(no subject)
They miraculously managed to sleep last night--or this morning, if one marks the time of day strictly by numbers. Reunions were always sweet in the way they held off slumber. The morning light had shown for hours before James Bond woke, greeting the late hour with a knowing smile. He forgave himself for waking so late. Sarah Jane, in his opinion, was a worthy excuse.
The worthy excuse was presently sleeping, her head rested on his chest. He stretched across the bed, curled his arm around her shoulders again, turned to face the window. He felt more peaceful and comfortable than on recent occasions when he felt the same. Those feelings weren't as true as they were now, and tomorrow would bring even truer feelings with it. He looked at Sarah Jane, the contented smile turning wicked. Should he wake her up?
Deciding, he begins to rub the top of his foot against the sole of hers.