[Theatrical Muse] Response
Jan. 14th, 2007 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
his_sarah_jane[ooc: based roughly on this.]
The Morning After
The morning after was a perilous thing; Sarah Jane always knew that. But morning afters happened whether you were ready for it or not. She knew that one as well. The dawning light peaking through window shades gave you the brief moments in time to recall the previous day. They gave you the one last attempt to hide under the covers until you got your story (reasoning) correct. But then, no matter what happened next, you had to face it. Or him. Or whatever it was that had happened before you fell asleep.
Honestly, it wasn’t as big a deal as people made it out to be. She never understood why the media had always focused on the ‘morning after’ as a chunk of a plot. She never understood why people either always worshiped the ‘morning after’ or regretted it in Hollywood – why couldn’t they just accept it?
This was why, Sarah had decided as the first slivers of light appeared through the crack of the curtain, she refused to make such a big deal over this particular morning after.
His body felt warm against hers and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart – thump thump thump - beneath the pillow of her hair and his chest. One heart, she reminded herself even though she had never really doubted that he was anything but human as he claimed. No, that was one mystery easy enough to solve.
She yawned and snuggled closer against him when one of his arms hugged her bare back. So he was awake as well. Sarah Jane had hoped for a couple of more minutes enjoying the contact without anyone to make a big deal about anything; god knew how long it’s been since she last fell asleep in someone else’s bed. Or hotel room, she supposed. After all, like he said: she couldn’t exactly take him back to the TARDIS, and he was too mysterious to actually let her see where he lived.
Some points, in the short time she had known him, she doubted he even lived in one particular place.
But that didn’t matter, or at least she didn’t believe it did. Because right now, Sarah was finding it increasingly harder to concentrate on her thoughts – thoughts that distinctly did not involve making a big deal over a ‘morning after,’ of course. His arm had grown restless and began to trace small circles on her back. It tickled (she always was ticklish) and she squirmed, and in return he kissed her ear. The kisses grew hungry as he attacked her neck, and she let out a little sigh of content.
Last night didn’t matter. The decisions involved were no longer important. She despised morning afters just for that reason: all the thinking that was often involved. It was clear that she wasn’t thinking last night, allowing his charm to envelope her into security and sex. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t have fallen for it all that easily. Normally.
But maybe it was the fact he was a former companion (somehow, in some future timeline) of the Doctor, or maybe it was just that he wasn’t a bad guy, or maybe it was the mystery that surrounded him. That was thinking though – that was morning after stuff – and that was everything Sarah Jane Smith refused to think about right now. There were lips nuzzling her collar bone and hands exploring her back and that, she knew, was what a morning after should be.
None of that barmy, doubtful, silly talk about what was to happen next, or why they did what they did the night before. It should be simple: just content in the arms of a man who lived a life as strange as her own.
The Morning After
The morning after was a perilous thing; Sarah Jane always knew that. But morning afters happened whether you were ready for it or not. She knew that one as well. The dawning light peaking through window shades gave you the brief moments in time to recall the previous day. They gave you the one last attempt to hide under the covers until you got your story (reasoning) correct. But then, no matter what happened next, you had to face it. Or him. Or whatever it was that had happened before you fell asleep.
Honestly, it wasn’t as big a deal as people made it out to be. She never understood why the media had always focused on the ‘morning after’ as a chunk of a plot. She never understood why people either always worshiped the ‘morning after’ or regretted it in Hollywood – why couldn’t they just accept it?
This was why, Sarah had decided as the first slivers of light appeared through the crack of the curtain, she refused to make such a big deal over this particular morning after.
His body felt warm against hers and she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart – thump thump thump - beneath the pillow of her hair and his chest. One heart, she reminded herself even though she had never really doubted that he was anything but human as he claimed. No, that was one mystery easy enough to solve.
She yawned and snuggled closer against him when one of his arms hugged her bare back. So he was awake as well. Sarah Jane had hoped for a couple of more minutes enjoying the contact without anyone to make a big deal about anything; god knew how long it’s been since she last fell asleep in someone else’s bed. Or hotel room, she supposed. After all, like he said: she couldn’t exactly take him back to the TARDIS, and he was too mysterious to actually let her see where he lived.
Some points, in the short time she had known him, she doubted he even lived in one particular place.
But that didn’t matter, or at least she didn’t believe it did. Because right now, Sarah was finding it increasingly harder to concentrate on her thoughts – thoughts that distinctly did not involve making a big deal over a ‘morning after,’ of course. His arm had grown restless and began to trace small circles on her back. It tickled (she always was ticklish) and she squirmed, and in return he kissed her ear. The kisses grew hungry as he attacked her neck, and she let out a little sigh of content.
Last night didn’t matter. The decisions involved were no longer important. She despised morning afters just for that reason: all the thinking that was often involved. It was clear that she wasn’t thinking last night, allowing his charm to envelope her into security and sex. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t have fallen for it all that easily. Normally.
But maybe it was the fact he was a former companion (somehow, in some future timeline) of the Doctor, or maybe it was just that he wasn’t a bad guy, or maybe it was the mystery that surrounded him. That was thinking though – that was morning after stuff – and that was everything Sarah Jane Smith refused to think about right now. There were lips nuzzling her collar bone and hands exploring her back and that, she knew, was what a morning after should be.
None of that barmy, doubtful, silly talk about what was to happen next, or why they did what they did the night before. It should be simple: just content in the arms of a man who lived a life as strange as her own.
