Fic: Curled Up Inside
There is perhaps a reason why I shouldn’t have kids. Maybe the next time my mother drops a hints about how much she wants to be a grandma, I should give her this to read.
Title: Curled Up Inside
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Pairing: Richard/James, plus kinda something else (but I don’t want to spoil you, OMG!)
Rating: PG
Warning: MPREG, crack
Word Count: 1400
Disclaimer: Not real. No slander intended. I love you James May. Marry me. Have my demon arse babies.
Author’s Notes: Thanks go to nixwilliams for the beta and the encouragement and for generally being an awesome friend and crack fiend. Thanks to swing-set for the prompt. Never thought I’d write mpreg - I don’t know if this is quite what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I hold you responsible! ;-) All comments/feedback welcome.
Author's Note II: NOW WITH ADDED PREQUEL, which can be found HERE (in the comments, actually), but which you should read AFTER the main fic itself, ok?!
Summary: “No,” laughed Jeremy. “He’s just got The Stig’s helmet up his top. It’ll be his idea of a practical joke, just you see. He’ll expect us to laugh in front of the cameras and it will be awkward and funny but really not in the way he intended it to be!”
They were outside, Jeremy and Richard leaning against a car, watching as James completed the first part of their latest challenge.
“You know,” said Jeremy, “I think James has been drinking too much. Look at his beer gut.”
“What?” replied Richard.
“I think it’s a rebellion against that wine ponce,” Jeremy continued. “He’s gone back to ales and he’s been hitting them too hard. You should say something.”
“Er,” said Richard, “I don’t think- I mean, I haven’t noticed-”
“James!” said Jeremy.
“How’d I go?” asked James as he approached.
“Rubbish,” said Jeremy.
Richard’s eyes flicked down to James’ gut. It did seem large, but then Richard had never really noticed it before. How could he not notice something like that, when he was sleeping with the man?
The next part of the challenge lead them to be outside once more, refitting their cars to certain ridiculous specifications.
“Look at that!” hissed Jeremy to Richard. “He can’t even bend over the bonnet, his belly is so big!”
“What?” said Richard, looking over to James. And it was true. James had to lean sideways across the car to fiddle with the flappy rubber extensions he was attaching to the roof of the car. He turned to pick up a tool that was laid out neatly on the ground beside him and, instead of bending down, he squatted, one hand on his back for support and his belly protruding. Richard watched with wide eyes.
“I think he’s pregnant!” he gasped.
“What?” laughed Jeremy. “No!”
“But look at him!” said Richard. They both looked at James. Everything about the way he looked and moved and held himself screamed ‘Pregnant!’ to Richard.
“No,” laughed Jeremy again. “He’s just got The Stig’s helmet up his top. It’ll be his idea of a practical joke, just you see. He’ll expect us to laugh in front of the cameras and it will be awkward and funny but really not in the way he intended it to be!”
“I don’t know,” said Richard slowly, watching as James awkwardly adjusted the periscope on his car. “I just think…” He turned to Jeremy with a bewildered look on his face, but Jeremy had his back turned and was working again on his own car, dripping aqua paint onto the ground.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Richard said, under his breath, to noone at all.
At the pub that night, Richard watched James carry their drinks back to the table. His belly - if it was possible - was even larger and rounder than before.
“Where’s your drink, James?” Richard asked sharply.
“Here,” replied James, lifting a glass of water.
Richard stared at him.
“Going easy on the ale then, are you?” said Jeremy, loudly.
“Something like that,” said James, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
“And I’ve been meaning to ask you, James,” continued Jeremy, “However did you get The Stig’s helmet off him?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said James.
“Oh yeah?” said Jeremy, his eyes flicking from James’ face to his belly and back again.
“James,” said Richard in a low, urgent voice. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure,” said James. They left Jeremy at the table laughing, and went outside.
Richard took a shaky breath and deliberately looked away from James as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said quietly.
“Tell you what?” said James.
“Tell me that you’re pregnant?” said Richard.
James laughed, loud and fast. Then he saw Richard’s face and stopped.
