Summary: Harry and Sarah have dinner
Note: For the sarahjane_fic valentines day drabbleathon
"Do you know what date it is today?" Sarah finished her glass of wine and looked over at Harry.
He glanced at his watch before answering. "The fourteenth."
"Hmm." She watched him pour a glass of water and twirled her wine glass round by the stem, trying to decide whether or not to refill it.
He frowned. "Is it important?"
Sighing, she said, "It's the 14th of February. Valentine's Day?"
She could see it dawning on his face. "Oh! That explains why it's so busy in here tonight."
Sarah hid her smile behind her hand. Only Harry could forget something like that.
"Sorry, old girl. There wasn't somewhere else you wanted to be, was there?" He did not ask if she wanted to be with someone else, she noticed.
She shook her head. "No."
The waiter arrived with the bill, which she intercepted as he tried to give it to Harry. "And just for that, I'm paying."
"But Valentine's Day means I should pay." He took it out of her hand before she had even looked at it, and kept it on his side of the table. Her shorter arms meant that she could not reach it without getting up, and then she would probably have to rugby tackle him to get at it. Also, Harry already had his wallet out, so she really had no choice but to surrender.
"The only thing I had on tonight," she continued, "was the office single women trip to the pub, which I won't really miss. I certainly don't need a man, no more so on this day." She smiled at him. "Besides, I would have said no if I already had a date."
Harry had already stood up and reached for the coat from the back of her chair. "I'll walk you home."
She stood and let him help her on with her coat. Tonight, she decided, she would let him be the gentleman. He was probably feeling guilty about suggesting dinner on was what supposedly a romantic day. As they walked, she could not help wondering about that, though, and whether he was a better actor than she knew. He had suggested her favourite restaurant for dinner, after all.
She stopped outside her door and turned to him. "Harry, did you really forget the date?"
He smiled. "No." Reaching inside his jacket he pulled out a single red rose and held it out to her.
She took it carefully but discovered it was fake. Which explained how it still looked so good after spending the evening in his pocket.
"Plastic ones last longer," he said, at her look.
She could not help but smile, and considered whether he had set the evening up because he knew she had no-one to be with this year, or whether he had really wanted to spend Valentine's Day with her.
As she thought, and said nothing, she noticed he was fidgeting and looking nervous, as if hoping she had the right reaction. So she told her brain to shut up, and kissed him.
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