(no subject)
Title: A Mild Proposition(1/?)
Author: Sonata Night
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: James/Richard
Summary: Richard presents a proposition to James.
Notes: Set pre-accident for Richard, hence the liquor. :P Damn you, Draco, for making me intrigued into Top Gear.
Disclaimer: Fish are friends, not food - Erhm, I mean, all of this is purely from my imagination.
James has said once that he doesn't like girls with big hands. Richard wonders if he feels the same abount men with small hands. Richard has small hands. Richard also has an urge to kiss James and find out what it feels like, and find out what James' mouth tastes like, whether his hair is soft or if it's kind of scratchy, like Jeremy's is. Not that Richard has ever kissed Jeremy, but Jeremy and he ended up passing out on a couch one night after a boys night in of drinking, and he woke up with Jeremy leaning on him, hair scratching Richard's face, snoring loudly, and an accumulation of drool in the little hollow of Richard's neck as it tilted away, as if unconsciously trying to avoid Jeremy's spittle.
Jeremy has scratchy hair. And Richard has no clue what that has to do with him figuring out whether he should just invite James over, get the both of them a bit snockered, and kiss him, or talk to him about it and what have you.
He opts for the alcohol route, because clearly nothing could ever go wrong in this situation.
He has no clue where this sudden want to kiss James has come from. His co-presenter has been just that for several years now. And all of a sudden, he wants to kiss the man, who looks sort of like a very furry ferret decided to pass out on top of his skull.
After he calls James and works out that yes, James will come over and have a beer or two, just promise that TG won't throw up on him again.
It's hard to concentrate on what James is telling him all night, little pointless things that the two of them toss back and forth normally with a sort of natural ease, but conversation is stilted because Richard keeps getting distracted by James, the way his philtrum is wide and pronounced, and Richard wants to kiss there, too.
He's pretty sure that this urge to kiss James is not entirely a physical thing, because physicality generally implies kissing the mouth, and then getting down to business and getting naked and vertical in bed. Kissing the philtrum, that little spot right above the lip and right below the nose, that's not a physical thing. That's something that makes Richard's stomach do a little flip-flop when he thinks about it, and he thinks about kissing James' philtrum, cupping his cheeks and kissing him firmly.
"Richard?"
"Hm." Richard focuses on James, rather than his philtrum.
"You're drooling."
"Right." Wipe that up, quick. That's strike one.
"Are you okay? You've been really out of it all night. Are you tired or something? Maybe you should go to bed, and I'll just show myself out."
Strike two. "No, no, that's quite all right." Richard nervously ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of his beer. James arched an eyebrow at him, it disappearing behind a shaggy lock of fringe hanging down, and Richard had to hold back his hand, fingers itching to brush away the hair.
No, Richard, you may not touch your co-presenter in inappropriate ways. But you can get him drunk to kiss him? Shut up brain. This doesn't concern you. What does this concern, your penis? I am NOT having this conversation with you.
"Look, Richard, I think you should lay down. Your eyes are all glazed over. And besides that, I just asked you if you want another beer, and you've been sat there for thirty seconds now with this confused look on your face."
Strike three.
"No, look, James, just... sit. I'll get us another beer." Richard gets up, takes a minute to compose himself in the kitchen, and brings back another two drinks for them. He hands James one, and wonders if James can see how much Richard wants to kiss him, an urge that is bordering precariously on becoming wanton very soon.
He finds that by focusing on finding something for them to listen to while they're talking, he's able to focus on what James is saying. James comes to join him after a few minutes and they both start laughing when they find the tape that they used when they took over the BBC Southern Counties Radio, how crap the music was.
Richard's nervousness has led to him taking fast sips of his beer, and although he is nowhere near drunk, since he's only had three, he's feeling a bit more relaxed. They start going through the rest of Richard's music. They debate listening to the Beatles, decide to put on Def Leppard, leading to a discussion about good songs to shag to.
"You always see in the movies people having sex, and the music seems to match their movements, and if you were to try and shag someone to 'Pour Some Sugar On Me', or any song with Rick Allen playing post-amputation because the beats are just a bit too ... well, the closest word they can get is "off".
They work their way past Coldplay, past The Killers, and Richard deals with James mocking him for owning a Depeche Mode CD and debates punching him in the face, and they end up finally putting on The Who, listening to "Baba O'Riley" on repeat. Another hour flies by easily now, and they are on their way to being rather happily pissed.
They are listening to "Wonderwall" now. Richard closes his eyes and listens to the lyrics. I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt, I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you.
He has one of those moments, when you listen to a song and your heart rather stupidly tells you that this song is your song with a certain person and you think of them every time you hear it and it has great emotional meaning and other such things. And then he realises that he's having one of those moments about James May and since when did wanting to bloody kiss the man, which is odd enough as it is, turn into mentally dedicating a song to being ABOUT THEM.
...and after all, you're my wonderwall...
Oh good lord. There's clearly something here that Richard should probably deal with once he sobers up, because apparently he's more than physically interested in James.
James is watching him intentely. "What're you thinking about, Hamster?" Richard glances over. He wonders what James would do if he told him the truth. He decides to do a half-truth.
"Philtrums. Your philtrum, to be specific."
"Ah. My philtrum. That explains it." James is teasing him. "What's my philtrum got to do with your completely addled brain?"
"You have a pronounced philtrum." This conversation is going very wrong, very quickly.
"I see. And what is a philtrum, now?"
