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"James?"
James lifts his gaze from the newspaper he'd been reading to look at Richard, who's sitting next to him on the familiar couch in the portakabin, fiddling with his watch. There's a thoughtful expression on his face, his bottom lip worried between his teeth.
It's February the 14th, and scattered all around them are small, pink paper hearts and glitter, because apparently showering James with a bucketful of those at seven in the morning constitutes a good joke in the mind of Jeremy Clarkson. The glitter has gotten everywhere - James is pretty sure he'll never manage to get rid of it all as long as he lives.
"Yes, Hammond?" James asks, scratching the back of his head. His fingers come back glittery, and he sighs.
"I just realised," Richard starts, cringing, "that I've spent more Valentine's Days with you and Jeremy than I ever did with Mindy." He pauses for a second, searching for James' eyes, his gaze oddly vulnerable. "That's not good, is it?"
"I suppose not," James agrees, sympathetically. He knows that Mindy leaving Richard had been a big blow to his friend. "Did she mind?"
Richard laughs and shakes his head. "No, she always hated Valentine's Day," he admits. "So I guess it doesn't really matter. Not anymore, anyway," he adds quietly, looking at James from under his eyebrows for a long moment, while James tries to think of something to say. "There's a paper heart in your hair," Richard sighs eventually and reaches out to run his fingers over James' temple gently. "There, gone."
"Thanks," James says, averting his gaze. His throat feels dry, his skin too tight on him. "Wouldn't want to get caught on camera with pink hearts in my hair."
That's when Jeremy barges in the room. "You're all glittery," he tells James with a smug smirk, and James rolls his eyes.
"And I wonder why that is," he mutters. "You big, childish idiot."
"What are you two doing tonight?" Jeremy asks, ignoring him. "I'm just asking, because I'm cooking, and unless you have romantic dates lined up for the night, I'd like you to join me for dinner."
James blinks and shoots a sideways glance at Richard, who fortunately looks just about as caught off guard as James feels.
"You're asking us for dinner on Valentine's Day?" Richard asks him with a cocked eyebrow. "Fine," he says then, quickly, and leans his back against the sofa, turning to look at James. "James?"
"Uh," James says dully, not entirely sure what to make of the situation. "Sure. I guess."
"It's a date!" Jeremy shouts and James watches as Richard cringes next to him. There's a smile on the corners of his eyes, though, betraying him, and James finds himself wondering, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him. "I expect you to turn up at around eight. Not before," Jeremy says, and there's strange determination in his voice that James doesn't think he's heard before. He turns to look at Jeremy, sees the enormous grin on his friend's face, and wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to kiss him.
James sighs deep as Jeremy starts to bicker with Richard, about something superficial and idiotic, no doubt.
I'm in so much trouble, he thinks sullenly.
*
"Come in," Jeremy says, tugging at James' elbow, then clapping him on the shoulder. "Come in, come in, come in," he adds, when James doesn't move quickly enough for his liking.
"Right," James says, finding himself slightly out of breath. He looks at Richard who is standing in Jeremy's front room, leaning against the door frame, with two glasses of wine in his hands. After James shrugs off his jacket, Richard hands him one of the glasses, stepping close to his personal space. There's a faint smile on his face as he regards James, but he doesn't say anything, just gazes at James with some intensity.
I'm in so much trouble, James thinks.
"There's still glitter in your hair," Jeremy notes happily and before James can step away, he's running his hand through James' hair, and with both of them just there, too close him, James forgets how to breathe.
"Right," he says nervously and brushes past Richard inside Jeremy's London flat.
"Are you alright, mate?" Richard asks him as he sits down next to James on Jeremy's couch, his knee bumping against James'. "You seem… fidgety."
James takes a generous gulp of his wine. It's splendid, and he means to say as much, but then Richard lifts his hand to play with James' collar, and the words die in his throat.
"Glitter," Richard mumbles in way of explanation, but he's leaning in close, so close that James can smell his aftershave, can feel the warmth of him through his clothes, and James isn't sure if he believes him.
"Richard -" he starts, but before he can finish the sentence, Richard leans in and closes his lips around James' softly, his fist tightening in James' shirt. He pulls away before James has time to react.
