athletic shorts he knew she wore running occasionally. They only came to about mid-thigh on him, but he supposed they were better than his towel. He could pretend like they were football shorts.

"Anything else?" John asked, watching her rifle through the drawer. To his surprise, he quite clearly saw Rose try to hide a red jumper that definitely belonged to him under a bright yellow vest top.

"Why d'you have my jumper?" he asked, seizing the opportunity to get her off balance, reaching forward to snatch it up before it could disappear in the drawer. It was Rose's turn to blush then (interesting - as was the fact that the jumper had clearly been recently worn and smelled a lot more like Rose than it did him).

"You gave it to me!" she said, defensively.

"When?" he queried, confused.

"In Brighton," Rose answered. "It was the last night on the beach. You and I were walking back behind the others and I was cold. You said I could keep it," she finished, defensively.

"Oh, yeah," he answered. Well, no wonder he'd forgotten. He'd been distracted, first by the amount of skin her little sundress had shown, then by the obvious reaction of her body against the chill in the air and finally by the completely astounding and arousing sight of her in his too-large jumper. "Ah, d'you mind?" he asked, motioning for her to turn around while he pulled on the make-shift outfit she'd given him.

"Not at all," she said, snapping out of her embarrassment to give him another teasing smile before turning around. He tried to quell the wave of arousal that swept through him knowing that he was (albeit briefly) naked in the same room as Rose Tyler. The feeling of the athletic shorts against him without the usual extra layer of cotton was odd and arousing and his jumper felt too warm, but he wasn't about to go back down another layer in this situation. He took a deep breath, counted back from twenty and thought about the least arousing thing he could (Jack and Ianto downstairs, for one), which finally allowed him to swivel back to Rose under (relative) control.

"So, what travesty of the film industry are we enduring this evening?" he asked, watching in interest as Rose seemed distracted by his thighs momentarily.

She cleared her throat and bounced (oh, bounced. Not a word he should be thinking about right now) away toward the telly. "Time Cop!" she chirped, delightedly.

"Not again!" he groaned, playfully, settling down on the edge of her bed. There wasn't enough space in the small room for much furniture, so he and Rose usually just reclined on her bed, leaning against the wall to watch films together. "You just want to drool over Van Damme."

"I do not!" she laughed, punching his arm, settling in beside him. They shifted about, trying to find comfortable positions and John reached across Rose for the bowl of popcorn on her desk. "Anyway, I for one, am frankly appalled that it's 2014 and no one's invented time travel yet. Clearly, in 1994 they had very high hopes for the future."

"It's better this way," he replied, settling the popcorn on between them and his right arm around her shoulders, folding his lanky body onto the small bed with practiced ease. "No time travel, no daft fools mucking about in history, changing things."

"But Walker changes things for the better! He fixes it so he can be with the girl he loves!" she said, poking him in the side.

"I don't mean Walker. I mean the other guy. If time travel existed, there would always be guys like that trying to get ahead or get even," he grunted, shifting away from her poking finger.

"Well, then there would have to be good guys like Walker to fix it. You'd do that," Rose said, confidently, tightening her grip on him for a moment.

"You think so?" he asked, looking down at her blonde head pillowed on his collarbone, munching popcorn happily.

"Yep," she answered, taking her buttery fingers and squeezing his for a moment. "I can just see you running about time and space solving mysteries and kicking arse."

"For ten more years with you, I would," he said, quietly and Rose froze, her hand halfway to her mouth with a kernel of popcorn. She turned in the semi-darkness of the room to look at him, shifting back so she could meet his gaze.

"John?" she whispered and his breathing stopped for a second. This was it. Everything they were was clinging to the skin of this one little moment in time and if they let go…

He let go. Leaning forward over the precariously balanced bowl of popcorn, he let his lips brush against hers lightly, just the barest hint of pressure before pulling back. Rose let out a shuddering breath through her nose and leaned forward herself, chasing after his lips, her gaze darting from his eyes to his mouth before returning his chaste kiss.

"Are...are we doing this?" he stuttered once the light caress of her mouth receded, licking his lips.