Richard reaches over and touches the little valley underneath James' nose, rubs his finger lightly over the soft ridge on either side, lets his finger linger, and then dropped his hand. "Uhm, yeah. That's your philtrum." James smirk-smiles at him, and Richard's stomach does a flip-flop.
Fuck. Huh. He has a very, very sexy way of doing that too. James reaches over, touches Richard's philtrum, and Richard meets James' eyes. He remembers why he invited over James in the first place.
"Remember when you said you didn't like girls with big hands?"
"Yeah?" James looks at Richard. "They're just odd. All," he does the hand thing again, waving it about slightly. "There."
"What about men with small hands?" Richard holds up his hands. "I mean, I've got small hands but you seem to like me just fine." He's saying very stupid things now, he knows it.
"Well, yeah, but that's because you're my friend. I think men with small hands look less oddly-proportioned than women with large hands, and generally, I'm not interested in shagging a man. Women with big hands in bed make me feel weird, if their hands are as big as mine."
"Ah." Well, this conversation has gone nowhere. "James?"
"Yeah, Hamster?"
"Uh. Never mind."
"No, no, what is it?" A heavy sigh, and James gives him a look, as if he's slightly concerned about the state of Richard's brain. Richard shrugs, gets up, throws out their bottles. James follows him, pestering him, and Richard is reminded why he doesn't drink with James often.
He turns around and James is right there, and he trips over himself trying not to bump into James, and James catches him, and his hands are broad and sturdy, and warm, and somehow very, very gentle as they release Richard. He bites his lip, surprised how very hard he is in the proximity of James.
His brain finally shuts off. That might not be a good thing. His fingers suddenly forward, thumbs hooking into the pockets of James' jeans, and James looks at him with that amused expression. "What are you doing now?"
"Dunno." Richard hears himself saying. He decides that thinking is an overrated thing. "As a general rule, you've never been interested in shagging a man."
"Yeah."
"What about being attracted to one?" He looks up at James, hoping James is somehow stupid enough to not see where this conversation is going.
"They're sort of mutually inclusive, I think," James answers.
"No, no, not at all. I mean, I'm attracted to some people but I don't think about shagging them because I know it will never happen."
"People like Kristen Scott Thomas?" James asks. Richard rolls his eyes and lets go of James' belt hooks, pushing away the man gently. "Come on, now. Tell me what's on your mind - you started this conversation and I want to know who you're thinking about. And why the hell you've included men in this category."
His heart thuds rather quickly, a solid thump thump thump that seems loud in his head. "Well, no, it's just. Have you ever wanted to kiss someone but not shag them?"
"Yeah, plenty of people." James pushes Richard back into a corner. "Tell me what you're thinking." He's still teasing, but the tone is not as light.
"Maybe another night." Richard sighs. He tries to push past James again, can't. "Look. I'm not in a mood anymore for this topic." He manages to slip past James and heads to his bedroom now, slipping out of his jeans and t-shirt, wandering around in his boxers. James sits on the bed and watches him. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Enough," James answers lazily, reclining on the bed. "Dunno. Five?"
Oh. He knows James is more than fine enough to drive home, but he doesn't want him to. He says so, feigning drunken worry. "Well, I think maybe you should stay. I mean, I don't want you crashing your car into a tree or anything."
"Right." James is placating him, perhaps. He watches Richard sit down on the bed. "Do you have any idea how odd you're acting tonight?"
"Yeah." Richard stops pretending. "Fuck." He sits on the bed, well aware of the fact that his cock is still half-erect. James reaches over and tangles his fingers through Richard's hair.
"You've always been a bit off, though." Richard cracks a grin at James' words and reaches over to return the finger- tangle through hair move, and finds that it is as soft as he had mused, softer than that, actually.
"You have soft hair." It comes out of his mouth very dumbly. James snorts, starts laughing, and Richard watches the corners of his eyes crinkle, his chest rising and falling in jerky movements as he snickers. Richard lays down next to him and they look at the ceiling. Turning his head, he finds James watching him and lightly kicks James' foot with his own. James kicks back and they start laughing again. He wonders why he couldn't have acted like this all night, easy-going and a fun guy?
"You have girly hands." James says. "If I have soft hair, then you have girly hands." Richard looks at him, and James catches Richard's wrist and holds it up, fingers wrapped almost all the way around the wrist.
"You have a nice philtrum."
"Thank you."
They stare at each other. "Since when have you been so interested in my philtrum?" James asks. Richard shrugs, pillow shifting beneath his head.
"Can I make a proposition?"
James rolls onto his side and looks at Richard. "If it has something to do with how much of a nutter you've been all night, I'm not sure I want to hear it." Richard frowns at him but plows on ahead.
"Well, here's the thing. I'd like to make a proposition-"
"So you've said," James snorts.
"And if you'd just shut up for a second."
"..."
"Thank you. Well. Uhm."
"I thought you wanted me to shut up, not you."
"I do. Shut up."
"Spit it out."
James levels Richard with a steady stare and Richard stammers and grasps for the words. "Well. Uhm. I think it might be interesting if we maybetriedhavingabitofasnog."
There is absolute silence from James, and Richard doesn't dare peek at him. When he does, Richard winces. James has an expression of, "What in god's name are you thinking?"
"Guess not?"
"Why?" The tone of James' voice matches his expression, but it is not resentful, rather, curious. Richard teeters on the edge of just kissing him to show why, and remembers that just because he will get the answer (hopefully) to why he wants to kiss James, his co-worker may not understand.
He answers as honestly as he can. "I've no idea. I just think that it might be interesting to kiss you. I think it's something that started when I was thinking about your hair."
"My hair."
