Current mood:	accomplished
Entry tags:	fic, gen, genficathon

A ficathon delivery for Sakuracorr!!!!!
Title: Saturday, with Toast
Author: renn (Jennifer Adams Kelley)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1350
Summary: for sakuracorr for the Sarah ficathon, in response to prompt #2: "Sarah and K9, post "Hand of Fear", trying to have a normal day, except for an unexpected visitor and a mishap with an odd alien species. Bonus points for solving problems with toasters."
Notes: Minor references to "School Reunion." Thanks to blessedcolleen for the beta!


The bread lifter knob flew off as the slightly-burnt toast sprung out of the toaster, hitting Sarah Jane Smith in the back of the head as she wrestled with the milk jug. Startled, she spun around, knocking the glass jug to the floor in the process. "Bloody hell!" she exclaimed, exasperated.

"Danger, Mistress, danger! Glass splinters less than a decimeter from your bare foot!" K9 rolled into the kitchen, ears twitching and tail wagging.

"Yes, K9, I know."

"Suggest you facilitate clean-up."

"And how am I to do that, with all this glass between me and the pantry?" For a moment, she almost regretted that the Doctor had supplied her with a new and improved tin dog. Things had been so much more peaceful without a K9 to point out the obvious….

"I will fetch, Mistress."

"Oh, really?" She folded her arms across her chest. "This I have to see."

"Affirmative." K9 trundled off into the adjoining pantry. Sarah winced upon hearing a great metallic clatter, but nevertheless broke into a smile upon seeing K9 re-emerge, pushing the broom and dustpan ahead of himself. "Mistress!" he announced triumphantly, tail wagging.

"Good boy, K9!" She quickly swept up the glass, then (after K9 needlessly confirmed it was safe) dumped the dustpan contents into the garbage. She grabbed a roll of paper towels and got on her knees to mop up the spilt milk. "At least I'm not crying over it, eh, K9?"

"Mistress?"

"Oh, never mind, you were never any good at colloquialisms." As she finished with the milk, she spotted a white plastic knob underneath the cabinet. She pulled it out, adjusting it so that she could see it clearer without having to resort to her reading glasses. "What in the world…?"

"It's from the toaster, Mistress."

"Sorry?"

"The toaster."

Sarah looked at the offending white plastic-and-metal appliance, noting the burnt toast almost simultaneously with noting the missing bread lifter knob. Sighing, she sat on the kitchen floor, resting her chin in a hand. "So much for my leisurely Saturday breakfast."

K9 bowed his head in sympathy.

"Still… the toaster can be fixed, can't it?"

"Will check for schematics, Mistress."

"Great, K9." She watched his ears waggle back and forth as he processed the query. Finally, a strip of paper spewed forth from what passed as his mouth.

Sarah tore off the printout, squinting to read the small characters. "What do you mean the model's obsolete? I only purchased it, erm, 6 months ago."

"Correction, Mistress-- 17 months, 3 days, 13 hours."

"Still…. Surely there's something on the manufacturer website on repair."

"Negative, Mistress. Site states model obsolete and no further information available."

She sighed again. "That's what I get for buying something at Tesco." She stood, grabbed the burnt toast out of the offending appliance, and tossed it out. After unplugging the toaster, she compared the bread lifter knob to the slot from which it flung itself out. "Surely it's just a matter of figuring out where it hooks into…?" she wondered aloud. "I'll just get my glasses, and--"

The doorbell rang, distracting her from her repair fantasies.

"Friend, Mistress," K9 announced.

"Ought to be, considering how I'm dressed." She smoothed a wrinkle out of her yoga pants and fleece top, then ran a hand through her dark hair. She then padded through the drawing room and up to the front door. Since K9 had pre-approved the visitor, she had no qualms about flinging open the door. She took in the dapper, graying figure on her stoop and nearly squealed in delight. "Harry!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. "Am I glad to see you!"

"And I, you, old thing."

