SJA fic : Satellite Series : Mock Italian
Title : Mock Italian
Author : Jen
Fandom : The Sarah Jane Adventures
Rating : PG
Characters : Sarah Jane/Peter Dalton, Harry Sullivan
~~
"I know a little restaurant not far from here," he said in a low voice. His fingers moved against the soft fabric of the trousers she was wearing, a gentle caress of her leg. "We could go for a late lunch?"
"Sounds good to me."
He stood and held out his hand to her. As soon as she put hers in his she couldn't help but smile, all the more so when he pulled her to her feet. "Do you like Italian?"
Sarah could help but think about the time she and the Doctor were in Italy and the grin widened as she nodded. "Love it."
"It's nothing fancy..." he began as she picked up her bag, almost by way of an apology.
"I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Next time I'll make sure it's something a bit more... special."
"Next time?" she quipped. "You're confident."
"Something tells me that this is just the start of something," he whispered in her ear as he guided her towards the front door.
~~
The restaurant was mock-Italian, trying to convince people that they were the real deal as they took your order in Cockney accents; Sarah and Peter had to stifle giggles as someone who was clearly from East London tried to speak with a heavy Italian accent.
"We can go somewhere else if you want," Peter said when the waiter had finally stopped showering Sarah with faux compliments.
"This is fine," she laughed softly, "really."
"The service isn't great but the food is nice."
"Peter, it's fine. Really."
"I just..."
"It's fine!" she snapped a bit harsher than she'd intended. "Sorry."
"No, I am. Just... nervous."
"Nervous? Why?"
"Because..." He sighed gently. "I've spent months trying to track you down. Since that meeting in the bar you've been... on my mind, Sarah. A lot. And now you're here, we're here..."
Since they'd left her flat Sarah had been reminding herself that this Peter was not her Peter. He was not the man she'd met, fallen in love with, and almost married.
Yet.
He would become that man, but right now he was younger, passionate, his whole life ahead of him... ahead of them?
~~
After lunch they went for a walk, hand in hand, through the park. Then they got last minute tickets to a theatre play they'd never heard of, leaving half way through because they were laughing so much (and not in the good way) at the performances. Realising the time they found a bar and ordered some simple, honest food and a bottle of wine.
After what seemed like only an hour or two they were kicked out of the pub when it closed. They'd spent the whole afternoon together and barely noticed the time.
"Didn't you have to get back to work?" she asked as they walked towards the bus stop. "You went to my aunt's, found me..."
"I'm sick," he mock-coughed. "Took the rest of the day off."
"Tut tut," she laughed, linking her arm with his.
They fitted together so well - but she knew that already. Their first date (before) he'd offered his arm to her and escorted her to their table in the restaurant. Pulled it out for her, the perfect gentleman. And they'd fitted together well then.
"You OK?" he asked.
"I..." she began, but stopped as she felt the heavy drop on her sleeve.
The rain was sudden and almost torrential, and they made a dash for shelter, finding it in a nearby shop doorway.
"Here," Peter said when he noticed she'd started to shiver. Her thin summer coat was soaked through and so he removed his suit jacket.
"You'll be the one who freezes now," she pointed out, putting her hand on his arm to stop him. "Then you really will need a sick day."
He conceded the point and settled for wrapping an arm around her. "The next bus should be along soon," he said, glancing at her watch. "Sorry about this..."
"Will you stop apologising?" she laughed. "I... I had a really good time today, Peter."
"Me too," he smiled. For some reason the smile became a soft laugh and soon the pair of them were laughing at nothing in particular.
She couldn't help herself. She'd been almost desperate to do it from that first moment in the bar all those weeks ago. Sitting next to him, near him, touching his arm, holding his hand, fitting into his side... But she wanted more.
Pushing up onto her toes she pressed her lips to his, the kiss catching him by surprise.
"Sorry," she said when she stepped back. "I..." She couldn't think how to finish that sentence so she just shrugged.
