Beta: my friends Lucien, the twins Erik and Emmett, Minuet, Alias, and even Zacharias and Sabella gave it a quick look-over even though they don't like Doctor Who (for shame, right?

In Hypervodka Veritas

After watching the Doctor and Rose dance around their obvious feelings for each other like the floor was made of burning embers, Jack Harkness had a plan. So the next time Jack asked to go to a planet where booze was as available as food and air, he also added to the Doctor, "Want to come?"

The Doctor, who was up on the ladder with his headlamp on, poking at something propped on the TARDIS coral, frowned down at him from his perch. "What?"

"Do you…" he said slowly, as though the Doctor was a simpleton, "want to come… with me?"

The Doctor scowled at him and immediately turned his head back. "To do what? Get sloshed and get laid? No thank you."

"Come on, Doc," Jack whined. "You don't have to get laid… thought it might make you happier," he added on a mumble. "All I wanna do is talk."

"We're talkin' now," he said smoothly.

"Come on," Jack repeated, more earnestly than before. "Please, Doc? Rose did ask for a quiet night in… what can be quieter than an empty TARDIS?"

The Doctor stayed silent for so long Jack actually wondered for a moment if he'd fallen asleep up there. Then, with an extremely audible sigh of exasperation, the Doctor jumped off the ladder and tossed the headlamp in the corner. "On your own head be it."

Jack beamed, grabbing his old RAF jacket draped over the coral just as Rose entered the console room, hair wet and frame clad in unnecessarily fluffy jimjams. "Hey, where are you goin'?"

"Drinks," Jack said happily, noting how the Doctor's eyes flickered over her bare legs and the swell of her breasts before ducking his head behind the console to 'fetch his sonic'. "Boy's night out."

"Harkness," the Doctor hissed from below the console.

Rose grinned at them both, tongue at the corner of her mouth. "There somethin' you're not tellin' me, Doctor?"

"I wish, Rosie," Jack sighed dramatically, wagging his eyebrows at the scarlet-faced Doctor.

"'Kay then, boys. Have fun." She skipped out of the console room, jimjam shorts flashing a hint of pink knickers, and Jack had to close his mouth lest he end up drooling— and the Doctor seemed to be doing the same, but with a crimson face. Poking her head around the doorway as an afterthought, she added, "And I want you home by midnight!"

"No guarantees, Rosie!" Jack called back, throwing the TARDIS doors open and frog marching the Doctor out into the night.

The TARDIS had landed them on the Myleian homeworld, where the only distinguishable difference between humans and Myleians was the distinctive patterning underneath their right ear. Thankfully Myleians had plenty of pubs near identical to Earth ones— the only difference was that Myleians served the hard alien stuff, primarily (and Jack's personal favourite) hypervodka.

"This is lovely," said Jack cheerily, plopping down in a seat in the corner of the musty, dimly lit room.

"Is it?" the Doctor grumbled, looking like a doomed man as he broodingly sank into his own seat opposite to Jack's.

"Completely," Jack beamed, waving over a tight-skirted, bright orange waitress and ordering four shots of straight-up hypervodka.

"Jack, 'm not drinkin' that stuff," the Doctor scowled, when Jack pushed three out of the four shots in front of him.

"Yes you are," said Jack, earnestness in his expression. "Because if you don't, I'll tell Rose that you 'accidentally' accused that Valkani King of being the murderer and got him locked in the dungeons only because he was flirting with her."

The Doctor turned a brilliant shade of red and, scowling, snatched up the first shot and downed it at once. Jack sat back in his seat and savoured his own hypervodka, grinning smugly to himself. This was going to be a cakewalk.

After three hours, Jack realised he hadn't completely thought his plan through— seventeen shots of pure hypervodka later, the Doctor still wasn't drunk enough for Jack's taste, and he was running out of credits.

"'Rr you tryin' t'get me drunk, Hark'ess?" the Doctor slurred, after Jack pushed an extra shot and his own in front of him.

"Maybe," said Jack innocently, shoving the first shot into his hand.

"S'workin'," he mumbled, obediently raising the glass to his lips and tossing back the liquid.

"Good, then it's worth all the credits I just spent." Reclaiming his own glass and tossing it back as well, Jack asked airily, "So… you and Rose. What, uh, what's going on there?"

"Dunno what you mean," the Doctor said, slumping back in his seat and nearly falling off of it.

Wow, thought Jack with a sigh. Even wasted out of his mind, he was still in denial. "Right. Because the looks you shoot in the direction of her ass are just friendly."

