songofsong | AU } Maybe in another life, we wouldn't be alone tonight

When it seems that's his answer, she looks back to the glass she's still holding before she begins to smile somewhat, a little more sure of herself, able to see a little clearer.

"Actually, I'll have a white wine," she says, looking up at him with a smile. Might as well let him know of her preferences if he's going to make a habit of this.

"White wine it is," he says with an appreciative little smile. He stops only a moment, glancing at her for perhaps longer than he needs to, before he steps aside and heads back over to the bar.

Over there, he orders himself another beer, and a wine for her, a good one, because despite appearances, he actually knows his wines and maybe part of him thinks she might find that a little impressive.

It isn't as though he came here with some pre planned intention. No, not that at all. But if there's anything James has ever been, it's one to take an opportunity when it's put his way. He tries to live without regrets, without a world of what ifs and maybes. Live, because that's what life's for, isn't it?

A few minutes later, he's stepping back towards the table, setting down the large glass of wine in front of her. "It's the New Zealand Sauvignon. You never can get them very good in places like this but it should be alright."

Once he had left the table, Melody glances back to watch him go before she turns back to the wall, raising both eyebrows to herself at this whole evening. She had no idea what she was doing here, but it seemed the best thing to do was just sit back and see what happens. Something that she's not done in a long time, which is what makes her think it's about time she did.

When he returns to the table, she smiles at the sight of the large glass, eyes wandering upward when he speaks. "Oh!" she says, pleasantly surprised and indeed impressed by his knowledge. Too, impressed by his thoughtfulness.

"That's lovely, James. Thank you," she says, going to take hold of the glass to take a needful sip. Definitely needed it for what she was apparently letting herself in for.

"Any time," he says, bringing himself back down into the chair, but this time pulling it around a little, closer towards her. The pub is getting busier of course, louder, so it's no surprise he might need to get closer just to maintain conversation.

Or at least that's one reason.

"You know you shouldn't mix your drinks," he tells her, another gentle tease. "You might have a hell of a headache in the morning." So he's heard, he doesn't tend to get hangovers himself.

Though he'd know all about headaches.

She notices that he chooses to sit himself a little closer, and it does nothing to stop the thought that have started to run through her head. Like, what if he is interested in her? As mad as that sounds, what if he genuinely wants more from her that a casual drink in the pub. What would she do?

She tells herself she's undecided, but there's no denying the tense breath that flows through her as she goes to cross her legs, trying to maintain an image of composure.

"Oh, I'll be alright with just the one," she assures him. She's done the bar scene enough times to know what she can or can't handle.

"Glad to hear it," he agrees, leaning back a little in the chair, lifting one ankle and crossing it over his leg, more like he's sitting at home than in a pub. He looks at her, watches her, his curiosity clear.

"You know I hope you don't mind me saying," he starts, "but you've got some amazing hair there." Even with it damp from the rain, he's almost fascinated by those curls, and even pinned and somewhat restrained as they might be.

"So museum, check. Son down south, check. What else should I know about you, Melody?"

She can't help but smirk slightly when he makes a comment on her hair. She's never been within a man who didn't love those curls. She knows it's one of her more distinguishing features.

"Thank you," she says sincerely to his compliment, looking over to him with a warm smile. Adjusting the position of her wine glass, she fits forward against the table, chuckling when it appears he's running down a checklist.

"I don't know. That depends on what you want to know about me."

The way she smiles, the way she moves, it makes him smile in return. His position almost mirrors hers, and when she leans forward he slips his ankle from his leg and leans forward a little.

"Oh I'd say that depends what you want to tell," he says, almost conspiratorial.

"When was the last time you left your work at work?" he asks. "And I mean really. The last time you said fuck it and just enjoyed yourself?"

Melody purses her lips slightly as she considers before she gives a casual sort of shrug, acting far more relaxed than she normally dared. He was certainly bringing it out of her.

"Hm, I'd say about ten minutes ago," she replies, knowing she's playing his game now. But that's alright. It's ok if she knows he wants that. But any sign of uncertainty from him, and she'd close up again.

If he'd been looking for anything in particular, it seems she's found it, and that answer lights his eyes up a little.

"Ohh I like you," he tells her, smiling, before quickly adding, "good answer."

He takes a long swig from his beer, regarding her before his eyes flick down towards the small pull along suitcase by her feet.