"Are you?"
"What?"
"Sorry."
"...No," she smiled, catching his eye. That light was the same. Now, before, thirty years from now.
Her arms snaked around his neck as he lifted her body up and against his. Their lips met, parted, and buses came and went.
~~
This was fast. Even with everything, this was fast. He had her pressed up against her front door - they'd given up fumbling for her keys - and all she could think of was that this was too fast.
(Then again she'd agreed to marry him after only a couple of months, but this was their first date. For him anyway.)
He felt her body language shift and he broke the kiss, his lips hovering near hers. "Sarah?"
"I can't do this," she breathed.
Peter nodded and stepped back.
"It's just..." She took a deep breath to think about what she could say, but Peter got there first.
"Who was he?" he asked.
"What?"
"The guy who broke your heart?"
You, she thought sadly. "He... It was a while ago, but..."
"Who left who?"
"It was... Mutual. He had to go, I had to stay... It wasn't because we didn't love each other. He left because he loved me. It hurt, it still hurts, but it was the right thing to do."
"I can't imagine leaving you," Peter whispered gently, holding her chin in his thumb and forefinger.
"Here's hoping," she whispered. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him gently. "Can we just..."
"Take it slow?" he finished. "Sure. OK."
"Thank you."
"Well... goodnight."
"Night."
He kissed her once more then started to walk down the hallway. "Saturday, seven," he called back. "Dress up."
She laughed softly, finally found her keys in her bag, and let herself into her flat.
~~
"This is nice," Harry said as he finished chopping up the veg and swept it into the waiting pot.
"The soup?" Sarah asked, glancing at the bubbling stock.
"You. Me. Spending time together."
"We see plenty of each other," she pointed out, retrieving a piece of carrot that had escaped. She munched on the stick and looked at him. "What?"
"How's Peter?"
"He's fine," she replied in confusion.
"Surprised you're not staying at his."
"His place is tiny," she said, "and besides, we're taking things slow."
"Right."
She shot him a glance. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Harry."
"It's nothing."
"Out with it."
"It's just..." He sighed, looking at her stood across from him, arms folded.
When she'd called and said that her boiler had failed and it would be days before the required part could be fitted, he'd offered her his spare room without a second's hesitation. He'd wondered if he'd been her second call, and when she'd put him straight it had felt good. The wrong kind of good. But that hadn't stopped him enjoying the last few days and he found he wasn't looking forward to her going home tomorrow.
"Are you sure about him?" Harry asked.
"Peter?"
"No, Jesus."
"Where's this come from?" she asked.
"I'm just worried about you. What's going to happen if the Doctor comes back? Can't see you turning him down for Peter, old girl."
"Two things," she said calmly. "One, the Doctor isn't going to come back."
"You can't know that."
She ignored his remark because she did know. "Second, what's that got to do with me and Peter?"
"You planning on telling him then?"
"What?"
"Or are you going to keep lying?"
"What's it got to do with you?"
"I care about you, Sarah. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I'm not going to get hurt."
"You don't know that. This is going to go one of two ways, old girl. You'll tell him and he'll run a mile, or you'll keep it from him and the secret is going to eat you up. I know you, Sarah. You'll hate yourself for lying to him."
She said nothing, not because of what he'd said, but because of the bigger meaning of his words. If things progressed with Peter then she was going to have to lie to him for a long time - not about the Doctor and the TARDIS and her travels in space and time. But about her other life. Her past life, her future life.
"That's assuming he doesn't break your heart first," Harry continued.
"And why would he?" Sarah asked, snapping out of her train of thought. "He..." loved me, she finished, automatically defaulting to past tense. He loved her so much that he gave up his life, his chance to be with her. But she couldn't say that.
"I'm just saying..."
"Well don't," she snapped. "It's none of your business."
"I don't want to see you get hurt, old girl."
"I won't," she said firmly.
"And you know this how?"