“Mate,” he said. “I don’t know if you missed some part of sex ed, but as a man, I don’t think-”
Richard interrupted. “Don’t ‘mate’ me! And how do you explain that-?” He nodded to James’ belly.
“Er,” said James. He looked down at his gut as though seeing it for the first time. “Gas?” he said. He moved his hand, as though to touch it. But he was uncertain and his hand remained in the air, just above his belly. He looked at Richard and something fell away from his face. Richard was suddenly very, very scared.
“I’m gonna be a daddy!” yelled Richard excitedly. “Jeremy, did you hear? I’m gonna be a dad!”
“Oh really?” said Jeremy, not looking up from reading the morning paper.
“Yes!” said Richard. “James is pregnant! We went to the doctor’s and got it checked out and everything’s normal - well, almost normal. But I don’t care! I’m gonna be a dad! Me and James are going to be parents!”
“Riiight,” said Jeremy, looking up at Richard.
“It’s true, Jeremy,” said James from the doorway. “I put in for maternity leave this morning.”
“And the part where you’re a man, James?” said Jeremy, enunciating slowly.
“Well,” began James in a matter-of-fact voice, but Richard spoke over the top of him. “Never mind that!” said Richard with a wave of his hand. “We want your opinion on names, Jeremy. How do you feel about ‘Horatio’?”
“Er,” said Jeremy, for once lost for words.
Richard laughed and clapped his hands. “And what about ‘River’ for a girl?”
The week passed quickly. It was the big day and Richard was stuck in traffic. James had been calm on the phone, saying his contractions had started and Richard should come over to take them both to the hospital. Richard had almost hyperventilated and James had told him to keep breathing.
“Remember to time them,” Richard said. “Time the contractions and then - then what do you do once you’ve timed them?”
James had laughed and told him he’d be fine. “We’ve got plenty of time,” he said. “But please hurry, okay?”
“Okay,” said Richard and hung up the phone, grinning.
He arrived at James’ place and all was silent. He rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He went round the back to let himself in. “James?” he called from the backdoor. “James?”
He wandered through the empty house, a ball of worry growing in his chest. He found The Stig at the top of the stairs.
“Oh hi, Stig,” he said. “Where’s James? Is he alright?”
The Stig’s dark visor was impassive as always. Richard glanced at him and hurried past into the bedroom. James was curled up in bed, looking pale and sweaty.
“Oh my god,” gasped Richard. “Did I miss it? Are you alright? What happened? Talk to me!”
James gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine,” he said softly.
“And the baby?” said Richard.
James pointed down the side of the bed. Richard crept around the bed and looked down. There was an upturned helmet lying on the floor and in it, a small bundle. James reached down to carefully pick up the helmet. He glanced at Richard and parted the blankets within the helmet. Inside was a small being, curled snugly, dressed in a white bunny-suit and on its head, a tiny white helmet with a dark visor. Richard caught a glimpse of small moist green tentacles within the blankets. He looked at James. James looked tired and pale. Richard felt a pang in his chest and his mouth felt dry. “I don’t understand,” he said in an empty voice.
James continued looking down at the small being in the helmet.
“James?” said Richard, gently.
Time stretched and Richard felt his joints going stiff. The child made no noise, but Richard could see the occasional shift of a limb or flickering movement of a tentacle. After a while, James took a breath and spoke in a sad, quiet voice: “Two weeks ago I went for a drive with The Stig.”
Richard waited for him to continue, but James said nothing more. After a while, Richard got into bed next to him and they both stared at the infant for many hours.
A week later, the undemanding baby unfolded itself from the helmet and stood upright, the size of a man. Its white jumpsuit still fitted perfectly, its tentacles nowhere to be seen.
“James,” said Richard softly and reached across the breakfast table to hold James’ hand. They looked into the blank visor of the child’s white helmet. They couldn’t tell if the child was looking back at them. For a moment it stood and did nothing. Then it turned and walked out the door. Neither of them got up to stop it. Richard squeezed James’ hand.