"Yeah, I wanted to know if it was soft or like Jeremy's, all scratchy."
James seems strangely relaxed about this topic, as opposed to Richard who cannot sit still and has gotten up and is pacing around, staring at James.
"Richard, sit down." James sits up and catches Richard's arm, yanks him firmly to the bed. "We cannot have a discussion if I'm getting so dizzy watching you walk circles around the room that I become violently sick."
Richard has decided to just stop talking. James' gaze peruses Richard's face, and then shrugs. "Alright."
"What?"
"Well, go ahead then. I mean, I guess you can do that. It's not like we're going to have sex, are we? And clearly this isn't going to end up on the internet or anything. So, if you'd really like, I suppose you can kiss me."
Richard's brow furrows - this is not exactly what he was expecting. He was expecting drunken, open-mouth, wet kisses that are physical, sloppy, and not completely forgotten in the morning, leaving awkward silences for days to come.
"Well?"
Richard closes his eyes. "I wasn't expecting this." He says. "I wasn't expecting you to say okay. And I wasn't expecting this to be done sober."
He has a feeling James is making this seem less intense than it really is to keep the both of them calm. "It's not that big of a deal. I've kissed a few women where it meant nothing, and I mean, it's not like anybody'll find out."
"Well..." He knows Jeremy will find out, some way or another, and he won't let the two of them live it down.
"Besides Jeremy." James has had the same train of thought and a snigger between the two of them lowers the tension slightly.
The gentle touch of James’ hand on his knee makes him jump, startled, and James' face wrinkles up, and Richard watches, then holds up a hand as James sneezes loudly. Awkward is back.
“’scuse me.” James mumbles.
“Well. Maybe. Just. Want to watch some telly or something? For now? And maybe I'll-" Richard cuts himself off and James shrugs.
James glances over. "You might be right. This probably shouldn't be done without something else to drink."
Richard brings back two glasses full of ice and two bottles. "You pick your poison. Rum or gin?"
James takes the rum and Richard pours himself a glass of gin, taking a sip of it. The drink slides down his throat easily, perhaps too easily. But James is drinking just as fast as he is, and they watch the news, and Richard brings up the topic of drunkenness.
"You ever notice how your fingers tingle when you start getting plastered?"
James holds up his hand and wiggles the tips slowly. Richard reaches his own hand up and flicks one finger against James' palm. James lets his hand fall to the bed and Richard reaches over James to get the bottle of gin, taking another half a glass worth.
The conversation is stilted, stunted, until Richard can swear he feels the click of his body giving in to the gin and leans over James again to set down the gin, falls back onto the pillow and closes his eyes. "How you doin, mate?"
"I think the real question is how you're doing." James answers. Richard keeps his eyes closed. "Look, you're either going to do this or you're not."
Richard opened his eyes. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Right, that's it. I'm leaving." James snorts at Richard and gets up, and Richard catches the back of his shirt, pulling James back.
"Sorry. It's just - well, look, you'll be the first bloke I've kissed and it's not something I've been debating for a long time, more like two days, and it's a bit nerve-wracking, as you can imagine." Richard watches James for another long minute and then leans over and kisses him.
It is very abrupt, and slightly dry-mouthed, and James is quiet and still through it. Richard wants to touch James' hair, cup his cheek, and really kiss him, but it doesn't seem right, and he pulls back a moment later, disappointed in what has just happened.
Quiet again. "Well?" James finally asks.
"It was nice." Richard answers. It was definitely nice - he is sure that he is attracted to May now, because even that brief, four or five second kiss was enough to make his pulse jump and his cock stir.
"Would you want to try it again or something yes I know, stupid question, sorry." The words come out jumbled and rushed, Richard looking down at his knees, realising that he's still wearing only his boxers and ohfuck his erection is rather proudly standing up.
He rolls onto his stomach, as if James wouldn't have noticed it by now. "If you were to fancy a man, who would it be? Me, Jeremy, or the Stig?" James laughs and gives it some thought. "I mean, I'm guessing you know that for me it'd be you, since I didn't invite Jeremy or the Stig over."
"What would sex with the Stig be like?"
"I dunno. That would be interesting. Bet you could hear the crickets chirp from how quiet it would be."
James has a bemused expression on his face. "I don't think it would be Jer, he's too crass. He'd probably make fun of my penis."
"What, do you have a small penis or something?"
"No. It's quite nicely made, I'd like to think. But I mean, come on. It's Jeremy." Richard concedes that point. "I'm larger than you are," James says, a wicked grin overtaking his face, and Richard shifts, still on his stomach. Damnit.
"Fucker." He answers, but curious now. He wouldn't say he's small by any means either, maybe even a bit larger than average. Thicker, or longer? He wonders. He stops thinking about James' penis because two days ago, he wasn't even thinking about kissing James, and today he was, and now he's thinking about shagging James, and that's not a good thing, the fact that his brain is going to such places.
"But yeah, you're right on the Jeremy thing, and I'm pretty sure having sex with the Stig would be like having sex with your grandmother. It'd be uncomfortable and wrong and rather confusing, in the end. So that leaves you by default. I figure, well, at least you're fairly good-looking for a bloke, and aren't too shabby of a kisser, so."
Richard leans over, suddenly more at ease with kissing James, but is stopped. "Whoa." James says, blinking up at him, looking tired and tender at the same time. "That doesn't mean I want to shag you."
"No, I know. It's just that I figured I'd kiss you again, if I wasn't too shabby at it." James releases him and Richard leans forward, almost kisses him again, but decides not to at the last moment and lets his head fall back to the pillow, closing his eyes. He is suddenly very tired.
