RPF: With Cream- James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender
Y'all knew this was coming. Written for this prompt at the X-Men: First Class kink meme. This fic contains the acceptance and appreciation of slight weight. Don't like, don't read.
With Cream
"We should have each other to tea!
Oh, we should have each other with cream."
- The Lovecats, The Cure
Somehow, James looks younger, Michael thinks.
They're meeting some months prior to starting the filming of the sequel, and it's been a shamefully long time since Michael has clapped eyes on James, and he can't help but notice how startlingly young James looks. He himself knows he is probably looking a tad older, the cigarettes and alcohol see to that, but James looks positively his junior, like he's slipped back into his twenties whilst Michael runs full pelt towards the dreaded four-oh.
It's when James smiles, and pulls him in for a massive hug (kept manly with pats on the back), that Michael can credit the change. One of Michael's hand instinctively finds James' waist, as it is wont two when ever Michael finds himself hugging somebody who is as attractive as James is. All it is is that James' waist feels slightly different to how he remembers. It isn't as defined: James has a naturally curved bone structure, Michael has found previously; there was always something feminine about the contrast in breadth between his narrow middle and his hips, which were slim but pleasingly shapely. The contrast seems to have lessened now, not dramatically, but his lower torso is definitely a little wider, his waist a little softer. The observation triggers an unexpected pleasant fizzing sensation in the bottom of Michael's belly. Breaking back and looking into James' face, he notes a new, if slight, roundness to it, obviously the contributing factor to how young he is looking.
"It's so good to see you," James smiles, and Michael has to interrupt his own thoughts about the flesh of James' cheeks (and all thoughts of biting them) in order to grin and reply,
"And you, James, and you. You look very well."
Michael wonders if perhaps the choice of word is unwise; a word like "well" can sometimes have considerably more insulting semantic connotations. But James doesn't seem to notice this, his smile only growing across his face.
"Thank you, Michael. What've you been up to?"
James talks animatedly and happily, using his hands expressively to aid his anecdotal conversation, as they walk to the cafe where they agreed to get lunch. Michael's own hands are in his pockets, and he is perfectly contented to simply listen to James talk, so delightful is his enthusiasm. Michael can't help but steal the occasional glance at James' backside, or the new little curve of his stomach, then look away quickly, back up into James' face, gnawing gently on his own lip but being sure to keep nodding and saying things like, "Yes" and "Of course, yeah", to show he is still listening.
When they order their lunches, James eats unabashedly. This, thinks Michael, can mean one of two things. The first possibility is that James knows he's put on weight, but doesn't particularly care. The second- and the one that Michael would find the most endearing and amusing- is that James hasn't even noticed. This idea distracts Michael quite entirely, and it is only when James stops chewing and asks,
"Erm… why are you staring at me?"
that Michael realises that he is doing.
"Oh, sorry," Michael apologises, "I was miles away. What did you say?"
James smiles fondly.
"I asked if when we're finished, if you'd like to come back to mine for a cup of tea."
"Love to," Michael replies, "We have much to discuss about how charming you'll look when they make your hairline start to recede in the sequel."
* * *
In the time between this lunch date (which in fact spread over the entire afternoon and into the evening, and included lots of cups of tea and flicking through X-Men graphic novels) and the next time he sees James, Michael becomes a man obsessed. He can't stop thinking about James' tongue, teeth and lips wrapping themselves around food, the obvious enjoyment he takes from eating, about the fit of his shirt around his little tummy. He finds himself fantasising about what James' bare hips would look like, daydreaming about the flesh of his lower back. All he wants to do is hold and kiss James, and tell him just how beautiful he is. Michael isn't sure when this really started; he knows that he's had a skin-deep crush on James since day one, and that his feelings changed and grew during filming and the press tour, but he passed it off as nothing more than that, a crush. He assumed he'd get over it, but now he doesn't want to get over it, he wants to make something come of it. When James calls him up to ask him if he wants to go for coffee, Michael is practically already out of the door.
When Michael walks into the coffee shop, James is already there. He grins widely at him, and they hug for probably quite a bit longer than what would be considered acceptable. Michael thinks that James just looks stunning; his skin is smooth and clear, his eyes are bright, he exudes this air of comfort and Michael is lost for words as to how it makes him feel. They order coffee, with cream, and sit down together. Michael is distracted, he doesn't talk much and can hardly keep his eyes off James' stomach. He fails to move his gaze quickly enough, and James picks up on it. He looks down at himself, and his whole complexion changes; the tips of his ears turn bright pink, and then it spreads to his forehead and his cheeks. Michael mentally kicks himself, ready to apologise profusely.