"Shuddup," the Doctor said almost cheerfully.

Jack chuckled. "Nope. You gotta come to terms with this."

"With Rose's bum?"

"Yes, but that's not what I meant," Jack grinned, before sobering. "You love her, Doc. You need to accept that."

"Never said I didn't 'cept it."

"Suppose not, but you need to act on it." The Doctor's lower lip stuck out and he started playing with his glass. "It's stupid to watch you and Rosie flirt with each other and not fuck each other's brains out like you obviously want to. Don't deny it," Jack added quickly, when the Doctor opened his mouth. "You look at her when you think she's not looking, you hold hands on all of our adventures, you danced with her and basically told me 'keep away from the blonde', you cuddle on the couch in front of the TV and you spoon with her in her bed sometimes. And don't deny that either, I've seen you."

"Nightmares," grunted the Doctor.

"Excuses," said Jack sternly. "The only reason Rosie doesn't say 'fuck it' and shove you up against the nearest wall is because you keep pushing her away. And she's scared you'll hate her or dump her back home." The Doctor's face fell into something akin to gloom. "Sooner or later she's gonna give up and end up with some pretty kid— there's probably a line of guys who'd jump at the chance to be with her."

"S'for the best," the Doctor mumbled.

"No it's not," he replied sharply. "It really isn't, and thinking that is stupid. Why don't you just stop being stupid about all of this?"

"Rose don't want me," the Doctor slurred, staring hard at his glass and looking thoroughly downtrodden. "Did bad things, me. 'M old 'n' not pretty. Rose likes pretty boys. Rose's so pretty…" Jack frowned at him, wondering if he'd gotten him a bit too drunk. "Gorgeous. I love her, Jack. D'you know that?"

"Yes, that's what we're talking about," Jack said impatiently. "She loves you too, you know."

"Huh?"

"Rose. Loves. You. Too," he repeated carefully.

"Yeah?" The Doctor sat up straighter in his seat, almost tipping over completely from the effort, hope shining on his face. The sight made Jack's breath catch in his throat. "D'she say… d'she tell you that?"

"Yes. Multiple times. And she finds your ass fantastic." The Doctor all but beamed at him, and Jack just had to grin back despite himself. "So, are you gonna march back to the TARDIS and fuck her?"

"Yes." He frowned. "Wait, no."

Jack scowled. "Why the hell not?"

"'M not s'posed to," said the Doctor almost knowingly. "'Sides, 'm bloody smashed. Gonna stumble there, 'f you don't mind."

"Of course," Jack said sarcastically, slumping in his seat and massaging his temples. "Okay, why are you not supposed to?"

"Time Lord, me." The Doctor puffed out his chest, looking so smug that Jack ended up laughing at him despite his frustration. "High 'n' mighty lot, us. Can't be havin' no 'lations wif humans, 'specially Rose. S'a rule."

"It's a specific rule to the Time Lords not to have sex with Rose?" Jack snickered.

"Yes." He nodded seriously. "Rule. S'what it is."

"But you love her."

"Yep."

"So why don't you just… oh, I don't know… say 'fuck the rules' and then have sex with Rose?"

"Can't remember. Too drunk." The Doctor frowned, looking contemplative. "How come, 'f you want us t' do it, you keep flirtin' wif me an' Rose?"

"I think your ass is fantastic too," Jack grinned. "And like I said, Rose is gorgeous."

"She's mine," the Doctor growled, glaring at him and tightening his fist around his shot glass.

If looks could kill, Jack would already be in a casket and buried. Still he kept at it. "She's yours, but you won't touch her?"

"'Sactly."

"And she can't be with other guys either?"

"Nope."

"You do realise that's ridiculously unfair, right?"

"Er, is it?" He sighed, once again looking like Jack had punched him. "Yeah, it is."

"Yes it is," Jack agreed, standing up. "Now, we're going back to the TARDIS. I'm going to find something that'll sober you up, and provided that you don't kill me for this, you're going to head into Rose's room and fuck her brains out. Okay?"

"Aye, aye, mon capitain," said the Doctor good-naturedly, slinging an arm over Jack's shoulder and letting him hoist him out of the chair.

"I just have one more question," Jack added mischievously as he hauled the wholly inebriated Doctor out of the bar.

"S'at?"

"Can I join in?"

"If you try'n touch Rose, I'll cut it off," the Doctor said darkly, glaring up at him and pointing in the direction of his jeans zipper.