He keeps his eyes closed, listens to the sound from the television become softer, and James doesn't move. "So, we're not going to wake up in the morning and hate each other?" Richard mumbles, and James pats his shoulder gently. After a few more minutes, the television is turned off.
James doesn't get out of the bed and eventually Richard hears his soft snoring, gentle sounds as opposed to Jeremy's abrasively loud ones. His brain shuts off now that he doesn't have to freak out about his every action. He falls asleep as well, face tilted towards James.
When he awakes, the clock says 4:53 AM. He yawns and stretches, finding that over the last few hours, he's moved closer to James and his shoulder is pressed against the other man. He watches James sleeping, his eyelids fluttering as he dreams.
Richard leans over and kisses James, soft mouth, tasting vaguely of rum, a light kiss. He doesn't realise that James has woken up until after he pulls back and sees sleepy brown eyes open and looking at him very calmly, very quietly. His own heart has started pounding. "Oh, fuck - sorry."
He shouldn't have done that, he knows that much. James doesn't say anything, and Richard hasn't moved from where he is. James leans upwards, kisses him. He mumbles against Richard's mouth, "What're you doing up? Isn't it early?" Richard gives a little "mm" and presses his lips more firmly to James, reminding himself that it's early morning and he's got an almost painful erection and that he's not thinking clearly because of this.
All of a sudden, he feels James holding his arms tightly, and watches the other man's eyes fall shut again. Richard's entire body was electrified, sparks racing through him. "James," he pulls away, whispers, tries to collect himself even as he pushes his fingers through James' hair, nestles himself closer above the man, chest to chest, feeling himself rising slightly with each low breath that James takes.
Mouths part, breathing becomes faster, and Richard slowly moves more and more on top of James, hips rocking forward against the other man's thigh, mind spinning, completely in shock as to what is happening. He manages to get one hand in between them, snakes his palm down to James' cock, wraps around the erection, rubs. "Fuck, fuck, what are we doing?" James manages to breathe out.
"I've no idea," Richard answers, because it's true - he can't even try to fathom what they're doing because he's more concerned about making James' cock twitch again, making his breath hitch and hips shove upwards abruptly like they just did a moment ago. "Don't want to stop." He unzips James' jeans, pops the button, and slips his hand inside, going to move his hand under the rim of the boxers, but James stops him.
"Nn. Hold up, Richard." Richard pulls back finally and sees James looking at him with a more awake expression. "Right. I think we need to stop now." James smiled at him gently. "It's not that I'm upset - but I'm also very not sure about what's going on, seeing as I've got your hand on my cock."
"Right. Yeah." Richard slides off James, releasing a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding since James had started talking, and rubs a hand through his hair. "I must taste awful - morning breath and beer and gin all rolled into one."
James snorts. "I'm sure rum-beer-morning breath is just as bad." Richard sits up, stretches his arms over his head and his back pops loudly. "That was an interesting way to wake up."
Richard wants to do it again, he wants to taste James and make him moan. "Sit still." He leans forward and kisses James' philtrum lightly, and then gets out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower. D'you want any breakfast? I can make some if you want to shower first."
James sits up as well, propping himself on his elbow. His shirt is rumpled, a strange, quirky grin on his face. "I suppose some eggs wouldn't be bad." Richard nods, scurries off to the kitchen and listens to the shower start.
He thinks about what has just happened and the fact that he's still hard as a rock because every time his mind strays away from cooking, it goes back to James and the fact that James is naked in his shower. He wonders if James is wanking. He fries four eggs, makes some toast, and is just finishing up with the sausage when James enters, wearing his jeans but not a shirt. His hair is still damp, droplets dangling from the long tangles onto his shoulders, rolling down his shoulders.
There was something about the casual way he was leaning against the counter, the way his eyes tracked Richard's movements back and forth from plate to stove to table, the smile he offered. "Looks good."
Richard couldn't believe what he said next. "So do you." Wait, WHAT? Mouth, this is brain, do you copy? Please relay to me what you are going to say before saying it so any alterations to your stupidity can be corrected.
James laughed, a bit nervously. "Ah, thank you. I think." He moved to the table. "Smells good, too." They eat quietly, and Richard, staring at his eggs, mutters out, "D'you think you might want to do this again some time?" He should have been looking at James when he asks because a moment later, he hears James coughing as he chokes on his coffee. "Oh, fuck, sorry."
James doesn't respond for a while, and Richard decides maybe he shouldn't talk anymore. When James does talk, it's to say, "Would you like a lift to the studio?" Richard shrugs.
"Sure, I guess." Richard rises, puts his dirty plate in the sink, and takes James when offered the empty dish. "I'm going to shower. I'll be ready in a few minutes. D'you want a shirt to borrow or something?"
"Yeah, that'd be good. I'm not sure everyone would like to see me half-naked." James says. "I'll do dishes."
Richard almost stammers out, "That's very house-wife-esque of you." He holds it back and scarpers off to wash, forcing himself not to make any more stupid comments.
They get to the studio with very little conversation, do the show, and James has barely glanced at Richard once, let alone spoken to him. Richard is debating asking Jeremy for a ride home when James walks up to him. "I've been doing some thinking." He says as way of greeting. Richard waits, suddenly incredibly nervous, and James sighs.
"About what?"
"Well, about your proposition." Richard's heart pounds.
"What've you decided?" Richard stammers out.
James locks eyes on Richard's. "I'm interested."
