Another Bottle of Champagne (Peter/Rose fic)
Title - Another Bottle of Champagne, 1/1
Author - xebgoc
Rating - MA
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler, OCs Elias and Ruby McCoy
Spoilers - None
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC. I usurp them with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - Peter and Rose have a celebratory dinner with Ruby and Elias and then they go home and wake up the next morning.
Author’s Notes - 1. I can not begin to express how much fun I have writing these stories, but I could not do so without the incredible world that jlrpuck has created and I can not stress enough how grateful I am to her for her willingness to let me invade her Peter/Rose territory with grace and amazing beta skills, it is more than I could have hoped for… THANK YOU !
2. With our illustrious author, jlrpuck out on walkabout around the UK (and making most of us jealous beyond measure on so many levels) we decided this would be a good time to post this story - so that you're not all left completely high and dry for the whole week.
and so… follow the cut.
Another Bottle of Champagne
Another bottle of champagne appeared on the table and Ruby, already slightly tipsy, squealed with delight as she snatched it up and popped the cork, sending the golden liquid spraying out over the four of them.
“Really, Ruby,” Elias chuckled, trying to look stern in a half hearted admonition to his wife to be careful not to douse the people at the neigbouring tables. The frown lost the battle to a miles-wide grin on his face though, and Peter and Rose, on whom the majority of the sparkling liquid had landed, just laughed, tilting their flutes towards Ruby as she refilled them.
“A toast !“ declared Peter, “to partners, brutally hard cases solved, and…” looking from one to the other to the next, “good friends who make it all seem worth it!” A rowdy round of “Here! Here !” from the other three was followed by clinking glass and then silence as they each took deep draughts.
“So Rose,” Ruby giggled as she turned to the younger blond to her left, “tell me the secret to loosening up the ever-dour DI Carlisle, ‘cause he’s certainly a different man when you’re around than when you’re not !”
Rose laughed at Ruby’s ability to turn any situation into an opportunity to wind Peter up about his ‘winning personality.’ Deciding to make it a twofer, she replied conspiratorially, “I’ll tell you if you’ll share with me how you get your husband to dress in such a dapper fashion,” nodding across the table at Elias. “That can’t have come from his years in the military, nor, I suspect from his upbringing in Scotland.”
“Oi! What’s wrong with the way I dress ?” interrupted Peter, perhaps a little too vehemently for the size of the restaurant they were in; a few heads turned their way and he looked sufficiently chastened. Lowering his voice only slightly, he continued “I’ll have you know that this shirt, and fine burgundy velvet jacket, are from the finest of High Street establishments, and,” a lopsided, slightly drunken, grin on his face, “and if I recall correctly, my dearest Rose, you have enjoyed stroking it on many occasions…. Usually with me still in it, I might add !”
Blushing nearly the color of Peter’s jacket, Rose gaped at him, not quite believing that he’d said what he said, where he said it, as loud as he’d said it, and she tried in vain to change the subject.
Turning in her seat she began, “So, Elias, tell me…” at which point she was saved by the arrival of the waiter with plates of sumptuous food in-hand, and they fell upon their meals with relish.
A companionable silence settled over them, interrupted only by the rhythm of knives and forks against plates, frequent small sighs of contentment issuing from one or the other of the four. The occasional fork snaking across the table to snatch a taste of what one of the others was having resulted in exclamations of delight at how uniformly delicious all of their meals were.
Bottles of wine, red and white, accompanied the food and as their hunger was sated, and the table was cleared, the conversation picked up again with a lively discussion on a wide range of topics starting with favorite holiday spots, which inevitably resulted in comparison of train versus zeppelin travel; Peter and Ruby preferring zeppelins, Elias and Rose trains, and Rose more vocally lamenting the scarcity of aeroplanes in this universe. The talk became so animated that Rose nearly fell out of her chair with laughter when Peter and Elias began arguing over who was the better driver, and eventually, egged on by sufficient alcohol, talk reverted to Ruby, and occasionally Elias, once more ribbing Rose about what she could possibly see in the ever-grumpy DI Peter Carlisle.
This was a pattern that had established itself through the years of friendship between the two couples, and Peter knew that it was all in good fun, so he played along, periodically voicing mock offense but mostly just content to marvel at how his life had changed since he met Rose Tyler.
