Romana isn't the sort of woman who forgets, even when half-awake. She knows from the moment her eyelids flutter that nothing untoward is going on. Yes, Brax's stubble is tickling the right side of her neck; yes, Leela's face is pressed against her left shoulder; yes, Narvin's hand has snaked over Leela's hip to rest on Romana's stomach; but that's what Romana expected, really. Stretching a one-person CIA-issue tent to fit four is bound to cause a little crowding. There's no surprise in that.

The surprising bit is how much she wishes they hadn't all got so many clothes on.

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Requests: Pandora/Braxiatel, Pandora/Leela, Pandora/Narvin