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

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

Saturdays were always big days, but today, well, it was even bigger.

The World Museum was open to the trawls of parents and children that flooded in every weekend, a spell of bad weather driving in an even bigger amount than normal. What also helped, was the fact that a new space exhibition had arrived on the science level, one that Melody Pond had been angling for some time, and today was the big opening.

It had taken a lot of hard work and a lot of money, but it was finally here, and Melody was practically bursting with excitement as she zoomed around the museum, making sure everything was going smoothly. She'd heard there might be some special guests making a visit later, the kind of special guest that could possibly see her head hunted. Therefore, everything had to be running perfectly.

Passing one of her colleagues, Melody stopped him with a hand on the arm, requesting in hopefully pleading voice that usually got her her own way.

"Malcolm, would you mind standing by for the 3D showing? Just make sure everything goes to plan? Thank you, sweetie."

He was all too happy to oblige, which was why Melody had asked him in particular, and she watched him go with knowing look, unable to feel much happier than she did in this moment. With her hands by her sides, she did a little spin on the spot before she bounced off to continue with her duties, nothing able to wipe the smile from her face.

Everything was going to plan.

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"Does it matter if they do?" he asks, looking at her with an honest curiosity. "Do your friends care? Wouldn't they just be happy that you're happy? Because you are happy, right, Mel?"

He hopes she is.

"Because if you're not then what's the point, right?"

"Yes, I am happy," she says, trying her best to assure him. "Honestly. But when it comes to work, sometimes people don't care if you're happy or not. It's whether they're happy." She hopes he can see her point, see the position she's in and the responsibility she has. She can't risk that, not so flippantly, not yet.

He looks at her, and while he does understand what her mean, really, he does, it doesn't mean the way she acted doesn't hurt. He can't forget how dismissive she was. She didn't want him there, and that sticks.

"Okay," he says quietly.

"So. Do I get that kiss now?"

Her shoulders slump gently and she breathes a small sigh when he relents. She smiles at his words, and nods her head in complete agreement, wasting no time in leaning over and giving him the kiss he should've had hours ago. Her hand comes up to rest against his cheek, putting a little extra something into it, to make up for everything.

James doesn't want it to be a kiss of passion, not the sort of kiss that's a prelude to removing clothes and heated moans. But rather the kiss you give to your boyfriend to say hello. As it stands, it's somewhere in between.

"That's more like it," he says with a soft smile, looking back at her.

"So."

"So," she echoes softly as she pulls back, giving him a smile. "I know you said you wanted to get something to eat, but I think I just fancy a night in tonight. I can cook for us, if you like?" It's also her way of trying to invite him a little further into her life, into her home.

"Oh I get my own personal chef, do I?" he asks, a twinge of a smile returning to his face. "Sounds good." He leans in to give her one more kiss, as if to just let her know that everything is fine.

"Back to yours then?"

The kiss makes her smile, and it's another small reassurance that hopefully puts today behind them. She nods at his words, sitting back in her seat and starting up the engine once more with a powerful sound. Not too long after that, they're off, heading towards her house. It becomes clear on the drive, if it hasn't already, that they're venturing into a more respectful neighbourhood. The houses become bigger, and further set back from the road, with some so far back, all one can see is a gate.

It's here that Melody pulls into her house, turning up a driveway, bringing the car round to the front of her house with a crunch of gravel. It's big, easily big enough for two, and too big for one, but there's still a sense of homeliness about it, and with the pristine gardens and clean windows, it's clear Melody runs a tight ship.

"Well, here we are!" she says cheerfully, climbing out of the passenger seat.

James sits, glancing out the window as the trees pass them by, as everything gets a little more lavish and expensive. He watches as she pulls up the drive, waits as she parks outside.

"This is your house?" he asks, incredulous as he looks back at her. "I mean, you actually live here?"

She looks back at his questions, giving a small laugh as though he was being intentionally funny. "Of course I do!" she says, shaking her head at him for asking such a strange question, before she locks up the Jag and heads towards the house. She rattles in her bag for the door keys, soon letting them into the house, with a hallway that's probably bigger than his kitchen.

She sighs in content as she slips off her heels, leaving them somewhat haphazardly by the door. It's clear she feels right at home here, and why wouldn't she?

"Coatstand's over there," she says, waving her hand at a corner, bustling into the house and setting her handbag on the console table. "Make yourself at home," she offers, pointing at a door just off to the side. "Living room's just through there. Can I get you a drink?"

James follows her in and looks around in silence. His mouth is almost agape, stood there in shock but trying not to appear that way. The house is like something out of Grand Designs, he thinks. He half expects Kevin McCloud to pop out and start monologuing. Everything looks pristine and in its place; stark in comparison to his flat, the whole thing probably no bigger than her living room.

He looks back to the coatstand as she mentions it. He had one like that, he thinks. But no, that's weird, he's never had a coatstand, has he? In fact his flat is more wherever things fall. Still, he shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it up on a spare hook. He turns, ready to walk into a room to look, but stops himself as he sees the carpet, glancing down.

