Harry/Sarah requested ficathon
Title: Il tartufo
Author: sarah_jane_s
Rating: Erm... PG I think
Beta-reader: Kowarth
Characters: Harry Sullivan and Sarah Jane Smith
Pairings: Harry/Sarah implications
Word Count: 2,136
Copyright: BBC
Summary: The start of something new
Requested by: Minerva_fan
AN: I wanted to try something new and different, so it’s written in first person from Sarah’s POV, whether this works or not is your choice.
P.S. I should not have posted this at such and ungodly hour, don't you just love LJ when insomnia kicks in.
Friday, 20th November
Do mirrors lie to you? Because I hardly recognise the woman staring back at me. Should I change this dress? What will Harry think of the state I am in? Oh, he will probably just smile and tell me how wonderful I look, which of course is a big lie but then Harry would never speak a bad word about me.
Where’s my brush? My hair looks awful, I just can’t get it to stay right and I’m late again. I suppose Harry had probably expected I would be, he had booked the table for 8 and asked me to be ready for 7.20. It only takes half an hour to get to Blackfriars and Il Tartufo, the Italian restaurant, is just a little way from the train station.
Another passing glance in the mirror and I decided I would have to do; it wouldn’t be fair to keep Harry waiting any longer. Keys, keys, where did I leave the bloody keys? Oh, there they are. Right. Ready.
As I locked the front door Harry flashed me a toothy grin, “Hello old girl” he said and pulled me into a hug, I squeezed him dearly and as expected he told me I looked lovely this evening.
I’d never been to Il Tartufo so I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but Harry had assured me on the phone that I would enjoy it. I had been back for about three weeks now, although my time keeping was way off having spent so much time in the Tardis. It’s rather like jet lag sometimes, you have to stop and think about what time of day or night it is and whether you should sleep or not.
After my trip back from Aberdeen, having been dropped at the wrong end of the country, I was feeling a bit bewildered. Well who could blame me, my small flat in south Croydon was nothing compared to walking on alien planets across the stars.
My neighbours must have contacted Harry because he popped round the very next day after I arrived home, either that or it was one big coincidence but then I don’t believe in coincidences.
We had tea and custard creams that afternoon, I can remember it as if it were yesterday, especially how awkward I felt trying to explain that the Doctor had just left me here. Harry made it very clear to me that he was right all along, the Doctor was an alien and I was only human. It made me fume and seemed as if he was trying to rub it in my face, but I always got the feeling he was a little jealous of the Doctor.
I hadn’t seen him again until tonight, probably because I had gotten rather shirty with him and told him to leave as I needed some space.
The drive was pleasant if not a little quiet, we exchanged small talk and discussed the weather we had been having recently, so much rain for this time of year, I had missed the rain.
“Are you planning on going away?” he asked me, which came as quite a surprise to me as I had booked a holiday for next week and was off to stay with Lavinia after that. “What makes you say that? You haven’t been spying on me have you Harry?”
“I saw your suit case in the hallway” he smiled cheekily, “not exactly James Bond.”
“Oh. Well yes actually, I thought I should get away for a while. I’m going to South America and before you ask, no, there isn’t a reason why I’m going there.”
“South America? Any part in particular?”
“Rio de Janerio” I announced rather proudly, “planted between lush, forest-covered mountains and breathtaking beaches, the Cidade Maravilhosa, translated as marvellous city has many charms. Or so the brochure says.”
“Sounds like you’ll enjoy yourself old thing. Plenty of places on our little planet to visit, you don’t need the Doctor.”
I doubt Harry had meant that to sound quite so sarcastic, but to me it sounded like yet again he was reminding me I had been dumped.
Once we had arrived Harry parked the car and we walked the rest of the way to the restaurant, passers by must have thought we looked like such and odd couple. Harry wore that navy blue blazer with the gold buttons and I wore a dark green dress, apparently the colour suited me. I often wondered whether Harry owned anything other than that blazer or his uniform and was tempted to check his wardrobe one day, I dare not ask him though as I imagined he rather liked the old thing.
There was a small queue at the door but we were inside quite quickly and sitting at a table for two in the middle of the room. Harry had pulled my chair out for me like the gentleman he was and ordered a bottle of wine straight away, the Italians were famous for their red wine so naturally Harry ordered something called Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, apparently made from the Sangiovese grape.
The low hum of constant chatter filled the room, along with the clattering of knives and forks, which could be heard over the typical Italian music being played.
The room itself was quite large, scattered with different size tables and nasty rubber plants being used as dividers. We studied the menu but most of it was written in Italian making it hard to know exactly what any of it was. I gave up trying to pick something and Harry offered to order for me, I was sure his Italian had to be better than mine.
“Well old thing” he said to me and poured me a glass of wine, I winced a little at the nickname but smiled back at him. “Here’s to you” he nodded and picked up the pretty crystal glass that now held the dark red liquid within it. I followed his lead and rose my own glass, they made a small tingling noise as they clinked together and I sipped slowly.
