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Leaning against the doorframe of the office, Jeremy took a slow sip of his coffee and a rare moment of patient consideration before replying:
"Oh," he said, finally -- pausing for effect -- "he knows exactly what he's doing."
"No way!" Richard replied a little too loudly, then he practically leapt off the sofa so he could stalk up to Jeremy and have this out properly. Or as proper as one could get in a half whisper.
Just on the other side of the not-so-soundproof plate glass window was the garage and James. All morning, the three of them had been in and out, brainstorming for the challenge and occasionally filming confessionals outside. Luckily, it was a lazy day, more grunt work than performance -- luckily, because keeping a straight face on camera would've been nigh on impossible given how James was strutting around the shop, not just advising the mechanics but actually helping them. The way he was moving and the things he was doing, perfectly reasonable but also slightly out of the ordinary even for a nuts-and-bolts group challenge, made it seem a lot like he was going through with some kind of subtle seduction. Except it couldn't be, right?
"Richard, you've been shagging the man twice as long as I have. You know it's not out of the realm of possibility, and he's guileless enough to get away with it."
"Aye. And it's just as likely he has no bloody clue the effect he's having."
"I'll grant you. Wager?"
Richard nodded, then his eyes brightened. "First dibs?"
"Oh, wouldn't he love the notion."
Richard placed himself at Jeremy's side and nudged their shoulders together, just for a moment. "Scandalized, but not-so-secretly flattered."
"What a cock."
Richard snorted and took a long drink of his tea, finally letting his eyes drift back up to the garage, where James was bent over the world's most overwrought little Citroen, his head bobbing to the music coming out of the old stereo in the corner. It sounded like Deep Purple, maybe.
Richard said, "How do we find out?"
"Ask him, I suppose."
"No fun." He shook his head. "What if one of us retaliates in kind?"
"Draw him out? Might work."
"You know he's no good at keeping a straight face."
"Agreed." After a moment's pause, he leaned into Richard's shoulder. "Okay, so, have at it."
"No, Jez, it has to be you."
"Hammond."
"Seriously, he won't know if I'm doing it on purpose either. You know, kind of the opposite problem or something. You, on the other hand…"
"Wha?"
"You are not subtle."
"Oh, what? Compared with you?"
"Just trust me on this."
He groused, "I'm beginning to think you just want a show."
"Wouldn't mind it. But, really, you know I'm right."
"I do," he said in his best flat, put-upon groan. He ran his free hand down the front of his blue t-shirt and then back over his hair. "Loathe as I am to admit it," he added, tightening his belt before he strode off in James's direction.
*
Two hours later, Richard was coming back from the lavatory when James crowded up into his personal space and with a glance ushered him through the fire exit.
Once they were outside, James glared down at him, lighting up a cigarette.
"Not that this isn't bloody entertaining," he said, "but it has got to stop."
Richard raised an eyebrow.
James said, "Let's not pretend we don't know we're playing seduction chicken with a couple of soft-bellied old men."
"Are we?"
"Yes, Richard. You know that, and I assume Jezza does too, given his current behavior. How in the bleeding hell did you get him to…?" He made a vague gesture, at a loss for words. Richard couldn't blame him.
"I have great powers of persuasion."
He snorted. "What was the bet?"
"I'm hurt," Richard replied, frowning a bit pathetically. "Really."
James looked at him sideways and took a long drag from his cigarette. "What disturbs me is how bad he is at it."
"Right."
"I mean, it's effective in its way--"
"But some of what he's doing probably wouldn't've worked when he was twenty, much less up and over a certain hill."
He raised his eyebrows, but the levity drained from his face as he looked up to find James staring over the horizon, frowning and calculating.
"Apparently," James finally said, "we're doing a piss-poor job of communicating to him how we feel. Or, I guess, why."
"He doesn't have any idea why he's attractive to us."
James shook his head.
Richard said, "Well, now you've gone and depressed me."
"Oh, it's fine," James said, reaching out and laying his free hand on the back of Richard's neck. "That one doesn't hurt for ego. It's just a bloody shame is all."
"You, on the other hand," Richard said, grinning at him, "seem to be shockingly well acquainted with your finer points."
James's face bloomed into a warm smile. "You lot rarely shut your mouths, especially when you don't have any pants on. I will admit to a little anxiety about proper deployment, but apparently I've managed things adequately."
"Adequately," Richard echoed, grimacing.
He was still frowning when he stepped toward James and took the cigarette out of his hand, and James watched in amusement as curled his fingers around the back of his neck. But James didn't wait to be pulled down; he leant over and kissed Richard quickly but deeply on the mouth, tasting of tobacco and peppermint gum.
After Richard handed him back his fag, he thumped his chest as he said, "You. Are. Bloody. Distracting in the garage. Just so you're aware."
James rolled his eyes.
Richard said, "Which is why I agree, this has to stop. If for no other reason than my sanity."
"Agreed," James said, almost but not quite choking down a giggle. "Okay, so, strategy?"
"You have to do something obvious, so he'll know you know."
"I'm assuming that genius plan is what got us into this mess in the first place. Can't we just…tell him I know?"
