And here we are at the end of the story! Thank you so much for sticking with me and this fic. I had a grand time writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it!
They didn't talk to each other during take off. John informed the pilot that they were heading back to HQ and then immediately called in the situation so that the appropriate response team could be dispatched to the castle.
Rose settled in one of the chairs and watched out the window as the angry weapons dealers on the ground grew smaller and smaller.
"I doubt we've seen the last of them," she commented idly, crossing her legs and looking up at John who was just hanging up the phone.
"People from the more military branch of our employers are heading their direction now," he said, flopping down inelegantly in the chair opposite hers.
Rose wrinkled her nose. "Not my preferred method of doing things."
The image of Rose with her knife to Peter's throat flashed through John's head. "As you said," he drawled, "you like knives."
"And getting things done myself," she agreed.
Silence fell between them, the hum of the engines filling the empty space as they confronted their first interaction without a mission to hand.
John leaned forward when she started fiddling with the knife she'd left on the side table when she sat down.
"So," he started, "we left quite a few conversations unfinished back there."
"Did we?" Rose asked, fake innocence dripping from every word as she continued toying with the knife.
"We did and I don't intend on letting them drop," he declared. He reached over and swiped the knife from her.
"Making you nervous?" she asked with a smile that again recalled the flash of feralness that he'd seen on the airstrip.
"You've do that well enough on your own without a knife," he admitted, tucking the knife away underneath the chair cushion. "Rather you not have a weapon at hand while we talk."
"I have another knife."
"One day I'm going to insist on seeing how you manage to fit so many things under your dress," John said, eyes flicking down to the hem of the garment in question. He'd looked for any telltale bulges or odd lines throughout the mission but could never detect that she was armed. It was rather impressive.
"Play your cards right and you might just get to," Rose responded, smirk on her face.
It was the flirtation in her voice more than her words, the same tone that he'd heard when she was playing her part that had hope rising in him. There was absolutely no need for Rose to be flirting with him right now unless she genuinely wanted to.
"So," she said, leaning back in her seat, "where do you want to start?"
John mirrored her movement, settling back. He crossed his arms over his chest and let a lazy smile drift over his face, hoping that he was exuding the easy confidence he was known for and not the nerves that were creeping up on him. "I want you to admit it," he said.
"Admit what?"
"That you were having fun back there."
"Running for our lives?"
He nodded his head.
"I suppose it was rather exhilarating," she said slowly, "even if it did mean we'd failed part of our mission."
"Found out who was really in charge because things went sideways though," John pointed out.
"Also lost my heels because things went sideways," she shot back. "And I haven't forgotten that you said you were buying me a new pair. I'm taking you up on that."
"Good, I meant it."
"Did you mean all of it?" she asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. The gesture was oddly shy, at odds with the bold front she showed him most of the time, at odds with the flirt inherent in her words and tone.
This woman would never stop being a puzzle and John was eager to continue trying to figure out more pieces of her.
"I did. You looked amazing in those heels. Hell," he said, running a hand through his already disheveled curls before gesturing at her, "you look amazing without the heels."
"You really are sucking up, aren't you?" she asked with a laugh.
"You haven't told me if it's working yet or not."
"Well," she started, "I suppose I don't want to strangle you anymore."
"Progress," he drawled.
Rose continued, talking over him. "Unless you're into that kind of thing. I'm not one to judge."
John choked on his tongue, not having expected that unambiguous of a hint that she was... well, that she was actually interested.
Rose's smile grew wider the longer he struggled to find words. Finally she took pity on him and started talking again.
"Just so you know, you were as impressive in the field as everyone said you were."
"Really?" he asked, curious about the fact that people apparently talked about him around the office in a capacity other than complaining about him.
"Really. Not even as hard to work with as people made you out to be," she admitted.
John chuckled, thinking about all the partners he'd deliberately run off. "To be fair, some of the people who complained about me were probably incompetent."