Author: Sonata Night
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: James/Richard
Summary: Richard presents a proposition to James.
Notes: Set pre-accident for Richard, hence the liquor. :P Damn you, Draco, for making me intrigued into Top Gear.
Disclaimer: Fish are friends, not food - Erhm, I mean, all of this is purely from my imagination.
James has said once that he doesn't like girls with big hands. Richard wonders if he feels the same abount men with small hands. Richard has small hands. Richard also has an urge to kiss James and find out what it feels like, and find out what James' mouth tastes like, whether his hair is soft or if it's kind of scratchy, like Jeremy's is. Not that Richard has ever kissed Jeremy, but Jeremy and he ended up passing out on a couch one night after a boys night in of drinking, and he woke up with Jeremy leaning on him, hair scratching Richard's face, snoring loudly, and an accumulation of drool in the little hollow of Richard's neck as it tilted away, as if unconsciously trying to avoid Jeremy's spittle.
Jeremy has scratchy hair. And Richard has no clue what that has to do with him figuring out whether he should just invite James over, get the both of them a bit snockered, and kiss him, or talk to him about it and what have you.
He opts for the alcohol route, because clearly nothing could ever go wrong in this situation.
He has no clue where this sudden want to kiss James has come from. His co-presenter has been just that for several years now. And all of a sudden, he wants to kiss the man, who looks sort of like a very furry ferret decided to pass out on top of his skull.
After he calls James and works out that yes, James will come over and have a beer or two, just promise that TG won't throw up on him again.
It's hard to concentrate on what James is telling him all night, little pointless things that the two of them toss back and forth normally with a sort of natural ease, but conversation is stilted because Richard keeps getting distracted by James, the way his philtrum is wide and pronounced, and Richard wants to kiss there, too.
He's pretty sure that this urge to kiss James is not entirely a physical thing, because physicality generally implies kissing the mouth, and then getting down to business and getting naked and vertical in bed. Kissing the philtrum, that little spot right above the lip and right below the nose, that's not a physical thing. That's something that makes Richard's stomach do a little flip-flop when he thinks about it, and he thinks about kissing James' philtrum, cupping his cheeks and kissing him firmly.
"Richard?"
"Hm." Richard focuses on James, rather than his philtrum.
"You're drooling."
"Right." Wipe that up, quick. That's strike one.
"Are you okay? You've been really out of it all night. Are you tired or something? Maybe you should go to bed, and I'll just show myself out."
Strike two. "No, no, that's quite all right." Richard nervously ran a hand through his hair and took a sip of his beer. James arched an eyebrow at him, it disappearing behind a shaggy lock of fringe hanging down, and Richard had to hold back his hand, fingers itching to brush away the hair.
No, Richard, you may not touch your co-presenter in inappropriate ways. But you can get him drunk to kiss him? Shut up brain. This doesn't concern you. What does this concern, your penis? I am NOT having this conversation with you.
"Look, Richard, I think you should lay down. Your eyes are all glazed over. And besides that, I just asked you if you want another beer, and you've been sat there for thirty seconds now with this confused look on your face."
Strike three.
"No, look, James, just... sit. I'll get us another beer." Richard gets up, takes a minute to compose himself in the kitchen, and brings back another two drinks for them. He hands James one, and wonders if James can see how much Richard wants to kiss him, an urge that is bordering precariously on becoming wanton very soon.
He finds that by focusing on finding something for them to listen to while they're talking, he's able to focus on what James is saying. James comes to join him after a few minutes and they both start laughing when they find the tape that they used when they took over the BBC Southern Counties Radio, how crap the music was.
Richard's nervousness has led to him taking fast sips of his beer, and although he is nowhere near drunk, since he's only had three, he's feeling a bit more relaxed. They start going through the rest of Richard's music. They debate listening to the Beatles, decide to put on Def Leppard, leading to a discussion about good songs to shag to.
"You always see in the movies people having sex, and the music seems to match their movements, and if you were to try and shag someone to 'Pour Some Sugar On Me', or any song with Rick Allen playing post-amputation because the beats are just a bit too ... well, the closest word they can get is "off".
They work their way past Coldplay, past The Killers, and Richard deals with James mocking him for owning a Depeche Mode CD and debates punching him in the face, and they end up finally putting on The Who, listening to "Baba O'Riley" on repeat. Another hour flies by easily now, and they are on their way to being rather happily pissed.
They are listening to "Wonderwall" now. Richard closes his eyes and listens to the lyrics. I'm sure you've heard it all before but you never really had a doubt, I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you.
He has one of those moments, when you listen to a song and your heart rather stupidly tells you that this song is your song with a certain person and you think of them every time you hear it and it has great emotional meaning and other such things. And then he realises that he's having one of those moments about James May and since when did wanting to bloody kiss the man, which is odd enough as it is, turn into mentally dedicating a song to being ABOUT THEM.
...and after all, you're my wonderwall...
Oh good lord. There's clearly something here that Richard should probably deal with once he sobers up, because apparently he's more than physically interested in James.
James is watching him intentely. "What're you thinking about, Hamster?" Richard glances over. He wonders what James would do if he told him the truth. He decides to do a half-truth.
"Philtrums. Your philtrum, to be specific."
"Ah. My philtrum. That explains it." James is teasing him. "What's my philtrum got to do with your completely addled brain?"
"You have a pronounced philtrum." This conversation is going very wrong, very quickly.
"I see. And what is a philtrum, now?"
