Coming Out - DVD Extras
Mar. 20th, 2011 03:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Bradley/Liam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt over at the kink meme
Meeting the parents - with lots of nervousness and reassurance and they won't like me and yes they will and lots of stuff that makes me go "aww", because I need fluffy fic after this horrible day I've had...
Or meeting the friends would work, too!
Bradley doesn’t want it to be a secret anymore. Liam’s... well, he just want to make his boy happy...
“Liam? Liam? Hey man, you awake?”
Liam groans, trying to roll over on his side to escape the lad’s probing little questions. It’s just going to start up again, the same thing they’ve been arguing about for the past week. Well, not arguing. Liam refuses to argue about this. It’s a stupid thing to be arguing over.
Hell, it's a bloody stupid thing to be thinking about.
“Please, Liam? Please talk to me...” and the hotel mattress dips as the American actor scrambles off.
Oh, so it’s going to be one of those, then. He mutters something even he doesn’t understand, and opens his eyes, finding those beautiful blue orbs staring back at him, wide and earnest. The lad presses in close, laying his cheek on the bed, so close he could kiss the tip of Liam’s nose.
Which he does.
“That will get you nowhere, Bradley,” the Irishman growls.
Brad scoots forward a little, kisses him again in this awkward sideways position, and brings a hand up, smoothing it down Liam’s neck, just like they both know he loves so much. “Please, Liam?” He sounds like his own boys sound at the grocery, asking if they can buy a particularly unhealthy cereal. “Please?”
“Why do you want to tell everyone, darling?” he sighs, and rights himself, shaking his head a little at the blood rush.
His American lover’s on him in a second, all that warm, naked skin pressing against his. God, the lad’s beautiful in the mornings, especially these mornings, the mornings after they’ve fucked each other into oblivion. Just makes him positively glow. “I want them to know, Liam. I want everyone to know, I want everyone to know we’re together...”
But Liam’s not fool enough to sit around and let Bradley seduce consent out of him. “No, and that’s all I want to say about it.”
“Why not?”
Definitely sounds like a five year old right now. “Because,” Liam sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It will ruin your career, it will ruin my career, I don’t want my boys to deal with the fallout it’s going to cause, who knows how your family’s going to react to the news that their son’s...”
“Madly, err, involved, with his dead sexy co-star?” Bradley practically purs, and slides up around him again. He rubs his face up into Liam’s bare chest like a damn cat, and yeah, he knows how hard that gets Liam. “With his famous, talented, amazing, intelligent, ravishingly handsome co...”
Liam chuckles, despite himself, and pushes Bradley back, holding him away by the shoulders. Just enough to see what’s going on in that gorgeous head of his. They’d been better, recently, having had their little Patrick-precipitated catharsis. Happy. Deliriously so, actually. The lad still won’t use what he calls, half-jokingly, the L-word, and Liam hasn't either, neither one of them ready to take that step, and if Bradley thinks that’s what he’s going to get out of this, he’s got another thing coming.
But Bradley reaches up to lay one of his hands over Liam’s, smiling. “Don’t you care about me?” he teases, and Liam can hear just the tiniest edge of need under the light words. “Don’t you want to be able to grab me in the hallway in front of Sharlto and Patrick and kiss me senseless?”
“Bradley,” Liam says, struggling to find the words, dropping his hand as his fingers twine in and pull the American close again. “Bradley, it’s not an easy thing to be, out in the open like that. Especially not in your country. Coming out of the closet on national television of something like that is...”
“I know,” Bradley sighs, and looks up at him again. “I get that.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t... care about you, lad, but...”
“Liam, I get it. I do.” And then he perks a little. “But it doesn’t need to be the whole damn world, right?” the younger man asks, that earnestness really starting to drive Liam crazy now. “It could just be our friends, everyone here. They wouldn’t tell, right?” He snuggles in a little closer, deliberately bringing their groins together, and Liam groans. “We could be, you know, together around them, for the time we’ve got left on the damn promotion circuit before, you know, we aren’t... anymore...”
Oh, and he can't stand the little edge of hurt he hears there.
Damn.
Liam takes the lad’s head in both hands and looks right down into his eyes. Why does this mean so much to the lad? But still, Bradley’s got that needy little expression that just melts his heart, and he knows he’s not going to be able to resist that. He'd give his lad anything. He would. And he'll cave, he'll give him this, too.
Damn.
Doesn’t mean he can’t have fun with it first.
So he kisses the lad, whispering against his lips for him to get dressed, that it’s almost time for the morning meeting anyway.
“I’ll... I’ll leave first, I guess,” Bradley says, a tad disappointed, but he still does that thing he does, putting his shirt on, and Liam still smacks him on the ass on his way out, and the lad still leaves grinning.
Liam takes it slow, following after a few minutes, down to the meeting room where Joe’s people have the typical morning buffet set up over in the corner. He gets coffee, and kind of meanders over to the table where Bradley’s joking around with Sharlto and Rampage about something or other. He scans the room. Good, almost everybody’s here, even Joe, who’s in deep conversation with Patrick about something.