Later that day Jeremy came round with some flowers. The card read: Congratulations on the alien spawn.
Title: Curled Up Inside
Fandom: Top Gear RPS
Pairing: Richard/James, plus kinda something else (but I don’t want to spoil you, OMG!)
Rating: PG
Warning: MPREG, crack
Word Count: 1400
Disclaimer: Not real. No slander intended. I love you James May. Marry me. Have my demon arse babies.
Author’s Notes: Thanks go to nixwilliams for the beta and the encouragement and for generally being an awesome friend and crack fiend. Thanks to swing-set for the prompt. Never thought I’d write mpreg - I don’t know if this is quite what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I hold you responsible! ;-) All comments/feedback welcome.
Author's Note II: NOW WITH ADDED PREQUEL, which can be found HERE (in the comments, actually), but which you should read AFTER the main fic itself, ok?!
Summary: “No,” laughed Jeremy. “He’s just got The Stig’s helmet up his top. It’ll be his idea of a practical joke, just you see. He’ll expect us to laugh in front of the cameras and it will be awkward and funny but really not in the way he intended it to be!”
They were outside, Jeremy and Richard leaning against a car, watching as James completed the first part of their latest challenge.
“You know,” said Jeremy, “I think James has been drinking too much. Look at his beer gut.”
“What?” replied Richard.
“I think it’s a rebellion against that wine ponce,” Jeremy continued. “He’s gone back to ales and he’s been hitting them too hard. You should say something.”
“Er,” said Richard, “I don’t think- I mean, I haven’t noticed-”
“James!” said Jeremy.
“How’d I go?” asked James as he approached.
“Rubbish,” said Jeremy.
Richard’s eyes flicked down to James’ gut. It did seem large, but then Richard had never really noticed it before. How could he not notice something like that, when he was sleeping with the man?
The next part of the challenge lead them to be outside once more, refitting their cars to certain ridiculous specifications.
“Look at that!” hissed Jeremy to Richard. “He can’t even bend over the bonnet, his belly is so big!”
“What?” said Richard, looking over to James. And it was true. James had to lean sideways across the car to fiddle with the flappy rubber extensions he was attaching to the roof of the car. He turned to pick up a tool that was laid out neatly on the ground beside him and, instead of bending down, he squatted, one hand on his back for support and his belly protruding. Richard watched with wide eyes.
“I think he’s pregnant!” he gasped.
“What?” laughed Jeremy. “No!”
“But look at him!” said Richard. They both looked at James. Everything about the way he looked and moved and held himself screamed ‘Pregnant!’ to Richard.
“No,” laughed Jeremy again. “He’s just got The Stig’s helmet up his top. It’ll be his idea of a practical joke, just you see. He’ll expect us to laugh in front of the cameras and it will be awkward and funny but really not in the way he intended it to be!”
“I don’t know,” said Richard slowly, watching as James awkwardly adjusted the periscope on his car. “I just think…” He turned to Jeremy with a bewildered look on his face, but Jeremy had his back turned and was working again on his own car, dripping aqua paint onto the ground.
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Richard said, under his breath, to noone at all.
At the pub that night, Richard watched James carry their drinks back to the table. His belly - if it was possible - was even larger and rounder than before.
“Where’s your drink, James?” Richard asked sharply.
“Here,” replied James, lifting a glass of water.
Richard stared at him.
“Going easy on the ale then, are you?” said Jeremy, loudly.
“Something like that,” said James, one eyebrow raised in amusement.
“And I’ve been meaning to ask you, James,” continued Jeremy, “However did you get The Stig’s helmet off him?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said James.
“Oh yeah?” said Jeremy, his eyes flicking from James’ face to his belly and back again.
“James,” said Richard in a low, urgent voice. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure,” said James. They left Jeremy at the table laughing, and went outside.
Richard took a shaky breath and deliberately looked away from James as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said quietly.
“Tell you what?” said James.
“Tell me that you’re pregnant?” said Richard.
James laughed, loud and fast. Then he saw Richard’s face and stopped.