Richard reaches over and touches the little valley underneath James' nose, rubs his finger lightly over the soft ridge on either side, lets his finger linger, and then dropped his hand. "Uhm, yeah. That's your philtrum." James smirk-smiles at him, and Richard's stomach does a flip-flop.
Fuck. Huh. He has a very, very sexy way of doing that too. James reaches over, touches Richard's philtrum, and Richard meets James' eyes. He remembers why he invited over James in the first place.
"Remember when you said you didn't like girls with big hands?"
"Yeah?" James looks at Richard. "They're just odd. All," he does the hand thing again, waving it about slightly. "There."
"What about men with small hands?" Richard holds up his hands. "I mean, I've got small hands but you seem to like me just fine." He's saying very stupid things now, he knows it.
"Well, yeah, but that's because you're my friend. I think men with small hands look less oddly-proportioned than women with large hands, and generally, I'm not interested in shagging a man. Women with big hands in bed make me feel weird, if their hands are as big as mine."
"Ah." Well, this conversation has gone nowhere. "James?"
"Yeah, Hamster?"
"Uh. Never mind."
"No, no, what is it?" A heavy sigh, and James gives him a look, as if he's slightly concerned about the state of Richard's brain. Richard shrugs, gets up, throws out their bottles. James follows him, pestering him, and Richard is reminded why he doesn't drink with James often.
He turns around and James is right there, and he trips over himself trying not to bump into James, and James catches him, and his hands are broad and sturdy, and warm, and somehow very, very gentle as they release Richard. He bites his lip, surprised how very hard he is in the proximity of James.
His brain finally shuts off. That might not be a good thing. His fingers suddenly forward, thumbs hooking into the pockets of James' jeans, and James looks at him with that amused expression. "What are you doing now?"
"Dunno." Richard hears himself saying. He decides that thinking is an overrated thing. "As a general rule, you've never been interested in shagging a man."
"Yeah."
"What about being attracted to one?" He looks up at James, hoping James is somehow stupid enough to not see where this conversation is going.
"They're sort of mutually inclusive, I think," James answers.
"No, no, not at all. I mean, I'm attracted to some people but I don't think about shagging them because I know it will never happen."
"People like Kristen Scott Thomas?" James asks. Richard rolls his eyes and lets go of James' belt hooks, pushing away the man gently. "Come on, now. Tell me what's on your mind - you started this conversation and I want to know who you're thinking about. And why the hell you've included men in this category."
His heart thuds rather quickly, a solid thump thump thump that seems loud in his head. "Well, no, it's just. Have you ever wanted to kiss someone but not shag them?"
"Yeah, plenty of people." James pushes Richard back into a corner. "Tell me what you're thinking." He's still teasing, but the tone is not as light.
"Maybe another night." Richard sighs. He tries to push past James again, can't. "Look. I'm not in a mood anymore for this topic." He manages to slip past James and heads to his bedroom now, slipping out of his jeans and t-shirt, wandering around in his boxers. James sits on the bed and watches him. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Enough," James answers lazily, reclining on the bed. "Dunno. Five?"
Oh. He knows James is more than fine enough to drive home, but he doesn't want him to. He says so, feigning drunken worry. "Well, I think maybe you should stay. I mean, I don't want you crashing your car into a tree or anything."
"Right." James is placating him, perhaps. He watches Richard sit down on the bed. "Do you have any idea how odd you're acting tonight?"
"Yeah." Richard stops pretending. "Fuck." He sits on the bed, well aware of the fact that his cock is still half-erect. James reaches over and tangles his fingers through Richard's hair.
"You've always been a bit off, though." Richard cracks a grin at James' words and reaches over to return the finger- tangle through hair move, and finds that it is as soft as he had mused, softer than that, actually.
"You have soft hair." It comes out of his mouth very dumbly. James snorts, starts laughing, and Richard watches the corners of his eyes crinkle, his chest rising and falling in jerky movements as he snickers. Richard lays down next to him and they look at the ceiling. Turning his head, he finds James watching him and lightly kicks James' foot with his own. James kicks back and they start laughing again. He wonders why he couldn't have acted like this all night, easy-going and a fun guy?
"You have girly hands." James says. "If I have soft hair, then you have girly hands." Richard looks at him, and James catches Richard's wrist and holds it up, fingers wrapped almost all the way around the wrist.
"You have a nice philtrum."
"Thank you."
They stare at each other. "Since when have you been so interested in my philtrum?" James asks. Richard shrugs, pillow shifting beneath his head.
"Can I make a proposition?"
James rolls onto his side and looks at Richard. "If it has something to do with how much of a nutter you've been all night, I'm not sure I want to hear it." Richard frowns at him but plows on ahead.
"Well, here's the thing. I'd like to make a proposition-"
"So you've said," James snorts.
"And if you'd just shut up for a second."
"..."
"Thank you. Well. Uhm."
"I thought you wanted me to shut up, not you."
"I do. Shut up."
"Spit it out."
James levels Richard with a steady stare and Richard stammers and grasps for the words. "Well. Uhm. I think it might be interesting if we maybetriedhavingabitofasnog."
There is absolute silence from James, and Richard doesn't dare peek at him. When he does, Richard winces. James has an expression of, "What in god's name are you thinking?"
"Guess not?"
"Why?" The tone of James' voice matches his expression, but it is not resentful, rather, curious. Richard teeters on the edge of just kissing him to show why, and remembers that just because he will get the answer (hopefully) to why he wants to kiss James, his co-worker may not understand.
He answers as honestly as he can. "I've no idea. I just think that it might be interesting to kiss you. I think it's something that started when I was thinking about your hair."
"My hair."