"We could," Richard said. Pausing ominously for effect, he then added, "If you're willing to make a direct strike on his self-esteem rather than a playful opening salvo to an unwinnable but at least sporting war."
James rolled his eyes again, then, taking in Richard's mischievous grin, he said, "Alright, out with it."
"I know one of Jeremy's particular weak spots that you probably don't. Involving you."
"Oh?"
"You know how it is. You talk about the other one when he's not around. Sometimes that talk happens while you're starkers and, as you fairly point out, less inclined to be…bashful."
"Well?"
"Are you sure you can handle it?"
"Sod off. How weird could it be?"
Richard raised his eyebrows, then he shook his head and said:
"You could--" he paused dramatically -- "wipe the sweat off your face with your shirt tail."
James's face wrinkled up in bafflement. "As in…?" He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt and then mimed pulling it up to his face, revealing his stomach.
"Yep."
"You're kidding!"
"A James-specific fetish, as far as I know. He might actually murder me for telling you, but I think it will be well worth it."
James dropped his cigarette and ground it into the asphalt and said, "Are you sure he'll know that's a signal?"
"We could reinforce, perhaps? Make it unmistakable. Does he have any secret weaknesses related to me?"
James just snorted. "Loads. Most of which would not be exactly helpful in a semi-public garage."
Richard felt a blush creep up over his neck and face, maybe even his chest.
James looked out over the landscape again, his hair blowing up around his face as he pondered. Then he erupted into a rather wicked smile.
"Motor grease," he said.
"Oh?"
"On your hands. He rather enjoys it when you're dirty, especially when you transfer grease and petrol and the like to your neck and face."
"I hate that."
"That's precisely why it gets him all worked up, I should think."
"Makes him even crazier when it's you."
"I don't doubt it."
"I hate him."
"Yes," James said drolly as he lit up another fag. "As do I. Clearly."
*
Richard went back in first so that Jeremy wouldn't be suspicious. He found the garage empty, the mechanics having gone off with the crew to take dinner at a local pub. When James returned, half an hour later, he did so with a sandwich and chips, and he sat on the sofa and ate it slowly (maddeningly), licking all the grease and salt off his fingers before he returned to the garage proper and the Citroen. Which meant that Richard had to endure another full hour of Jeremy's clumsy flirtation. The irritating thing was how effective that flirtation actually was, in spite of itself.
So distracting was Jeremy's touching and bending and eyefucking that Richard almost forgot his end of the bargain. Then James called him over on a consultation, and together they wrestled a stubborn tire off, for no real reason Richard could see -- beyond getting dirty, that is.
Of course, by the time Richard was suitably grimy, they looked up to find Jeremy had gone.
James shrugged and motioned toward the loo.
Richard stood leaned back again the car, waiting to resume, even repeat his performance. "Bollocks. This is like filming."
"Well, you know how effective reenactments can be."
He just nodded.
A moment later, James said, "Hey, I've an idea. Not just your neck but mine as well. And I'll wipe both off with my shirt."
"Oh, he'll know for sure then."
"Well, we want him to know, anyway, yeah? That's the point of all this malarkey."
When Jeremy wandered back into the room, Richard and James were kneeling with a tire between them, examining the treads. Richard reached up to brush some hair out of James's eyes and left a smudge on his cheek.
"Watch it, Hammond," he grunted.
Richard looked at his hands like he'd not noticed the black stains there. Then he reached out to curve his palm around James's neck, a bit turned on to see the smudges of oil transfer to warm, sweaty skin. He was surprised to find how much he wanted to just lean over and lick it off. He suddenly felt a lot less judgmental about Jeremy's kinks.
But James was sticking to the performance. He frowned and grabbed the bottom of his white t-shirt so he could wipe his forehead and his cheek. When he reached out to scrub the oil off Richard's neck, Jeremy flopped down onto the sofa against the wall and muttered:
"I hate you both. Intensely."
Richard collapsed into giggles, which only grew louder when he saw that James wasn't worried. If James wasn't detecting any real anger in Jeremy's tone and body language, things were probably okay.
Jeremy said, "At least tell me you two weren't in it together from the beginning."
James shook his head. "Honestly, I didn't realize there was going to be an it until I saw how ridiculously horny you two were this morning, even before your cuppa and such."
"Well," Jeremy said, "before then, you had already rolled up your sleeves and were tightening huge bolts and…things."
"Talking pistons and things with the blokes," Richard added.
"And bending over too much in an ill-fitting shirt."
James colored. "You'd think I was acting out the beginning of some kind of kinky car porn."
Richard dropped onto the couch beside Jeremy, throwing his legs over the man's lap. "Every day with you is some kind of kinky car porn."
Jeremy cackled, then he asked, "So when did Hammond tell you?"
"He didn't."
Jeremy raised an eyebrow.
James said, "You stopped barking at everyone."
Richard snorted. "As though we prefer you docile and polite."
James sighed, walking over to Richard's side. "You might as well tell him we rather get off on his being cranky and bossy."
"I wouldn't have thought that would be a surprise," Richard replied.