~~
She arrived on his doorstep freezing cold, having walked out in anger with only the clothes she had on. Peter hugged her, pulled her inside, and didn't ask why she'd turned up so late at night. As she watched him making her a hot chocolate to warm her up she couldn't help but think how close she'd been to having him in her life before. If she'd been at Lavina's that day, or if she'd taken up her aunt's offer to have her law firm sort out her own affairs.
But then that was this was about, right? This was her second chance.
"Harry and I had a fight," she told him eventually.
"I thought as much."
"What?"
"You get this look in your eye when you're really mad - it had faded but it was there when you turned up."
"Right."
"Saw it when that waiter tried to pick you up last week. Thought you were going to hit him," Peter laughed.
"He wasn't trying to pick me up," she pointed out, "he... had wandering hands. And I very nearly did hit him."
"I know, I was there."
"Right in the middle of it," she laughed. "I nearly hit you."
"I know that too," he smiled. "Very glad you didn't." He paused for a second, working up the courage to say, "Should I be asking what the fight was about?"
"Who," she corrected.
"OK. Should I be asking who the fight was about?" he began, then caught her eye. "Ah."
"Harry's one of my oldest friends," she sighed, cupping the mug in her hands. "We've been through so much together and I want... I need you two to get on. You're two of the most important men in my life and I don't want to feel like I'm stuck in the middle of something."
"You won't," Peter assured her, walking around to where she was perched on the stool. "I promise." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"That's nice," she muttered, resting her head on his chest.
"What? This?" he asked, kissing her again.
"Mmm," she hummed in reply, listening to the thud-thud of his heart. "Can I stay here tonight?"
"You don't have to ask," he said, kissing her head a third time for good measure. "I'll find you something to sleep in while you have a shower. Go warm up."
~~
Sarah stared at the ceiling, twisting one of the buttons on the shirt Peter had lent her. She didn't know what she had in mind but this wasn't it, she was sure of that. Trust him to insist that they stick to their 'take things slowly' agreement. Her in his bed, wearing little else than one of his old shirts (which soon had one less button on it as she twisted the thread to breaking point), and him on the sofa.
All because of some stupid fight she'd had with her best friend about the man she'd done so much for.
~~
It was early when Sarah woke up and she ventured out to the kitchen, her bare feet padding on the floor. She jumped slightly when she saw Peter was already up, making himself a coffee. When he noticed her he pushed it in her direction and picked up a second mug.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
"Not really," she blurted out. Apparently her tact was still fast asleep and she winced at the concerned look on his face. Knowing him he was probably planning to go and buy a new mattress or something.
"Oh?"
She sighed gently. "Kept... thinking you were going to come in. Hard to sleep when you keep glancing at the door every thirty seconds, wondering if that noise I heard was you."
"Sarah," he said gently, "we agreed to take things slowly."
She could see that he was fighting the same thing she was, and the butterflies that had seemingly taken up residence in her stomach seemed to develop titanium wings.
"Yeah, we did. A while ago."
"I don't..." he began but he was silenced when she kissed him.
His arms snaked around her waist, holding her petite body against his. Her hands raked through his hair as the kiss deepened.
"You're sure?" he managed to whisper as their lips parted long enough to draw in air.
"Completely," she replied before they stumbled back to bed.
~~
When she woke a second time the bed felt warmer, heavier. Peter's finger traced light patterns on her bare shoulder before he kissed it gently.
"I have to get to work," he whispered in her ear before kissing her neck.
"I should get back to the flat," she agreed. "The boiler guy is coming over to fit the part. Hot water at last."
"A part of me is hoping that it'll be broken for a little while longer," he laughed softly against her skin, his kisses moving across her body as he turned her to lie flat on the mattress.
"I'd miss my hot showers too much. Yours is rubbish. Look, I've got a lot on but there's nothing to stop you coming over later?"
"I'll bring the wine."
"Sounds good," she grinned before his mouth met hers.
