his_sarah_jane | [Milliways] OOM: Flat 007

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[Milliways] OOM: Flat 007

Sarah Jane has never claimed to be the world's best cook. But she has always enjoyed it, ever since she was old enough to help her aunt out in the kitchen. Cooking had been a bonding experience for Sarah back then - a chance for her and her aunt to talk after long days at school and work - and even now, it makes her smile as she remembers those days.

It doesn't matter at all to her that her favourite jumper here (a fuzzy blue thing that keeps her quite warm) is now covered with bits of flour and eggs. Or that her hair is now streaked along the edges with butter. What matters is this: breakfast is now almost done (and smells rather good, if you ask her) and the Doctor will be here soon.

The table is set for two (she doesn't quite want to bother with waking James or Vesper this early) with a bowl of fruit in the center. The pot of tea boils on the stove, and a pitcher of mango juice (much better than orange) sits near the fruit bowl. There's fried bread out on the table, near a small container of butter, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, eggs (sunny side up), bacon, baked beans, and chips. Quite possibly enough food to feed an army, but Sarah doesn't care.

She grabs a plate for the sausages that are almost finished frying, enjoying all the aromas in the air. Now, all that she really needs is for her guest to show up.

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There's a moment of awkward silence in which the Doctor looks over the spread on the table.

"Smells wonderful," he finally says. It's almost a question.

He really doesn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

Sarah Jane still can't quite get over how different he looks. It's still him though, she can see it in the eyes.

After another moment of awkward staring, she nods to one of the chairs, implying that he should sit.

"It better smell wonderful," she begins, walking over to a cupboard to retrieve a couple of mugs. "I've been up since seven working on it."

"You shouldn't have gone to the trouble, you know. Tea and biscuits would have been enough."

"I wanted to," Sarah replies quickly as she places the mugs of tea on the table. "I don't get to do this sort of thing often anymore, you know."

He smiles as he sits. "Well, I learned a long time ago not to stand in the way when you want something lest I get run over."

She stops midway to the sink and turns around to scowl at him.

"I am not that bad!"

And in annoyance, she splashes some water in his direction before sponging up her sweater.

"You get worse," he says matter-of-factly, not reacting at all to getting spritzed. "Remember, I've known you longer than you've known me."

"I refuse to believe that you didn't have something to do with that," Sarah retorts as she wipes her hands on a dish towel and walks back to the table.

She eyes him and shakes her head, taking a seat across from him. "You've been a horrid influence from the very moment I met you."

He gasps in mock-offense.

"I take exception to that!"

Then, he screws up his face in reluctance acceptance.

"Well, okay, not too much exception."

"Hah!" Sarah grins smugly and smooths the napkin on her lap. "You should take no exception at all. I know you, Doctor, remember?"

"Still," he says thoughtfully. "To be a horrid influence would be to say that you turned out badly. And I think you turned out to be one of the strongest and bravest people I've ever known."

Those words mean a lot to Sarah, and it shows clearly by the bright grin and faint blush on her face. The Doctor never gives out praises like that so easily. At least, not the version she's been travelling with lately.

"Thank you," she says softly, glancing down at the table for a couple of seconds. She looks back upward and the hint of a mischeivous smile comes back. "Maybe I should change that to a fantastic influence then, eh?"

"If you wouldn't mind," he agrees with a grin and a nod.

Then, with a gesture toward the food, "Shall we?"

Of course she wouldn't.

Sarah nods and reaches for the jug of mango juice to pour herself a glass. "That is what you're here for, after all. Bon appetit."

He grabs a plate and gets some beans and toast, a tomato, and a sausage. Then, he pours himself a cup of tea with just a little milk before tucking in.

"Very nice," he says after a couple of bites.

You can't sleep when you smell food in the morning. It's an unrelenting alarm clock with no snooze function; it rings and rings until you give in and get out of bed. James has tried to ignore the smell. Expectedly, his efforts haven't worked, and he finds himself stepping out of bed and throwing on sweats and a t-shirt to answer the call of breakfast.

He assumes that Sarah Jane has cooked enough for her and the Doctor alone, and that he'll have to cook breakfast for himself and Vesper. He does not expect to see the glut of food that's clearly more than enough for two people. If he looked groggy when he stepped out the door, he's wide-awake by the time he reaches the kitchen.

"Really?" Sarah asks, taking an assortment of eggs, bacon, toast, mushrooms and beans on her own plate. She takes a sip of her mango juice and grins. "You better not just be sayin--

"James!"

She looks surprised when she sees her flatmate walk in, thinking that he'd still be asleep at this hour. Or, at least, know better than to intrude.

Actually, that last thought might just be wishful thinking.

The Doctor follows Sarah Jane's gaze to the new arrival.

"Ah, this must be the disagreeable flatmate I've heard so much about."

Tact? You must have him confused with someone else.

Don't worry; the disagreeable flatmate doesn't have any tact, either. He smirks, faintly.

"You've heard a litany of complaints, I'm sure."

Sarah snorts, hiding her disagreeable expression behind her glass.

"Only because you've been so thick lately," she replies.

And then only vaguely remembers her manners, even though a part of her really wishes she didn't. "Doctor, this is James. James, the Doctor."

"Nice to meet you."

He gestures toward the table.

"Make yourself a plate. There's plenty."

There are several factors working against an internal fanboyish reaction to having breakfast with the Doctor. James having just woken up is one; knowing that he is a major fictional character in the Doctor's world is another. That the Doctor views him as a troublesome flatmate rather than a celebrity is a plus, too.

James glances over the food again, frowning slightly. "I'd love to, but I don't wish to intrude on anything."

Sarah's foot connects with the Doctor's shin bone under the table - not hard enough to hurt him, but just hard enough to get his attention. "Doctor."

There's a flood of different thoughts in her head right now, all concerning sharing this breakfast with another person. Sarah Jane knows she's being childish this time, but there's a part of her that really doesn't want to share the Doctor with anyone right now. And there's the other part of her that still hasn't fully forgiven James for his actions lately.

Finally, there's that small voice (suspiciously sounding like Aunt Livinia) that says James should be welcomed.

Guess which parts are winning.

He scowls at her for a moment, then his expression softens. He'd fallen back into the Doctor-Companion dynamic without even realizing.

"Sorry, you're right. I'm the guest here, not the host."

James gives Sarah a look that is hard to decipher. It could be a smug "see?" look, or a look that asks if she's pleased with this, or it could be a look with no meaning at all. "Don't worry about me," he says, looking to the Doctor, briefly. "I'll fix something out of the refrigerator and leave you two alone."

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