December (part 1)

The temperature outside fell by an impressive eleven degrees in the space of three days, and by the second of December, it was time to bring out the big guns in terms of winter clothing. Melinda stood in the staff room as she struggled into her warmest coat. It was no mean feat when she was also wearing a long sleeved top, zip-up jacket, and a hoodie underneath it, and Maria watched her out of the corner of her eye, desperately battling the desire to laugh.

"Get that look off your face" Melinda growled, when she saw her friend's expression. Cold weather didn't exactly fill her with joy – she much preferred when she could go out in just a jacket and jeans – and her friend's constant need to cheer her up or poke fun at that fact didn't exactly help.

"Oh come on Mel, you're so bundled up you look like a freaking snowman."

Melinda shot her a look, and she held her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, fine, but you were not this grumpy at the weekend."

Melinda could have sworn there was a second half to that sentence muttered under her breath, but she couldn't quite catch it as Maria wrapped a woollen blue scarf around her neck.

"Speaking of," Maria continued, as the two headed out of the room and towards the main exit. "Everyone has to return for a second fitting in a few months' time."

"Great, I'll look forward to it."

Maria threw a second glare at her for the sarcastic tone, but didn't say anything else. She knew full well Melinda had enjoyed Saturday, and Melinda couldn't deny that herself.

The afternoon sipping champagne in an upmarket dress store, whilst she and the other bridesmaids all worked their way through the selection of gowns Maria had picked out for them, had definitely not been something she ever would have considered to be fun, but surprisingly, Melinda had really enjoyed herself.

In the end, after several hours of changing and twirling and pinning, Maria, and her maid of honour, Pepper, had decided on which dress suited all of them the best – it was admittedly, completely gorgeous, a deep pink silk that hugged their bodies and flowed down to the ground. It had a deep sweetheart neckline, with straps over each shoulder, and Maria had plans for all three bridesmaids to wear their hair down, most likely curled, so as to complete the look.

Melinda had stood in front of the mirror in hers, and for a few moments she was filled with memories from her childhood, feeling as though she were dressing up in something that a young Melinda would have ogled from afar. Once, as a small child, she had returned from school in tears after another girl refused to let her play "kings and queens" with them, because she didn't want to wear a dress. Her father had sat her on his lap and wiped away her tears, promising her that she would always be his princess, whether she wanted to wear a floaty dress or not. It was one of the only memories she had of him.

"Earth to Melinda!"

She realised she had stopped listening to whatever Maria was saying when her friend stopped on the path outside and stared at her.

"Sorry, what?"

"You were miles away then."

"Yeah, sorry, what did you say?

"I said," Maria continued, rolling her eyes in her friend's direction as they continued walking again. "Did you wanna tell me about how you're going out with my brother on Friday night?"

It was Melinda's turn to stop walking, and she glanced over to gauge what her friend's reaction was going to be. "You know?" It had never meant to be a secret, but she also hadn't exactly told her, worried what she'd say when she found out.

"Yeah," she rolled her eyes. "He actually phoned me to check if I was okay with it, before he asked you out."

Melinda looked over at her with a small smile. "That's really sweet."

"He's an idiot."

"So… you don't mind?"

"No, I mean," she dragged a hand through her hair. "It's a bit weird to think about in honesty, because it's Phil, and it's you, but no, I don't mind."

Melinda had always been good at reading people, able to tell when somebody was lying or was keeping something from her. It probably came from being able to hide her own emotions so well; she'd learnt the tell-tale signs that she knew to hide herself. And right now, she knew Maria wasn't telling her the truth.

"You're holding something back."

"Okay, oh God, I literally cannot believe I'm about to say this" Maria muttered quietly; Melinda could tell she was purposely forcing herself to look into the distance and avoid making eye-contact. "But, can you please not… build his hopes up if you aren't serious about this?"

"What?"

"Well, I know you, and I know you don't tend to do relationships, which is fine" she added quickly when she saw the look on Melinda's face. "I love how free and comfortable you are with your love life. But Phil? He likes commitment, and I just –"

"Maria," Melinda said, grabbing her friends arm and making her stop walking. "I know I don't have the best track record when it comes to dating, but just because I prefer to keep things casual sometimes, doesn't mean I always want to."