"You know you packed for overnight. It'd be a shame for you to just go back home after you went to all that effort." Teasing, really, because it's hardly effort. Still though, the comment is pointed even if he is playing games.

She laughs when he says he likes her, and she really laughs. Not a flustered sort of chuckle that's trying to hide her insecurities, but full-bodied and warm, the kind of laugh that River used to have, and he used to love.

The mention of her suitcase causes her eyes to dip downward, eyebrows lifting slightly at the implication she was hear in his voice. She doesn't acknowledge it, however, because he has to try a little harder than that.

"Well, I might try and head down tomorrow instead," she replies, a knowing look in her eye, knowing that she's purposely ignored the point to his teasing.

He can tell she's playing with him, and oh he likes that. It's fun when it's a game, a bit of back and forth, giving as good as she got. He knew there was a reason he liked her.

One of his hands lifts, pushes back through his hair, shifting his fringe away from his eyes only for it to fall back again as soon as his hand moves back away. He's silent a moment, watching, waiting until she takes another sip of her drink, and only then does he go on.

"When were you last fucked, Melody?'

It works, because she almost splutters out her mouthful of wine when he asks that question. Both that, and her reaction making a touch of colour come to her cheeks. She covers her mouth to hide any splashes of wine and she gives him a slightly wide-eyed look.

"James!" she scolds as she sets the glass back down, her hand falling away from her lips. She doesn't answer him though - she rather hopes he wasn't expecting an answer - because the truth is a little embarrassing.

The reaction is just what he was hoping for, and he grins a little like a kid at Christmas, laughing audibly as he watches her in her shock.

He watches too the way she blushes. He likes that.

It had been a joke of course, he's only teasing her. But beneath so many a joke lies a truth, and his laughter falls away a little, his eyes almost darker.

"Would you like to be? By me, I mean."

This evening was certainly progressing far quicker than she had expected - not that she'd expected anything at all. But now here she was, being propositioned by a man who had to be twenty years younger than her.

Her cheeks darken a little more and her confidence quickly seems to disappear in light of his question. Flustered, she moves the glass around on the table in front of her.

"James, I thought you wanted to have a drink with me," she begins with an uncertain laugh, like she can't quite see how they've got this far. It wasn't that she was naive to the possibility of him being attracted to her, as surprising as that is, but she had hardly anticipated anything more.

"Hey, relax," he says, his voice gentle, hand lifting to touch to her arm. He's calm about all this, casual even, as if he's offering her one of his crisps not an evening's entertainment guest starring his genitals.

"Just an offer," he says with an almost shrug. "There's no obligation," he laughs a little, a touch of a smile on his lips again.

"And I did want to have a drink with you. I do want to have a drink with you. But when you've finished it I'd also quite like to take you to bed."

She stills at the touch of his hand on her arm, it seeming to ground her nerves and give her enough strength to look at him again, properly look at him. Because when he touches her, she feels more than just the warmth of his skin through her sleeve, but she feels something else too, something she can't quite explain. Whatever it is, it makes his suggestion all the more appealing and she finds herself wanting that touch all over, in places he can't yet see.

She soon appalled by her own thoughts and she blinks slightly, trying to force them away. All that from a simple touch? It really has been a while. But then that's the problem, isn't it? She can barely remember the last time she was with a man, with somebody who cared about her and wanted to make her feel special.

Picking up her wine glass, she takes a needed drink of the contents as she tries to clear her head, even when all she's aware of right now is what he's offering and how much she wants it. No, how much she needs it.

She swallows down the sizeable mouthful, returning the glass to the table and looking at it for a long moment.

"It was a long time ago," she then mutters, raising her eyebrows self depreciatingly to herself, while she keeps her eyes fixed on her wine glass. "Too long ago."

James' eyes barely move from her. His gaze doesn't drop away, nor his touch for a long moment or more. He's not quite sure what it is about her that he finds so enthralling, but he's certain she is. Maybe it's because she's older, a little wiser, a little more experienced, perhaps. He's not really been with an older woman, and it would be a lie to pretend he's not intrigued.

Maybe it's her job, because that's exciting too, isn't it? Someone who does all she does, as important as she is. To think of being somehow commanding over that power. It's a strange thought, an exciting thought.