"I'm sorry I was staring, James, I just zoned out for a second there."
"Yeah. You've been zoning out quite a lot recently." James says flatly.
"James-"
"I'm getting fat, I'm aware, you don't have to stare at me, Michael."
"No you aren't," Michael says forcefully, "James."
James wriggles again, the gentle curve of his waist moving beneath the snug fit of his blue jumper. He doesn't say anything, still mortified but trying to maintain that he's just pissed off with Michael.
"So you've put on a bit of weight, James, who cares? Look, I've been there-"
James looks Michael's slim body up and down, and then raises an eyebrow.
"- okay, I've been there temporarily. Do you feel shitty? Do you feel ill and tired?"
"No, I feel fine. I feel- I feel good."
"Right then. So you're not unhealthy. Do you know what it is- if it's, like, stress weight, winter weight…?"
"I guess- I thought-" James says, using his forefinger to scratch his right eyebrow. Michael thinks that James touching his eyebrow is some kind of nervous tic, as he seems to do it when he's anxious, or embarrassed, or has nothing to do with his hands in a photo shoot. "I think it's kind of my, uh, natural inheritance. Apart from my dad, all the guys in my family are pretty big blokes… God. I need to do something about this." James finishes breathlessly, pink-cheeked and embarrassed.
"Can I offer you my advice?" Michael asks.
"Yes." James replies reluctantly, bracing himself for the gym recommendation or diet handbook name.
"Don't diet."
"What?" James says, puzzled.
"Just don't. You're fine as you are, you're healthy aren't you? There's no point losing weight for no specific aim, and if your health isn't at risk, then what's the problem?"
James blinks.
"Michael, in case you haven't noticed, we're film stars."
"Yes, so if you need to lose some weight for the First Class sequel or for another role, then fine, but in the mean time, you don't have to look a part, so don't. Just look like you."
James is slightly stunned.
"But we're… I know the pressure isn't the same on us as it is on women, but we're still kinda expected to look our best."
"Who's to say you don't look your best now?" Michael says plainly, looking at James. James looks away quickly, scoffing.
"Right."
He ghosts one hand over his own stomach, critically. Michael swallows.
"James. You look fine. Believe me." James looks at Michael, who then shrugs, leaning back in his chair and taking a nonchalant sip of his drink, "But of course, it's your body, do whatever you want. But if you're ever feeling a bit low and under confident, just text me or call me, okay? You're a gorgeous man, James McAvoy, just keep eating properly and bear that in mind."
James just smiles.
* * *
Two weeks later and Michael finds himself in James' apartment, in fact on his stairs. Michael had come over for a chat about the sequel, or for a movie night, or something, he forgets; but somehow he's ended up on top of James, half way up the stairs, locked in some kind of embrace with him, surprised and entirely thrilled that, apparently, James reciprocates his feelings. They're just kissing to begin with exploring each other's faces and mouths in eager interest. Michael's hands start to reach out to James' body, rubbing his shoulders, moving down his arms to his waist and hips. James breaks back, panting, looking at Michael a little worriedly.
"Michael," he breathes, frowning.
"What?" Michael asks, trying to reclaim James' lips.
"I just... My body…" James says quietly, "You know I'm not in the best of shape right now and I-"
"Silly James," Michael moans, kissing him again quickly, "Haven't you got it yet?"
"Got... Got what?" James asks hesitantly, not daring to believe what he thinks Michael is getting at.
"James, why do you think I've been making sure you keep eating properly these past few weeks? Why do you think I told you not to diet?"
"Because you care about my wellbeing?" James says weakly, as Michael presses kisses to his neck.
"Because I like your body. The way it is."
Michael puts his hands on James' hips, squeezing the softness there.
"Tell me why. Why you like this," James murmurs, tugging loosely at Michael's shirt.
"Because I like you, James," Michael replies, a little too quickly, "I like you regardless of what you look like."
"C'mon, don't be corny. I know it's more than that," James replies, pushing Michael back a little, gently but forcefully, crossing his arms over his middle, "Tell me the truth."
Michael swallows.
"… Alright. I guess I've got a... A thing for the way your body is right now. I don't have it with women. Only with guys." Michael swallows, "There's something about a man who... An otherwise slim or even skinny guy, but with a bit of a tummy and curvy hips... That kind of drives me wild." James slowly moves his arms away from his stomach, then reaches out to take Michael's face in his hands.
"So I'm only attractive to you... like this?" James half-teases.