They were late for work.
~fin~
Author : Jen
Fandom : The Sarah Jane Adventures
Rating : PG
Characters : Sarah Jane/Peter Dalton, Harry Sullivan
~~
"I know a little restaurant not far from here," he said in a low voice. His fingers moved against the soft fabric of the trousers she was wearing, a gentle caress of her leg. "We could go for a late lunch?"
"Sounds good to me."
He stood and held out his hand to her. As soon as she put hers in his she couldn't help but smile, all the more so when he pulled her to her feet. "Do you like Italian?"
Sarah could help but think about the time she and the Doctor were in Italy and the grin widened as she nodded. "Love it."
"It's nothing fancy..." he began as she picked up her bag, almost by way of an apology.
"I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Next time I'll make sure it's something a bit more... special."
"Next time?" she quipped. "You're confident."
"Something tells me that this is just the start of something," he whispered in her ear as he guided her towards the front door.
~~
The restaurant was mock-Italian, trying to convince people that they were the real deal as they took your order in Cockney accents; Sarah and Peter had to stifle giggles as someone who was clearly from East London tried to speak with a heavy Italian accent.
"We can go somewhere else if you want," Peter said when the waiter had finally stopped showering Sarah with faux compliments.
"This is fine," she laughed softly, "really."
"The service isn't great but the food is nice."
"Peter, it's fine. Really."
"I just..."
"It's fine!" she snapped a bit harsher than she'd intended. "Sorry."
"No, I am. Just... nervous."
"Nervous? Why?"
"Because..." He sighed gently. "I've spent months trying to track you down. Since that meeting in the bar you've been... on my mind, Sarah. A lot. And now you're here, we're here..."
Since they'd left her flat Sarah had been reminding herself that this Peter was not her Peter. He was not the man she'd met, fallen in love with, and almost married.
Yet.
He would become that man, but right now he was younger, passionate, his whole life ahead of him... ahead of them?
~~
After lunch they went for a walk, hand in hand, through the park. Then they got last minute tickets to a theatre play they'd never heard of, leaving half way through because they were laughing so much (and not in the good way) at the performances. Realising the time they found a bar and ordered some simple, honest food and a bottle of wine.
After what seemed like only an hour or two they were kicked out of the pub when it closed. They'd spent the whole afternoon together and barely noticed the time.
"Didn't you have to get back to work?" she asked as they walked towards the bus stop. "You went to my aunt's, found me..."
"I'm sick," he mock-coughed. "Took the rest of the day off."
"Tut tut," she laughed, linking her arm with his.
They fitted together so well - but she knew that already. Their first date (before) he'd offered his arm to her and escorted her to their table in the restaurant. Pulled it out for her, the perfect gentleman. And they'd fitted together well then.
"You OK?" he asked.
"I..." she began, but stopped as she felt the heavy drop on her sleeve.
The rain was sudden and almost torrential, and they made a dash for shelter, finding it in a nearby shop doorway.
"Here," Peter said when he noticed she'd started to shiver. Her thin summer coat was soaked through and so he removed his suit jacket.
"You'll be the one who freezes now," she pointed out, putting her hand on his arm to stop him. "Then you really will need a sick day."
He conceded the point and settled for wrapping an arm around her. "The next bus should be along soon," he said, glancing at her watch. "Sorry about this..."
"Will you stop apologising?" she laughed. "I... I had a really good time today, Peter."
"Me too," he smiled. For some reason the smile became a soft laugh and soon the pair of them were laughing at nothing in particular.
She couldn't help herself. She'd been almost desperate to do it from that first moment in the bar all those weeks ago. Sitting next to him, near him, touching his arm, holding his hand, fitting into his side... But she wanted more.
Pushing up onto her toes she pressed her lips to his, the kiss catching him by surprise.
"Sorry," she said when she stepped back. "I..." She couldn't think how to finish that sentence so she just shrugged.
"Are you?"
"What?"
