Sarah Jane sat at the edge of the alien cliff, looking out at an alien sea. If she removed her feet from their curled position under her, she could have swung them over the ledge and felt the spray of the crashing waves paint her toes. This was in fact what the Doctor was doing, his long scarf whipping out behind him to sometimes pass over Sarah's face.
She was not quite as trusting as he of the cliff, but when he look over his shoulder to grin at her, face more bright even than its usual ecstatic, she beamed back. There was something intoxicating about their resting place, as though they were on top of this world.
She reached a hand out, grasping onto his arm. There were times when she had to reassure herself that this was all real, that he was real. And also that she was real, and not just some imagined person on grand but fictional adventures.
He in turn placed that same arm around her, pulling her close. She leaned into him, resting her face on his scratchy wool coat and breathing in its scent and the scent of the sea air.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Doctor," she murmured, cuddling a little closer.
"Is it really that holiday?" he questioned, faking innocence. She gave his leg a light swat in response.
So he turned his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the part in her hair, and tried again. "And a Happy Valentine's day to you, my Sarah Jane."