Rose nodded her head in agreement.
"You were rather impressive yourself," he continued. "Your acting is superb and using Morse code at dinner was a stroke of genius."
"It always comes in handy in a pinch. Not everyone catches onto it as fast as you did though," she said.
"Well, I am brilliant."
"And modest, too," she teased.
"Haven't gotten that part down yet."
"Noticed that."
"Have to have a character flaw of some sort, otherwise people would get bored of my perfection," he said, tossing his head dramatically.
Rose dissolved into laughter. "You're ridiculous," she managed.
"All part of my charm."
"So, were there any other conversations on the agenda for the ride back, or have we covered them all?" Rose asked, still obviously amused.
"Think those were all the major unfinished ones," John said. "Though, we could talk about possibly working together again. If you want."
"Romana is never going to let us hear the end of it if we do."
"She's never going to let us hear the end of it regardless," he argued. "We ran a successful mission and you didn't try to murder me, she considers that the staple of a good working relationship."
Rose bit down on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth as she thought. John's eyes were inexorably drawn down to her mouth, still painted bright red despite the meal they'd had and all the running afterwards. He was just distracted enough that he flinched when Rose started speaking.
"The thing is, I'm not sure Romana is going to let us work together again," Rose said.
John's eyebrows drew together. "Why the hell not?"
"Because I think I might want to find out what a non-working relationship with you is like."
John felt like he might actually be able to fly without the help of the plane. "Are you saying..."
"That I don't want to kill you anymore and would rather like to kiss you without an audience of criminals and see where it goes?" she rambled out. "Yeah, that's what I'm saying.
Her nerves made a reappearance in her swift speech and the way she was picking at her nails in her lap. It was nice to know that he could at least read her a little bit when she was being herself, John thought. That she was even open to being herself around him and not the Bad Wolf, agent extraordinaire, or Marion Lewis, besotted fake girlfriend, was making him a bit giddy.
He grinned. "I wholeheartedly agree with that idea. Although, for the record, I never wanted to kill you."
"Suck up," Rose muttered.
"Mmm, I'm quite good at it," he replied, leaning forward.
"So I'm learning," she shot back, leaning forward as well so their heads were only a few inches apart.
"And also, Romana won't have a problem with our relationship straying beyond the bounds of professionalism as long as we continue getting our work done."
"Mhm, why are you talking about Romana right now?" Rose asked pushing at his shoulder so he fell back into his seat. She followed him, abandoning her chair to straddle his lap.
He gulped, eyes slipping down to the cleavage he'd been distracted by all day that was now right in front of his face. "Who's Romana?"
"Good answer," she breathed, breath skittering across the shell of his ear as she settled onto him. She threaded the fingers of one hand through his hair and grinned when he made an appreciative noise. "Thought you liked that earlier."
"I did," he confirmed as he moved to get his hands on her. One went to grasp at her hip, the other on her lower back, just low enough that his pinky was brushing the line of her knickers. "Wanted to kiss you then."
"Probably would have socked you in the jaw," she admitted. "Nothing stopping you now though. Open invitation at the mome-"
She was cut off by John pulling her in for the kiss that they were talking about. It was slow and deep and almost nothing like the one she'd sprung on him in the castle except for the response it elicited in him.
He was already positive, as one kiss melted into a second and third and his hands started roaming over her back, that he was never going to get enough of kissing this woman. He was addicted and had no plans of kicking the habit.
When they stepped off the plane a couple of hours later, they were hand in hand and thoroughly disheveled. Romana, who was at the runway so she could debrief them as soon as they arrived, raised a questioning eyebrow at the two of them and just received twin smirks in return.
They were going to be unbearable, she just knew it.
(That didn't stop her from being incredibly smug about the whole situation as they quickly became the best team on the continent as she predicted they would. Nor did it stop her, a few years down the line, from taking all the credit for setting them up when Rose and John sent back notice that they'd gotten married while on assignment.)
