From his corner of the couch, the Doctor watched jealously as Rose licked frothy eggnog foam from her upper lip. She closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as the flavour melted onto her tongue.

"Oh, that's just not fair!" the Doctor protested. Not that he minded hearing that sound on Rose's lips. He'd planned on it, actually—but he'd planned to be the cause, not a glass of Christmas cheer.

Rose's eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him with the satisfaction of a cat who'd gotten the cream—delicious, eggy cream that she wasn't sharing.

Then the tiniest furrow appeared between her brows, and for a moment, he thought she realised how horribly unfair this was. She would apologise, and put away the adulterated beverage, and they could get something they could both enjoy. The Doctor tugged on his tie as he remembered, again, the way he'd planned for the evening to go.

"What're you doing all the way over there?" she asked, gesturing to the space between them. "You promised me a cuddle while we watch old Christmas movies."

The Doctor pointed at the cup she still held. "That was before you made Jackie Tyler's eggnog."

The furrow deepened to a scowl. "What's wrong with my mum's eggnog?" she demanded.

There was a note in her voice that suggested he should answer carefully, but he ignored the warning. "Rose. Why does your mum have to put ginger in her eggnog?" he whined. "Of all the spices on Earth, why does she have to use the one that makes it possible for me to get drunk? And I would—oh, with all the rum and brandy in that concoction, I would get positively razzled."

Rose looked at her glass, then back at him. "Right," she said slowly. "You're completely mental. First off, would it really be that bad if you got a bit tipsy while we're at home? S'like you don't trust me. And second," she said, barreling on with her argument before he could tell her how wrong she was, "why's it matter to you if my drink has ginger in it? Are you gonna get drunk by osmosis or something?"

The Doctor tugged on his ear. He could feel his neck heating up, and he knew his freckles were probably standing out, too. He could never hide when he got embarrassed.

Rose's eyes narrowed. She finally set her glass down and turned to give him her full attention. "All right, out with it," she demanded. "What's going on in that Time Lord brain?"

"Well I… it's just rude, that's all," the Doctor blustered. "Drinking something in front of me that I can't have."

Rose patted him on the knee. "That's right, I'm rude and you're no ginger."

She winked outrageously, and the Doctor burst out laughing. "That was a terrible, terrible pun." He scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Seriously, there are planets were you could be arrested for using a pun that bad." Not that he would ever take them there, or he would be arrested himself.

"And planets were I'd be worshipped," Rose retorted.

The tip of her tongue peeked out from behind her cheeky smile, and the Doctor's witty reply evaporated. With his arm around Rose, he felt her breath hitch when she realised where his attention had gone.

Then she swiped her tongue over her lower lip, and the Doctor groaned. "Not fair," he whispered again as he leaned closer. Rose tilted her head back to meet his kiss, and the Doctor finally got to taste Jackie's famous eggnog.

Kissing Rose was more intoxicating than any combination of alcohol and spice. Her lips were soft and warm, her mouth inviting, her tongue wicked. One kiss wasn't enough, and two didn't come close to satisfying the need to kiss her.

The Doctor slid his hand behind Rose's neck, weaving his fingers through her hair as he adjusted the angle of the kiss. He felt Rose's hand grab onto his lapel, pulling him closer, and he then he let himself forget everything but the sensation of her lips against his.

When the Doctor finally pulled back several minutes later, endorphins and pheromones were buzzing in his head, creating a biochemical concoction that made him dizzy. He licked his lips as he blinked to clear his hazy vision, and he could taste the ginger, sharp and sweet.

"Does that explain why I cared about you drinking something that would make me drunk?" he asked Rose.

Her red lips curved in a slow smile. "Were you planning to kiss me that whole time?"

The Doctor nodded and tugged Rose back into his arms. His hearts hammered in his chest when she swung a leg over his lap to straddle him instead.

"Yes, I was."

His hands landed on her hips, and as he pulled her close, he let them slide under the hem of her top so he could touch the soft skin just above her waist. He heard her breath hitch, and immediately brushed his thumbs over her hipbones again, just to hear it another time.

Rose draped her arms around his shoulders. "Doctor," she breathed.

Her breath smelled like sugar and spice, which reminded the Doctor of their unfinished conversation. "And that answers your other question too, by the way."

Rose had been leaning in for another kiss, but she stopped and frowned at him when he said that. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor bumped his nose against her and nipped at her bottom lip before answering. Then he looked into her eyes, wanting her to see how much he meant what he was about to say.

"Sloppy, drunken kisses can be brilliant. But this first time, I didn't want you to wonder if I really meant to kiss you, or if I'd regret it later."

Rose slid her hands over his chest to link them behind his neck. "No regrets?" she murmured.

He shivered when her fingers played with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, and he pressed a quick kiss to her lips before answering.

"No regrets."