Fic: You Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ring-a-ling...
Title: You Hear Those Sleigh Bells Ring-a-ling...
Author: kepp0xy
Characters/Pairings: Bradley/Angel
Rating/Genre: PG
Warnings: Hm. Spoilers for Love Actually & references to events in 2x10. Also apologies for possible lack of Britishisms. I hope any mistakes are mostly forgivable *doe eyes*
Words: ~1800
Disclaimer: Work of fiction, didn't happen, don't stalk them, just think they're pretty and would be hot together.
Summary: Angel has a Christmas party.
Author's Notes: For the holidays, I offered my flist cards or fic, unconfessed asked for fic! She prompted several things, but this was Angel/Bradley "when I first met you". It's totally an excuse to write something about Love Actually, snogging, and Bradley & Angel on a bed.
Bradley finds Angel in her bedroom. She's curled beneath her coverlet, and what appears to be several thinner blankets as well, leaning back against the wall, watching a small telly. She's an actress - and a damn good one - so he can't be sure, but he's fairly certain she is purposely ignoring him. The music blaring from her living room is not loud enough to wake the dead, but it does filter in the room with enough presence to be noticeable now he's opened the door.
Plus, Bradley thinks that he, at least, is always noticeable.
"You are an atrocious hostess," he informs her lightly when she finally acknowledges him. He admits it's been a rather long night - one of her friends would not leave him alone - so he doesn't entirely blame her for disappearing.
A contrite smile turns her lips and she nods for him to come in. "Shut the door behind you, will you?"
"You forgot the magic word," he teases, closing it so it gives a satisfying snap, before walking towards her bed. They stare at each other for the briefest moment before Bradley drops himself heavily beside her, causing her to squeal and fall against him.
He takes advantage, throwing an arm around her back, keeping her pinned while he makes a show of fidgeting into place. Angel makes the requisite noises of protest, but he notices she doesn't actually fight to get out of his hold. It warms him a little.
"What're you watching?"
"Love Actually," she responds immediately, leaning her head naturally into his shoulder. He groans, and her slap, when it comes, is hardly anything more than a gentle nudge as the layers of blankets prevent it from doing any damage whatsoever. Not that he's complaining at all.
"Why are you hiding under a mountain of blankets?" he asks incredulously. "Your flat is warm, considering."
"I'm comfortable," she says in a distracted way, and Bradley's only response is to pull her closer against him.
There's silence for a while as Keira Knightley chases after the bloke with the signs before giving him a fast peck. Bradley's never totally understood the scene, and he's sure that if he asked Angel, she would explain it to him. But he doesn't really want to admit to her that he fails at romance.
Though he does suspect she already knows.
The movie plays on, shifting to the Bill Nighy scene with his manager. The temptation to ask Angel if she thought Elton John actually did still have parties - after all, he had to be nearly Richard's age, and the closest to partying Bradley has ever seen Richard do is to ride bloody Space Mountain - but she nestles herself a little bit against him, wiggling her bum until their hips are touching, throwing her legs over his, and he doesn't want to give her any possible reason to move away from him.
It's Hugh Grant with the Christmas cards next, and now Bradley's plain bored. The film was all right the first time he watched it, but every female in his life seemed intent on re-watching it at every opportunity and he's well familiar with it. So he looks around to entertain himself. Her bed is smaller than he expected, and he'd thought of her as more likely to have a pink comforter, rather than this cream one. Not that he's put much thought into how her bed would look, or feel, or what it would be like to wake up in it.
Maybe at the beginning of series one when he'd had that bitty crush on her, but definitely not recently. It just wasn't the smart thing to do when they have to play lovey eyes at each other in every shared scene. Admittedly, it might make things -
"You know," Angel says, and Bradley almost jumps. He had been half convinced she was passed out against his shoulder. "When I first met you, I thought you were just this funny guy. And I knew I wanted to get to know you."
Bradley waits for her to continue (this information is nothing new; he's seen the DVD extras), but she says nothing else and he squeezes her slightly. "And now?"
"Well, you're definitely a pain in the arse, when you team up with Colin." He scoffs and she tilts her head in thought. "Actually, not only when you team up with Colin. Just in general."
"Thank you, Angel," he says sarcastically. She doesn't make a sound, and he sort of wants to take a look at her, but he's bloody comfortable, and it's nice having her cozy in his arms this way. So he nudges the back of her head very lightly with his chin in retribution, and she knocks her head back.
"But you're also... I don't know, it's nice having you around." She pauses, then looks down at the blanket. "Thanks for coming to the party."
"Wouldn't miss it."