"Christ, no. James, I've liked you ever since our first day on set together. But this…" Michael wriggles down the stairs a little in order to lay his head against James' tummy, "This is perfect to me."
James breathes steadily, his stomach rising and falling with each breath. Michael can feel James' pulse beneath his cheek, like the gentle kicking of a baby.
"You don't mind?' Michael asks quietly, "I hope you don't think it's... That I'm…"
"I don't mind," James responds, brushing a hand through Michael's hair, "In fact, it's quite a pleasant surprise. You could have worse kinks."
Michael lifts his head.
"Take your shirt off," Michael instructs. James obeys, wriggling out of his long-sleeved shirt. Michael kisses James' bare chest, moving his mouth down to nibble at his soft stomach. He bites just beneath James' navel, making him gasp. His hands are on James' hips again, stroking and squeezing the soft, smooth flesh there.
"We're on my stairs." James suddenly points out.
"Yes. Yes we are." Michael agrees, resting his forehead on James' tummy, tonguing his navel.
"My bed's comfier," James suggests, trying to resist the urge to cry out. Michael considers, grins, and they scramble up the stairs together.
* * *
"Look what I have!" Michael says, waving the magazine in front of James' face. James takes it out of his hands and scans the cover.
“James McAvoy on food, love, and why he’s in no hurry to lose five(ish) pounds” the headline shouts. James laughs, covering his face with his free hand.
“Why do they have to make it sound so corny?” he groans.
“Wait ‘til you read the article,” Michael chuckles, “It’s fantastic. I don’t think they have kept any of the original context in.”
James flicks through to find the right page and then reads through the article, laughing at some parts, complaining at others, occasionally murmuring, "I wish I'd never done this bloody interview" and "They made me look thinner on the photos though, fuck's sake". But then he pauses, coming to a quote he likes, something that he's very glad they kept in, as he said it;
“You aren’t going to hear this kind of thing often from a man, you aren’t going to hear it often from anyone. No one- not your family, your peers, this very magazine you’re reading now- no one has the right to tell you what your body should look like. If you’re muscular, skinny, chubby, fat, you are BEAUTIFUL, and I’m going to keep saying this until they drag me away.”
Michael kisses James' smile effusively, his hands finding James' waist and squeezing gently. James wraps his arms around Michael's neck, kissing and tasting and hungry for more of him.
- Fin -
With Cream
"We should have each other to tea!
Oh, we should have each other with cream."
- The Lovecats, The Cure
Somehow, James looks younger, Michael thinks.
They're meeting some months prior to starting the filming of the sequel, and it's been a shamefully long time since Michael has clapped eyes on James, and he can't help but notice how startlingly young James looks. He himself knows he is probably looking a tad older, the cigarettes and alcohol see to that, but James looks positively his junior, like he's slipped back into his twenties whilst Michael runs full pelt towards the dreaded four-oh.
It's when James smiles, and pulls him in for a massive hug (kept manly with pats on the back), that Michael can credit the change. One of Michael's hand instinctively finds James' waist, as it is wont two when ever Michael finds himself hugging somebody who is as attractive as James is. All it is is that James' waist feels slightly different to how he remembers. It isn't as defined: James has a naturally curved bone structure, Michael has found previously; there was always something feminine about the contrast in breadth between his narrow middle and his hips, which were slim but pleasingly shapely. The contrast seems to have lessened now, not dramatically, but his lower torso is definitely a little wider, his waist a little softer. The observation triggers an unexpected pleasant fizzing sensation in the bottom of Michael's belly. Breaking back and looking into James' face, he notes a new, if slight, roundness to it, obviously the contributing factor to how young he is looking.
"It's so good to see you," James smiles, and Michael has to interrupt his own thoughts about the flesh of James' cheeks (and all thoughts of biting them) in order to grin and reply,
"And you, James, and you. You look very well."
Michael wonders if perhaps the choice of word is unwise; a word like "well" can sometimes have considerably more insulting semantic connotations. But James doesn't seem to notice this, his smile only growing across his face.
"Thank you, Michael. What've you been up to?"
James talks animatedly and happily, using his hands expressively to aid his anecdotal conversation, as they walk to the cafe where they agreed to get lunch. Michael's own hands are in his pockets, and he is perfectly contented to simply listen to James talk, so delightful is his enthusiasm. Michael can't help but steal the occasional glance at James' backside, or the new little curve of his stomach, then look away quickly, back up into James' face, gnawing gently on his own lip but being sure to keep nodding and saying things like, "Yes" and "Of course, yeah", to show he is still listening.
