Work Text:
There was a slight chill in the air as Sam laid out the blanket at the base of the mountain.
The cold was relative, and besides, they all had warm jackets and there were two steaming thermos - one with coffee and one with hot tea - in the basket they'd packed the rest of their lunch in. It had been James' idea to go out for lunch - somewhere they didn't normally go.
He shouldn't have let her choose the location though.
"Couldn't have picked a worse day," he grumbled, settling the picnic basket on one corner of the blanket, and laying his sword down next to it. It was commonplace and she haphazardly laid her own out beside it.
Adjusting her woolen scarf, she sat down gracefully, legs folded. "It could be raining," she pointed out. She'd packed umbrellas in case of that.
"This is the last time I'm letting you choose our lunch destinations."
"You're all talk, Norrington," she retorted with a smirk. "Think of it as an adventure."
He rolled his eyes.
It was an improvement. For nearly a century she'd struggled to get her former student to crack a smile, let alone roll his eyes.
"Every thing's an adventure to you," he reminded her and she nodded her head once, not denying the fact.
She wouldn't, even if she could.
Instead, she sprawled out across the blanket, rummaging through the basket, pulling out container after container filled with food. For the first time in nearly half a century she wasn't working full-time. The feeling wasn't settling quite so well on her shoulders just yet, and to compensate she'd been keeping herself occupied with little things - the latest of which had been picnic food. But she didn't see James complaining.
He watched her with vague amusement, her somewhat careless behaviour a change from her more serious work personality. "Are you quite alright there? Do you need a hand?"
She popped open one of the lids on the plastic containers. "'m fine," she muttered.
He frowned.
Without warning she threw a grape at him, hitting him squarely on the cheek.
James scowled at the offending object. "I'm beginning to think I should ship you back off to the hospital," he told her dryly. "I think they've switched out the real Samantha Morgan for someone who only looks like her."
"You can be such a spoil sport," she pouted. It lasted all of half a second before she started pulling more grapes out. This time, at least, she didn't attempt a food fight.
He shrugged, slowly spreading out on the blanket beside her, avoiding the containers she'd strewn about. "That might be so, but you knew what you were getting into."
Sam sighed theatrically. "Unfortunately, yes."
She rolled over on her side, brushing her lips against his. "Lucky for me, I like you that way," she told him.