"Sorry."
"...No," she smiled, catching his eye. That light was the same. Now, before, thirty years from now.
Her arms snaked around his neck as he lifted her body up and against his. Their lips met, parted, and buses came and went.
~~
This was fast. Even with everything, this was fast. He had her pressed up against her front door - they'd given up fumbling for her keys - and all she could think of was that this was too fast.
(Then again she'd agreed to marry him after only a couple of months, but this was their first date. For him anyway.)
He felt her body language shift and he broke the kiss, his lips hovering near hers. "Sarah?"
"I can't do this," she breathed.
Peter nodded and stepped back.
"It's just..." She took a deep breath to think about what she could say, but Peter got there first.
"Who was he?" he asked.
"What?"
"The guy who broke your heart?"
You, she thought sadly. "He... It was a while ago, but..."
"Who left who?"
"It was... Mutual. He had to go, I had to stay... It wasn't because we didn't love each other. He left because he loved me. It hurt, it still hurts, but it was the right thing to do."
"I can't imagine leaving you," Peter whispered gently, holding her chin in his thumb and forefinger.
"Here's hoping," she whispered. She pushed up on her toes and kissed him gently. "Can we just..."
"Take it slow?" he finished. "Sure. OK."
"Thank you."
"Well... goodnight."
"Night."
He kissed her once more then started to walk down the hallway. "Saturday, seven," he called back. "Dress up."
She laughed softly, finally found her keys in her bag, and let herself into her flat.
~~
"This is nice," Harry said as he finished chopping up the veg and swept it into the waiting pot.
"The soup?" Sarah asked, glancing at the bubbling stock.
"You. Me. Spending time together."
"We see plenty of each other," she pointed out, retrieving a piece of carrot that had escaped. She munched on the stick and looked at him. "What?"
"How's Peter?"
"He's fine," she replied in confusion.
"Surprised you're not staying at his."
"His place is tiny," she said, "and besides, we're taking things slow."
"Right."
She shot him a glance. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Harry."
"It's nothing."
"Out with it."
"It's just..." He sighed, looking at her stood across from him, arms folded.
When she'd called and said that her boiler had failed and it would be days before the required part could be fitted, he'd offered her his spare room without a second's hesitation. He'd wondered if he'd been her second call, and when she'd put him straight it had felt good. The wrong kind of good. But that hadn't stopped him enjoying the last few days and he found he wasn't looking forward to her going home tomorrow.
"Are you sure about him?" Harry asked.
"Peter?"
"No, Jesus."
"Where's this come from?" she asked.
"I'm just worried about you. What's going to happen if the Doctor comes back? Can't see you turning him down for Peter, old girl."
"Two things," she said calmly. "One, the Doctor isn't going to come back."
"You can't know that."
She ignored his remark because she did know. "Second, what's that got to do with me and Peter?"
"You planning on telling him then?"
"What?"
"Or are you going to keep lying?"
"What's it got to do with you?"
"I care about you, Sarah. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I'm not going to get hurt."
"You don't know that. This is going to go one of two ways, old girl. You'll tell him and he'll run a mile, or you'll keep it from him and the secret is going to eat you up. I know you, Sarah. You'll hate yourself for lying to him."
She said nothing, not because of what he'd said, but because of the bigger meaning of his words. If things progressed with Peter then she was going to have to lie to him for a long time - not about the Doctor and the TARDIS and her travels in space and time. But about her other life. Her past life, her future life.
"That's assuming he doesn't break your heart first," Harry continued.
"And why would he?" Sarah asked, snapping out of her train of thought. "He..." loved me, she finished, automatically defaulting to past tense. He loved her so much that he gave up his life, his chance to be with her. But she couldn't say that.
"I'm just saying..."
"Well don't," she snapped. "It's none of your business."
"I don't want to see you get hurt, old girl."
"I won't," she said firmly.
"And you know this how?"