The waiter approached bearing a tray laden with two coffee presses, four largish cups, a creamer, and a small plate containing four perfectly formed squares of shortbread, all of which he placed in the center of the table before slipping away again silently.
“Do ye think he’s tryin’ to tell us something,” asked Elias, his brogue brought out by the alcohol, and the humor of there being 2 pots for 4 people, as he reached out and pressed the knobs down on each of the coffee pots in succession.
“Aye,” chuckled Peter, “I’m certain he is, but frankly I’m just relieved it was a pair of coffee pots and not a pair of Bobbies that he brought to our table.” He proceeded to pour coffee for Rose and him whilst Elias did the honors with the other pot. Conversation lulled again as they each prepared their coffee and drank it.
After a while Rose sighed and began to stroke Peter’s velvet encased arm absentmindedly as she savoured the taste of the last of her shortbread and coffee on her tongue, while Peter watched her face with growing intensity. Ruby and Elias, well aware of what that look meant, began to shuffle their chairs getting ready to leave, a heated glance or two shared between them as well.
No bill was presented, all arrangements having been made in advance by Peter and Rose, who had invited the other couple out to their favorite spot in the neighbourhood. Elias knew better than to argue; next time would be their treat. The four of them moved in sync to the door to say their goodbyes; kisses to cheeks, handshakes, not a few surreptitious strokes of the red velvet by both women, and a reminder of the concert they would be attending together the following weekend as they saw Elias and Ruby into a cab on the sidewalk outside.
Peter and Rose turned, a little unsteady on their feet still, hands clasped between them, and walked around the block to their flat.
~~
Peter awoke, slightly disoriented. He could tell from the morning light that he was in his and Rose’s bedroom, but he wasn’t spooned against her as he usually was when he woke. Neither could he reach out and feel where she ought to be in the bed next to him, in fact he couldn’t reach his arms out at all. Awareness gradually came that the soft pillow on which his cheek rested was Rose’s belly, that he lay between her thighs, his arms wrapped around her hips, her legs around his waist, her heels resting in the small of his back.
With a smile on his lips, he slowly turned his head and placed a kiss in Rose’s navel, snaking his tongue in, tasting soap mixed with sweat, and the smell of sex. Rose moaned and shifted her hips slightly, her right foot sliding off his back and falling to rest against his waist. She didn’t waken though, and the sensation sent a shimmer through Peter’s body making his already hard penis twitch.
He was more than ready now to follow through with what he’d been too tired, and frankly too drunk, to do the night before. Carefully extracting his hands from under Rose’s waist, he reached down and gently slid her left foot off his back and onto the bed, then trailed his fingers lightly up the inside of her leg til his right hand was between her thighs so he could prop himself up on his knees. Placing one hand on either side of her hips, he began to trail feather kisses around Rose’s navel, and down to her right hip bone, and then licking along the joint between her leg and torso to her inner thigh, he could taste her juices as he had a flash of what he had been decidedly successful at before falling asleep in that rather unusual position.
Peter continued his path of down the inside of Rose’s thigh. Licking here, nipping there, kissing in between, he reached her knee and nuzzled at the soft skin just outside the knee. A gutteral moan escaped Rose’s mouth… who knew that the skin right there was so soft and so sensitive? He looked up and saw Rose watching him. “G’mornin’,” he grinned licking that same spot again, eliciting the same response, though it came out sounding a bit like “’mornin’.”
Switching to the left knee, Peter began moving up towards Rose’s body and continued, “How,” -- kiss -- “did,” -- nip -- “you,” -- lick -- “sleep ?” until he reached the curls at the apex of her thighs. Breathing deeply, he groaned - reacting viscerally to the smell of her, but suppressing his increasing desire, he instead placed a kiss just above the hairline and looked up at her waiting for her to reply.
“Hmmm,” Rose stretched luxuriously “very well, thanks… c’mere you,” she purred, reaching down to draw Peter up into a kiss. He resisted, preferring to kiss his way up her torso, first out towards the ribs on the right, nuzzling the bottom of her ribcage and slowly dragging his nose across the middle of her stomach to the other side and licking slowly up the outside of her left breast to seize the nipple between his teeth.