And Patrick looks over for no particular reason, sees Liam’s hand on the back on Bradley’s chair, throws him a thumbs-up, and that, right there, gets all kinds of Joe’s attention.
Now or never.
So the Irishman leans down, as close as he can get to Bradley, and asks, “that chair taken?”, pointing at the empty seat right next to the lad. He sees his lover freeze, just a little, and he slides his hand off the back of the chair onto that fine neck. “If nobody’s using it, of course.”
Rampage and Sharlto are just kind of watching, and Bradley’s turning bright red, but nods, and Liam actually manages to pull off a tricky little manuever where he simultaneously slips into that seat and plant a soft, sweet kiss, right on the lad’s quivering upper lip.
“Thank you, darling,” he says, as sweet as he possibly can, and sets his coffee cup down on the table as he turns to the other two like it’s no big deal at all. They’re staring, Rampage with his danish halfway up to his mouth, shaking a little. “So, what’s on the docket for the day, lads?”
But Liam doesn’t get his answer, because Bradley’s big blue eyes are filling with tears, and before he can stop it, the lad launches himself off his own chair and onto Liam’s lap, arms tight around him and kissing him for all he’s worth.
It only lasts a fraction of a second before the whole thing topples loose and Bradley’s momentum carries them both to the ground and it doesn’t matter at all, because the lad’s body is wriggling above his, and they haven’t broken that kiss...
Jessica lets out a wolf whistle.
Somebody, probably Brian, is applauding lightly.
“You owe me a hundred bucks, Rampage!”
And over the top of it all?
“Liam, Bradley, goddamn it! For the last fucking time, Face and Hannibal! Are! Not! Gay! For! Each! Other!”
And Patrick, bless him, chooses right then to chime the fuck in.
“Aww, come on, Joe, it’s not like none of us knew!”
“What the fuck are you...”
“Yee-ha, Liam! Kiss him harder!” Patrick hollers, through his own laughter. “Show him who wears the pants in this relationship!”
Liam grins into the kiss and rolls himself on top.
His lover gasps, and blushes deeper.
And it all sounds like a lovely idea to him, one he goes about enthusiastically, until Joe hits them both with a fire extinguisher, standing over them, panting hard. Pissed.
"For the last time...Bradley Cooper...the A-Team...is not...some big homosexual..."
"No," Liam says with a smile, "but Bradley here is."
"But just for him," the American gasps back.
And Liam grabs a handful of Bradley’s ass through his jeans. Just because he can now.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this prompt over at the kink meme
Meeting the parents - with lots of nervousness and reassurance and they won't like me and yes they will and lots of stuff that makes me go "aww", because I need fluffy fic after this horrible day I've had...
Or meeting the friends would work, too!
Bradley doesn’t want it to be a secret anymore. Liam’s... well, he just want to make his boy happy...
“Liam? Liam? Hey man, you awake?”
Liam groans, trying to roll over on his side to escape the lad’s probing little questions. It’s just going to start up again, the same thing they’ve been arguing about for the past week. Well, not arguing. Liam refuses to argue about this. It’s a stupid thing to be arguing over.
Hell, it's a bloody stupid thing to be thinking about.
“Please, Liam? Please talk to me...” and the hotel mattress dips as the American actor scrambles off.
Oh, so it’s going to be one of those, then. He mutters something even he doesn’t understand, and opens his eyes, finding those beautiful blue orbs staring back at him, wide and earnest. The lad presses in close, laying his cheek on the bed, so close he could kiss the tip of Liam’s nose.
Which he does.
“That will get you nowhere, Bradley,” the Irishman growls.
Brad scoots forward a little, kisses him again in this awkward sideways position, and brings a hand up, smoothing it down Liam’s neck, just like they both know he loves so much. “Please, Liam?” He sounds like his own boys sound at the grocery, asking if they can buy a particularly unhealthy cereal. “Please?”
“Why do you want to tell everyone, darling?” he sighs, and rights himself, shaking his head a little at the blood rush.
His American lover’s on him in a second, all that warm, naked skin pressing against his. God, the lad’s beautiful in the mornings, especially these mornings, the mornings after they’ve fucked each other into oblivion. Just makes him positively glow. “I want them to know, Liam. I want everyone to know, I want everyone to know we’re together...”
But Liam’s not fool enough to sit around and let Bradley seduce consent out of him. “No, and that’s all I want to say about it.”
“Why not?”
Definitely sounds like a five year old right now. “Because,” Liam sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It will ruin your career, it will ruin my career, I don’t want my boys to deal with the fallout it’s going to cause, who knows how your family’s going to react to the news that their son’s...”
“Madly, err, involved, with his dead sexy co-star?” Bradley practically purs, and slides up around him again. He rubs his face up into Liam’s bare chest like a damn cat, and yeah, he knows how hard that gets Liam. “With his famous, talented, amazing, intelligent, ravishingly handsome co...”