But Jeremy's eyes were narrowing, and he was searching James's face for confirmation.
"My. God."
"Your commanding presence, yes," James said. "Your arse wiggling, not so much."
Jeremy protested, "It works for Hammond."
"Everything works for Hammond."
"Except reaching things off the top shelf."
"Oi!" Richard said, pulling his legs out of Jeremy's lap and frowning at both of them. "I'm in the room."
"Yes, you are," Jeremy said, giving him a lascivious look that, once again, shouldn't have worked. But apparently it worked well enough James leaned over and kissed Jeremy on the mouth, lingering just long enough Richard was pretty sure it was for his benefit as much as theirs.
Pulling back, he said to Jeremy, "Do you remember how he used to come in wearing that ridiculous blue shirt?"
"Strategically missing the top button."
"Strategically!" Richard barked indignantly.
"Collarbones," James said.
"Yeah. Goddamn distracting shoulders."
"And every time it rode up--"
"--you could see his stomach--"
"--and that perfect arse."
Both men sighed, seemingly equal measures annoyed and turned on.
"You hated that shirt!" Richard protested.
"You'd think, wouldn't you," James murmured.
Richard made an indignant face at Jeremy long enough that he said: "We knew the easiest way to get you to keep wearing it was out of spite. Or maybe Andy would make you wear it, since taking the piss out of you makes for excellent television."
Suddenly, something occurred to Richard, and it made his face heat up so fast he felt a bit faint.
"I haven't worn that shirt since, what, series 16?"
Now James was blushing furiously, but Jeremy just said:
"Ah, 16, a fine series. Did more wanking that year than I have since I was sixteen. You, May?"
James just muttered, "You know good and bloody well."
"That long!" Richard squeaked. "You miserable bastards."
Jeremy said, "We can't help how unobservant you are."
James reached out a hand to smooth it over Richard's hair, dig his fingernails into his scalp a little. "We commiserated a bit on our thing about you. We didn't know about…our thing about each other."
"That took much longer," Jeremy said with a put-upon sigh.
"Why?" Richard said.
"We're emotionally constipated idiots," Jeremy said.
"Prone to inertia, I'd say."
"Useless gits, really."
"No," Richard said, "you're both rather careful people -- except, apparently, where I'm concerned?"
"Yes, the Hamster exception," Jeremy said, grinning.
For once, Richard cared not a whit about that stupid nickname. He quickly climbed into a straddling position over Jeremy's lap and leaned down to press a sloppy kiss to his mouth, then his neck, just enough to drive him crazy but not enough to make him uncomfortably hard. Before he pulled away, though, he nipped at the soft skin near Jeremy's adam's apple.
Jeremy shivered like Richard knew he would, but he stubbornly took his hands from Richard's waist and sat back, glaring at James.
"Take him away from me," he said.
"Where, Jez?"
"I don't care."
"Nope," Richard said. "We're not going anywhere until you are educated about some things."
"Oh?" he said, looking up at James, who was looking quizzically at Richard for a moment before he smiled and came to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders.
James said, "A list of things Jeremy can do in the future if he actually wants to seduce us."
Jeremy's face brightened a bit, but he groused, "I don't need a sodding list."
"Yes," Richard said, "you do."
"Number one," James said. He looked at Richard, and they said in unison: "Your voice."
Richard added, "And don't go being cheeky and deliberately dirty, because you could honestly say anything, even read that catalogue of car parts or--"
James giggled. "Anyone could list car parts for you and get a reaction."
Before there was a row, Jeremy asked, "Two?"
Richard said, "Hands" --
--at the same time as James said, "Mouth."
Richard turned to look at him. "Smoking?"
James nodded. "And drinking."
"Mmm, the way he tastes while he's drinking scotch."
Jeremy was actually beginning to look a little flustered, and he protested, "You don't like scotch, Richard."
"I don't like licorice, either, but I make an exception for James."
"Yes, James May, the God of Kinky Car Porn."
James pinched Richard's shoulder. "The only title I will except is King of Seduction Chicken."
"Lovely," Jeremy said. "And Richard can be Queen."
"Fuck off," Richard said, finally climbing out of his lap.
"James, I accept your alternative rank," Jeremy added, "because the fact of the matter is I still won the bet."
"What did you win?" James asked, although he looked like he had a guess already.
"Directorial powers."
"That was not what we said," Richard interjected. "Tosser."
"All right, first dibs then. And I decline to exercise my prerogative. I would much rather watch."
"How very surprising," James murmured.
Richard, however, was already thinking of a lot of very interesting scenarios involving dirty hands on bare stomachs and, hopefully, a nice hot shower in Clarkson's nice large bath. Make him regret being so smug and officious. But first, they some more filming to do.
Richard said, "Then we're coming round to yours later."
"Yes," James said, coughing and wandering away. "Later. Much later."
"For now, truce?" Richard said, looking Jeremy in the eye.
Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. "Sure."
But in his eyes was the same gleam he had when he was most definitely planning on sabotaging something. It was only a matter of time before he was too pleased with himself to keep it in. As always, that was just fine with Richard.