Maria glanced over at her. "And Phil –"

"I like him, okay?"

"Okay."

"Besides," she added with a slightly evil grin as they continued walking. "If I just wanted a casual fling with him, we would've been fucking weeks ago."

Maria looked like she was going to throw up.

"I did not want that image in my head."

Phil downed the last of his drink, and sighed; the intensive four days of conferences and training he'd been through were beginning to take their toll. The beer in the bottle he'd just finished had been almost sweet, a brand he hadn't tried before, and somehow, it made him think of summer, of relaxing on a beach somewhere without a care in the world.

The reality, however, was very different, as he was currently sheltering from the icy cold outside in a hotel bar, the sound of music humming quietly in the background, and a group of travellers on the next table playing a very loud game of what appeared to be poker.

Sitting next to him however, also finishing up his bottle of beer, was his long-time friend and fellow teacher, Clint Barton. Clint taught PE at the same school as Phil, and he would be forever grateful to the guy for throwing in the recommendation for him that helped secure his teaching position there, only a few days after he and Lola had moved to the area. The two went way back, having shared a dorm room during college, but in recent years had been in contact a lot less. The move therefore would hopefully allow the friendship to recover.

There were a couple of other teaching staff from various other schools and colleges dotted around the area as well, but the table they sat at, was just them two.

"It's just…" Phil sighed, running his right hand through his hair and looking down at the now empty bottle in front of him. "She's one of Maria's best friends you know? So if I mess this up…"

"What makes you think you'll mess it up?"

Clint had a great, if sometimes slightly irritating, habit of always looking on the bright side of things. He was able to find a positive in most situations, and could see the good in people when others could not. He was probably the best and worst person that Phil had decided to confide in regarding the worries he had for his date with Melinda the following evening.

"I haven't exactly had a lot of practice in terms of dating recently."

"Look Coulson, do you have any specific reason to think it won't go well?" Clint was watching him like a hawk, and Phil knew there was no way out of this conversation now.

"Well –"

"- I mean it's not like you've never met her before, you said you'd been out for coffee a few times?"

"Yeah we have."

"And she still agreed to this date?"

Phil nodded, still slightly surprised that Melinda had agreed to go out with him again, especially considering the last time they'd met he'd proceeded to give her what felt like his entire life-story. He'd gotten into the car after picking Lola up from her aqua class and proceeded to drop his head into his hands, convinced he'd just screwed everything up. That had been exactly one week ago.

"Then I'd say you're doing alright."

"You think?"

"Look I'm no expert on women, but if you go out with her more than once and she still says yes to another date, then she probably likes you."

Phil glanced over at him, his mind spinning with all the possibilities of what could still go wrong on Friday night. He could be late. She might not like the restaurant. He could be really boring.

He could spill another drink over her…

Phil's facial expression must have given away his inner turmoil however, as Barton just shook his head with a small grin, and ordered them in another round.

"It'll be great Coulson, stop worrying."

He really hoped Clint was right.

"You be good for grandma, okay?"

Lola was practically dancing across the room with excitement, her hair flying wildly around her face as Phil tried to say goodbye to her. He had a strong feeling his daughter would not be in bed for her usual 7pm routine tonight, despite his mother's best intentions to have her do so.

"I will!"

She jumped up into his arms as he hugged her goodnight, wrapping her little arms around him and clinging on like a monkey. Phil kissed her on the cheek, before popping her back down onto the floor, her bare feet scrunching into the fluffy carpet that had been fitted only a week before. They were getting there, gradually, and the house was almost complete. The only rooms that needed re-doing now were what would one day hopefully be an office area, and the spare room round the back of the house, but he knew they were not as important as the rest.

He turned to face his mother, who was watching her son fondly as he proceeded to try and straighten out his collar.

"You didn't have to come down you know, I would have dropped her off at yours?"

"Well, I wanted to see your house now it's almost done."

He had a feeling his mother had opted to look after Lola at his place instead of taking her to her own, more for the reason of wanting to interrogate him about his night out when he returned than for seeing how he'd decorated. He knew it was only because she cared; she'd been so happy when he'd mentioned he had a date, insisting that it was about time he found some new happiness, and she'd been even more so when she'd heard it was with one of Maria's friends that she already knew.