"Let's move the popcorn bowl and find out," Rose breathed and then, thinking about what she'd just said, giggled. He blinked at her and then began to laugh as well, shifting the aforementioned plastic container to the desk once again. They sat up, eyeing one another as their laughter subsided. John flicked the television off and the sudden quiet sobered them both.

It was Rose who leaned forward first this time, her lips brushing his just as tentatively as he had. John moved his right hand to her shoulder and Rose mirrored his movement. Slowly, their motions became more confident, his right hand moving to the back of her head and his left to her waist and Rose had one arm wrapped around his neck and the other pinned against the wall. When the odd angle they were attempting became more and more uncomfortable, Rose cautiously moved her right knee over his legs and, then unexpectedly, John had a lap full of his best friend and not enough brain power to deal with it.

They broke apart, gasping and eyed each other carefully again. Rose, despite being in his lap, was holding herself up from him, tension obvious in her position and there was worry in her expression. "Been waiting a long time for that first kiss," John said, finally, unable to bear the silence any longer. His body was straining up towards hers and he wanted nothing more than to pull her down on him and to kiss her again, but they needed a moment.

"Yeah?" Rose asked, hope chasing away the worry.

"Yeah," he replied. At her smile, he shifted his grip on her waist and Rose relaxed her thighs, both of them sucking in a breath at the sudden, unexpected brilliant friction as she sank down on him. He groaned loudly and Rose was caught between looking embarrassed and looking aroused and he suspected he looked much the same.

"Sorry," he muttered, unsure whether he was apologizing for the sound or for the hardness pressed against her.

"It's ok," she said, smiling awkwardly and he shifted his hands nervously on her hips. "I've never, ah, done this before. Don't quite know what to -"

"Me either," he whispered, the stolen confessions breathless in the air between them.

"Just, um, kiss me again?" Rose asked, tentatively and his airy "yeah" was caught in the delightful tangle of her mouth again.

John tried to keep his body still as Rose's mouth explored his slowly until her tongue curiously darted out against his lips. He felt his cock twitch at that action and, unable to help it, he mimicked the action himself, licking her bottom lip. Rose opened her mouth then, a bit too wide perhaps, as their teeth clacked together but they were both too busy enthusiastically exploring the new feeling to notice much. As their mouths got more eager, so did their bodies and John moaned again as he felt Rose instinctively begin to shift against his body, just small motions, ones he wasn't even sure she realized she was doing until he became so distracted by them he forgot to keep kissing her.

Instead of being embarrassed by his sound of appreciation this time, Rose experimentally moved her hips against him harder and met his sound with one of her own as something inside her she'd only explored on her own brushed against him. With his eyes blown wide, pupils dark and intense, John watched her face as he held her still carefully and he brought his own hips upwards against her, rewarded with the sound again.

In some sort of mutual agreement, Rose surged forward, her mouth catching his and their hips moving together now, struggling to find a rhythm that took a few moments to sync. "Rose," John said, hardly believing that voice was his, high and desperate and for the love of - whatever she'd just done with her tongue there was the most glorious thing in the universe, he was sure of it. He could barely find a coherent thought, overcome with the smell of Rose and the sound of their harsh, panting breaths together. They'd stopped kissing a moment ago, focused on the push and pull of their bodies together and he didn't quite know what to do with his mouth or his hands. But he also knew that he was moving against her uncontrollably, barreling toward a white-hot finish he knew from experience would be messy and he couldn't even spare a thought for what she might need, everything in him was focused on the feel of his unbelievably stiff cock (seriously, had anything ever felt like that before?) moving against her, the fabric between them damp already and fuck this was so much better than his hand.

She was making some high-pitched keening noises above him and it was so gorgeous he wanted to focus on that some more but his heart was racing so fast he couldn't think about anything too much. His hips began to stutter against her and then, suddenly, he felt Rose's teeth sink into his earlobe and he gave a loud shout, pressing her against him as tight as he could, his release jerking and sputtering again and again against her, unlike anything he'd ever felt, dizzying white light overcoming his senses and feeling like he might pass out.

