Fic: Might Be Heaven, 1/1. Brad/Liam.
Jul. 11th, 2010 08:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katydidmischief posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
cjs_owndisclaimer. Not mine and none of the events described here in have any basis in reality.
title. Might Be Heaven
rating. PG-13
pairing. Liam/Bradley
summary. He finds the words in the end, but they're jumbled and only half make sense.
notes. Written previously, but posted at the request of this prompter/these requesters at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
a_team_kink.
Brad thinks this might be heaven, wrapped up in Liam's arms and the noise of the boys' playing outside drifting in the open window. He thinks it might be nirvana when he moves and Liam tightens his grip, pulling Brad against his chest.
It's just too perfect.
He relaxes a little and manages to sprawl some on the sheets, one leg draped over Liam's; he wonders for a brief second if he should get up and get dressed, go make breakfast, before one of the boys bursts into the bedroom. They've been remarkably understanding and accepting, but there's a world of difference between acknowledging their father's boyfriend and seeing them in bed together.
"I can hear you worrying," Liam whispers, punctuating the statement with a kiss to Brad's temple.
"Not worrying."
"It's about the boys?"
Brad doesn't dare lie. "Yeah."
"Then you're worrying. Bradley," Liam starts, pushing and shifting them until Brad is under him and pinned between hands and knees, "They like you. They like you more than any woman I've brought home. They understand why we don't discuss it."
"But they shouldn't have to." Brad sighs. "Look, maybe I should go back to LA for a little while... be seen with Renee for a few weeks."
"No."
"Liam..."
"I said no – you want to run, then fine, but be a goddamn man and tell me what's really bothering you first." There's disappointment and upset and a little fury in Liam's eyes and Brad knows he's not going to get to have his freak-out in private, the way he's used to or the way he wants.
Brad sighs again; he reaches up, settling his hands on Liam's shoulders, and tries to think of how precisely to say what he needs to. Because, seriously, he doesn't want this to end and he's not trying to run – he just needs to figure out how to make this work when there's more than just himself and his partner to think about. When there's more than just his own career at stake.
He finds the words in the end, but they're jumbled and only half make sense. He tells Liam everything he thinks is a problem in too quick a succession and when he stops, it's with a little bit of a wild look in his eyes. "Look, it's... I wasn't expecting kids. I wasn't even expecting you, and the boys... I don't want them to get the short end of a stick, okay?"
Liam leans forward and kisses Brad soundly, easing some of the tension and tells him, "They aren't getting the short end of the stick. And if you think this is them getting the short end of the stick, then you haven't been listening because they fight to tell me what you've done with them when you're home. They look forward to having you around and they miss you when you're gone – you're a father, Brad, whether you like it or not."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Vanessa is okay with that." Liam smiles – hell, his opinionated and outspoken mother-in-law had told him, "You best make an honest man out of that boy if you're taking him to bed."
Brad smiles, finally. He's amused both by the thought that the great Vanessa Redgrave approves of his being involved with raising her grandsons as well as the fact that she must have said something entertaining.
Liam grins in turn and kisses Brad again; he feels one of Brad's hands rise to his hair, the other to Liam's back, as the blanket falls away.
Which is when a snowball hits the bedroom window.
"Fuck," Brad shouts, rolling until he can yank the sheet up over himself.
Liam only chuckles, reaches over the side of the bed for his boxers and pulls them on as he walks to the window. "We're on the second floor, love," he reminds, popping the locks. The cold air blasts in and then he's telling Daniel to avoid the windows, please, with a laugh.
He leans out of the window in the next breath, teasing Micheál, and doesn't hear Brad come up behind him until the younger man is pressed against his back. He thinks, for a moment, that perhaps he's found heaven, with Brad's lips on his neck and the boys playing outside in the snow.
title. Might Be Heaven
rating. PG-13
pairing. Liam/Bradley
summary. He finds the words in the end, but they're jumbled and only half make sense.
notes. Written previously, but posted at the request of this prompter/these requesters at
a_team_kink.Brad thinks this might be heaven, wrapped up in Liam's arms and the noise of the boys' playing outside drifting in the open window. He thinks it might be nirvana when he moves and Liam tightens his grip, pulling Brad against his chest.
It's just too perfect.
He relaxes a little and manages to sprawl some on the sheets, one leg draped over Liam's; he wonders for a brief second if he should get up and get dressed, go make breakfast, before one of the boys bursts into the bedroom. They've been remarkably understanding and accepting, but there's a world of difference between acknowledging their father's boyfriend and seeing them in bed together.
"I can hear you worrying," Liam whispers, punctuating the statement with a kiss to Brad's temple.
"Not worrying."
"It's about the boys?"
Brad doesn't dare lie. "Yeah."
"Then you're worrying. Bradley," Liam starts, pushing and shifting them until Brad is under him and pinned between hands and knees, "They like you. They like you more than any woman I've brought home. They understand why we don't discuss it."
"But they shouldn't have to." Brad sighs. "Look, maybe I should go back to LA for a little while... be seen with Renee for a few weeks."
"No."
"Liam..."
"I said no – you want to run, then fine, but be a goddamn man and tell me what's really bothering you first." There's disappointment and upset and a little fury in Liam's eyes and Brad knows he's not going to get to have his freak-out in private, the way he's used to or the way he wants.
Brad sighs again; he reaches up, settling his hands on Liam's shoulders, and tries to think of how precisely to say what he needs to. Because, seriously, he doesn't want this to end and he's not trying to run – he just needs to figure out how to make this work when there's more than just himself and his partner to think about. When there's more than just his own career at stake.
He finds the words in the end, but they're jumbled and only half make sense. He tells Liam everything he thinks is a problem in too quick a succession and when he stops, it's with a little bit of a wild look in his eyes. "Look, it's... I wasn't expecting kids. I wasn't even expecting you, and the boys... I don't want them to get the short end of a stick, okay?"
Liam leans forward and kisses Brad soundly, easing some of the tension and tells him, "They aren't getting the short end of the stick. And if you think this is them getting the short end of the stick, then you haven't been listening because they fight to tell me what you've done with them when you're home. They look forward to having you around and they miss you when you're gone – you're a father, Brad, whether you like it or not."
"And you're okay with that?"
"Vanessa is okay with that." Liam smiles – hell, his opinionated and outspoken mother-in-law had told him, "You best make an honest man out of that boy if you're taking him to bed."
Brad smiles, finally. He's amused both by the thought that the great Vanessa Redgrave approves of his being involved with raising her grandsons as well as the fact that she must have said something entertaining.
Liam grins in turn and kisses Brad again; he feels one of Brad's hands rise to his hair, the other to Liam's back, as the blanket falls away.
Which is when a snowball hits the bedroom window.
"Fuck," Brad shouts, rolling until he can yank the sheet up over himself.
Liam only chuckles, reaches over the side of the bed for his boxers and pulls them on as he walks to the window. "We're on the second floor, love," he reminds, popping the locks. The cold air blasts in and then he's telling Daniel to avoid the windows, please, with a laugh.
He leans out of the window in the next breath, teasing Micheál, and doesn't hear Brad come up behind him until the younger man is pressed against his back. He thinks, for a moment, that perhaps he's found heaven, with Brad's lips on his neck and the boys playing outside in the snow.