When they order their lunches, James eats unabashedly. This, thinks Michael, can mean one of two things. The first possibility is that James knows he's put on weight, but doesn't particularly care. The second- and the one that Michael would find the most endearing and amusing- is that James hasn't even noticed. This idea distracts Michael quite entirely, and it is only when James stops chewing and asks,
"Erm… why are you staring at me?"
that Michael realises that he is doing.
"Oh, sorry," Michael apologises, "I was miles away. What did you say?"
James smiles fondly.
"I asked if when we're finished, if you'd like to come back to mine for a cup of tea."
"Love to," Michael replies, "We have much to discuss about how charming you'll look when they make your hairline start to recede in the sequel."
* * *
In the time between this lunch date (which in fact spread over the entire afternoon and into the evening, and included lots of cups of tea and flicking through X-Men graphic novels) and the next time he sees James, Michael becomes a man obsessed. He can't stop thinking about James' tongue, teeth and lips wrapping themselves around food, the obvious enjoyment he takes from eating, about the fit of his shirt around his little tummy. He finds himself fantasising about what James' bare hips would look like, daydreaming about the flesh of his lower back. All he wants to do is hold and kiss James, and tell him just how beautiful he is. Michael isn't sure when this really started; he knows that he's had a skin-deep crush on James since day one, and that his feelings changed and grew during filming and the press tour, but he passed it off as nothing more than that, a crush. He assumed he'd get over it, but now he doesn't want to get over it, he wants to make something come of it. When James calls him up to ask him if he wants to go for coffee, Michael is practically already out of the door.
When Michael walks into the coffee shop, James is already there. He grins widely at him, and they hug for probably quite a bit longer than what would be considered acceptable. Michael thinks that James just looks stunning; his skin is smooth and clear, his eyes are bright, he exudes this air of comfort and Michael is lost for words as to how it makes him feel. They order coffee, with cream, and sit down together. Michael is distracted, he doesn't talk much and can hardly keep his eyes off James' stomach. He fails to move his gaze quickly enough, and James picks up on it. He looks down at himself, and his whole complexion changes; the tips of his ears turn bright pink, and then it spreads to his forehead and his cheeks. Michael mentally kicks himself, ready to apologise profusely.
"I'm sorry I was staring, James, I just zoned out for a second there."
"Yeah. You've been zoning out quite a lot recently." James says flatly.
"James-"
"I'm getting fat, I'm aware, you don't have to stare at me, Michael."
"No you aren't," Michael says forcefully, "James."
James wriggles again, the gentle curve of his waist moving beneath the snug fit of his blue jumper. He doesn't say anything, still mortified but trying to maintain that he's just pissed off with Michael.
"So you've put on a bit of weight, James, who cares? Look, I've been there-"
James looks Michael's slim body up and down, and then raises an eyebrow.
"- okay, I've been there temporarily. Do you feel shitty? Do you feel ill and tired?"
"No, I feel fine. I feel- I feel good."
"Right then. So you're not unhealthy. Do you know what it is- if it's, like, stress weight, winter weight…?"
"I guess- I thought-" James says, using his forefinger to scratch his right eyebrow. Michael thinks that James touching his eyebrow is some kind of nervous tic, as he seems to do it when he's anxious, or embarrassed, or has nothing to do with his hands in a photo shoot. "I think it's kind of my, uh, natural inheritance. Apart from my dad, all the guys in my family are pretty big blokes… God. I need to do something about this." James finishes breathlessly, pink-cheeked and embarrassed.
"Can I offer you my advice?" Michael asks.
"Yes." James replies reluctantly, bracing himself for the gym recommendation or diet handbook name.
"Don't diet."
"What?" James says, puzzled.
"Just don't. You're fine as you are, you're healthy aren't you? There's no point losing weight for no specific aim, and if your health isn't at risk, then what's the problem?"
James blinks.
"Michael, in case you haven't noticed, we're film stars."
"Yes, so if you need to lose some weight for the First Class sequel or for another role, then fine, but in the mean time, you don't have to look a part, so don't. Just look like you."
James is slightly stunned.
"But we're… I know the pressure isn't the same on us as it is on women, but we're still kinda expected to look our best."
"Who's to say you don't look your best now?" Michael says plainly, looking at James. James looks away quickly, scoffing.
"Right."
He ghosts one hand over his own stomach, critically. Michael swallows.