Rose gasped, arching up towards Peter’s crotch, making brief contact before he arched away from her. “Not yet, mo ghràdh, not yet,” he whispered around the breast he was suckling at, while simultaneously slipping the fingers of his left hand down into her dampness and flicking the bundle of nerves there.
“Peter!” growled Rose, “this is SO not...” But she was cut off by Peter moving lightning fast to kiss her deeply, devouring her mouth, plunging in his tongue, seeking hers. She was reduced to moaning into the kiss and wrapping a leg around him in an attempt to pull him to her. “Want you,” she whispered, “please, now.”
“Patience, Rose, patience,” came the reply as he kissed his way along her jaw to her ear and down her neck, biting the pulsepoint, licking the collar bone.
Peter wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her again and again until they were screaming each others’ name, but he also wanted more. “I love the taste of you,” he murmured into her shoulder as he kissed his way down towards her right breast, “want to taste you, kiss you, make love to you, make it last,” as he sucked the nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the hard pebble.
Rose grasped the back of Peter’s head and held him place, a gurgle escaping her lips, then she pushed his head down, “well if you’re not going to take me yet, then the least you can do is…” she trailed off as Peter got the message and placed a few strategic kisses on her stomach as he slipped two fingers inside her, then kissed down to lave his tongue over her clit.
Rose screamed and clamped her legs together around Peter’s ears, arching into his mouth and hands as her orgasm pulsed around his fingers. Peter continued to tease her, fingers sliding in and out in rhythm with his tongue until finally Rose tried to push him away.
“Make up your mind, Rose,” Peter blew lightly against her, his tongue sneaking out to periodically making contact, causing her hips to buck, and chuckled, “you’re sending very mixed messages right now.”
Rose was still panting, but as she returned to some semblance of lucidity she reached under the pillow at her head to extract the condom she’d deposited there the night before. They hadn’t used it because they’d had fallen asleep from the combination of exhaustion and alcohol.
“Your turn,” she purred as she pulled him to her to kiss him, to taste herself on his lips, and to flip him over onto his back. Waving the condom package in front of him, she straddled his knees and leaned down, taking him in her mouth. Peter moaned deeply, and though he tried not to he couldn’t stop himself from bucking up into her, driving deeper into her mouth than he’d meant to. Rose had been prepared, expecting it--he had after all brought her up and over twice in the last few hours and not had any release himself--and she relaxed enough to take the extra force, slipping back a little and running her tongue along the shaft to the tip before kissing it and releasing him.
She tore the condom wrapper apart quickly and, grasping his length in her hand rolled the condom down him and secured it. Then, sliding forward and lining herself up she slowly lowered herself down on him. How he managed to refrain from bucking up into her she had no idea, although the look of concentration on his face as he stared into her eyes, showed that he was holding back with great difficulty.
“Oh, Rose,” he groaned, “you are amazing. Have I told you how amazing you are? How much I love you? My Rose.”
Smiling, Rose leaned forward to kiss him as she lifted off of him and sank quickly back down. Setting a slow, but steady rhythm, she finally responded, “Yes, but you can say it as often as you like, I will never tire of hearing it. My Peter.”
Rose ran kisses along Peter’s jaw as they quickened the pace, and then, taking his earlobe between her teeth she whispered, “touch me Peter.”
Peter, arching up into Rose with near fury with each of her downward motions, was all too happy to help, and he slipped both hands between them, running the thumb of one over her clit and with the other pinching one of her nipples before pressing her back far enough that he could take the other in his mouth.
“Peter!,” Rose yelped as she came around him, sinking down and twisting just a little bit and taking Peter over the edge with her. Peter clenched his teeth together, groaning deeply, slamming his pelvis up and into Rose with enough force to nearly throw her off as he emptied himself into the condom.
Rose collapsed on top of Peter and he was still seeing stars as she began to kiss his neck and lap at the sweat gathered in the well of his collarbone.
Pulling her to him, Peter slid out of her, gasping at the sudden loss of her body heat. He guided her to lie next to him and rolled over towards the edge of the bed to clean up; then drawing Rose to him tilted his head down and kissed her on the lips. “You, My Rose, are amazing, and I love you very, very much.”
Rose smiled, responding with a kiss to the scar to the left of his chin, a murmurred, “My Peter,” followed by soft snore.
Peter, grinning rather like a Chesire cat, followed suit.