After a few moments of panting in time with her, he lifted his head from where it was buried in Rose's shoulder, shifting as he felt a damp, stickiness covering his lap and midsection. Rose's arms tightened around him convulsively and, despite his discomfort, he felt something in him twitch in response. Pulling back slightly and trying not to grimace at the wet sound made at the action, he dragged his eyes up to meet Rose's equally unsure expression.

"Well, that escalated quickly," he said, bravely quoting another film they liked to watch together. Rose gaped at him a moment and then started to laugh, her body instantly relaxing against his. He laughed as well, feeling the little tremors moving through her body with his.

Rose slid off his lap and looked around her room embarrassedly, finally finding his discarded towel and tossing it to him without looking down at his waist. "I'm, ah, going to run into the loo," she said, grabbing a fresh set of clothing from her drawer and retreating from her room, face red.

John stood up and looked down at himself, caught in a swirling vortex of complicated emotions. After toweling off a bit and discarding the jumper on the floor, he opened one of Rose's drawers, finding only one other pair of athletic shorts (even smaller than the last pair and appallingly pink). Grabbing them and keeping the towel around his waist, he went down the hall to her loo, brushing past her in the hall, her tight nod worrying him more than anything else. In the loo, he hazarded a glance at himself before returning to her room. He looked utterly ridiculous in her small pink shorts, holding the soiled towel and mesh shorts in his hand.

When he opened the door, he was still warring between an apology and a declaration. Rose was sitting on her bed, cross-legged and biting her lip in a nervous way he recognized. Her glance darted up to meet his as he entered and her eyes widened as she took in his tall, lanky and definitely masculine form in her small, pink shorts which were not built to contain...well, him.

"What?" he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, shrugging unconcernedly and dropping the towel and shorts on top of the jumper, deciding to brazen her out.

"What do you mean 'what'?" Rose asked, her voice rising. "We were going to watch a movie and then you were late, so I thought maybe you changed your mind or something but then you...you just showed up here all wet and gorgeous and we were talking about Time Cop and then we...kissed. We kissed, John! And I've been waiting for that forever and THEN we just practically shagged and it was brilliant but then everything was sticky and...and now I can't decide whether to be upset that you can fit in my clothes or just laugh at how you look! Plus I can see...uh, John junior there in those shorts and I can't figure out what I want to do about it and what if this changes everything, John? You're my best friend and I've been in love with you like, since we were born and I can't lose you! I can't John!" By the time she'd finished that rant, she was standing up in front of him, pacing like mad, her arms flailing about everywhere. "What is the matter with Jack -"

"Rose! Rose!" John said, catching her hands and spinning her around to face him. She's just spewed a lot of information at him him but there was at least one thing he'd latched onto. "You're not going to lose me."

"Are you sure?" Rose asked. "Everything's going to be different."

"Good," he answered, confidently. "Different isn't always bad, remember?"

"So, you wouldn't go back and change this, Time Cop?" she said, tightening her arms around his bare torso.

" 'Course not," he replied, easily. Her arms around him and her confession that she loved him (loved him!) made him far more confident than he'd been earlier in the loo. Actually, the warm thrum in his body was making him much, much more bold than he'd ever thought he could be. "Might go back and watch it, though," he said, cheekily. "I had my eyes closed...I bet you looked gorgeous when you came."

"John!" Rose chided and he could feel her blush as she buried her face in his chest.

"You did, didn't you?" he said, shifting a bit, unsure of himself again, pulling back to look down on her. He still wasn't sure of the direct mechanics, but he would be. He'd make sure of it.

"Yeah," she replied, muffled into his shoulder. "Told you it was brilliant, didn't I?" He preened at that and Rose looked up to roll her eyes at his self-satisfied expression and whacked him on the shoulder.

"Oh, c'mon," he said, petulantly. "Let 'John junior' and I gloat a bit. That was our first time as more than a solo act!" It was wonderful and terrifying to talk with her like this, especially for a man who could only say 'currently occupied' an hour ago.