"You think I need the tie?" he asked instead, checking his reflection in the hallway mirror and fiddling with the knot.

"It looks very smart" she replied, a look a pride on her face that Phil had to resist rolling his eyes at.

"Too smart?"

"I don't know, depends how fancy this place is you're taking her to."

He thought about it, but in the end the tie came off, and he left his white button-up shirt with the top button open. It would just be his luck he'd turn up completely over-dressed. He wondered what Melinda would be wearing tonight; he'd only ever seen her in her work clothes and a Halloween costume…

"I'll be back around ten maybe?"

"Don't rush on my account" she replied with a knowing smile. "And if you want me out of the way so you can bring her back," she added quietly, making sure Lola couldn't hear her, "just text or something and I'll –"

"- No! " Phil said quickly, a blush rising to the back of his neck as he grabbed his coat from the bannister. A small part of him felt like reminding her he was thirty-two years old, and this was not a discussion he wanted to have with his mother. "It's just our first date, okay? I'll be back around ten."

"Okay, but if –"

"Bye!"

Over the various sounds of the restaurant – customers chatting at their respective tables, cutlery working across plates, the clattering and slicing and sizzling coming from the open kitchen – there was music playing, a soft opera that from what Phil could work out, was being performed in Italian. Quite apt. It set a tone for the place, as both classy and yet relaxed, and he was glad he'd decided to remove the tie.

From their position in the room, at a small two-person table in the corner, decorated with a vase containing a singular rose, and crisp crystal wine glasses filled with deep burgundy liquid, they were almost secluded from the gaze of other patrons. The table provided enough privacy that they could talk freely without being overheard, but they could also just see the open kitchen area, and if they so wished, Phil and Melinda could watch the chef hand make each individual course for every customer across the evening.

They were, however, more preoccupied with each other.

Waiters walked around slowly, taking their time and refusing to succumb to the general rush of society. Each diner was encouraged to relax and enjoy their meal, and when a waiter arrived at their table, Phil could do no more than just stare at Melinda whilst she ordered for them both. He seemed to have lost his vocal cords somewhere around the point he picked her up, as she came down the stairs of her building in a skin tight aubergine dress, which hugged into every curve and made him wish they were staying indoors. He wondered if she had bought the dress especially (women did that right?), and wondered if she had made the effort for him alone, or if it had just been something she had in the back of her wardrobe, that she wore each time she went out for a meal.

He hoped for the former.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she told him about bridesmaid dress shopping, and he had to force himself to look at her eyes instead of elsewhere when she sipped on her wine, leaving behind a perfect imprint of her lips against the glass rim. His mind wandered, and he imagined what it would be like if she left that same mark on his skin, time and time again.

Phil wasn't sure what had happened to him. He knew he liked her, knew full well he thought she was gorgeous. And it was normal to be nervous. But suddenly, the moment they had officially began their first "official" date, he seemed to have multiplied everything from fear to attraction.

Somehow he managed to hold consistent conversations with her, and not make a fool of himself.

He told her how he was starting to work full time, once the New Year came, and she was disappointed they would no longer be able to have their weekly Thursday coffee-shop trips. She chatted about some of her classes, how she taught tai-chi but also practised it in the mornings on her own, and how she'd once tried to teach her roommate – that project failed when it became clear Natasha was definitely not a morning person.

She promised to teach him, if he wanted, but he was more interested in watching her do it; the idea of her waking him up in the mornings as she rose to practise tai-chi, was something he really hoped to experience one day.

He shared some of his troubles of being a single parent, and trying to raise his daughter alone; she laughed at many of the tales, and sympathised with others, wondering how he had managed to do it. Melinda mentioned her childhood a little, about how she had moved around a lot, and was an only child, telling him what that had been like for her. Phil explained how it had been living with Maria as the two grew up, always fighting and bickering, but still being friends at the end of it all.

Everything went well, until, at some point in the evening, she absently drifted her fingertips across her upper left chest, the fabric strap of her dress shifting slightly, and Phil could just make out the pale jagged mark on her skin he recognised as a scar. Melinda obviously saw him looking, and she sighed.