Author - xebgoc
Rating - MA
Pairing - Peter Carlisle/Rose Tyler, OCs Elias and Ruby McCoy
Spoilers - None
Disclaimer - Characters from Blackpool and Doctor Who are the property of the BBC. I usurp them with the greatest of love and respect; no profit is intended from the writing or sharing of this story.
Summary - Peter and Rose have a celebratory dinner with Ruby and Elias and then they go home and wake up the next morning.
Author’s Notes - 1. I can not begin to express how much fun I have writing these stories, but I could not do so without the incredible world that jlrpuck has created and I can not stress enough how grateful I am to her for her willingness to let me invade her Peter/Rose territory with grace and amazing beta skills, it is more than I could have hoped for… THANK YOU !
2. With our illustrious author, jlrpuck out on walkabout around the UK (and making most of us jealous beyond measure on so many levels) we decided this would be a good time to post this story - so that you're not all left completely high and dry for the whole week.
and so… follow the cut.
Another Bottle of Champagne
Another bottle of champagne appeared on the table and Ruby, already slightly tipsy, squealed with delight as she snatched it up and popped the cork, sending the golden liquid spraying out over the four of them.
“Really, Ruby,” Elias chuckled, trying to look stern in a half hearted admonition to his wife to be careful not to douse the people at the neigbouring tables. The frown lost the battle to a miles-wide grin on his face though, and Peter and Rose, on whom the majority of the sparkling liquid had landed, just laughed, tilting their flutes towards Ruby as she refilled them.
“A toast !“ declared Peter, “to partners, brutally hard cases solved, and…” looking from one to the other to the next, “good friends who make it all seem worth it!” A rowdy round of “Here! Here !” from the other three was followed by clinking glass and then silence as they each took deep draughts.
“So Rose,” Ruby giggled as she turned to the younger blond to her left, “tell me the secret to loosening up the ever-dour DI Carlisle, ‘cause he’s certainly a different man when you’re around than when you’re not !”
Rose laughed at Ruby’s ability to turn any situation into an opportunity to wind Peter up about his ‘winning personality.’ Deciding to make it a twofer, she replied conspiratorially, “I’ll tell you if you’ll share with me how you get your husband to dress in such a dapper fashion,” nodding across the table at Elias. “That can’t have come from his years in the military, nor, I suspect from his upbringing in Scotland.”
“Oi! What’s wrong with the way I dress ?” interrupted Peter, perhaps a little too vehemently for the size of the restaurant they were in; a few heads turned their way and he looked sufficiently chastened. Lowering his voice only slightly, he continued “I’ll have you know that this shirt, and fine burgundy velvet jacket, are from the finest of High Street establishments, and,” a lopsided, slightly drunken, grin on his face, “and if I recall correctly, my dearest Rose, you have enjoyed stroking it on many occasions…. Usually with me still in it, I might add !”
Blushing nearly the color of Peter’s jacket, Rose gaped at him, not quite believing that he’d said what he said, where he said it, as loud as he’d said it, and she tried in vain to change the subject.
Turning in her seat she began, “So, Elias, tell me…” at which point she was saved by the arrival of the waiter with plates of sumptuous food in-hand, and they fell upon their meals with relish.
A companionable silence settled over them, interrupted only by the rhythm of knives and forks against plates, frequent small sighs of contentment issuing from one or the other of the four. The occasional fork snaking across the table to snatch a taste of what one of the others was having resulted in exclamations of delight at how uniformly delicious all of their meals were.
Bottles of wine, red and white, accompanied the food and as their hunger was sated, and the table was cleared, the conversation picked up again with a lively discussion on a wide range of topics starting with favorite holiday spots, which inevitably resulted in comparison of train versus zeppelin travel; Peter and Ruby preferring zeppelins, Elias and Rose trains, and Rose more vocally lamenting the scarcity of aeroplanes in this universe. The talk became so animated that Rose nearly fell out of her chair with laughter when Peter and Elias began arguing over who was the better driver, and eventually, egged on by sufficient alcohol, talk reverted to Ruby, and occasionally Elias, once more ribbing Rose about what she could possibly see in the ever-grumpy DI Peter Carlisle.
This was a pattern that had established itself through the years of friendship between the two couples, and Peter knew that it was all in good fun, so he played along, periodically voicing mock offense but mostly just content to marvel at how his life had changed since he met Rose Tyler.