"Shut up," Rose answered, laughing, tugging him over toward her bed. With a stern look and a pointed finger that made his breath catch, she added, "You, both of you, are going to have to behave for the rest of the night. I'm knackered and we don't have any more clothes for you to put on. Unless you want to try on one of my mini-skirts."

"It's ok for me to stay here?" he asked, quietly, his confidence retreating again as Rose arranged herself on her bed.

"Ok?" Rose said, raising an eyebrow at him as well as the corner of the duvet. "If you think I'm letting Jack anywhere near you when dressed like that, you've got another thing coming."

Letting the crude comment go by unsaid, he scrambled in next to her, his lanky body barely fitting in the bed that was hardly made for one person, let alone two. After a bit of moving and a few almost-elbows-to-the-face, Rose settled in on top of John, her leg fitted in between his. Willing his arousal down, he kissed the top of her head, feeling exhilarated and nervous.

"All right?" Rose mumbled, her breath ghosting over the hairs on his chest, making him shiver.

"Fantastic," he sighed, closing his eyes.

-

The next morning, John awoke to several unusual things. The first was the strange, warm weight pressing down on his chest. The next was the feeling of a whole lot of his unexpectedly exposed skin rubbing against sheets that didn't feel like his own. And the last was an overwhelming, ruthless pressure in his groin. His eyes sprang open to see Rose curled against his chest, her right thigh tightly pressing up against bits of him that were not used to waking up with a real live girl, something he'd like to explore...after a trip to the loo.

As he disentangled himself from a very rumpled and adorable Rose, he heard some masculine laughter, followed by a knock and then retreating footsteps outside the door. Walking, a bit uncomfortably, over he pulled open the door to see a box sitting there. Lifting the box up and setting it on Rose's dorm-mate's bed, he grabbed Rose's mouthwash and retreated to the loo to take care of his most pressing issues.

When he came back in, he found Rose awake and examining the box on her own bed. "S'from Jack and Ianto 'with love'," Rose laughed, showing him the scrawled message on the top of the box.

John rolled his eyes, unsure that he really wanted to open an unmarked box from those two. "Be right back," Rose said, lifting up on her toes to kiss his cheek and stealing her mouthwash from his hand, slipping past to the loo.

As he sat on her bed absently turning the box around in his hands, John considered his new relationship with Rose. Remarkably, things didn't feel much different...except now he felt a lightness in his heart, a burden lifted now that he didn't have to worry about keeping his feelings a secret from her. When she came back in the room, offering him a bright smile, he knew she felt the same.

"Well, shall we?" Rose said, eyeing the box.

"First things first," he said, standing up to kiss gently. He pulled away after a moment and smiled down at her. "Just wanted to make sure that was still ok," he said.

"Still ok," Rose answered, a bit shakily and he beamed, proudly. "Box?" she said, eyes sparkling.

"If we must," he sighed, taking a good-natured elbow from Rose.

"It's going to be embarrassing," he said, poking at the box as if it might hold something live.

"I know!" Rose laughed. "Wouldn't be Jack otherwise. We do owe him something nice, probably," she said, wrinkling her brow.

"Let's open the box first and then we'll talk about what we might owe Jack," John replied.

Tearing the tape off the top, John reached into the box and first brought out a pair of his flannel sleep trousers and a soft, grey undershirt, which he pulled on immediately, despite Rose's pouting. "I was just getting used to the booty-shorts look on you," Rose complained, which got her an elbow back, followed by a tickling-turned-snogging fest which ended with them both panting once more.

The rest of the box contained, to their embarrassment, a (clearly used - and they didn't want to think about that) kama sutra, a box of condoms and two bananas ('for energy' the note from Ianto said - and 'for practice' Jack's scrawl had added, making them both blush).

John dropped the box to the floor and kicked it aside with his toe, nervous again. "Rose, I didn't know they were going to put that stuff in there...I don't want you to feel pressured to -"

Rose cut him off with a hand over his mouth and a gentle smile. "I know, John," she said, softly. "All in good time, yeah?"

He looked down at her, twining their fingers together as they'd been doing practically since birth. "Yeah," he answered, with a smile.

All right, maybe he did owe Jack something nice.