~~
She arrived on his doorstep freezing cold, having walked out in anger with only the clothes she had on. Peter hugged her, pulled her inside, and didn't ask why she'd turned up so late at night. As she watched him making her a hot chocolate to warm her up she couldn't help but think how close she'd been to having him in her life before. If she'd been at Lavina's that day, or if she'd taken up her aunt's offer to have her law firm sort out her own affairs.
But then that was this was about, right? This was her second chance.
"Harry and I had a fight," she told him eventually.
"I thought as much."
"What?"
"You get this look in your eye when you're really mad - it had faded but it was there when you turned up."
"Right."
"Saw it when that waiter tried to pick you up last week. Thought you were going to hit him," Peter laughed.
"He wasn't trying to pick me up," she pointed out, "he... had wandering hands. And I very nearly did hit him."
"I know, I was there."
"Right in the middle of it," she laughed. "I nearly hit you."
"I know that too," he smiled. "Very glad you didn't." He paused for a second, working up the courage to say, "Should I be asking what the fight was about?"
"Who," she corrected.
"OK. Should I be asking who the fight was about?" he began, then caught her eye. "Ah."
"Harry's one of my oldest friends," she sighed, cupping the mug in her hands. "We've been through so much together and I want... I need you two to get on. You're two of the most important men in my life and I don't want to feel like I'm stuck in the middle of something."
"You won't," Peter assured her, walking around to where she was perched on the stool. "I promise." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.
"That's nice," she muttered, resting her head on his chest.
"What? This?" he asked, kissing her again.
"Mmm," she hummed in reply, listening to the thud-thud of his heart. "Can I stay here tonight?"
"You don't have to ask," he said, kissing her head a third time for good measure. "I'll find you something to sleep in while you have a shower. Go warm up."
~~
Sarah stared at the ceiling, twisting one of the buttons on the shirt Peter had lent her. She didn't know what she had in mind but this wasn't it, she was sure of that. Trust him to insist that they stick to their 'take things slowly' agreement. Her in his bed, wearing little else than one of his old shirts (which soon had one less button on it as she twisted the thread to breaking point), and him on the sofa.
All because of some stupid fight she'd had with her best friend about the man she'd done so much for.
~~
It was early when Sarah woke up and she ventured out to the kitchen, her bare feet padding on the floor. She jumped slightly when she saw Peter was already up, making himself a coffee. When he noticed her he pushed it in her direction and picked up a second mug.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
"Not really," she blurted out. Apparently her tact was still fast asleep and she winced at the concerned look on his face. Knowing him he was probably planning to go and buy a new mattress or something.
"Oh?"
She sighed gently. "Kept... thinking you were going to come in. Hard to sleep when you keep glancing at the door every thirty seconds, wondering if that noise I heard was you."
"Sarah," he said gently, "we agreed to take things slowly."
She could see that he was fighting the same thing she was, and the butterflies that had seemingly taken up residence in her stomach seemed to develop titanium wings.
"Yeah, we did. A while ago."
"I don't..." he began but he was silenced when she kissed him.
His arms snaked around her waist, holding her petite body against his. Her hands raked through his hair as the kiss deepened.
"You're sure?" he managed to whisper as their lips parted long enough to draw in air.
"Completely," she replied before they stumbled back to bed.
~~
When she woke a second time the bed felt warmer, heavier. Peter's finger traced light patterns on her bare shoulder before he kissed it gently.
"I have to get to work," he whispered in her ear before kissing her neck.
"I should get back to the flat," she agreed. "The boiler guy is coming over to fit the part. Hot water at last."
"A part of me is hoping that it'll be broken for a little while longer," he laughed softly against her skin, his kisses moving across her body as he turned her to lie flat on the mattress.
"I'd miss my hot showers too much. Yours is rubbish. Look, I've got a lot on but there's nothing to stop you coming over later?"
"I'll bring the wine."
"Sounds good," she grinned before his mouth met hers.
They were late for work.
~fin~