"Fair enough," said Jack happily, manoeuvring him around a fire hydrant.

The Doctor practically fell asleep on him the way back to the TARDIS despite his legs still moving (albeit sluggishly), eyes closed and head jerking with each step Jack took. When the captain opened the TARDIS doors, she gave a disapproving hum in their direction, and Jack shrugged his free shoulder nonchalantly only to spot Rose reading a magazine on the jump seat, shapely legs propped up on the seat, feet clad in fluffy socks.

"Did you two have fu—?" she started to say happily, before spotting the half-asleep Doctor practically lounging on Jack's shoulder. "What the hell?"

"Eighteen hypervodkas later…" Jack said dramatically, wagging his eyebrows despite knowing he was in immense trouble.

She tossed her magazine down on the floor and hurried over towards the Doctor to help him, glaring daggers at the sheepish looking captain. "I tell you to be home by midnight and you bring him home sloshed? What the hell, Jack?!"

"In my defence, I didn't force those eighteen hypervodkas down his throat," Jack said, struggling with her to heave him onto the jump seat. "I just kind of… encouraged him to drink them. The guy can really hold his liquor."

"An' you did that why?"

"Oh, you know…" Jack said, waving his free hand vaguely.

"Okay, you, go away," Rose snapped, scowling at Jack. "You're officially grounded."

"If my plan works, I'll be glad to serve out my penance," Jack said, hand on his heart. He bolted before he was asked to elaborate.

Sighing irritably and bitterly remarking that she'd have to listen to the Doctor either complain of a headache in the morning or brutally murder Jack Harkness, Rose set him down on the jump seat so he could rest for a moment, his heavy arm still around her shoulders, and said tentatively, "Doctor?"

"Rose?" he said thickly. "S'at you?"

"Yeah, s'me," she said.

He opened his eyes, regarding her with the most unfocused look Rose had ever seen, like she was a ghost and he couldn't quite see her. "Haveta tell you somethin', Rose."

"'Kay, you can tell me later," said Rose gently. "D'you think you can make it to your bedroom?"

"Are you comin' wif me?" he slurred.

Did his eyes just flash? She forced that and all other dirty thoughts his question brought up out of her mind and said softly, "'Course."

The Doctor hummed, turning himself ungracefully so he was fully slumped against her, head pillowed on her breasts and his other arm around her waist, just shy of her bum. Rose swallowed hard and heaved herself and the intoxicated Doctor up off the jump seat, heading out into the hallway. Head now forced away from her breasts and instead buried in the crook of her neck, he murmured near incoherent words, some of which were her name, breath ghosting over her skin.

"Nuh-uh," he mumbled against her throat, when she started to head towards his bedroom. "Not mine. Wanna do it in yours."

Rose cursed the man who could talk for England — or all of Europe, really — for blurting out a sentence that was unbelievably suggestive in itself. She bit back the sigh of exasperation she wanted to let out before obediently turning back around and heading for her own bedroom. Unaware that his half-closed eyes were staring voraciously at her breasts, Rose started to lower him into her unmade bed. He was extremely helpful at first, kicking off his boots and trying his very best to keep his eyes open, but when it came time to get him under her duvet he slurred out, "Aren't'cha comin'?"

Oh for the love of hell. "'Course," she repeated through gritted teeth, wondering how she was going to get through the night with a wasted Doctor next to her blurting out things that made her womb twinge.

She placed her knee on the bed only to have his hand drift out almost lazily and grab her calf, stroking it lovingly. Rose tried to ignore that, nonchalantly sliding her leg out of his grip and slipping underneath the covers with him. He pouted at the loss of her leg but hummed happily when he snuggled into her, rolling over so he was halfway on top of her.

"Doctor, what are you doin'?" Rose asked, face flushing as he pressed his nose between her breasts.

"Havta tell you somethin'," he murmured again, breathing in deeply.

He was smelling her. Brilliant. Well, she reasoned with crimson cheeks, she did use that banana-scented body wash he liked so much. "You can tell me in the morning," she said, gripping his shoulders and trying to roll him over.

"Can't," he grunted, refusing to budge, nose trailing paths over the rounds of her breasts. "On'y reason 'm not too scared t'tell you now is 'cos 'm bloody wasted."

Rose paused, swallowing hard and staring at the top of his head. "O-okay. What is it?"

The Doctor paused on top of her, silent for a moment before he lifted his head, eyes reflecting fear. Her mouth fell open— why was he frightened? "You'll hate me."