Liam chuckles, despite himself, and pushes Bradley back, holding him away by the shoulders. Just enough to see what’s going on in that gorgeous head of his. They’d been better, recently, having had their little Patrick-precipitated catharsis. Happy. Deliriously so, actually. The lad still won’t use what he calls, half-jokingly, the L-word, and Liam hasn't either, neither one of them ready to take that step, and if Bradley thinks that’s what he’s going to get out of this, he’s got another thing coming.
But Bradley reaches up to lay one of his hands over Liam’s, smiling. “Don’t you care about me?” he teases, and Liam can hear just the tiniest edge of need under the light words. “Don’t you want to be able to grab me in the hallway in front of Sharlto and Patrick and kiss me senseless?”
“Bradley,” Liam says, struggling to find the words, dropping his hand as his fingers twine in and pull the American close again. “Bradley, it’s not an easy thing to be, out in the open like that. Especially not in your country. Coming out of the closet on national television of something like that is...”
“I know,” Bradley sighs, and looks up at him again. “I get that.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t... care about you, lad, but...”
“Liam, I get it. I do.” And then he perks a little. “But it doesn’t need to be the whole damn world, right?” the younger man asks, that earnestness really starting to drive Liam crazy now. “It could just be our friends, everyone here. They wouldn’t tell, right?” He snuggles in a little closer, deliberately bringing their groins together, and Liam groans. “We could be, you know, together around them, for the time we’ve got left on the damn promotion circuit before, you know, we aren’t... anymore...”
Oh, and he can't stand the little edge of hurt he hears there.
Damn.
Liam takes the lad’s head in both hands and looks right down into his eyes. Why does this mean so much to the lad? But still, Bradley’s got that needy little expression that just melts his heart, and he knows he’s not going to be able to resist that. He'd give his lad anything. He would. And he'll cave, he'll give him this, too.
Damn.
Doesn’t mean he can’t have fun with it first.
So he kisses the lad, whispering against his lips for him to get dressed, that it’s almost time for the morning meeting anyway.
“I’ll... I’ll leave first, I guess,” Bradley says, a tad disappointed, but he still does that thing he does, putting his shirt on, and Liam still smacks him on the ass on his way out, and the lad still leaves grinning.
Liam takes it slow, following after a few minutes, down to the meeting room where Joe’s people have the typical morning buffet set up over in the corner. He gets coffee, and kind of meanders over to the table where Bradley’s joking around with Sharlto and Rampage about something or other. He scans the room. Good, almost everybody’s here, even Joe, who’s in deep conversation with Patrick about something.
And Patrick looks over for no particular reason, sees Liam’s hand on the back on Bradley’s chair, throws him a thumbs-up, and that, right there, gets all kinds of Joe’s attention.
Now or never.
So the Irishman leans down, as close as he can get to Bradley, and asks, “that chair taken?”, pointing at the empty seat right next to the lad. He sees his lover freeze, just a little, and he slides his hand off the back of the chair onto that fine neck. “If nobody’s using it, of course.”
Rampage and Sharlto are just kind of watching, and Bradley’s turning bright red, but nods, and Liam actually manages to pull off a tricky little manuever where he simultaneously slips into that seat and plant a soft, sweet kiss, right on the lad’s quivering upper lip.
“Thank you, darling,” he says, as sweet as he possibly can, and sets his coffee cup down on the table as he turns to the other two like it’s no big deal at all. They’re staring, Rampage with his danish halfway up to his mouth, shaking a little. “So, what’s on the docket for the day, lads?”
But Liam doesn’t get his answer, because Bradley’s big blue eyes are filling with tears, and before he can stop it, the lad launches himself off his own chair and onto Liam’s lap, arms tight around him and kissing him for all he’s worth.
It only lasts a fraction of a second before the whole thing topples loose and Bradley’s momentum carries them both to the ground and it doesn’t matter at all, because the lad’s body is wriggling above his, and they haven’t broken that kiss...
Jessica lets out a wolf whistle.
Somebody, probably Brian, is applauding lightly.
“You owe me a hundred bucks, Rampage!”
And over the top of it all?
“Liam, Bradley, goddamn it! For the last fucking time, Face and Hannibal! Are! Not! Gay! For! Each! Other!”
And Patrick, bless him, chooses right then to chime the fuck in.
“Aww, come on, Joe, it’s not like none of us knew!”
“What the fuck are you...”
“Yee-ha, Liam! Kiss him harder!” Patrick hollers, through his own laughter. “Show him who wears the pants in this relationship!”
Liam grins into the kiss and rolls himself on top.
His lover gasps, and blushes deeper.
And it all sounds like a lovely idea to him, one he goes about enthusiastically, until Joe hits them both with a fire extinguisher, standing over them, panting hard. Pissed.
"For the last time...Bradley Cooper...the A-Team...is not...some big homosexual..."
"No," Liam says with a smile, "but Bradley here is."
"But just for him," the American gasps back.
And Liam grabs a handful of Bradley’s ass through his jeans. Just because he can now.