Bradley pretends he doesn't feel the thrill that drops his stomach as her hands appear from under the blanket to play with his hanging over her shoulder. He watches as she matches their hands together - hers seem so small and delicate with those long fingers - and then slips her thumb across his palm, turning it towards her as though about to read the lines on it.
Clearing his throat as she begins to tease the pads of his fingers, Bradley looks at the screen again. "I've always liked the kid in the whale costume," he says awkwardly and Angel glances up hurriedly.
"Shhh! It's getting to the best bit." She slaps his hand as though he's the one making the noise and Bradley only just resists pointing out that he's completely innocent. This time.
But the little girl starts singing, and he has to admit she's pretty good. He wonders vaguely if Angel's ever tried singing this song; expects that she has and that she did a good job of it. He'll ask her about that later, cajole her to sing it for him (and obviously the song choice is just circumstantial; it's no sentiment he wishes to hear from her or anything), and then plans to tease her about it incessantly when series three starts shooting.
As Hugh Grant and the pretty brunette twirl away from a teacher, Angel tilts her head and he can imagine the thoughtful look that accompanies that gesture. The image changes, the kids are performing again but when Hugh and his woman appear on the screen once more, doing the sexually charged will-they-won't-they kiss thing, Angel makes a decisive noise in the back of her throat.
Opening his mouth to ask what she was thinking, a startled huff comes out instead as her hand lands on his thigh - rather close to other, more sensitive areas - and Bradley honestly cannot decide if he is distressed or pleased about this.
He doesn't like the sudden cool as Angel pushes herself away from him but as she rises to her knees, turning to face him, Bradley can't remember why he thought to protest her move. Her eyes seem bright, her expression determined, her hair a bit of a glorious mess, and the drumming from the song throws him off; each thump of the drum is counterpoint to the thump of his pounding heart.
And he doesn't quite... He means to ask... Angel's hands suddenly lace into his hair and he starts to say, "What are you -" but her lips are on his and God strike him down if he doesn't respond to her mouth and her tongue.
She tastes a bit of red wine, and smells kind of like autumn, and when she moans as he apparently does the right thing with his tongue, it comes out a little more like a purr.
It's sexy as hell and he fights the urge to crush her against him so he can roll her beneath him, settling instead on burying his hands in her thick curls.
It's just getting really, really good when applause blasts from the television and she breaks away with a start, sitting back on her heels and looking a little bashful.
But satisfied.
Definitely satisfied. It makes him feel gratified and definitively male somehow.
And Bradley also really likes that dusty flush on her cheeks. He thinks it's cute at the best of times; it's damn well alluring now he's been the cause of it.
"Um," she offers after a moment.
"Right," he replies.
She stares at him for a little longer, and when her eyes flick down to his lips, she licks hers, and it's all he can do now that his blood is pumping in a molten frenzy through his veins not to lean forwards and capture her mouth again.
But then Angel swallows and glances over her shoulder at the telly. "Do you mind if I rewind?" she asks.
Bradley blinks, but nods wordlessly when she looks back at him. While he appreciates it when she drops back against his chest, and pulls his arm around her, he wouldn't mind a little ... explanation or ... Well, more snogging.
"Angel?" he hazards while she flicks buttons on her DVD remote.
There's a nervous pause before she says, "Yes, Bradley?"
"What the hell was that?"
"I was just curious." He thinks she doesn't sound as nonchalant as she probably hopes.
"Just curious," he echoes. He doesn't really know where to settle himself now, so he sits stiffly. And his hand is hanging over her shoulder again, and he fears moving at all in case he were to ... brush certain parts of her by accident. For God's sakes. He never would have worried about any of this before. "Can I ask why?"
She pauses the DVD and hesitates. "I've only ever kissed you when you're playing Arthur."
Epiphany explodes in his mind, something like the supernovas he's seen on documentary telly, and he jostles her as he leans forward to see her face. "I knew it was you in that one take! The one with the open mouth! Oh, sorry, Alice! I just thought Gwen might throw herself into it more this time." He wonders for a moment that his imitation would annoy her, but instead a small smile turns her lips. Then she shrugs. "We all believed you," he continues then, shaking his head in disbelief. "After all, you slammed me into that pole."
"Now that was Gwen to Arthur," Angel protests hurriedly with a small giggle. "And don't tell me you didn't like it."
"I... Well, all right. But that's beside the point." He thinks that maybe if he can garner a laugh, he can also steal another kiss. So he tuts her, shaking his head gravely. "Oh, Angel. I was absolutely right - you are a hussy."
She gives a huge laugh, it sounds startled and a little outraged and when she opens her mouth to retort, Bradley occupies her tongue in a different way.
Angel's hand around his head tells him she doesn't really mind.
