Chapter Text
It begins in Austria. They’ve just finished lunch in a little tavern and James and Jeremy are watching Richard, who is battling with his car’s Sat-Nav.
“Mind your temper, Hammo!” Jeremy calls, but Richard doesn’t look up from thumping his fist against the dash. “You know, I don’t think our Hamster was quite this volatile before.”
“Not while sober, no.” James shakes out a cig and lights it, sitting down on a bench a safe distance from Hammond and his car. He waits until Jeremy has sat nearby before adding, “Divorce’ll do that, I think. It changes people.”
“‘Course it does.” The bigger man sniffs, and starts his own cigarette. They sit smoking peacefully, at least until Richard starts shouting again. The cluster of sound and camera men around the car fidget, obviously wanting to stay out of range should the focus of their attention explode.
When his cig is done, Jeremy crushes it in the ashtray and leans forward, speaking more quietly to James. “He shouldn’t be alone. Hammond - he’s not built for it.”
James nods absently. Even when he’s not feeling chatty, Hammond is the kind of person who needs company. He doesn’t handle solitude well at all, and living by himself as he is now (though with a cat and a dog) is taking its toll on him. “Well, he’s not about to go looking for a flatmate, is he,” he muses aloud. “Far too high-profile for that.”
“He doesn’t need to. He could move in with you.”
James snorts and taps his cig against the ashtray. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“Why not? He used to stay at yours during filming, and you got on well enough, didn’t you?”
“Yes," he replies, slowly. Considering. "That was quite a few years ago, though.”
“Like I said, he’s much happier living with someone, and it would do you good as well.”
“I will, as they say, take that into consideration.”
Jeremy's ideas tend to end in disaster (or in flames), but this is one of those damnable times when he's right, and James knows it. So he invites Hammond over more often, they make plans, go on motorcycle trips and generally spend more time together. And it’s good - Richard does seem happier (or at least less volatile) and James can’t complain. Everything’s better for a couple of months, until it abruptly takes a downturn and Richard is back to being grumpy and snappish. James has no idea why - maybe there was an argument with Mindy, maybe the girls were snippy with him or a job had fallen through. He can’t - or won’t - ask, and if Richard is going to open up to one of his colleagues, chances are it’ll be Jezza.
The next time Richard comes over for dinner, though, he brings it up all by himself.
“God, I miss being married.”
The admission is barely audible under the sound of the dishwasher being loaded, but James catches it anyway. He plucks two more beers from the fridge and turns back to the kitchen table, setting one bottle in front of his friend. Hammond nods his thanks, features turning more woeful by the moment.
“I was moaning to Jez about divorce the other day, how horrible it all is.”
“What did he say?”
“What everyone says. That I’ll feel like crap for a while, but my life’s not over.” Richard shifts in his chair. “He asked if I thought I’d remarry, and I’d like to, but the thought of finding someone and starting over? That doesn’t really appeal. You know, dating and balancing that with work and the girls, even-” He breaks off with a frown, pulling one knee up to his chest. “If I’m going to share my life with another person, I don’t want someone new, I’d rather it be someone I know, who knows me and my history and all - does that make sense?”
“It does, yeah,” James assures him. “Granted, there’ll be legions of Hamster lovers who’ll be disappointed, but that would be best. Especially with children involved.”
“Right, exactly.” Short, blunt fingernails pick at the denim covering his leg. “So I’ve been thinking about that, off and on. Kind of, well, going over single friends, in my mind. You came up.” Brown eyes flick up to meet James’ for a moment, then Richard continues. “I don’t know if it’s, you know, just a thought or something I might want to pursue. Or something. Sometime in the future.”
“I...er.” James taps his fingers on the table. “What are you telling me? That you’d want to-”
“Right now, I don’t know,” Hammond says quickly. “It’s probably best to forget we talked about this at all.”
That, James thinks, is far easier said than done.