"I was walking home from work a few years ago, and there was a man…"

She trailed a finger along the rim of her wine glass, and stared at the burgundy contents, losing herself in memories. "Something felt off about it, I can't explain how, but when I crossed the road, he crossed as well, and that's when I realised he was following me."

"What happened?" Phil asked quietly, not wanting to press her into talking if she didn't want to, but at the same time knowing she would stop if she decided not to tell him.

"He had a knife."

Phil felt a sudden build-up of rage in his chest, and had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of somebody even being capable of touching her with a blade. He reached out without even thinking, and took hold of her hand that had been resting on the table in front of her.

"He demanded I give him my phone and my money, and then he wanted my jewellery, but… I said no."

"You said no?" he asked incredulously. He knew for a fact is someone threatened him with a knife he wouldn't hesitate to just hand over everything they asked for.

"The necklace I was wearing used to be my grandmothers," she replied, looking back up to meet his eyes, trying to convey her reasoning. "And something inside of me just…" she shook her head, looking away once more. "Anyway, afterwards, somebody told me I was lucky," she scoffed at the word, and he knew what she meant by the sound – he'd hardly call anybody who got mugged at knifepoint lucky. "Said I was lucky that I knew how to fight him off. They said if it had been them, they wouldn't have known what to do."

"Which is why you teach self-defence" he said, everything slotting into place in his mind.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry Melinda."

She shrugged, as though brushing it off, like the memories didn't bother her; he could tell from her expression however, that they did. "I guess we both have tales to tell."

"Yeah," he replied sadly. "I guess we do."

As they left the restaurant, he held the door for her once more. This time, when they walked out, they held hands as they headed towards his car, and she wore his jacket over her dress, wrapped around to keep her warm in the cold winter air.

It was a strange parallel to the first time they were out in an evening together.

When they pulled up outside her block, Phil jumped out to open her door for her, but she got out anyway, rolling her eyes at him as she walked up the stairs. He followed, knowing full well she still had his jacket on; he also had a slight feeling she wanted him to follow her.

When they reached her floor, she stopped, turning to face him with a smile, and Phil swallowed, knowing what would come next.

"Thank you, for tonight" she said quietly, taking a step closer to him. "It was… really lovely."

"You're welcome."

Slowly, Phil made his own movement towards her, reducing the space between them to nothing more than a few inches. She was watching with a small smile, as though waiting for him to take the step they both knew would change their relationship for good. He swallowed again, looking into her eyes, searching for any sign she didn't want this, but found nothing. Leaning down slightly, he had to smile himself as Melinda rose up onto her tiptoes, moving forwards to join him. He watched her eyelids fluttering as they met halfway, and then he was gone.

His lips brushed against hers softly, almost ghosting over them rather than applying pressure, and he felt something inside of his explode. Phil found her hands, and linked their fingers together, drawing her closer as he began to kiss her properly, alternating between her upper and lower lip.

They forgot they were stood in a hallway, as they got lost in each other.

As he traced his tongue along her lower lip, Phil could taste the faint hints of sweet chocolate, which he knew was from the dessert she'd devoured earlier, and he could have sworn he heard her make a faint humming sound as he pulled her even closer, pressing their bodies flush together and deepening the kiss.

He couldn't get enough, and Phil knew he could just stay where they were and kiss her for hours.

Phil could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and wondered briefly if Melinda's was doing the same, or even if she could feel his own. She unlinked their hands and wrapped her own around his neck, trailing her nails through his hair, and he rested his around her waist, the warmth of her body radiating through her dress as his hands slipped underneath her – or his – jacket.

He knew full well if he didn't stop and walk out pretty soon, he was going to end up pinning her against her front door and sucking bruises into the soft skin down her neck.

Not that it would be a bad thing, but still…

They were breathless when he finally managed to break away, and, as he rested their foreheads together whilst they caught back up to where they were, Melinda actually giggled slightly; it was the most wonderful sound, and he immediately wanted to hear it again.

"That was –"

"- Yeah."

They just looked at each other, slightly dazed, wondering why in the hell they hadn't done that sooner, and how a first kiss could have become so powerful. Phil traced a finger down her jaw, marvelling at the light blush that had crept its way into her cheeks, before placing a final kiss upon her forehead, and turning away before he did something crazy.