The waiter approached bearing a tray laden with two coffee presses, four largish cups, a creamer, and a small plate containing four perfectly formed squares of shortbread, all of which he placed in the center of the table before slipping away again silently.
“Do ye think he’s tryin’ to tell us something,” asked Elias, his brogue brought out by the alcohol, and the humor of there being 2 pots for 4 people, as he reached out and pressed the knobs down on each of the coffee pots in succession.
“Aye,” chuckled Peter, “I’m certain he is, but frankly I’m just relieved it was a pair of coffee pots and not a pair of Bobbies that he brought to our table.” He proceeded to pour coffee for Rose and him whilst Elias did the honors with the other pot. Conversation lulled again as they each prepared their coffee and drank it.
After a while Rose sighed and began to stroke Peter’s velvet encased arm absentmindedly as she savoured the taste of the last of her shortbread and coffee on her tongue, while Peter watched her face with growing intensity. Ruby and Elias, well aware of what that look meant, began to shuffle their chairs getting ready to leave, a heated glance or two shared between them as well.
No bill was presented, all arrangements having been made in advance by Peter and Rose, who had invited the other couple out to their favorite spot in the neighbourhood. Elias knew better than to argue; next time would be their treat. The four of them moved in sync to the door to say their goodbyes; kisses to cheeks, handshakes, not a few surreptitious strokes of the red velvet by both women, and a reminder of the concert they would be attending together the following weekend as they saw Elias and Ruby into a cab on the sidewalk outside.
Peter and Rose turned, a little unsteady on their feet still, hands clasped between them, and walked around the block to their flat.
~~
Peter awoke, slightly disoriented. He could tell from the morning light that he was in his and Rose’s bedroom, but he wasn’t spooned against her as he usually was when he woke. Neither could he reach out and feel where she ought to be in the bed next to him, in fact he couldn’t reach his arms out at all. Awareness gradually came that the soft pillow on which his cheek rested was Rose’s belly, that he lay between her thighs, his arms wrapped around her hips, her legs around his waist, her heels resting in the small of his back.
With a smile on his lips, he slowly turned his head and placed a kiss in Rose’s navel, snaking his tongue in, tasting soap mixed with sweat, and the smell of sex. Rose moaned and shifted her hips slightly, her right foot sliding off his back and falling to rest against his waist. She didn’t waken though, and the sensation sent a shimmer through Peter’s body making his already hard penis twitch.
He was more than ready now to follow through with what he’d been too tired, and frankly too drunk, to do the night before. Carefully extracting his hands from under Rose’s waist, he reached down and gently slid her left foot off his back and onto the bed, then trailed his fingers lightly up the inside of her leg til his right hand was between her thighs so he could prop himself up on his knees. Placing one hand on either side of her hips, he began to trail feather kisses around Rose’s navel, and down to her right hip bone, and then licking along the joint between her leg and torso to her inner thigh, he could taste her juices as he had a flash of what he had been decidedly successful at before falling asleep in that rather unusual position.
Peter continued his path of down the inside of Rose’s thigh. Licking here, nipping there, kissing in between, he reached her knee and nuzzled at the soft skin just outside the knee. A gutteral moan escaped Rose’s mouth… who knew that the skin right there was so soft and so sensitive? He looked up and saw Rose watching him. “G’mornin’,” he grinned licking that same spot again, eliciting the same response, though it came out sounding a bit like “’mornin’.”
Switching to the left knee, Peter began moving up towards Rose’s body and continued, “How,” -- kiss -- “did,” -- nip -- “you,” -- lick -- “sleep ?” until he reached the curls at the apex of her thighs. Breathing deeply, he groaned - reacting viscerally to the smell of her, but suppressing his increasing desire, he instead placed a kiss just above the hairline and looked up at her waiting for her to reply.
“Hmmm,” Rose stretched luxuriously “very well, thanks… c’mere you,” she purred, reaching down to draw Peter up into a kiss. He resisted, preferring to kiss his way up her torso, first out towards the ribs on the right, nuzzling the bottom of her ribcage and slowly dragging his nose across the middle of her stomach to the other side and licking slowly up the outside of her left breast to seize the nipple between his teeth.