Bradley's always been rather fond of Christmas.
Author: kepp0xy
Characters/Pairings: Bradley/Angel
Rating/Genre: PG
Warnings: Hm. Spoilers for Love Actually & references to events in 2x10. Also apologies for possible lack of Britishisms. I hope any mistakes are mostly forgivable *doe eyes*
Words: ~1800
Disclaimer: Work of fiction, didn't happen, don't stalk them, just think they're pretty and would be hot together.
Summary: Angel has a Christmas party.
Author's Notes: For the holidays, I offered my flist cards or fic, unconfessed asked for fic! She prompted several things, but this was Angel/Bradley "when I first met you". It's totally an excuse to write something about Love Actually, snogging, and Bradley & Angel on a bed.
Bradley finds Angel in her bedroom. She's curled beneath her coverlet, and what appears to be several thinner blankets as well, leaning back against the wall, watching a small telly. She's an actress - and a damn good one - so he can't be sure, but he's fairly certain she is purposely ignoring him. The music blaring from her living room is not loud enough to wake the dead, but it does filter in the room with enough presence to be noticeable now he's opened the door.
Plus, Bradley thinks that he, at least, is always noticeable.
"You are an atrocious hostess," he informs her lightly when she finally acknowledges him. He admits it's been a rather long night - one of her friends would not leave him alone - so he doesn't entirely blame her for disappearing.
A contrite smile turns her lips and she nods for him to come in. "Shut the door behind you, will you?"
"You forgot the magic word," he teases, closing it so it gives a satisfying snap, before walking towards her bed. They stare at each other for the briefest moment before Bradley drops himself heavily beside her, causing her to squeal and fall against him.
He takes advantage, throwing an arm around her back, keeping her pinned while he makes a show of fidgeting into place. Angel makes the requisite noises of protest, but he notices she doesn't actually fight to get out of his hold. It warms him a little.
"What're you watching?"
"Love Actually," she responds immediately, leaning her head naturally into his shoulder. He groans, and her slap, when it comes, is hardly anything more than a gentle nudge as the layers of blankets prevent it from doing any damage whatsoever. Not that he's complaining at all.
"Why are you hiding under a mountain of blankets?" he asks incredulously. "Your flat is warm, considering."
"I'm comfortable," she says in a distracted way, and Bradley's only response is to pull her closer against him.
There's silence for a while as Keira Knightley chases after the bloke with the signs before giving him a fast peck. Bradley's never totally understood the scene, and he's sure that if he asked Angel, she would explain it to him. But he doesn't really want to admit to her that he fails at romance.
Though he does suspect she already knows.
The movie plays on, shifting to the Bill Nighy scene with his manager. The temptation to ask Angel if she thought Elton John actually did still have parties - after all, he had to be nearly Richard's age, and the closest to partying Bradley has ever seen Richard do is to ride bloody Space Mountain - but she nestles herself a little bit against him, wiggling her bum until their hips are touching, throwing her legs over his, and he doesn't want to give her any possible reason to move away from him.
It's Hugh Grant with the Christmas cards next, and now Bradley's plain bored. The film was all right the first time he watched it, but every female in his life seemed intent on re-watching it at every opportunity and he's well familiar with it. So he looks around to entertain himself. Her bed is smaller than he expected, and he'd thought of her as more likely to have a pink comforter, rather than this cream one. Not that he's put much thought into how her bed would look, or feel, or what it would be like to wake up in it.
Maybe at the beginning of series one when he'd had that bitty crush on her, but definitely not recently. It just wasn't the smart thing to do when they have to play lovey eyes at each other in every shared scene. Admittedly, it might make things -
"You know," Angel says, and Bradley almost jumps. He had been half convinced she was passed out against his shoulder. "When I first met you, I thought you were just this funny guy. And I knew I wanted to get to know you."
Bradley waits for her to continue (this information is nothing new; he's seen the DVD extras), but she says nothing else and he squeezes her slightly. "And now?"
"Well, you're definitely a pain in the arse, when you team up with Colin." He scoffs and she tilts her head in thought. "Actually, not only when you team up with Colin. Just in general."
"Thank you, Angel," he says sarcastically. She doesn't make a sound, and he sort of wants to take a look at her, but he's bloody comfortable, and it's nice having her cozy in his arms this way. So he nudges the back of her head very lightly with his chin in retribution, and she knocks her head back.
"But you're also... I don't know, it's nice having you around." She pauses, then looks down at the blanket. "Thanks for coming to the party."
"Wouldn't miss it."