Hands travelling from his shoulders up to his face, she cupped his cheeks and leaned her forehead against his. Why didn't his breath reek of alcohol? And why were his eyes flickering between hers and her mouth? "I'll never hate you. No matter what."

"Pro… promise?"

"Promise."

He made an extreme effort to raise himself above her, using shaking elbows to push himself up so that he was properly over her and staring down at her with what he probably thought was an utmost look of seriousness, punctuated by his inability to properly keep his eyes open. Staring down at her with the best earnest look he could muster, he said, determination and carefulness keeping the slur out of his words, "Rose Tyler, I love you."

She was certain in that moment that she'd died and gone to heaven— which would be pretty accurate to her own fantasies, since her version of 'heaven' was most definitely where she was underneath the Doctor post-heartfelt confession (although they'd probably have their clothes off). Either that or she was dreaming or hallucinating, because there was no way the Doctor, even wholly smashed out of his mind and barely able to speak without stringing two or more of his words together, had just admitted he was in love with her, of all people. It was ridiculous, really, and—

"Rose, answer me," he all but cried, and she realised she'd been shocked into a silent stupor.

"Do you really?" she whispered, tears of desperation and hope welling up in her eyes. He nodded crookedly, looking almost shameful. "Y-you're not just sayin' that 'cos you're drunk?"

"Well yes, s'why 'm sayin' it but s'not the reason I feel it," he argued, his haste and insistence blending his words together again. "Not gonna change when 'm sober."

She let her arms fall away from his face to lock around his neck and yank him down to her level; he would have gasped out in shock, but it was muffled by her mouth slanting over his. So the Doctor did the best he could in such a situation— he let out a silly sounding, "Oooh…" and snogged her back, sloppily and with very little finesse that he honestly wished, in the back of his fogged up mind, he had in this moment for their first kiss.

"Doctor," Rose gasped out, when he grunted and rutted against her like some kind of animal. "I love you too."

"Rose Tyler," he gasped out, tears pricking his own eyes in his drunken state. He forced them down and tried to snog her a little more gracefully this time, succeeding to some extent. He pressed his partial erection against her stomach, marvelling at the breathy 'oh' his actions made her let out. "Want you."

"No," she whimpered. The Doctor flinched back at once, clearly hurt, and before he could withdraw into himself she hastily added, "I want you too. So much. But not 'til you're sober."

"How come?"

"There can't be any regrets. I don't… I don't want you to regret it."

"Never gonna. Not wif you."

"'M makin' sure of that."

She patted the space next to her, but he scowled at it as though it were abhorrent and instead flopped directly on top of her, head pillowed on her breasts. He wasn't too heavy, nor was he hurting her, so she didn't complain, letting her arms wrap around his frame and one hand travel up to run through his hair and massage his scalp. The Doctor made little noises of unison at her ministrations, even growling once when she trailed a finger over the shell of one ridiculous ear.

"How come you don't taste like alcohol?" she wondered aloud as he started to doze off on her chest.

"'Perior Time Lord 'ology," he mumbled into her breasts.

She just had to chuckle at that. "I'll keep that in mind."

They were silent for another minute but the Doctor breathed out, "Rose?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

Her heart fluttered; she beamed and tightened her grip on him. "I know. And I love you too."

The Doctor hummed happily, and with one last prayer to every God that existed on any planet in the universe that he wouldn't regret this in the morning, they both drifted off.

She woke only because somebody had decided to use her as a stuffed animal. Scowling and still half-hazy from lack of sleep, she opened her mouth to tell whomever it was to let go, but the Doctor's irritated, Northern voice beat her to the punch. "Ow, ow, ow."

"S'matter?" she mumbled, wondering if he'd crawled into bed with her after a nightmare and she'd forgotten about it.

"Hangovers are stupid," the Doctor scowled, making her eyes fly open in immediate remembrance. He was still holding onto her for dear life with one hand, the other massaging his temple, an expression like he'd just swallowed a lemon evident on his face. "How the hell does Harkness get wasted every week and go through this each time?"

Rose shrugged, unsure of what to say. Had it not registered to him just yet that he was in her bed, with his face buried in her neck, put there after his drunken confession of his undying love for her the previous night? She waited another full ten seconds, giving him a chance to realise what had just happened, jump up, apologise profusely and bolt out of there like he was late for a race.

Instead, he glanced at her curiously and asked, "What?"

"D'you, er… remember anythin' about yesterday?" Rose asked him warily, clutching the blanket for comfort.