"James. You look fine. Believe me." James looks at Michael, who then shrugs, leaning back in his chair and taking a nonchalant sip of his drink, "But of course, it's your body, do whatever you want. But if you're ever feeling a bit low and under confident, just text me or call me, okay? You're a gorgeous man, James McAvoy, just keep eating properly and bear that in mind."
James just smiles.
* * *
Two weeks later and Michael finds himself in James' apartment, in fact on his stairs. Michael had come over for a chat about the sequel, or for a movie night, or something, he forgets; but somehow he's ended up on top of James, half way up the stairs, locked in some kind of embrace with him, surprised and entirely thrilled that, apparently, James reciprocates his feelings. They're just kissing to begin with exploring each other's faces and mouths in eager interest. Michael's hands start to reach out to James' body, rubbing his shoulders, moving down his arms to his waist and hips. James breaks back, panting, looking at Michael a little worriedly.
"Michael," he breathes, frowning.
"What?" Michael asks, trying to reclaim James' lips.
"I just... My body…" James says quietly, "You know I'm not in the best of shape right now and I-"
"Silly James," Michael moans, kissing him again quickly, "Haven't you got it yet?"
"Got... Got what?" James asks hesitantly, not daring to believe what he thinks Michael is getting at.
"James, why do you think I've been making sure you keep eating properly these past few weeks? Why do you think I told you not to diet?"
"Because you care about my wellbeing?" James says weakly, as Michael presses kisses to his neck.
"Because I like your body. The way it is."
Michael puts his hands on James' hips, squeezing the softness there.
"Tell me why. Why you like this," James murmurs, tugging loosely at Michael's shirt.
"Because I like you, James," Michael replies, a little too quickly, "I like you regardless of what you look like."
"C'mon, don't be corny. I know it's more than that," James replies, pushing Michael back a little, gently but forcefully, crossing his arms over his middle, "Tell me the truth."
Michael swallows.
"… Alright. I guess I've got a... A thing for the way your body is right now. I don't have it with women. Only with guys." Michael swallows, "There's something about a man who... An otherwise slim or even skinny guy, but with a bit of a tummy and curvy hips... That kind of drives me wild." James slowly moves his arms away from his stomach, then reaches out to take Michael's face in his hands.
"So I'm only attractive to you... like this?" James half-teases.
"Christ, no. James, I've liked you ever since our first day on set together. But this…" Michael wriggles down the stairs a little in order to lay his head against James' tummy, "This is perfect to me."
James breathes steadily, his stomach rising and falling with each breath. Michael can feel James' pulse beneath his cheek, like the gentle kicking of a baby.
"You don't mind?' Michael asks quietly, "I hope you don't think it's... That I'm…"
"I don't mind," James responds, brushing a hand through Michael's hair, "In fact, it's quite a pleasant surprise. You could have worse kinks."
Michael lifts his head.
"Take your shirt off," Michael instructs. James obeys, wriggling out of his long-sleeved shirt. Michael kisses James' bare chest, moving his mouth down to nibble at his soft stomach. He bites just beneath James' navel, making him gasp. His hands are on James' hips again, stroking and squeezing the soft, smooth flesh there.
"We're on my stairs." James suddenly points out.
"Yes. Yes we are." Michael agrees, resting his forehead on James' tummy, tonguing his navel.
"My bed's comfier," James suggests, trying to resist the urge to cry out. Michael considers, grins, and they scramble up the stairs together.
* * *
"Look what I have!" Michael says, waving the magazine in front of James' face. James takes it out of his hands and scans the cover.
“James McAvoy on food, love, and why he’s in no hurry to lose five(ish) pounds” the headline shouts. James laughs, covering his face with his free hand.
“Why do they have to make it sound so corny?” he groans.
“Wait ‘til you read the article,” Michael chuckles, “It’s fantastic. I don’t think they have kept any of the original context in.”
James flicks through to find the right page and then reads through the article, laughing at some parts, complaining at others, occasionally murmuring, "I wish I'd never done this bloody interview" and "They made me look thinner on the photos though, fuck's sake". But then he pauses, coming to a quote he likes, something that he's very glad they kept in, as he said it;
“You aren’t going to hear this kind of thing often from a man, you aren’t going to hear it often from anyone. No one- not your family, your peers, this very magazine you’re reading now- no one has the right to tell you what your body should look like. If you’re muscular, skinny, chubby, fat, you are BEAUTIFUL, and I’m going to keep saying this until they drag me away.”
Michael kisses James' smile effusively, his hands finding James' waist and squeezing gently. James wraps his arms around Michael's neck, kissing and tasting and hungry for more of him.
- Fin -