“Mate,” he said. “I don’t know if you missed some part of sex ed, but as a man, I don’t think-”
Richard interrupted. “Don’t ‘mate’ me! And how do you explain that-?” He nodded to James’ belly.
“Er,” said James. He looked down at his gut as though seeing it for the first time. “Gas?” he said. He moved his hand, as though to touch it. But he was uncertain and his hand remained in the air, just above his belly. He looked at Richard and something fell away from his face. Richard was suddenly very, very scared.
“I’m gonna be a daddy!” yelled Richard excitedly. “Jeremy, did you hear? I’m gonna be a dad!”
“Oh really?” said Jeremy, not looking up from reading the morning paper.
“Yes!” said Richard. “James is pregnant! We went to the doctor’s and got it checked out and everything’s normal - well, almost normal. But I don’t care! I’m gonna be a dad! Me and James are going to be parents!”
“Riiight,” said Jeremy, looking up at Richard.
“It’s true, Jeremy,” said James from the doorway. “I put in for maternity leave this morning.”
“And the part where you’re a man, James?” said Jeremy, enunciating slowly.
“Well,” began James in a matter-of-fact voice, but Richard spoke over the top of him. “Never mind that!” said Richard with a wave of his hand. “We want your opinion on names, Jeremy. How do you feel about ‘Horatio’?”
“Er,” said Jeremy, for once lost for words.
Richard laughed and clapped his hands. “And what about ‘River’ for a girl?”
The week passed quickly. It was the big day and Richard was stuck in traffic. James had been calm on the phone, saying his contractions had started and Richard should come over to take them both to the hospital. Richard had almost hyperventilated and James had told him to keep breathing.
“Remember to time them,” Richard said. “Time the contractions and then - then what do you do once you’ve timed them?”
James had laughed and told him he’d be fine. “We’ve got plenty of time,” he said. “But please hurry, okay?”
“Okay,” said Richard and hung up the phone, grinning.
He arrived at James’ place and all was silent. He rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He went round the back to let himself in. “James?” he called from the backdoor. “James?”
He wandered through the empty house, a ball of worry growing in his chest. He found The Stig at the top of the stairs.
“Oh hi, Stig,” he said. “Where’s James? Is he alright?”
The Stig’s dark visor was impassive as always. Richard glanced at him and hurried past into the bedroom. James was curled up in bed, looking pale and sweaty.
“Oh my god,” gasped Richard. “Did I miss it? Are you alright? What happened? Talk to me!”
James gave him a weak smile. “I’m fine,” he said softly.
“And the baby?” said Richard.
James pointed down the side of the bed. Richard crept around the bed and looked down. There was an upturned helmet lying on the floor and in it, a small bundle. James reached down to carefully pick up the helmet. He glanced at Richard and parted the blankets within the helmet. Inside was a small being, curled snugly, dressed in a white bunny-suit and on its head, a tiny white helmet with a dark visor. Richard caught a glimpse of small moist green tentacles within the blankets. He looked at James. James looked tired and pale. Richard felt a pang in his chest and his mouth felt dry. “I don’t understand,” he said in an empty voice.
James continued looking down at the small being in the helmet.
“James?” said Richard, gently.
Time stretched and Richard felt his joints going stiff. The child made no noise, but Richard could see the occasional shift of a limb or flickering movement of a tentacle. After a while, James took a breath and spoke in a sad, quiet voice: “Two weeks ago I went for a drive with The Stig.”
Richard waited for him to continue, but James said nothing more. After a while, Richard got into bed next to him and they both stared at the infant for many hours.
A week later, the undemanding baby unfolded itself from the helmet and stood upright, the size of a man. Its white jumpsuit still fitted perfectly, its tentacles nowhere to be seen.
“James,” said Richard softly and reached across the breakfast table to hold James’ hand. They looked into the blank visor of the child’s white helmet. They couldn’t tell if the child was looking back at them. For a moment it stood and did nothing. Then it turned and walked out the door. Neither of them got up to stop it. Richard squeezed James’ hand.
Later that day Jeremy came round with some flowers. The card read: Congratulations on the alien spawn.