Bradley pretends he doesn't feel the thrill that drops his stomach as her hands appear from under the blanket to play with his hanging over her shoulder. He watches as she matches their hands together - hers seem so small and delicate with those long fingers - and then slips her thumb across his palm, turning it towards her as though about to read the lines on it.
Clearing his throat as she begins to tease the pads of his fingers, Bradley looks at the screen again. "I've always liked the kid in the whale costume," he says awkwardly and Angel glances up hurriedly.
"Shhh! It's getting to the best bit." She slaps his hand as though he's the one making the noise and Bradley only just resists pointing out that he's completely innocent. This time.
But the little girl starts singing, and he has to admit she's pretty good. He wonders vaguely if Angel's ever tried singing this song; expects that she has and that she did a good job of it. He'll ask her about that later, cajole her to sing it for him (and obviously the song choice is just circumstantial; it's no sentiment he wishes to hear from her or anything), and then plans to tease her about it incessantly when series three starts shooting.
As Hugh Grant and the pretty brunette twirl away from a teacher, Angel tilts her head and he can imagine the thoughtful look that accompanies that gesture. The image changes, the kids are performing again but when Hugh and his woman appear on the screen once more, doing the sexually charged will-they-won't-they kiss thing, Angel makes a decisive noise in the back of her throat.
Opening his mouth to ask what she was thinking, a startled huff comes out instead as her hand lands on his thigh - rather close to other, more sensitive areas - and Bradley honestly cannot decide if he is distressed or pleased about this.
He doesn't like the sudden cool as Angel pushes herself away from him but as she rises to her knees, turning to face him, Bradley can't remember why he thought to protest her move. Her eyes seem bright, her expression determined, her hair a bit of a glorious mess, and the drumming from the song throws him off; each thump of the drum is counterpoint to the thump of his pounding heart.
And he doesn't quite... He means to ask... Angel's hands suddenly lace into his hair and he starts to say, "What are you -" but her lips are on his and God strike him down if he doesn't respond to her mouth and her tongue.
She tastes a bit of red wine, and smells kind of like autumn, and when she moans as he apparently does the right thing with his tongue, it comes out a little more like a purr.
It's sexy as hell and he fights the urge to crush her against him so he can roll her beneath him, settling instead on burying his hands in her thick curls.
It's just getting really, really good when applause blasts from the television and she breaks away with a start, sitting back on her heels and looking a little bashful.
But satisfied.
Definitely satisfied. It makes him feel gratified and definitively male somehow.
And Bradley also really likes that dusty flush on her cheeks. He thinks it's cute at the best of times; it's damn well alluring now he's been the cause of it.
"Um," she offers after a moment.
"Right," he replies.
She stares at him for a little longer, and when her eyes flick down to his lips, she licks hers, and it's all he can do now that his blood is pumping in a molten frenzy through his veins not to lean forwards and capture her mouth again.
But then Angel swallows and glances over her shoulder at the telly. "Do you mind if I rewind?" she asks.
Bradley blinks, but nods wordlessly when she looks back at him. While he appreciates it when she drops back against his chest, and pulls his arm around her, he wouldn't mind a little ... explanation or ... Well, more snogging.
"Angel?" he hazards while she flicks buttons on her DVD remote.
There's a nervous pause before she says, "Yes, Bradley?"
"What the hell was that?"
"I was just curious." He thinks she doesn't sound as nonchalant as she probably hopes.
"Just curious," he echoes. He doesn't really know where to settle himself now, so he sits stiffly. And his hand is hanging over her shoulder again, and he fears moving at all in case he were to ... brush certain parts of her by accident. For God's sakes. He never would have worried about any of this before. "Can I ask why?"
She pauses the DVD and hesitates. "I've only ever kissed you when you're playing Arthur."
Epiphany explodes in his mind, something like the supernovas he's seen on documentary telly, and he jostles her as he leans forward to see her face. "I knew it was you in that one take! The one with the open mouth! Oh, sorry, Alice! I just thought Gwen might throw herself into it more this time." He wonders for a moment that his imitation would annoy her, but instead a small smile turns her lips. Then she shrugs. "We all believed you," he continues then, shaking his head in disbelief. "After all, you slammed me into that pole."
"Now that was Gwen to Arthur," Angel protests hurriedly with a small giggle. "And don't tell me you didn't like it."
"I... Well, all right. But that's beside the point." He thinks that maybe if he can garner a laugh, he can also steal another kiss. So he tuts her, shaking his head gravely. "Oh, Angel. I was absolutely right - you are a hussy."
She gives a huge laugh, it sounds startled and a little outraged and when she opens her mouth to retort, Bradley occupies her tongue in a different way.
Angel's hand around his head tells him she doesn't really mind.
Bradley's always been rather fond of Christmas.