From the Journal of Sarah Jane

James grins at Sarah. "I had the same problem, myself. Cooked for a large group instead of for one."

Eventually he learned to downscale on the food. There are times, however, when he gets a little overzealous. Bad habits are hard to kick.

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Sarah flushes a little, shrugging. "It's not as if I have any group to cook for, anyway. I just wasn't sure what he'd like.

"You do like it, right?" She looks hopefully at the Doctor.

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He nods, spearing another sausage from the plate.

"It's lovely, Sarah Jane. Honestly."

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James takes a bite of the bacon.

"It's not bad at all."

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She smiles proudly at both of them, before ruining any shred of dignity with a big fork-full of beans stuffed in her mouth. Then, Sarah reaches for her mango juice and takes a sip, swallowing.

Face it, all that cooking had made her hungry.

"Excellent. Aunt Livinia was always so much better at this, but I'm glad to see that I've picked up something from her."

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"As much as I enjoy it, I do hope you don't get too comfortable in the role of doting hostess. My earlier self will be needing the take-no-prisoners feminist warrior, after all."

He's teasing, of course, but the reality is tucked in there as well. He let Milliways get too far into his blood once, too.

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If either of them have noticed that James has suddenly become more reserved, they aren't imagining it. He really does feel as if he's intruding on a private conversation. James picks up a slice of bread and bites into it, eyes focused on the tabletop.

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Sarah snorts and looks towards James for a moment, her lips pressing into a frown at his silence.

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that, Doctor. I'm perfectly capa --"

It's about then that she realises what he really said and kicks his leg hard under the table. "Oh! I'm not a feminist warrior! Brute!"

There's another glance at James. "Well? Aren't you going to help me here?"

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The Doctor yelps at the kick, jerking his leg back. Unfortunately, this has the effect of banging his knee into the table and knocking over his tea -- his still quite hot tea -- which is heading rather in James' direction.

"Well, you certainly kick like a warrior!"

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James is good at avoiding objects in motion if they come at him from a distance; avoiding hot liquid at a short distance, not so much. That still quite hot tea lands on James' leg. He takes in a sharp breath as the pain hits him and immediately reaches for a napkin.

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"Oh, you deserved it!" Sarah retorts, trying very hard to keep a serious expression on her face and not laugh at the two men. "Feminist warrior, my foot!"

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The Doctor can't keep the smirk off his face.

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you say, ma'am. Just please don't hurt me again."

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Right. So. James has been burned. It kinda hurts. He's made visible attempts to relieve the pain by getting as much of the hot liquid off of him as possible, and yet these two are still in their happy, fluffy love zone. James isn't jealous, but he does have the feeling that he doesn't exist in the happy, fluffy love zone, and if he does he's not unlike a ghost. How, then, does this ghost excuse himself from the table without seeming rude? James considers his words carefully as he finishes wiping off the tea.

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"You're absolutely, positively horrible," Sarah Jane retorted, eyes narrowing at the smirk on his face.

Oh, how she would love nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. "I could do so much more than kick you under the table, you know!"

She really will notice James, really! As soon as that smirk goes away.

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"Burn me with coffee, for instance?" he says pleasantly. "Like our friend James? Oh, be a dear, Sarah Jane and get the poor man some ice or something."

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Attention! James is almost surprised by it. "Don't worry, Sarah," he says as he pushes his chair back, rising to his feet. "I can get it myself."

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Sarah glares at the Doctor for telling her what to do (oh, like he can't go and get ice either!) but gets up from her seat anyway.

"You should sit," she says to James, pointing a finger at him. "I'll get the ice."

She doesn't bother waiting for an answer and walks to the refrigerator, grabbing a towel off the counter along the way. Sarah opens the freezer door and quickly grabs a handful of ice to put on the towel. A few more seconds later she's back with a neatly wrapped bundle that she hands to James.

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He looks a little sheepish after giving the command. Sometimes when he's around her, he forgets he's not in a position to do that anymore.

"Sorry about that," he says to James. "She's got quite a kick on her."

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"I noticed," he says dryly, taking his seat again.

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"Sorry," Sarah Jane mutters, looking a little sheepish herself. "But you deserved it, Doctor."

There's a look in James' direction and she shrugs. "Maybe not you."

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"We'll revisit that in a few years, shall we?" he says cryptically.

Then, the Doctor pats his mouth with his napkin and stands up.

"This really was quite lovely, Sarah Jane. And very nice to meet you as well, James. The food was excellent and the company moreso. I think I'm going to limp back to my TARDIS now, though. I've taken up enough of your morning."

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James glances quickly at Sarah, then to the Doctor, extending his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," he replies. "Hopefully we'll be able to talk more in the future."

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"Thank you," Sarah Jane says, quickly getting up from the table shortly after the Doctor does. She beams proudly at the compliment and then nods towards away from the table. "Let me show you out. Please?"

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The Doctor shakes James' hand and smiles. "Or in the past. Never can tell with me."

That done, he turns to his hostess. "Lead on, Miss Smith."

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