He left her standing alone outside of her flat wearing his jacket, and what could only have been described as a slightly abashed smile.

"Goodnight Phil."

He turned to catch one last glimpse of her, as she unlocked her front door.

"Goodnight Melinda."

As he drove home, his head swimming with memories of her touch, her scent, and her taste, Phil knew one hundred percent, he was already completely screwed.

"So, how was it?"

Melinda had barely managed to close the door behind her when Natasha's voice carried out to her from their kitchen area. She took a deep breath, knowing full well she was about to get interrogated like never before, and headed round the corner to face her friend, only to find she was not in there alone.

"Bobbi!"

"Hey Mel, Tash here didn't think you'd be home this early –"

"- If at all" Natasha mumbled with a smirk.

Melinda rolled her eyes and grabbed a purple fluffy cushion from the sofa as she passed, throwing it at Natasha to shut her up.

"He had to go back and relieve his babysitter" she replied, leaning against the work-surface opposite them, and taking the glass of whatever cocktail the two had concocted that Bobbi offered her.

"So, come on," Natasha insisted, launching the cushion back towards the sofa. "We want details."

"Based on that smile," Bobbi said, with her own grin plastered across her face. "I'd say it was a pretty good night"

"Based on that blush," Natasha added, barely able to contain her excitement, "I'd say it was a pretty good kiss."

"It was…really good" she admitted, knowing she wasn't getting out of this conversation any time soon.

"The night or the kiss?"

"Both, but the kiss especially" she added with a smirk of her own.

Natasha practically squealed with excitement.

"So you're going out again?"

Melinda nodded, taking a sip of her drink and reeling at how strong it was. From taste, she could only assume it was meant to be a margarita, but when Natasha was in charge of spirits the cocktails produced often contained more alcohol than juice.

"We're seeing each other on Thursday like usual, and then he's asked me to go to the Christmas markets in town with them next Saturday."

"With the kid too?"

"Yeah" she replied, this time biting her lip as she really thought about what was going on.

"Wow, he must really like you" Bobbi said, observing her altered reactions carefully. "I mean, he's letting you meet his child and everything."

"Well, I've technically already met her a few times."

"But spending a whole day with her?"

"Hmmm," Melinda glanced between them with a slightly worried expression, and chewed her lip. "Do you think it's too soon?"

"Do you?" Natasha asked, watching her from over her glass.

"I…" she trailed off, and looked at the concoction in her glass. In complete honesty, Melinda wasn't sure how she felt; she hadn't exactly considered whether it was too quick or not until that moment. But if she was going to be entirely truthful with herself, the fact Phil had a kid hadn't seemed like an issue until now. Thinking about it properly, she had to ask herself, could she really do this? Get involved in their family?

"You look like you're panicking" Bobbi said softly, drawing Melinda back into the present again.

"What if this actually works out?" Melinda asked her. "I mean, if it does then –"

"Then you'd better hope the kid likes you."

"Thanks for that Nat."

"Look, you've known him what?" Bobbi asked. "Two months?"

"A month and a bit" Melinda replied, draining her glass and setting it on the counter in front of her.

"Well, by that time, Lance and I were already practically living together."

"Yeah," Natasha added, grabbing the half-empty bottle of tequila from the fridge and preparing another jug of margaritas. "And we all know how well that worked out."

"Hey, we're back together now!"

"For like the fifth time!"

"Anyway!" Bobbi said loudly, ignoring Natasha's continued jabs. "What I'm saying is, how fast you move things depends on what feels right for you. I mean, some couples don't sleep together until they're married, but others do on the first date."

"Ah Yoda, your wisdom astounds us all."

"Shut up Nat."

Melinda laughed. She loved spending time with the girls, and it wasn't very often Bobbi and Natasha were free on the same night, especially given Bobbi's career, so evenings like this were ones she appreciated more than any other. However, she was determined to get the conversation away from her for a while. "How's work Bobbi?"

Luckily, Bobbi took the bait.

"Oh you know, same old same old."

"Still plenty of criminals to catch?"