"The only things I remember are going to the pub, and then threatenin' to cut off Harkness's thing," he muttered, and she let out a mirthless chuckle as horror swept through her stomach. "Why, did I say somethin' stupid?" the Doctor added, sounding all but terrified.

"What? No," she assured him, schooling her face into a gentle smile. "Well you said at one point 'perior Time Lord 'ology', but I got it anyway."

"Funny," he smirked, when she giggled. "How'd I get in here then?"

"Dunno, you just sor' of showed up in here," Rose lied breezily. "Woke me up."

"Sorry," he mumbled, flushing crimson for some reason.

"S'fine," she assured him with another soft smile. "S'comfy too," she added.

He hummed in agreement, wriggling against her once as though to prove it and sighing. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the Doctor starting to drift off again and Rose cursing his so-called 'perior Time Lord 'ology' for making him forget, and they both jumped when Jack's loud, happy singing (a severely off-key version of 'If Ever I Would Leave You', of all things) sounded directly by their door.

"S'pose that's our wake up call," Rose muttered, as the Doctor winced at the sound and rubbed at his temple again.

They both rose reluctantly, the Doctor shuffling off as Rose made to change out of her jimjams and use the loo. Jack met him in the kitchen, looking very much like the cat that ate the canary. "So…?" he said, as the petulant Doctor rummaged around the drawers for hangover pills and tea bags.

"So what?" he glowered, glaring daggers at the captain.

"So how was it?" Jack elaborated, unhelpfully and with an added eyebrow waggle.

"How was what?"

Jack's whole face fell. "You still didn't…?"

"Didn't what?!" the Doctor demanded.

Jack's only answer was an expression of pure annoyance, and a kick to the cupboard door that, for some reason, the TARDIS didn't punish him for. "For fuck's sake, Doc!"

"What, Harkness?!"

"If that didn't work, then I don't know what the hell will!" the captain cursed to himself, looking about ready to hit the Doctor. "I fucking give up!"

"Are you gonna explain to me what the sodden hell you're talkin' about?" the Doctor snapped, but Jack simply glared up at him as he ripped open the cupboard door more forcefully than necessary. "Be that way then," he muttered, abandoning the tea bags, snatching up the hangover pills and storming out of the kitchen.

Jack muttered to himself for a full half hour, glowered at the omelette he was making (Rosie was probably in need of some comfort food, he mused) swore a few times and even asked the TARDIS moodily, "Why is your pilot such a prudish asshat?"

A clean Rose dressed in jeans and a vest top entered the kitchen a bit forlornly, though she tried to hide it by bouncing up to Jack and saying, "Some of that for me?"

"Yep," Jack told her, before sending her a look of pity. "I heard it didn't work."

"What didn't?" Rose asked, frowning.

"My plan. I told you I got him wasted for a reason, Rosie." She gaped at him in astonishment and anger when she finally realised his intentions, but he pressed on. "I knew I got him too drunk! He doesn't remember doing you, does he?"

"We didn't have sex, Jack," Rose scowled, snatching the Doctor's abandoned tea bag and grabbing a mug.

"Are you serious?" When she nodded, pouring boiling water into her tea, he swore loudly and kicked the cupboard door again. "Fuck, that makes it even more of a failure!" Sighing loudly, he said, "Did he at least tell you how he felt?" Her breath hitched, and he sighed again, this time with relief. "Christ, well at least that worked!"

"You're gonna keep that between us, y'hear that Captain?" Rose snapped, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of her omelette right out of the pan.

"Why?" Jack whined.

"You know why," Rose scowled, through a mouthful of egg, cheese and tea.

Jack flipped what was left of her omelette onto a plate for her and watched her storm off with it and her mug. "Well at least she knows," he mused to himself, but he still scowled.

His plan had failed. Well, he'd just have to come up with a better one then… and just like that, another idea hit him over the head like a bag full of rocks. A grin probably reminiscent to the Grinch's curled over his mouth, and, whistling cheerfully now, he returned his attention to the stove, intent on making another omelette — this one celebratory, as his new plan was genius… and still involved getting one of them drunk.

After all, In Hypervodka Veritas.

A/N: This was based off a prompt from myself. Basically, I was talking with my writing group (see list of betas above) and I said as a joke, "'In Hypervodka Veritas', right?" and everyone seemed to think that was hilarious. So this was born :) They all wanted to beta it since it was our 'inside joke'. There will be a sequel to this (idk when) called 'What, This Daft Old Face?', rated M. Please review if you liked!