“Oh, the Brigadier sends his love” Harry began, sipping more of his own wine, “he wants to know if you’ll spend a weekend with him at his lodge”
I smiled fondly at the memory of the Brigadier, it seemed like such a long time since I had seen him “perhaps, after my stay with Lavinia. Speaking of the Brigadier Harry, what is it you do now? Are you still with UNIT?”
“Here and there old girl, very hush hush”
“You don’t trust me?”
“'I say old thing, don't take it like that, official secrets act and all that you know... it's not as though I’m going to get spirited away to Paris or something”
He was right I suppose, but it didn’t stop me wondering what was going on behind closed doors. I imagined now that I was no longer attached to the Doctor that no one would tell me anything; after all I was never officially part of UNIT.
“Excuse’ senor, senorita” a tall young man began as he walked to the side of the table, “may I take your order?” he asked through his thick Spanish accent. I guessed he must have been in his late twenties; he was quite a handsome looking man with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail and olive skin.
“Ah yes, thank you” Harry replied taking another look at the menu, “I’ll have the pennay…penney… alrab…”
“Penne all'arrabbiata?”
“That’s it. And Marinata di Cervello alla Villeroy for Miss Smith please.”
“Si senor” the young man finished and wandered off through the maze of tables.
I was grinning like the Cheshire cat at Harry, I was wrong, his Italian really was as bad as mine but he had had a good go at it.
“Do you have any idea what you just ordered Harry?”
“Not a clue old girl, we’ll find out soon enough.”
Our food arrived a little while later, after another glass of red wine and exchanged stories about what we had both been getting up to in each others absence. I told Harry about a few trips with the Doctor, and he explained to me in far too much detail about how he had been sent to Geneva.
As the waiter placed the two plates down in front of us Harry’s smile dropped and soon turned into a frown. He looked down at his dinner, over at me and then back at the plate while I studied mine, which didn’t look all that bad.
“Excuse me” I said to the waiter before he could walk away, “but what is this, in English?”
“Calf’s brains” he replied, “in a sweet white wine sauce with mushrooms and basil.”
Suddenly it didn’t look all that nice anymore and I glanced over at Harry, who was still studying his plate and digging at it with a fork. “Worms” he announced, “looks like a load of worms in tomato sauce.”
I grinned and sipped my wine, “at least you haven’t got Morbius’ brain staring back at you.”
I picked up the knife and fork and took a big chunk out of the chicken looking meat, after a moment’s hesitation I placed it in my mouth and began to chew. It felt rubbery and tough and finally I swallowed the large lump that refused to break up as much as I gnawed on it. I could see Harry watching me and trying not to laugh; it really did taste as bad as it sounded.
I was feeling a little light headed after my third glass of wine and we had both decided it was probably best to leave what we had left of the meal. Now came the tricky bit, deciding on who was going to pay for the dinner. Harry insisted he would pay since he had invited me out; my argument was that I had come out with him and he should at least let me pay half of the bill.
“Harry, when are you going to learn that you can’t win an argument with me?”
“Come on old girl, wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to allow you to pay now would it?”
“The gentlemanly thing to do would be to hang on my every word”
“You have me there old thing” he topped up my glass then made his excuses to visit the toilet; it showed just how potent the wine was that I fell for it. That sneaky Sullivan went straight to the bar and paid for the meal in crisp £20 notes.
I gathered my things intending to storm out, luckily for me Harry was able to catch me before I stumbled into one of the silly rubber plants. I thumped him with my bag and giggled at the face he pulled in return. "Harry Sullivan... you are a stubborn, old fashioned, lovely big twit!
He wrapped a tender arm around my back, as much to support me as a sign of affection. "I’ll be sure to put that on my resume, citation from award winning journalist Sarah Jane Smith"
“Well I wouldn’t go that far Harry.”
We made it to the door eventually, which he held open for me, of course. There was a thin drizzle in the air and the tang of the fallen rain shocked the thump from my head. With it came the knowledge that I still hadn't eaten and that was probably why the wine had gone straight to my head.
I found Harry’s arm around me again and dropped my head to his chest “we’re going to get wet.”
“Don't worry, Sarah, I have a plan” he steered me around the corner and down a cobbled alleyway; the drizzle was blocked by a maze of gantries and pipes above us that I shouldn't have been watching while tipsy. Head spinning, I let him lead me to an archway under a railway bridge. There was a white awning and set of Formica topped tables at which we sat. There was a glorious smell of bacon and chips and before I knew it I was being handed a wrap of newspaper. "Said I’d take you for a meal old thing" Harry grinned. "I promise to brush up on my Italian for when you get back."
"Oh Harry, I have no idea how long I’ll be away"
"Even if it’s only once a year, I’ll still take you out old girl"
He lifted a chip from the wrapper and popped it in my mouth. I grinned at the taste and kissed his cheek. “That sounds like a date” I smiled at him and watched him blush in reply.
“I’ll take you home” if only I could tell him where home really was.