"Yep. It never gets boring, that's for sure, I mean, there was this one woman last week who tried to get out of a murder charge by saying she'd been hypnotised into committing the crime…"

The rest of the evening was spent coming up with the most creative methods they could possibly imagine to get out of a murder charge, with Bobbi running as jury seeing as she knew the law better than the two of them. They consumed far more margaritas than Melinda thought possible, and by 2am, the tequila was gone. After a lot of laughter, and multiple failed attempts to get her to leave, Bobbi ended up crashing on the sofa as the other two headed to bed.

Even in her hazy consciousness however, the last thing Melinda thought about before her head hit the pillow, was Phil, and the way he'd kissed her in the hallway like he never wanted to let her go. She could really get used to that.

And she hadn't really wanted to let him go either.

The following Saturday came around a lot quicker than Melinda realised it would, and before she knew it, she was stood at the entrance to the Christmas markets bundled into her winter coat and bobble hat, waiting for Phil and Lola to arrive. She was nervous, she had to admit that, but it was a different type of nerves than those she's had the previous week.

When they arrived, she was greeted by a very excitable four year old, wearing the fluffiest pink coat Melinda had ever seen, and who was dragging Phil along as though they were going to be late to a party. He smiled when he saw her however, and hugged her with one arm, and Melinda found herself wishing more than anything she could lean up and kiss him again. But she didn't; Lola was watching, and she thought they'd just come to the market with "one of dad's friends", so they left it at that.

They could keep their hands off each other for one afternoon, surely.

The huge Christmas tree in the centre of the market must have been almost fifty feet high, and was covered in thousands of colourful baubles, each sparkling in the afternoon sun. The lights wouldn't be turned on until it went dark, but even without them it was a spectacular sight. There was a choir of carol singers stood by the side, and the crowds all clapped each time they finished an angelic harmony of "The Holly and The Ivy", or "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem". Lola pushed her way to the front of the crowd to watch, enchanted by the whole experience, and Phil took Melinda's hand as they stood and waited for her to lose interest. They knew they couldn't be too obvious today, not until he spoke to Lola about what was going on, but just that simple act was enough to make Melinda smile up at him.

Later that afternoon, Phil took Lola into the grotto to see Santa, and Melinda wandered around the stalls whilst they went inside. She was determined not to get in the way of their family moments, and when Lola had asked if she could go inside to "talk to Father Christmas and his elves", Melinda had insisted they went together, just the two of them.

Phil and Lola caught her up whilst she browsed stalls in the craft section, one in particular catching her eye that was selling individual hand-crafted snow globes, each depicting a tiny winter or Christmas scene within its glass dome. They were not toys, definitely more ornamental, and as they walked away, Phil made a mental note to go back to the stall on his own at a later date.

As they wandered around, they found themselves in the large food and drink area, large wooden cabins in every direction, smoke pouring from the chimneys above them; each offered a different creation to try, from the traditional mulled wine that adults were flocking to, to giant hot dogs fried with onions and drizzled with mustard that smelled amazing. Phil bought himself and Melinda freshly baked crepes, covered in lemon and sugar, and Lola snacked on a strawberry kebab slathered in warm melted chocolate, which she proceeded to get all over her face.

Phil tried to clean her up whilst she wriggled out of his grasp, determined to not let her dad ruin her messy fun, and Melinda laughed at the pouty face she gave him when he finally succeeded.

Lola skipped along, hand in hand with Phil, excitedly pointing out various colourful stalls that caught her eye. She particularly enjoyed one filled with freshly baked biscuits and cakes, the sweet scent of sugar and spice surrounding them as Phil picked her up to take a closer look. Melinda purchased a bag of three star-shaped gingerbread biscuits, decorated with silver balls and white piped icing, and – after checking it was okay with Phil – gave the whole lot to Lola to enjoy.

It was easily worth it to see her face light up as she looked up in disbelief.

"Consider it an early Christmas present."

"What do you say Lola?" Phil asked, smiling at the two of them interacting so easily.

"Thank you Melinda" Lola replied, beaming with happiness as she proceeded to then get crumbs all over the front of her pink fluffy coat.

"You're welcome."