But there's more than that too, much more that he can't even begin to pin down. Things he has no idea are so close.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" he says softly, a touch of a smile returning again.

Her head slowly turns aside at his soft words, watching as he smiles at her. She hesitates, uncertain, but then she too begins to smile. She's still not entirely sure what she's letting herself in for here, but if he's offering something, perhaps she should take it. And not just because it's been a while, but, well, look at him.

As attractive as she's been told she is, that still usually limits her to men in her age category. A man like him, as young as him, should be a missed opportunity from decades ago, from before Toby was even born. But he isn't. He's right here, right now, and maybe things are all happening in the wrong order, but somehow, she's okay with that.

She decides there and then that if she turns this down, she's an idiot. And every woman on the planet over the age of 40 have the right to smack her upside the head.

"You're not having me on, are you? Because if you are ... " she asks then, squinting somewhat. Because she has to be sure, she doesn't want to be foolish and misread all this. She finds it all so difficult to believe, that someone like him could be interested in someone like her.

"Definitely not having you on," he confirms.

It isn't the first time he's propositioned someone, of course. Okay probably the first time he's propositioned someone more than 20 years older than him, but that's hardly the point.

Still, with Melody just as anyone, he wants her to realise it isn't simply about a notch on a bedpost. He's not ticking off his 'older woman' from some bucket list. It's about her, and she's special. He's never met anybody who isn't.

"You're a stunning woman, Melody," he tells her, before again teasing a little, "And I'd really like to make up for you missing that train."

That makes her laugh, if a little breathlessly, because she's starting to realise what happening here, or rather, what might be happening in the next few minutes.

"Ok," she then murmurs. "Ok," she repeats again, going to pick up her wine glass and down the remainder of the contents in a series of gulps. Just needs to take the edge of those nerves. Not that she should have any nerves, but there's something about this whole situation that's a little bit mad and a little bit exciting.

"Woah blimey slow down," James laughs, can't help it seeing her bolster herself like that. His smile is wide, and it's heartwarming to see how she reacts. He knows she's nervous, but that's okay. He doesn't need her to tell him this isn't really the sort of thing she ever does.

But there's a first time for everything, right?

"Okay, I need to pop to the gents," he tells her. After all this is rather an impromptu occasion, and he didn't come up on the train this morning with a wallet full of condoms.

"But I'll be right back." His hand touches gently to her arm once more as he stands, a small squeeze of reassurance before he heads off to find the gents and retrieve exactly what he needs to, as quick as he can before he's heading back out to find her once more.

The touch to her arm does exactly what it did the first time, and when he walks away, her gaze is drawn after him, watching him as he retreats. That, and the thoughts that have since been stirring in her head are doing nothing for her state right now. It's like her body's suddenly remembered how long it's been, and it wants everything, it wants him.

She waits for him to return, giving him a smile when she spots him. Now she's started to come to terms with all this, she's feeling a little braver about it. After all, there's nothing wrong with what they're doing, they're two consenting adults, even if one is older than the other. Though certainly old enough to know her own mind.

"Ready?" she asks him, but she's already getting to her feet. She blames the urgency on her nerves, rather than her needs. Though in truth it's a little bit of both.

Part of him had worried that she might have disappeared while he'd gone to fiddle with the machine in the toilets, but when he steps out and finds her still there, there's a warm smile on his face. His new purchase is now tucked away in his pocket. All five of them. Well, never hurt to be overprepared. The machine ate about five quid more than it was supposed to, but he really can't bring himself to care, not when he's watching her get to her feet and thinking that before long he might have her with her ankles around his shoulders.

The thought is more than a little thrilling.

"Ready," he smiles, stepping back out and moving with her back the way they came, the short walk next door to the tired looking travelodge he booked into earlier.

His head turns towards her, as if checking on her, making sure she's okay, and he pauses just a moment. "Did you want me to get us a bottle of wine or something to take up?" he asks, wondering if he might be able to go run back to the pub to get one.

“Wine? Oh, yes, wine would be good,” she says, seeming to hear that sole word and latch onto it. “Tell you what, you go and get us a bottle, I’ll head up, shall I?” She looks down to his hand, reaching forward to hopefully take the keycard from his fingers.

There may be an ulterior motive to this suggestion - namely so she could spend a few minutes preparing herself, both physically and mentally. That, and she just needs a moment to come to terms with what’s happening here.

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