I am still continuing with The Definition of Love but this has been running round my head for the last few days. Of course, it's still Outside the Lines compliant, and owes everything to nanniships. Hope you like it.

"Phyllis. Sweetheart?"

She lifted her head up from where she had been resting it on his back at the sound of her name.

"Mmhm?" she asked quietly, a smile stretching across her lips as she looked him, lying on his front, his head turned to the side so she could see half of his face, "What is it?"

"Will you do me another tattoo?"

Of all of the questions, all of the strange little midnight wonderings, she hadn't been expecting that one. Biting her lip a little, thoughtfully, she traced the line of her finger gently a little way down his spine and round the line of his shoulder blade.

"Where?" she asked him thoughtfully, examining his back closely.

"I don't know," he replied, "Where ever-…"

"I've already done you one in the place that hurts the least," she reminded him softly.

"Oh yeah," he pretended to remember, "Damn."

She sniffed a small laugh. Leaning up on her hand, she gently stroked her palm down the middle of his back.

"We can work on where," she told him, "Do you know what you want?"

"Erm, yeah, I do," he half sat up for a second, reaching for a piece of paper folded up inside his notebook on the bedside table, "This."

She took the paper from him and unfolded it. There was nothing on it, except for a few characters in a language she didn't recognise.

"What language is this?" she asked him, trying to work out what this was all about, a frown creasing along her brow a little bit, "Is it Russian?"

"No, but nearly. Some of the characters are the same. It's Greek," he told her, "Ancient, to be exact."

"What does it mean?" she asked softly, stroking hr thumb over the crease in the paper. She was kneeling by his side now, one knee tucked up to her chest, not cold even though she was wearing as little as he was.

"It's actually the word for foliage."

She gave a little hoot of laughter. Sometimes this man got stranger and stranger.

"Why on earth do you want that?" she asked him, "That's far-fetched even for a florist."

"Do you want to know how it's pronounced?" he asked her softly.

"Go on," she asked him, "How is it?"

"Phyllis."

It took her half a second to realise what he meant, and another half second to process it. The paper drooped a little in her hand as her grip loosened with surprise.

"Joe-…" she murmured in shock. She could tell her voice sounded different. She cleared her throat a little. "You know that's tattoo 101, don't you?" she asked him, attempting, almost, to sound stern, "Don't get someone's name unless you fathered or birthed them."

He gave an amused sniff. He craned his neck a little to look at her.

"But-… apart from that-…" he asked her, "Would you do that for me? You don't mind?"

"Shit, Joe, how could I mind?" somehow there were tears welling in her eyes and she had to wipe them away, "It's so bloody lovely. I mean, it may technically make you be classed as mad but-…"

"Listen," he said gently, sitting up and turning around to look at her, "If wanting your name permanently written on me in a language only we can understand makes me an idiot, then I'll confess gladly to being one. Oh, sweetheart-…" he reached out, looking slightly bewildered, pulling her into his arms as she gave an overwhelmed little sob, "Don't cry. It's alright."

She ended up with the piece of paper in her face as she covered her eyes with her hands and he held her against him, stroking her back gently. She got tears all over it.

She looked up at him apologetically.

"You'll have to write it out for me again," she told him, holding out the smudged letters, "I don't want to get it wrong."

"I think I'll managed that," he told her softly, kissing her temple, "Are you alright?" he asked her quietly.

"Yes," she murmured, "God, yes of course I am. I don't know why I cried, I have no idea."

"It's alright," he told her, resting his hands on her shoulders, "As long as you're alright."

"Yes," she told him, more firmly this time, "Yes, I am."

"Good," he replied, leaning forward, kissing her mouth tenderly, "Good."

Her arms draped over his shoulders, pulling his body closer to his as she kissed him back.

"That's such a lovely thing to want, Joe," she told him softly after a moment.

"I love you," he murmured to her in reply.

She smiled gently.

"I love you too," she told him as her hand stroked slowly down his chest, pushing him back onto the bed.

Please review if you have the time.