At some point during the early evening, as they wandered back from the markets and towards the local restaurant Phil had promised Lola they would visit for tea, it began to snow, powdered ice drifting down from the sky and decorating everything in a soft blanket of pure white. Lola danced around in the street, trying to catch individual flakes on her tongue as she twirled, and Phil observed happily as his daughter ran around ahead of them, the cold winter air colouring her cheeks a light, rose pink. Melinda walked by Phil's side, quietly watching the two of them interacting under the glow of the streetlights, and a small smile traced across her face. He glanced over and took her hand again with a gentle squeeze, linking their fingers together and stroking his thumb across her palm as they walked.

The meal that night was different to the one Phil and Melinda shared a week earlier. This time there was a four year old at the table with them, getting tomato sauce all over her face and eating pizza with her fingers. Phil bought Lola ice-cream for dessert, strawberry flavoured and covered in rainbow sprinkles, and she happily slurped away on it, oblivious to the fact her dad couldn't keep his eyes off their companion.

Phil insisted upon calling her a taxi to take her back to her own flat, despite her protests that she would be fine walking. She knew he was worried, especially after what she'd told him about her past, but Melinda had spent long enough being afraid of the outside world; nowadays, she just grit her teeth and fought it.

"I'll be fine" she insisted. "It's only a ten minute walk."

"Are you always so stubborn?" he asked her, shaking his head a little as he spoke.

She grinned up at him. "Yeah, usually."

"Great."

He mock sighed, and Melinda couldn't help herself. Checking Lola wasn't watching them, she leaned up, capturing his lips with her own, kissing him like she had been dying to do since the moment she had last seen him.

She was slightly conscious of the fact Lola was upstairs, currently getting ready for bed, so she resisted wrapping her arms around his neck like she had the last two times. Until now, throughout the day they had both been ultra-careful with their gestures, not really wanting Lola to see anything until Phil had spoken to her properly, and explained what was happening with he and Melinda.

But even they hadn't really discussed that themselves yet.

"You know," he murmured breathlessly, after breaking away from her lips for long enough speak. "You could always stay?"

He spoke his words softly into her hair, caressing his thumbs across her palms as the sound of running water upstairs signalled Lola brushing her teeth.

"Phil…" she said quietly, gently leaning her forehead against his shoulder as she spoke.

"I mean, nothing has to happen," he added quickly, before she could continue. "I just mean, if you didn't want to go home yet… and we have an extra bedroom if you wanted…"

Melinda knew full well what would happen if she stayed, even if she told herself it was with the intention of sleeping in their 'guest room'. And she had a pretty strong feeling he knew that as well. But despite how much she wanted – and needed – to say yes, she shook her head. "I think we need to take this slow… for Lola's sake."

She was expecting him to feel dejected, to tell her it was fine, and then she'd leave and maybe not hear from him again. That was usually the pattern when she chose to go home alone rather than spend the night with someone. Instead, he lifted a hand and tilted her face up with his fingertips, before bringing his lips to meet hers in a gentle kiss.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being the only person I've gone out with in almost five years to put her first."

As she tried to come up with a response, his daughter appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in a matching set of pink stripy pyjamas, and holding on to a large white bear. Phil and Melinda stepped away from each other subtly as Lola looked down at them.

"Daddy, can I have a bedtime story?"

"Which one would you like?"

"Can I have the one with dragons tonight?"

Phil glanced at Melinda, who nodded at him, encouraging him to go to her; she wasn't going to stop their family routine.

"Of course princess. You go climb into bed, and I'll be right up."

As she sat in the taxi back to her flat, just over ten minutes later – yes, Phil won that argument – Melinda couldn't take her mind off their day. It had been almost perfect, and despite the slight pang she felt, wishing she had stayed when Phil had asked, she knew full well it had been the right decision. His daughter would need to come first, and any development they made with their current relationship, really could not be rushed.

Later that night, after Natasha had sat down with a bottle of cheap beer and proceeded to interrogate her about every little detail of her day, when she climbed into bed, wrapping herself in the purple silk sheets, Melinda was filled with a warmth that left her smiling to herself, long after she'd closed her eyes.

[this chapter has been split into two halves because it was getting near 10,000 words. oops. second half of 'december' coming later this week sometime]

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