Rose gasped, arching up towards Peter’s crotch, making brief contact before he arched away from her. “Not yet, mo ghràdh, not yet,” he whispered around the breast he was suckling at, while simultaneously slipping the fingers of his left hand down into her dampness and flicking the bundle of nerves there.
“Peter!” growled Rose, “this is SO not...” But she was cut off by Peter moving lightning fast to kiss her deeply, devouring her mouth, plunging in his tongue, seeking hers. She was reduced to moaning into the kiss and wrapping a leg around him in an attempt to pull him to her. “Want you,” she whispered, “please, now.”
“Patience, Rose, patience,” came the reply as he kissed his way along her jaw to her ear and down her neck, biting the pulsepoint, licking the collar bone.
Peter wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her again and again until they were screaming each others’ name, but he also wanted more. “I love the taste of you,” he murmured into her shoulder as he kissed his way down towards her right breast, “want to taste you, kiss you, make love to you, make it last,” as he sucked the nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around the hard pebble.
Rose grasped the back of Peter’s head and held him place, a gurgle escaping her lips, then she pushed his head down, “well if you’re not going to take me yet, then the least you can do is…” she trailed off as Peter got the message and placed a few strategic kisses on her stomach as he slipped two fingers inside her, then kissed down to lave his tongue over her clit.
Rose screamed and clamped her legs together around Peter’s ears, arching into his mouth and hands as her orgasm pulsed around his fingers. Peter continued to tease her, fingers sliding in and out in rhythm with his tongue until finally Rose tried to push him away.
“Make up your mind, Rose,” Peter blew lightly against her, his tongue sneaking out to periodically making contact, causing her hips to buck, and chuckled, “you’re sending very mixed messages right now.”
Rose was still panting, but as she returned to some semblance of lucidity she reached under the pillow at her head to extract the condom she’d deposited there the night before. They hadn’t used it because they’d had fallen asleep from the combination of exhaustion and alcohol.
“Your turn,” she purred as she pulled him to her to kiss him, to taste herself on his lips, and to flip him over onto his back. Waving the condom package in front of him, she straddled his knees and leaned down, taking him in her mouth. Peter moaned deeply, and though he tried not to he couldn’t stop himself from bucking up into her, driving deeper into her mouth than he’d meant to. Rose had been prepared, expecting it--he had after all brought her up and over twice in the last few hours and not had any release himself--and she relaxed enough to take the extra force, slipping back a little and running her tongue along the shaft to the tip before kissing it and releasing him.
She tore the condom wrapper apart quickly and, grasping his length in her hand rolled the condom down him and secured it. Then, sliding forward and lining herself up she slowly lowered herself down on him. How he managed to refrain from bucking up into her she had no idea, although the look of concentration on his face as he stared into her eyes, showed that he was holding back with great difficulty.
“Oh, Rose,” he groaned, “you are amazing. Have I told you how amazing you are? How much I love you? My Rose.”
Smiling, Rose leaned forward to kiss him as she lifted off of him and sank quickly back down. Setting a slow, but steady rhythm, she finally responded, “Yes, but you can say it as often as you like, I will never tire of hearing it. My Peter.”
Rose ran kisses along Peter’s jaw as they quickened the pace, and then, taking his earlobe between her teeth she whispered, “touch me Peter.”
Peter, arching up into Rose with near fury with each of her downward motions, was all too happy to help, and he slipped both hands between them, running the thumb of one over her clit and with the other pinching one of her nipples before pressing her back far enough that he could take the other in his mouth.
“Peter!,” Rose yelped as she came around him, sinking down and twisting just a little bit and taking Peter over the edge with her. Peter clenched his teeth together, groaning deeply, slamming his pelvis up and into Rose with enough force to nearly throw her off as he emptied himself into the condom.
Rose collapsed on top of Peter and he was still seeing stars as she began to kiss his neck and lap at the sweat gathered in the well of his collarbone.
Pulling her to him, Peter slid out of her, gasping at the sudden loss of her body heat. He guided her to lie next to him and rolled over towards the edge of the bed to clean up; then drawing Rose to him tilted his head down and kissed her on the lips. “You, My Rose, are amazing, and I love you very, very much.”
Rose smiled, responding with a kiss to the scar to the left of his chin, a murmurred, “My Peter,” followed by soft snore.
Peter, grinning rather like a Chesire cat, followed suit.