The fics I wrote for the anonship TGS challenge
The moon hung high in the night sky, casting an ethereal glow over Hammersmith. James, stood alone in his back garden, staring at it, lost in thought.
He was so wrapped up in his own little world that he didn't hear Jeremy coming up behind him.
"James. It's late. Are you coming to bed?"
James, turned at his lover's words. "It's beautiful. Isn't it?"
Jeremy frowned. "What is?"
"The moon."
James, turned back to it, eyes wide and a slight smile playing on his lips.
"James. Are you drunk?" Jeremy's face had a concerned tone to it.
"Far from it," James whispered, almost to himself.
Jeremy's patience was beginning to wear thin.
"For God's sake James. I thought you weren't affected by the moon anymore? You told me you were better."
At Jeremy's words, James snapped out of the trance he had begun to fall into.
"I am Jeremy. It doesn't have the effect on me it used to, not nearly. It's just that every now and again, I sort of miss the old days."
James blushed slightly at his last admission.
Jeremy shook his head slightly and smiled at the younger man.
"I know you do and I know you've given up a lot for me, but it was worth it, right?"
James grinned. "Absolutely. Now, what was that you mentioned about us going to bed?"
Jeremy relaxed at the sight of the James he knew and loved. He took the younger man's hand and led him indoors.
You love a person for everything they are, even if that person is a recovering werewolf.
The film ended and Richard turned the television off. He turned to Jeremy and realised that the older man had fallen asleep.
He studied his lover's face intently; Jeremy looked younger when he was asleep, he looked peaceful, as if he didn't have a care in the world.
Richard smiled. Life was never dull with Jeremy, it had been what had initially attracted Richard to him, it still did, but he treasured moments like this as well, little windows of insight into the man beneath the persona, moments that only seemed to come out when he was alone with Richard.
He wasn't a selfish man, but Richard was glad that he alone got to see this side of Jeremy.
He gently shook the other man awake.
"Come on, old man, time for bed."
Jeremy scowled, as he stretched. "Brat!"
Richard jumped up and pulled Jeremy to his feet and led him upstairs. It was time for him to see another element of Jeremy, that was for his eyes only.
James, closed the front door behind him, he'd had never been as relieved to be home as he was now.
It hadn't been a particularly horrible day, but it had been a busy one, a constantly busy one; filled with meetings, interviews and people, so many people, all who had wanted his time. The whole day had left him both physically and mentally drained.
All he wanted now, was a bit of peace and quiet, which was quite a hard thing to achieve, when you live with Jeremy Clarkson.
He entered the lounge, hoping for just a few minutes to himself, before Jeremy started demanding his time and attention, but stopped in the doorway, both amazed and moved by what he saw.
The only light came from the candles, that had been placed strategically all over the room.
There was an open bottle of red wine on the coffee table, with two full glasses next to it.
Jeremy, himself, was sat on the sofa, Fusker, was sat on the arm next to him. Both were looking towards him; Jeremy, with a warm, gentle smile on his face and Fusker, purring away, as if to say, 'Welcome home dad.'
Jeremy rose and walked over to him, gave him a hug and a gentle kiss.
"Hard day?"
James, nodded, "Shocking."
Jeremy smiled. "I thought you might fancy a nice quiet evening, so I got us some wine and I was thinking we could order a takeaway. You look too tired to cook and I don't really want to subject you to my cooking when you're feeling a bit off."
Jeremy, walked off, in the direction of the kitchen.
"Sit yourself down and I'll bring in some menus for us to look at."
James blinked and walked over to the sofa, he sat himself down where Jeremy had been and idly petted Fusker. He reached over to one of the glasses and took a sip, he let the mixture of fruit and spice spread over his mouth andtravel down his throat. For the first time that day, he felt somewhere near content.
Jeremy, re-entered the room, a mass of menus in one hand and his mobile in the other. He nodded towards the wine in James's hand, "Good choice?"
James, smiled slightly, and regarded the man standing in front of him. "Absolutely perfect."
James May - A man whose life is a host of contradictions.
A trained musician, who loves tinkering with old bikes.
A man who could easily get into any number of top restaurants in London, but who's much happier, munching on a pie at home.
A man who knows far more about wine than is healthy to, but who still prefers a pint of Pride at his local.
A man who, looks-wise, gives the impression that he's happiest rambling through woodland and muddy fields, yet firmly believes that the countryside is strictly for animals, and that humans should live as far away from it as possible.
A man who constantly makes references to, 'woman,' when what he should be saying is, 'man.'
A man who, when finally deciding to let people know the truth, introduces stunned family and friends to, no, not Stephen Fry, but to a very happy, Jeremy Clarkson.