"Yeah, I wanted to know if it was soft or like Jeremy's, all scratchy."
James seems strangely relaxed about this topic, as opposed to Richard who cannot sit still and has gotten up and is pacing around, staring at James.
"Richard, sit down." James sits up and catches Richard's arm, yanks him firmly to the bed. "We cannot have a discussion if I'm getting so dizzy watching you walk circles around the room that I become violently sick."
Richard has decided to just stop talking. James' gaze peruses Richard's face, and then shrugs. "Alright."
"What?"
"Well, go ahead then. I mean, I guess you can do that. It's not like we're going to have sex, are we? And clearly this isn't going to end up on the internet or anything. So, if you'd really like, I suppose you can kiss me."
Richard's brow furrows - this is not exactly what he was expecting. He was expecting drunken, open-mouth, wet kisses that are physical, sloppy, and not completely forgotten in the morning, leaving awkward silences for days to come.
"Well?"
Richard closes his eyes. "I wasn't expecting this." He says. "I wasn't expecting you to say okay. And I wasn't expecting this to be done sober."
He has a feeling James is making this seem less intense than it really is to keep the both of them calm. "It's not that big of a deal. I've kissed a few women where it meant nothing, and I mean, it's not like anybody'll find out."
"Well..." He knows Jeremy will find out, some way or another, and he won't let the two of them live it down.
"Besides Jeremy." James has had the same train of thought and a snigger between the two of them lowers the tension slightly.
The gentle touch of James’ hand on his knee makes him jump, startled, and James' face wrinkles up, and Richard watches, then holds up a hand as James sneezes loudly. Awkward is back.
“’scuse me.” James mumbles.
“Well. Maybe. Just. Want to watch some telly or something? For now? And maybe I'll-" Richard cuts himself off and James shrugs.
James glances over. "You might be right. This probably shouldn't be done without something else to drink."
Richard brings back two glasses full of ice and two bottles. "You pick your poison. Rum or gin?"
James takes the rum and Richard pours himself a glass of gin, taking a sip of it. The drink slides down his throat easily, perhaps too easily. But James is drinking just as fast as he is, and they watch the news, and Richard brings up the topic of drunkenness.
"You ever notice how your fingers tingle when you start getting plastered?"
James holds up his hand and wiggles the tips slowly. Richard reaches his own hand up and flicks one finger against James' palm. James lets his hand fall to the bed and Richard reaches over James to get the bottle of gin, taking another half a glass worth.
The conversation is stilted, stunted, until Richard can swear he feels the click of his body giving in to the gin and leans over James again to set down the gin, falls back onto the pillow and closes his eyes. "How you doin, mate?"
"I think the real question is how you're doing." James answers. Richard keeps his eyes closed. "Look, you're either going to do this or you're not."
Richard opened his eyes. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Right, that's it. I'm leaving." James snorts at Richard and gets up, and Richard catches the back of his shirt, pulling James back.
"Sorry. It's just - well, look, you'll be the first bloke I've kissed and it's not something I've been debating for a long time, more like two days, and it's a bit nerve-wracking, as you can imagine." Richard watches James for another long minute and then leans over and kisses him.
It is very abrupt, and slightly dry-mouthed, and James is quiet and still through it. Richard wants to touch James' hair, cup his cheek, and really kiss him, but it doesn't seem right, and he pulls back a moment later, disappointed in what has just happened.
Quiet again. "Well?" James finally asks.
"It was nice." Richard answers. It was definitely nice - he is sure that he is attracted to May now, because even that brief, four or five second kiss was enough to make his pulse jump and his cock stir.
"Would you want to try it again or something yes I know, stupid question, sorry." The words come out jumbled and rushed, Richard looking down at his knees, realising that he's still wearing only his boxers and ohfuck his erection is rather proudly standing up.
He rolls onto his stomach, as if James wouldn't have noticed it by now. "If you were to fancy a man, who would it be? Me, Jeremy, or the Stig?" James laughs and gives it some thought. "I mean, I'm guessing you know that for me it'd be you, since I didn't invite Jeremy or the Stig over."
"What would sex with the Stig be like?"
"I dunno. That would be interesting. Bet you could hear the crickets chirp from how quiet it would be."
James has a bemused expression on his face. "I don't think it would be Jer, he's too crass. He'd probably make fun of my penis."
"What, do you have a small penis or something?"
"No. It's quite nicely made, I'd like to think. But I mean, come on. It's Jeremy." Richard concedes that point. "I'm larger than you are," James says, a wicked grin overtaking his face, and Richard shifts, still on his stomach. Damnit.
"Fucker." He answers, but curious now. He wouldn't say he's small by any means either, maybe even a bit larger than average. Thicker, or longer? He wonders. He stops thinking about James' penis because two days ago, he wasn't even thinking about kissing James, and today he was, and now he's thinking about shagging James, and that's not a good thing, the fact that his brain is going to such places.
"But yeah, you're right on the Jeremy thing, and I'm pretty sure having sex with the Stig would be like having sex with your grandmother. It'd be uncomfortable and wrong and rather confusing, in the end. So that leaves you by default. I figure, well, at least you're fairly good-looking for a bloke, and aren't too shabby of a kisser, so."
Richard leans over, suddenly more at ease with kissing James, but is stopped. "Whoa." James says, blinking up at him, looking tired and tender at the same time. "That doesn't mean I want to shag you."
"No, I know. It's just that I figured I'd kiss you again, if I wasn't too shabby at it." James releases him and Richard leans forward, almost kisses him again, but decides not to at the last moment and lets his head fall back to the pillow, closing his eyes. He is suddenly very tired.