Sarah rolled her eyes at the ancient nickname, but nevertheless took Harry Sullivan's overcoat and tossed it on a chair. She brought him into the kitchen. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Yes, please. Just got back from New York, you see, and I'm not quite functioning on all--" He interrupted himself upon noticing K9 looking at him expectantly. "Oh, hallo, what's this? You've fixed him at last!" He bent over and patted K9's head. "Good boy!"

"Affirmative."

Sarah pulled down another mug from the shelf. "I didn't fix him."

"Then how--"

"The Doctor did."

Harry looked up at her. "But how--? Oh, I say, that's what that cryptic email was all about."

"It wasn't that cryptic, was it?"

"Well, I suppose not, but once I sussed out the meaning of it, it sounded so fantastic that I felt I must have misinterpreted it." Harry smiled. "So he's still around, eh? Tell me all about it!"

And so Sarah did, sitting across her tiny kitchen table from her long-time friend, the two of them sharing a pot of Irish Breakfast and the freedom of being able to talk candidly about something they couldn't share with nearly anyone else. As she came to the end of her tale, she sighed. "Closure at last, Harry," she summarized. "Almost anti-climatic, in a way."

Harry nodded sympathetically. "So… what's he like, these days?"

"Young. Old. Manic. Oh so serious."

"Not much change, then."

"Not really. Although… he's much more conventionally sexy these days. And Rose… so in love. So likely to get hurt badly-- and soon, too, judging by how he treats her. Still, he's someone else's problem now. I've more important things to worry about."

"Like?"

"Erm…." She chewed on her lower lip a moment, wondering how best to answer. Choosing to lighten the mood, she pointed at the broken toaster. "Like what to do about that naughty appliance."

"I thought I smelled burnt toast when I came in here…." Harry stood. "I'll have a look at it, if you like, old thing."

"Negative! Negative!" K9 warned, rolling into a position between Harry and the counter with the toaster. "Danger! Suggest rapid retreat!" He extended his nose blaster to further emphasize his point.

Harry groaned. "I see his opinion of me hasn't improved any."

"K9," Sarah admonished. "It's all right. Harry's just going to take a look. He's not going to do anything stupid… I think."

"Thanks for that vote of confidence, Sarah!"

"Not concerned about Harry-master. Concerned about the Mastofusians inside the bread unit."

"Masto-what?" Harry wondered.

"Mastofusians. Sometimes referred to as sprites, house elves, pixies, brownies, gno--"

"Yes, yes, spare us the thesaurus, K9, just tell us what they're doing in my toaster!"

"Waiting for you to dispose of it, Mistress."

Sarah and Harry exchanged confused glances. "What's that supposed to mean, then?" asked Harry.

"They need new bread unit for their dwelling. They facilitated bread lifter knob separation from main unit in order to ease transfer of ownership."

Sarah frowned. "But why my toaster?"

K9 hesitated, his head cocking slightly and ears waggling as if listening to something the Humans couldn't hear. "Because you would not mind buying a new one," he reported finally.

"Oh, charming, that."

"So much for the other-worldly leaving your life with the TARDIS dematerializing, eh, old thing?"

Sarah glared at him. "For that remark, you'll have to take me to brunch."

"My pleasure."

She smiled ruefully. "I didn't mean to bully you into it."

"I know. I was going to ask you, anyway."

"Oh. Well. Right. Just let me put on something more suitable--"

"I think you're quite suitable as you are."

"Really?"

"Really." He gave her a sincere grin and offered her his arm.

"All right, then. I'll just get my shoes."

"Probably a good idea, yes."

She placed her hand on his arm; the two of them started out of the room.

"Mistress!" K9 called.

Sarah turned back. "What is it now, K9?" she said exasperatedly.

"Suggest I accompany you."

"We don't need protection, K9, really!"

"Besides," Harry added, "they don't allow dogs where we're going."

"Will wait in car!"

K9's insistence worried her. "But… why?"

"Do not wish to be next on Mastofusian shopping list, Mistress!"

Harry chuckled; Sarah took pity on her dog. "Oh, all right, K9, I suppose you can ride in the boot. Come on."

K9 followed them out of the room, tail wagging.