Chapter Text
‘I’m letting my heartstrings ring out like the bells of Notre Dame, it doesn't make me weak you know that’s just who I am…’
Like most things these days, it doesn't register with Paige at first, the music that decidedly shouldn't be filtering out from Ralph’s room. It’s late, she’s been pulling double shifts at The Scorpion and all she wants right now is to fall into bed and maybe never have to come up for air ever again.
Instead, she gives her son’s door a soft tap, and smiles a little at the startled shuffling she can hear. It’s three in the morning, he knows well enough he shouldn't be awake.
“Ralph? Honey, you know what the rules are,” she admonishes him as she opens the door, giving her son as foreboding a look as she can muster right now. It’s little more than a particularly arched and decidedly non-threatening brow, and even that feels strained by the late hour. Three in the morning. Jesus. “No electronics after nine, asleep by ten-thirty.”
“It’s ten in the morning in England,” Ralph offers. “You never specified that we had to adhere to one time zone.” Paige can’t help but snort, because yeah okay, she walked right into that one.
“That was implied and you know it. Nuh-uh,” she laughs as Ralph stares at her with a hangdog look. “That look isn't working on me tonight mister. Bedtime.” To his credit, he gives up without a fight, and lets her pull the laptop from his fingers, tug the duvet up under his chin and brush a kiss over his forehead. “I love you, sweetie.”
Later, as she washes the grime and dirt of the night from her face, she catches herself humming along to the phantom song that's still playing in her head.
‘I'd reverse a river for you if you asked around, turn back time to save a drowning town…’
‘Your son focuses too much on absolutes,’ had been an all-too common refrain from teachers, and one of the more tactful ways they had attempted to broach his difficulties at school with her - and when one teacher had sniffily told her that 'Ralph simply doesn't engage', she had cut the man down to size. She sighs, because this band, Homeland Security, has been the first thing he’s shown the slightest bit of interest in since Drew left for Portland, and Paige is loathe to take this away from him. Not when it means smiles over breakfast, enthusiastic discussions about keys and tonal shifts, and impromptu sing-offs in the car. It feels like something they can keep, something special to share just the two of them.
As she climbs into bed, she idly wonders if they'd be interested in playing at The Scorpion. Ralphy would love to meet them, she thinks sleepily, and the lead singer (Walter? Wally?) is pretty cute.
She’ll speak to her boss tomorrow, she thinks before sleep claims her. It doesn't hurt to try.