He keeps his eyes closed, listens to the sound from the television become softer, and James doesn't move. "So, we're not going to wake up in the morning and hate each other?" Richard mumbles, and James pats his shoulder gently. After a few more minutes, the television is turned off.
James doesn't get out of the bed and eventually Richard hears his soft snoring, gentle sounds as opposed to Jeremy's abrasively loud ones. His brain shuts off now that he doesn't have to freak out about his every action. He falls asleep as well, face tilted towards James.
When he awakes, the clock says 4:53 AM. He yawns and stretches, finding that over the last few hours, he's moved closer to James and his shoulder is pressed against the other man. He watches James sleeping, his eyelids fluttering as he dreams.
Richard leans over and kisses James, soft mouth, tasting vaguely of rum, a light kiss. He doesn't realise that James has woken up until after he pulls back and sees sleepy brown eyes open and looking at him very calmly, very quietly. His own heart has started pounding. "Oh, fuck - sorry."
He shouldn't have done that, he knows that much. James doesn't say anything, and Richard hasn't moved from where he is. James leans upwards, kisses him. He mumbles against Richard's mouth, "What're you doing up? Isn't it early?" Richard gives a little "mm" and presses his lips more firmly to James, reminding himself that it's early morning and he's got an almost painful erection and that he's not thinking clearly because of this.
All of a sudden, he feels James holding his arms tightly, and watches the other man's eyes fall shut again. Richard's entire body was electrified, sparks racing through him. "James," he pulls away, whispers, tries to collect himself even as he pushes his fingers through James' hair, nestles himself closer above the man, chest to chest, feeling himself rising slightly with each low breath that James takes.
Mouths part, breathing becomes faster, and Richard slowly moves more and more on top of James, hips rocking forward against the other man's thigh, mind spinning, completely in shock as to what is happening. He manages to get one hand in between them, snakes his palm down to James' cock, wraps around the erection, rubs. "Fuck, fuck, what are we doing?" James manages to breathe out.
"I've no idea," Richard answers, because it's true - he can't even try to fathom what they're doing because he's more concerned about making James' cock twitch again, making his breath hitch and hips shove upwards abruptly like they just did a moment ago. "Don't want to stop." He unzips James' jeans, pops the button, and slips his hand inside, going to move his hand under the rim of the boxers, but James stops him.
"Nn. Hold up, Richard." Richard pulls back finally and sees James looking at him with a more awake expression. "Right. I think we need to stop now." James smiled at him gently. "It's not that I'm upset - but I'm also very not sure about what's going on, seeing as I've got your hand on my cock."
"Right. Yeah." Richard slides off James, releasing a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding since James had started talking, and rubs a hand through his hair. "I must taste awful - morning breath and beer and gin all rolled into one."
James snorts. "I'm sure rum-beer-morning breath is just as bad." Richard sits up, stretches his arms over his head and his back pops loudly. "That was an interesting way to wake up."
Richard wants to do it again, he wants to taste James and make him moan. "Sit still." He leans forward and kisses James' philtrum lightly, and then gets out of bed. "I'm going to take a shower. D'you want any breakfast? I can make some if you want to shower first."
James sits up as well, propping himself on his elbow. His shirt is rumpled, a strange, quirky grin on his face. "I suppose some eggs wouldn't be bad." Richard nods, scurries off to the kitchen and listens to the shower start.
He thinks about what has just happened and the fact that he's still hard as a rock because every time his mind strays away from cooking, it goes back to James and the fact that James is naked in his shower. He wonders if James is wanking. He fries four eggs, makes some toast, and is just finishing up with the sausage when James enters, wearing his jeans but not a shirt. His hair is still damp, droplets dangling from the long tangles onto his shoulders, rolling down his shoulders.
There was something about the casual way he was leaning against the counter, the way his eyes tracked Richard's movements back and forth from plate to stove to table, the smile he offered. "Looks good."
Richard couldn't believe what he said next. "So do you." Wait, WHAT? Mouth, this is brain, do you copy? Please relay to me what you are going to say before saying it so any alterations to your stupidity can be corrected.
James laughed, a bit nervously. "Ah, thank you. I think." He moved to the table. "Smells good, too." They eat quietly, and Richard, staring at his eggs, mutters out, "D'you think you might want to do this again some time?" He should have been looking at James when he asks because a moment later, he hears James coughing as he chokes on his coffee. "Oh, fuck, sorry."
James doesn't respond for a while, and Richard decides maybe he shouldn't talk anymore. When James does talk, it's to say, "Would you like a lift to the studio?" Richard shrugs.
"Sure, I guess." Richard rises, puts his dirty plate in the sink, and takes James when offered the empty dish. "I'm going to shower. I'll be ready in a few minutes. D'you want a shirt to borrow or something?"
"Yeah, that'd be good. I'm not sure everyone would like to see me half-naked." James says. "I'll do dishes."
Richard almost stammers out, "That's very house-wife-esque of you." He holds it back and scarpers off to wash, forcing himself not to make any more stupid comments.
They get to the studio with very little conversation, do the show, and James has barely glanced at Richard once, let alone spoken to him. Richard is debating asking Jeremy for a ride home when James walks up to him. "I've been doing some thinking." He says as way of greeting. Richard waits, suddenly incredibly nervous, and James sighs.
"About what?"
"Well, about your proposition." Richard's heart pounds.
"What've you decided?" Richard stammers out.
James locks eyes on Richard's. "I'm interested."