"Yes, James?" he asks slowly, quietly, licking his tongue across his lower lip and smirking as he sees James' eyes following the movement. He leans in again, just a soft brush of lips against lips. A shiver goes down James' spine, his stomach tightening, and he gasps for breath, closes his fists on the front of Richard's shirt. Richard grins, and then it's James' turn to kiss him, soft and slow, tentative. Richard tastes like wine, and he chuckles into the kiss lightly in a way that makes James' insides twist.
Then James suddenly remembers where he is - in Jeremy's flat, on his couch, kissing Richard - and he bolts, letting go of Richard and standing up hastily, completely panic-struck.
"James," Richard sighs, dropping his hands on his lap in an almost exasperated manner. "It's okay."
"It's -" James begins, lowering his voice, trying to make sure Jeremy won't be able to hear him. "It's bloody not! Christ, Hammond! Have you forgotten where we -"
That's when Jeremy enters the room, of course, his timing never short of impeccable. He points at James with a spatula, and it takes considerable effort for James to stay where he is and not run out of the room, out of the house, preferably out of the country.
"Why does he look so horrified?" Jeremy asks Richard.
Richard sighs again, rolling his eyes. "He's just being a bit slow, as befits him," Richard says. He turns to give James a fond smile. "He doesn't know why you asked us here tonight."
"And you do?" Jeremy asks, and even though James is kind of preoccupied with being utterly terrified, he doesn't miss Jeremy's blatant bewilderment.
Richard rolls his eyes again. There's a barely disguised smug smile on his face. "Of course I do," he says. "I've known for years that this day was going to come. Just didn't think it would be on bloody Valentine's Day," he smirks at Jeremy fondly, baring his teeth. "Very romantic of you, Jeremy."
"So you - if you really do know, which I doubt, what do you think?" Jeremy asks, his eyes wide. He's still pointing at James with his spatula as if he's frozen in place, and James has no idea what's going on. It's like Richard and Jeremy are talking in a secret language in front of him.
Richard stands up, then, and James watches as he takes Jeremy's spatula out of his hand, setting it on the table next to him. Then Richard turns around and lifts his hands up to Jeremy's cheeks. James swallows tightly as he pulls Jeremy down and kisses him on the lips, pushing himself against the taller man. "That's what I think," Richard says when he pulls apart, his voice determined. "Yes. Is what I think. It's what he thinks, too," Richard says, nudging his head towards James, "he's just a bit confused because I kissed him and it caught him by surprise."
"He let you kiss him?" Jeremy asks quietly.
"Yes, you big ape," Richard says. "God, you two are hopeless - Jeremy, this was your idea, why am I orchestrating this? He'll let you kiss him, too, if that's what you're uncertain about."
Jeremy lifts his gaze to look at James and James swallows. His throat is dry, and his heart is hammering in his chest wildly.
"Will you?" Jeremy asks, making his way towards James, and James gives a jerky nod, watching as Richard rolls his eyes behind Jeremy's back.
Kissing Jeremy is different than kissing Richard had been. Jeremy is a lot more demanding from the get-go, pressing his fingers against James' sides, his lips rougher than Richard's had been. "God," Jeremy mumbles as he pulls apart for breath.
Then, "Shit, the food!"
He pushes James away and runs to the kitchen.
"It's ruined! It's completely ruined!" he shouts. "This is all your fault!"
James watches as Richard doubles over laughing. His head is spinning, and he briefly wonders whether he should pinch himself. The moment is surreal, and James is having a lot of trouble wrapping his head around the fact that this is actually happening; something that he's wanted for such a long time, something he'd thought he'd never get to have.
"James?" Richard asks him.
"Yeah?" James croaks out.
"Come here," Richard says, but he doesn't wait for James to close the gap between the two of them. Instead he pushes himself against James in much the same way he'd done a moment ago to Jeremy, his chest flush against James', his face just inches away from James' face. "Stop thinking and kiss me."
James does, closing his eyes and running his hands up Richard's sides, smiling as Richard lets out a pleased noise from the low of his throat.
By the time James pulls away, Jeremy has come back from the kitchen, and he's pressed his chest against James' back, kissing his neck, his arms around James and Richard both as far as they can reach.
"James?" Jeremy whispers from behind him.
"Yeah?"
"You're going to say it, aren't you?" Richard grins, and James can feel Jeremy nodding against his shoulder. "God," Richard says, rolling his eyes once more. "Go on, then."
"Happy Valentine's Day," Jeremy says, and when James laughs, he leans his head back against Jeremy's shoulder.
"Happy Valentine's Day," James replies, smiling as Richard kisses his jaw.