"Oh yeah, yeah that'd be great. Anything you've got. Hey do you want me to take my shoes off?"

Melody glances back when he speaks, then down at the shoes on his feet, that are inches away from a carpet that's probably worth more than his entire month's rent.

"Yes, please," she says, giving him an apologetic smile. She'd only had the carpet fitted a couple of months ago, and it's still in the barely walked on phase. With that, she heads on into the kitchen, deciding to put the kettle on. She feels like a cup of tea is just what they need right now.

One by one, James toes off his boots, reaching down to grab them and go and put them in the corner by the door. On that, he follows her into the kitchen, thinking it's probably far enough a walk to constitute a bus journey.

"This is some place you've got here," he says, stepping up and leaning his elbows against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh, thank you," she says, looking back and realising he's followed her in. "Been here quite a few years now. Good neighbourhood. Wish I'd lived here when Toby was growing up." They hadn't quite started out the way they are now, for life had thrown a number of challenge at them before they were finally paid their dues.

"Sugar?" she asks, as she goes to pour the kettle.

"No," he says, but he seems distracted, as he glances around. Even her fridge is huge. It's more than a little overwhelming, more than a little unnerving.

The mention of her son has him glancing back again. They don't speak a huge deal about him, but it seems like she does so easier here. Well, that's hardly surprising.

Carefully, he pushes himself from the counter and starts to pad around the room, heading through to the vast lounge. Jesus Christ it's huge. He stops at a mantle, and picks up a photograph, a young man, pretty handsome, smiling back at the camera as he wears a cap and gown, a graduation maybe.

"Is this him?" he calls back, stepping back towards the doorway, frame in hand. "This Toby?"

Two mugs of tea poured, Melody turns back to see him holding a framed picture of Toby. "Yes," she says, her smile brightening at the sight of it. Such a fond memory.

"I do love that photo," she says happily, which is clearly why it has pride of place on her mantlepiece. "It was the day he graduated from medical school. He got First Class Honours, you know?"

It's strange to look at the picture. In ways it's almost like looking into a mirror. He can't help but remember that this guy is older than him. Older and a hundred times more accomplished. Still though, he finds an odd sense of something that almost feels like pride to hear that.

There's a question though. One he could hold back, could pretend doesn't make him curious. But it does. It really does.

"What happened to his dad?'

She's carrying his mug over to him when he asks that question, and it catches her by such surprise, she stops, the tea sloshing over her hand. She makes a confused yelp of sound, caught between pain and shock before she hurriedly goes to put the mug down on the island, grabbing a tea towel to mop the scalding liquid off her hand.

"Oh, damn it!"

James' head snaps back up when he hears her noise, and he heads over quickly, a little concerned. "You okay, Mel?"

"Yes, yes," she insists quickly, shaking her head at herself as she wipes up the spilt tea. It had caught her off guard, so much more than it should've done. It was like for one moment, everything had stopped.

The questions still resonates with her though, and as she stands there, she's still not sure how to answer. She's really not sure. She almost has to think for a moment, work it out. What did happen to him?

But she just as quickly remembers, and shakes off the moment. She often has to do that.

"He, er.. he died some time ago," she eventually says quietly, looking down at her hand and checking for burns.

He's touched a nerve, he thinks, well before she explains. It's hardly surprising though that it might be a difficult topic, and he already regrets asking. It's when she confirms the reason though that he falls a little solemn.

"I'm sorry," he says with a slight frown. Losing people, having them die, it's a pain he doesn't want to imagine. But then James has never lost anybody, has he?

"Were you... were you married?" he asks, not sure if he should be pushing further, but almost finding the need to know.

"Well, of course we are!" she reacts, turning to look at him with a laughable insistence she can't quite find a reason for. She just as suddenly stops, watching him for a moment, her eyebrows raising in some pained confusion before she looks down at her hand again, flexing the sore skin.

"Of course we were," she tries again, amending her mistake. She keeps her eyes upon her hand for a moment, wondering why she isn't wearing a wedding ring. Why did she never have a wedding ring? Why has that never crossed her mind before?

It's all a bit strange. He can't quite pin down why or exactly what. But it's strange. He looks at her, watches her. It's almost like she was talking to him then.

But she looks oddly vacant, empty, shaken. He doesn't know what's done it, but he wishes he could stop it.

"Hey," he says, stepping up and setting the frame down to the side before going to her, a hand to her cheek. "It's okay Mel, I'm here. I'm right here. You okay?"

There's something more soothing in those words than he realises, and she nods to show she's heard him, taking a great comfort from the touch of his hand to her cheek. It's powerful, the way he seems to calm her, and everything settles once again.

He's right there.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," she assures him gently, swallowing down her emotions. "I'm so glad you're here," she then adds before she can help herself, exhaling a soft breath.

"I'm always here," he tells her, sure and true and with more conviction than he's ever said anything. "I'm always here, okay? I've got you now, and you've got me." It's almost too serious, and really would be if he stopped to have a think about it. But he doesn't, simply speaks what feels more natural than anything.

"We'll look after each other, won't we?"

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